Otohelminthiasis—Part 4: Coda … Enjoying Your Music Fast

My huckleberry friends

Play it again, Sam.  And again.  And again.  And again. 

Recently I had the chance to borrow a friend’s vacation home on an island. It was a great break, very refreshing … up until the drive home. It was a long one, most of a day. I left around 4 am and kept going until midnight.

I am not normally one to listen to music in the car, but around 6 pm I needed something upbeat just to ensure that drowsiness didn’t set it. The car I was using happened to have satellite radio, so I began to explore the range of channels. Most of them weren’t my cup of tea, but I did find a sequence of stations playing pop music by decade: ‘50s, ‘60s, ‘70s, ‘80s, ‘90s, and one called Pop2K for the years after that. The last four stations were the ones that I focused on, since I was listening to the radio still in those decades, and it was kind of fun to take a drive down Memory Lane.

I would switch from ‘70s to ‘80s to ‘90s to ‘00s music continually until I found an oldie that I enjoyed. Often there was nothing for several minutes that I recognized, so I sat and studied the differences between the decades—acoustic guitar gave way to electric guitar gave way to synthesizers, and then acoustic guitar came back around with the new millennium.

But something else struck my ear. The closer the music was to our present time, the more repetitive it was. I don’t just mean that you heard the whole refrain repeated more times over in the later music … although that seemed often to be the case. Rather, one small phrase was often sung again and again and again. This was relatively rare in music from the ’60s and ‘70s (if we ignore “Surfin’ Bird”); a little more prevalent in the ‘80s; noticeable as a consistent feature in the ‘90s; and annoyingly common in the music of the present millennium.

Was I on to something? Or just an aging curmudgeon? (“Those durn’d kids and their boomboxes! In my day …”) How would I go about quantifying something like invariance in pop songs?

I puzzled over this for a few days. Then I let my fingers do the walking via Google. And guess what? Someone else noticed the same thing, and DID find a way to measure it. You can read that article by Colin Morris here. It is a fascinating essay with some great interactive graphics, and I strongly commend it for your perusal.

One of the curious findings is that in each decade, the pop artists whose music was the most repetitive are precisely the ones we in Truther circles tend to think of as “promoted” for independent reasons: in the ‘10s we find Rihanna, Beyoncé, and Lady Gaga (among others); in the ‘00s Britney Spears, Hannah Montana, and Christina Aguilera; in the ‘90s Madonna and Janet Jackson; in the ‘80s Michael Jackson and Paul McCartney. So that’s an interesting correlation.

Actually, the article understates the increase in repetitiveness, I think. It measures compressibility of the lyrics alone (i.e., the amount by which the words to a song can be reduced to repeating patterns). This metric does not consider the amount by which the melodic line also can be repetitive. Of course, just about every pop song is made up of a set melody for every verse and maybe also a refrain that is repeated several times. If you consider repetitiveness in lyrics only, Don McLean’s “American Pie” is not all that repetitive, since each verse has different words and only the refrain is repeated a few times. But melodically, of course, it is very repetitive. Likewise for Gordon Lightfoot’s “The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald.”  Most rap music is not at all repetitive in terms of words, but (to my ears) exceptionally invariant in rhythm and instrumentals.

But here’s the thing: I think that as we get into the music of the ‘00s and ‘10s, we find not just that a phrase or sentence is repeated, but that the melody married to it is also exactly the same. One can repeat a set of words, but with variation of the melody—think of Frank Sinatra’s “New York, New York,” where each instance of the city’s name is a little different melodically. Compare that to Reel 2 Real’s “I Like to Move It.”  I wouldn’t have the time to do a diachronic study of lyrico-melodic repetitiveness, but I invite you to test your own sensibilities on the matter. My impression is that with each decade since the ‘70s, pop songs have become more mind-numbingly monotonous in word and melody.

Not only within individual songs, but across pop music as a whole, there is a measurable trend toward homogenization.  If you watched the video that Mark linked to in his recent piece on the awfulness of modern music, you learned three conclusions of a study out of Spain:

  1. There has been a winnowing of possible note and chord combinations, so that most pop songs use a very limited set of melodic contours and harmonizations.
  2. The texture of music is being engineered excessively to reduce the distinctiveness of the instrumentations; everything sounds like everything else.
  3. Recordings are edited/engineered to make every song sound loud.

