April 13th, 2010
At any given point in my day, there is some sort of music playing in my head. It’s like someone left the world’s most annoying radio on, not because of the particular piece of music, but because it generally plays a loop of the song that has most recently struck me as interesting. So one day I’ll get, “and heaven will smell like the airport” from Neko Case’s “I’m An Animal” over and over, and the next day it will be “No one’s laughing at God, we’re all laughing with” from Regina Spektor’s “Laughing With.”
And that’s usually okay. It keeps me occupied when I’m doing something that doesn’t require a lot of brain space. It’s especially satisfying to be able to get through a whole song. Today, for example, I had “Sexy Sadie” running through my head. I’ve been listening to the Beatles longer than I can remember, and it just so happens that I’m pretty confident that I can remember all the words to “Sexy Sadie.” So my brain threw me a curve ball, and transitioned to “London Bridge” by Fergie.
All I have on that one is: When I come to the club step aside. Blah, blah, blah, don’t be handing me a line. Blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah. I’m Fergie-Ferg, and me love you long time. (And then the chorus.)
My brain keeps running through it, over and over and over, in a vain attempt to remember the rest of the lyrics. It will not happen. While it’s entirely possible that those lyrics are locked away somewhere in my memory, I’m pretty sure I’ve lost the key. I can’t remember what Fergie says even when the song is playing outside my head.
Which brings me to the point that music playing outside my head is the only thing that stops the music playing inside my head. I find it difficult to concentrate on writing if I don’t have music playing. Silence is distracting for me because it’s never really silent.
And while I admire writers who can make up soundtracks that match the mood of a particular work, I can’t do that. My playlist for writing is upbeat enough to be energizing, familiar enough not to surprise me, and long enough that I don’t hear the same song twice in a sitting, but it has nothing to do with the writing.
My taste is reasonably eclectic, but the writing soundtrack sticks to rock and pop. I have Jay Z, Madonna, Hole, Cyndi Lauper, Beck, and Marilyn Manson along with Young MC, the Chordettes, and the White Stripes.
There’s probably some name for depending that much on music. Something out of the DVM that sounds scary and treatable with the right dosage. (With any luck that term would be Quadrophenia, but without the schizophrenic connotations.) Anyway, it’s past my bedtime…and Britney Spears’ “Baby Once More Time” just started up.
Oh, baby, baby…