One prime example of the homogenization of pop music output over the last couple of decades is a musical gimmick that has come to be dubbed “the millennial whoop.”  Like the brand on the flank of a steer, many of the pop hits of the ’00s and ’10s have this inarticulate minor-third vocal trill stamped on them using the sound of “oh” or “uh.”  Calling this phenomenon a “whoop” makes it sound exultant, but in many cases the effect is depressing, eerie, or just stultifying.

In the video that Mark referenced, it was suggested that this trend toward uniformity in pop music is driven by purely financial considerations, due to the cost of breaking a new talent into the consciousness of the consuming public in a post-Napster era.  In other words, we  are told, it is Adam Smith’s “invisible hand” of economic determinism that is writing the repetitive lyrics, sound-mixing the monotonous timbres, and composing the drearily copycat melodies.   You stick with what has already worked in the past because you can’t take the risk of trying something new that might fail.

This proposed explanation doesn’t make sense to me.  If anything, we live in an era where niche economics drive everything.  Because it is so much easier now to identify and reach consumers with particular tastes, the trend in so many industries is away from homogenization and towards an embarrassment of riches in the choices available.  Why should pop music not be leading the way in monetizing individual interests with draconian efficiency?  Nor does the economic explanation explain why only two teams of songwriters—led by Lukasz Gottwald and Max Martin—are the composers behind most of the pop hits of the last two decades.  Both men use different little rules and formulas to build their oeuvre, almost mechanically.  But why these two should have such an outsize influence in a worldwide industry remains a mystery.  It would have to be on purpose that so many other (and greater) songwriting talents are shoved aside in favor of these two.  Market concerns cannot be the only factor.  But if it does not boil down to economics, then what else?

I venture a guess here based on my other vacation experience …

Losing My Compulsion

This series of articles on earworms began with an experience in Nashville. I described in the first installment how a night and a morning of complete silence was broken by exposure to a country song as I passed through a hotel lobby, and the profound effect which that unknown song had on me.

With my stay at my friend’s beach home, I had an even longer “fast” from music. It was not as complete as the single overnight in Nashville: I had to bike over to the island’s grocery store every other day or so and there I got exposed to shopping Muzak for a brief time. But otherwise there was in my life no music whatsoever: no radio, no YouTube, no TV show theme songs, no iPod, no nothing. The sound track for my life in those three weeks was the ocean surf and the local avifauna, like my friends in the photo above.

It was bliss.

And after several days, I noticed something. About myself. Even though I was on vacation and getting more exercise than usual, I was eating less. Or rather, I stopped when I was sated. What was left on the plate got packaged up and refrigerated to be enjoyed as leftovers. If there was one more glass of wine left in the bottle, the bottle got corked until tomorrow. The compulsion to finish it just for the sake of finishing had left me.

This waning of compulsions manifested itself away from the dinner table as well. I used to work a couple of daily puzzles with my morning coffee, just as a kind of ritual for waking up. I had realized long ago that the entertainment value of these puzzles was not commensurate with the outlay of time and attention. But it was a routine, and it kept going on its own habitual momentum. But on this vacation—when normally I would engage in more diversionary pastimes—I found that my appetite for silly puzzles had left. Not only could I break the habit; it was almost as if the habit broke itself.

So here was a mystery. What made the difference? The only thing I could trace it to was the silence—the fasting from music that was nearly complete for a stretch of time longer than I had ever experienced it before.

And by music, I mean all that structured noise that surrounds us involuntarily in modern life: on elevators, in restaurants, at sporting events, in the gym, and so on. It is far more pervasive than we realize. And for the most part it is not opera or light classical or even country and western. It is the very pop music that is increasing measurably in its repetitiveness and homogeneity.

Even after my daylong drive immersed in pop music, I came home with a different set of ears to the music around us. And what I have been noticing is that in shopping contexts, the piped-in music tends toward the far end of the repetitiveness spectrum.  Why?

Psychic Driving

By happenstance I came across an article about a woman who was the victim of a psychological experiment in the 1950s. Jean Steel had been suffering from depression, and the Canadian psychologist who treated her, Dr. Ewen Cameron, was secretly involved in a covert psy-op experiment of the CIA.

Cameron, the visionary, believed schizophrenia and some other mental illnesses could be cured. (Jeanie Steel likely suffered from postpartum depression.) He dismissed the idea of a psychiatrist’s couch, a doctor listening and talking a patient back to health. His ambition was to remake the person entirely, scrubbing their brain of its illness and rebuilding their psyche from scratch.

To do so, patients would need to be “de-patterned,” Cameron-speak for loading them full of drugs — Seconal, Nembutal, largactal, insulin, LSD, PCP, uppers, downers, curare and more — and subjecting them to massive, repeated jolts of electroshock therapy. Patients were kept in drug-induced comas for 22 hours a day in a “sleep room,” primed for Cameron’s “psychic driving,” a process where a message, or even a single word, was broadcast on a loop over a loudspeaker in the room for days on end.

Jeanie Steel did 18- and 29-day stints in the sleep room. At different points, according to her file — of which Alison obtained a copy from the Canadian Department of Justice in 2015 — she threatened to kill herself; asked the doctors to “please” turn down the loudspeaker; complained of burning in her ears and feet; and screamed that she felt like she was being nailed to the “cross.”

One of Cameron’s entries in the file from October 1957 notes: “Patient walked about room this morning, out in the hall, appears more restless than previously, stared at the speaker and said, ‘That thing up there, up on the wall, my ear is burning, my ear is not burning. But that tries to make up my mind. That’s not my mind. Is that my mind?’”

Jeanie was discharged from the institute in December 1957. She went home to her family, destroyed after a total of six months in Dr. Cameron’s care. She died in 2002. Dr. Cameron went on to become the president of the World Psychiatric Association, dying of a heart attack while hiking in 1967.

Alison Steel keeps a manila folder full of her mother’s papers and old photographs. Her favourite image of Jeanie is from before she was born. Her hazel eyes are wide, and her auburn hair cut to the shoulder.

“She looks like an angel,” Steel says. “But I never got to know that person. They stole my mother from me. They used her as a human guinea pig. They stripped her of her emotions.”

Jean Steel’s daughter received compensation from the Canadian government for their role in allowing this inhumane treatment on behalf of the CIA. Jean had been robbed of crucial aspects of her mind, and so was never really able to be a mother to her daughter. Jean’s behavior was marked by strange little compulsions, like wrapping sticks in tinfoil and placing them on chairs.

If you read around on the Internet about “psychic driving”—the endless exposure of incapacitated subjects to extremely repetitive stimuli—you will be told that the experiment of Cameron was a failure as a tool for either psychotherapy or mind control.

But I ask: if a CIA mind experiment had yielded results of statistical significance, … do you really suppose that we would be told of it?  What if psychic driving did work, but just not for the purpose that was publicly touted?  And what if it can work even in a mass experiment, like the fluoridation of our water?  Or the poisoning of an entire French village?

Since my experience with the satellite radio, I have kept my ears pricked up for the background music that gets piped in around us.  I have noticed in the grocery store especially that the pop music being played tends to be of the repetitive type.  We know that the canned music industry selects numbers for the purpose of encouraging spending at the store.  Why might that be?

Simply put: repetitive sounds can be stultifying and relaxing …. like hypnosis through the ears.  There are studies that point to these effects.  Repetitive music makes you dumb and numb.  It is like a kind of low-level psychic driving.  If you want to make someone easily manipulable, prone to suggestion, docile like cattle, what better way to do so than to use sonic hypnosis through ubiquitous music, droning out the same fatuous phrases and melodic mantras over and over and over again?

[Imagine a “millennial whoop” here]

Because—just think about it—how much do compulsive behaviors characterize our society these days?  Binge-watching TV shows. Video game marathons.  Social media addictions.  Smart-phone addictions.  Fanatic following of sports teams and athletic events (like the World Cup).  The list goes on and on.  What is driving all this novel obsessive-compulsive behavior?  What is keeping Americans  from “getting a life”?  And why is this kind of fixation encouraged even?  Simply put: someone is making money off the herd by telling us, consciously and subconsciously, to stay thirsty … and thus to spend money and not to think about deeper things.

I can prove nothing.  I don’t have the smoking gun memos or the batteries of psych tests and statistical analyses. I can only sum my impressions and assumptions from this series of essays, which are:

• The pop music industry is not the free market of ideas and talents we are given to believe, but rather a highly managed font of propaganda for the purpose of social control.
• The most famous artists are not so because of talent or luck but because they are selected and promoted by a hidden hand for the purpose of advancing this covert agenda.
• Pop music has become increasingly repetitive by design; earwormy music is intentional, and experiments are being run via the pop music industry on the influence of different styles and sounds on the general public.
• Members of Western society are bombarded with this promoted agenda music every day of their lives through every broadcast medium and in every venue.
• This music gets under our skin and into our heads and decreases creativity and increases compulsive or addictive behaviors, making us more manageable and suggestible consumers; it is a means for controlling the herd.
• The only way to break the spell is to fast from pop music entirely.
• This requires extraordinary effort (like moving to an island offshore where the long arm of mass media does not quite reach).

Again, this is not a proof in any formal sense, but only a set of impressions based on anecdotal experience. And so I end this series on otohelminthiasis, on earworms in modern life, not with a conclusion, … but an invitation.

Go on a fast from music yourself. See how completely you can keep your ears empty of the structured noise that blares from every speaker in a public place. Fill your ears with the sounds of nature only: earthworms if need be, but not earworms.  Watch how this fast affects your own feelings and behaviors, your habits and your inclinations. Then report back here and let us know. Your input and experience is of interest to me.

Happy Silence to all who accept this invitation!

MR

26 thoughts on “Otohelminthiasis—Part 4: Coda … Enjoying Your Music Fast

  1. A new article by Maarten. Whoop!

    As usual, a challenging and insightful take on music. So sorry to see the apparent end of this outstanding series.

    Concerning the challenge I’ve already gotten a head start. I never listen to music while driving (silence, audiobooks, and podcasts.) When I do listen to music these days, It’s a playlist of my own making that contains about 300 songs. I’m still trying to figure out how to “block out” all the other “music” that is forced upon me. I also no longer watch TV or sports. And just like you describe, it changes a person’s entire approach to and outlook on life.

    In fact, I recently embarked on my first 36-hour food fast and I was amazed by the increase in focus and energy I experienced (and how easy it was.) People fasted in Biblical days all the time, but somehow nobody finds that relevant anymore.

    OK, I’m rambling now. Great work and very inspiring. I’m commenting only to reinforce to others that what you say is true.

    PS: One musical trend that I have always loathed was the decision in the 1980’s to move the drums to the foreground. I once tried to listen to a top 20 countdown of 80’s songs and thought that my brain was going to implode from the battering. There’s no way that that was an organic movement/decision by producers; definitely coordinated to have some kind of destabilizing effect.

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    1. I never noticed that about drums in the ’80s, but now I will listen for it.

      Re: fasting–one could write a whole book on therapeutic fasting and its history in traditional medicine. Western medicine knows nothing of it. In fact, inasmuch as fasting is not FDA-approved, your doctor would probably face sanctions for suggesting it to a patient. No pill can take the place of giving your GI tract a rest once in a while.

      Liked by 1 person

        1. Too funny … when I read your initial comment about foregrounded drums in the ‘80s, the song that immediately popped into my head was “In the Air Tonight” by Phil Collins. As mentioned in the Wiki article you just linked.

          And now I have an earworm of it.

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          1. Interesting – Phil Collins is one musician who, even when I listened to popular music, I loathed. I could not stand the way his voice, which had no resonance, was propped up by fake drums … One More Night was, I’ll bet, highly compressible.

            Like

          2. Dude, I’m so sorry. Here. let me stomp on that earworm for ya.

            What you don’t realize yet is that I’ve ruined an entire decade for you. Musically that is. It’s like that FedEx logo. Once you see the arrow, you can’t unsee it.

            Liked by 1 person

      1. I experienced this many times and agree with every word. I am a singer / songwriter for the band Roots of Chaos. I’ve been living in China for two years where popular music is horribly repetitive and the popular music from abroad they love is same. I quit listening to all of it and stopped writing. Then months later I took it up again – only to start writing piano and soul – without having any influences in that area. I’ve said for years we are being programmed by modern pop and when you remove yourself from it as a writer and later begin creating again after a “fast,” your own mind seems to return and ideas expand once more. The music from within – when not caged by dumbed down programming – is in itself infinite.

        Liked by 2 people

  2. Agreed, an excellent piece and regrets that the series is at an end.

    Speaking of the 80s, I read somewhere a long time ago that music of an era is designed to accompany the drug du jour of that era, in the 60s pot, in the 80s cocaine. So it should come as no surprise that audiences in the 60s could sit through a drum solo while in the 80s the drum had to rattle at a much faster pace to accompany the stepped up frenzy produced by the white powder. I once sat through a concert by Iron Butterfly (in Billings, Montana – the band must have been on its way out!) and voices in the audience whooped as they played In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida with a fifteen minute drum solo. I commented to my friends on the way home that I thought it was boring, and got some muttering ridicule in return. But I was neither drunk nor high, which explained my condition. (I have gotten high on pot twice in my life, and my fondest memory is that TV became fascinating.)

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thanks Mark. That explains why the ’70s is my favorite era for music. It’s right in the sweet spot between pot and coke. Like Goldilocks favorite porridge.

      I’ve gotten high on pot “a few” more times than two. We used to watch and enjoy laughing at things like Mr. Rogers, televangelists, Dragnet, etc. Good Times…oh yeah, that too. It was Dy-no-mite!

      Like

    2. The drug link is definitely true. In the 90s, the electronic scene really boomed and not coincidentally that was accompanied by xtc (and speed in other countries). Trance (the name says it all) and hardstyle (still one of my favorite styles) are huge in Holland. But the thing with those styles is that many people do not even do drugs and still like the music or those who have done can also appreciate it when not influenced (like myself).

      I tried dancing salsa on xtc once and that was a horrible failure, I shouted “I cannot even dance salsa anymore, come on, give me a repetitive beat!”. It was a memorable New Year’s Eve in a nice location and with amazing company (two friends who died young in a car crash where their baby survived…).

      Liked by 1 person

  3. Music enters the “back door,”avoiding the “filters” we have developed for other stimuli.

    “Music, though it appears to be similar to features of language, is more rooted in the primitive brain structures that are involved in motivation, reward and emotion. Whether it is the first familiar notes of The Beatles’ “Yellow Submarine,” or the beats preceding AC/DC’s “Back in Black,” the brain synchronizes neural oscillators with the pulse of the music (through cerebellum activation), and starts to predict when the next strong beat will occur. The response to ‘groove’ is mainly unconscious; it is processed first through the cerebellum and amygdala rather than the frontal lobes.” https://psychcentral.com/lib/music-how-it-impacts-your-brain-emotions/

    The amygdala detects fear, prepares you for emergencies. Its role in our perception of fear and other emotions seems, to me at least, to be the focus of all this repetition, “boom-boom” called music, rap and other rhythmic concoctions being pawned-off as music. It may have originated with tribal drumming, I do not know. I do know, “it works.” Just another weaponized tactic to keep that constant adrenaline drip going, control micro-targeted segments of “society,” and divide the masses more or less permanently via ego/identity.

    Solitude is the antidote and pathway to freedom from the perpetual-war zone.

    Like

    1. Steve, that’s why your work on behalf of wilderness and forest preserves is so important. Solitude and silence are the unobtainium of modern life, unless one has access to wilderness.

      Like

      1. Thanks, Maarten. In 2002-2003 I had a solo exhibition at The Montana Museum of Art & Culture at the U. of Montana. The catalog entitled “The Last Refuge.” It dealt mostly with urbanization, solitude and freedom, with a catch. Most of the subject matter related to the bathroom. Needless to say, those without a sense of humor were, let’s say put off. That was my last exhibition in Missoula, private or public. Oh well.

        “Fuck ’em if they can’t take a joke!” ― Bette Midler.

        Liked by 1 person

  4. I am a bit younger than most of you, so don’t have firsthand experience from the 1970s and before, but this:

    Simply put: repetitive sounds can be stultifying and relaxing …. like hypnosis through the ears. There are studies that point to these effects. Repetitive music makes you dumb and numb. It is like a kind of low-level psychic driving. If you want to make someone easily manipulable, prone to suggestion, docile like cattle, what better way to do so than to use sonic hypnosis through ubiquitous music, droning out the same fatuous phrases and melodic mantras over and over and over again?

    [Imagine a “millennial whoop” here]

    Because—just think about it—how much do compulsive behaviors characterize our society these days? Binge-watching TV shows. Video game marathons. Social media addictions. Smart-phone addictions. Fanatic following of sports teams and athletic events (like the World Cup). The list goes on and on. What is driving all this novel obsessive-compulsive behavior? What is keeping Americans from “getting a life”? And why is this kind of fixation encouraged even?

    Things have changed a lot since the early days of “pop music”. Back then life was much less varied than today. You had like 5 radio channels, the first TV channel (in the 80s we had 2 public channels and no commercial ones yet), just one choice of yoghurt, not 500,000 different types like today, etc. etc.

    The pop music (the little of what I know about it these days; avoid it where possible) seems to have followed the opposite route and it may have to do with the importance of music. Back then, you put a record on a record player and your activity of that moment was … listening to music. Just that was the activity.

    Nowadays, music is an extra; people do other activities while listening to music. Driving, working, cleaning, shopping (indeed), gaming, reading, surfing, whatever. Concerts aside, but even there now; people chatting on Facebook on a full salsa dancefloor here (I was quite shocked to see that)…

    Like

    1. I truly feel sympathy for today’s youth regarding music. For me, as a teen, the purchase of an LP was a ritualistic event. All of the senses were involved. The smell of ink, cardboard, and vinyl. The artwork and texture of the jacket. The taste of the doobie as I settled back for the experience since I had probably only heard one or two of the songs before. Sure, I was being socially engineered, but that particular ignorance was so blissful at the time.

      Liked by 1 person

      1. Ha, true. Luckily I grew up in Rock capital and back in the 60s my dad used to play with these guys:

        (I deliberately not posted the popular song many US Americans know)

        I grew up in the 80s and early 90s and my parents played records all the time. My mom was a music teacher, so that helped. I taped music from the radio on cassettes, poor quality and incomplete, but who cares. We got our first CD player not earlier than 1993.

        From the same capital, the first #1 hit in the US for a Dutch band (earworm alert):

        Like

        1. Wow! That was a spin down Memory Lane. Thanks for the smile.

          So here’s a question about folk music for you, Gaia. Did you ever hear a Dutch singer named Jaap Fischer? When I was studying het Nederlands in college, my professor played us music by him as a teaching tool; even dubbed a cassette for me that I have long lost. I learned a lot of vocabulary from those odd little ballads of his. I just wondered how well known he was by the average person.

          Like

          1. Quite famous. Het ei is a well known song my mom played a lot, thanks for reminding me, I will listen to it now.

            Nice you learned Dutch (your name gave it away of course), I learned Spanish the same way, with music, didn’t learn it in classes, just translating the lyrics while listening to the songs everyday, a perfect way to learn a language.

            Two other tips then:

            Doe Maar, famous in the 80s, good lyrics and music.

            De Régâhs, they sing in The Hague slang but Spanish music, mostly covers of well-known songs.

            Liked by 1 person

        2. Gaia,
          Venus is a song on my “soundtrack of my life” playlist, but all these years I thought a dude sang it. Even watching this hot girl sing, it isn’t altering my perception. I love these “vintage” rock music videos. I don’t want to turn this into a Godlike Production thread, but here is an entry that sums up my opinion of this “truth movement” that appears to be in its death throes. Hopefully, it’s just entering its next “spiritual” phase.

          As for me, I’m returning to a subject near and dear to my heart; Hollywood lesbians and trannies! Stay tuned.

          Like

  5. I definitely have the sense that the change in popular culture, and especially the weaponization of music, occurred in my lifetime. Sometimes I feel like Winston Smith, with dim memories of a time when chocolate tasted better (and music was not a mindfrack).

    Like

  6. drums were so important in the 80-s because back then they were an important part of the arrangement and musicians knew how to play them. The same applies for the 50s and the saxophone. I love music from the 80-s, especially all that soft rock a la Toto, Foreigner, Boston, etc. So many good singers, good instrumentalists. Peter Gabriel comes to mind, Yes, Steve Winwood, Rush. Their hits still sound in my head. Today’s music is so hollow and so uninspiring. The same applies for sports. The current World Cup is so boring. Almost nobody in my neighborhood is excited about that.

    Like

  7. Greetings: Having worked in the medical field for years, I was required to be certified in basic life support, including CPR; when listening to music, my head almost automatically goes to the tempo. It is amazing (or maybe not) how the beat of many popular songs have the perfect tempo for performing CPR – ex: Golden Earring’s “Twilight Zone”, John Denver’s “Thank God I’m a Country Boy” (really!!), the Bee Gee’s “Stayin’ Alive”. I’m sure there are many more…which leads me to wonder if the subliminal undercurrents in popular music that connect to vital life functions (like heartbeat) haven’t been pushed on us for far longer than we suspect.

    Liked by 1 person

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