Let the Music Play- Part 1

That’s music to my ears”, “that strikes a chord”, or “let’s just play it by ear”. A few of many references to music that are part of the English language. Idioms that are so common and frequently used we rarely take notice.  You overhear a coworker commenting on the boss: “he loves to toot his own horn” or “he sounds like a broken record” or “don’t give me that song and dance”. We are surrounded by such references in addition to actual music for a reason. Music is a large part of living and being human. It is impossible to overstate its importance, the impact it has on our lives knowingly or unwittingly.

Music is Everything

Throughout our lives, everyone, everywhere is touched by music each and every day in some way. From the rhythms in the womb all the way through the playing of Taps or Amazing Grace at the end. So vast and complex as to defy any single meaning, music nonetheless requires little explanation, while transcending borders and cultural differences. A type of universal language with the power to connect and unite culturally as well as generationally.

You are not wrong to think that your experiences as a teenager and young adult felt disproportionately more powerful than later experiences especially when it comes to music. The music we experienced during our teens and early 20’s left a deeper emotional imprint than ones later in life.

Why? For one, during adolescence and early adulthood, our brains are highly active and our emotional and reward centers (Limbic System) are working overtime. Dopamine release is high, making us more sensitive to highly emotional stimuli like music. Like wow, man. Also, while our frontal cortex is developing, the area of our brain that governs our decision-making abilities, higher emotional responses to music are more deeply embedded than similar experiences later in life.

Music is a powerful tool for self-expression and in many cases is part of our identity. The music we choose can determine our peer groups and in turn our values and aspirations, making it an integral part of our sense of self. As you probably remember, our teen years were emotionally intense: first loves, heartbreaks, major milestones, new found freedoms and of course, zits.

While waiting for my frontal-cortex to develop I had one of my first and most powerful musical related life experiences. It is one of perhaps three times I felt completely connected to my surroundings, to nature, to life. It was all encompassing. It was euphoric.

Tull in the woods. I was with my best friend Dan (Fragnito). We parked our 1964 VW van, the one that would soon take us cross country on a 6-week summer adventure to California, my “promised land”. We walked the remaining 100 yards or so carrying a blanket, our 8-track stereo, with extendable speakers, and a cooler with sandwiches and drinks. Dan created a picnic area, near the trees, while I journeyed into the woods and placed the 8-track on the ground extending the speakers to where they were around 20 feet apart, the right distance for perfect stereophonic separation.  I rejoined Dan on my side of the blanket in part to retrieve the 8 track-tape I had forgotten. Before I could leave, Dan insisted I try some of the *hashish we seemed to have brought with us. It was new and different, at least for us, so how could I refuse. Ohhkay. Shortly, thereafter I remembered the 8-track and made my way back to the stereo, inserted it and pushed play. It was Jethro Tulls “Stand Up” album from 1969 and side 2 was playing. Meanwhile back on the blanket we listened to 2 or 3 songs all written by Ian Anderson and all was well.

Then a magnificent, life changing event occurred.

The song “Reason for Waiting” started to play. It began with the gentle strumming of an acoustic guitar. Quickly joined by Andersons’ legendary flute. Gentle, melodic and sweet. Followed 30 seconds in by the crisp, clean lyrics: “What a sight for my eyes, to see you in sleep”. “Could it stop the sun rise Hearing you weep”? Additional lyrics including “came a thousand miles just to catch you while your smiling”. More lyrics blended with gentle guitar and soft flute finally joined by the lush orchestral texture of the string section. All are repeated and the song ends. Those are the facts. How it made me feel was another matter.

The melody flowed through the trees as if created by nature herself, enveloping me completely in the fullness of sound. Generating emotions that overwhelmed my senses while connecting me to my surroundings in a way I had never experienced. It was magical and wonderful and transformational in ways that are difficult to explain, yet I remember as if it were yesterday, 54 years later.

I was somehow connected to a now talked about unseen “silken web” that joins all living things in space and time. My experience, the resulting emotions and current memories feel as though they are written across that network connecting me to everything that ever was and all that will ever be. I was no longer small but a part of something much larger. All my senses, sight, sound, touch were heightened, and in perfect sync. It’s as if I were in another state of being. Not an actual dimension but a supercharged 3D experience. 3D+. Phew.

Music lights up nearly all of the brain, including areas that activate our emotional responses to music through memory. Lots of different things are going on, simultaneously, making for a very rich experience.

Music helps us loose our inhibitions enabling us among other things, to cut loose on the dance floor. I’m sure the hash had something to do with reducing my reliance on logic and reason. Which isn’t to say I was detached from reality but rather enjoying one of its side benefits.

I did go on to attend two Jethro Tull concerts, one in Jacksonville, Florida, the other at Cornell University in Ithaca, NY.

*I should say that I did not smoke a lot of pot or hash. It was easy to walk away from both by my mid-twenties. Pot, now weed made me paranoid. And then there’s the toll the “munchies” took, right as I became a regular jogger. I hesitated to mention this part of my experience at all. I decided that full disclosure was important and it was the 60’s after all.

Speaking of inhaling, I might as well mention my first time. Unlike Bill Clinton, I did inhale. It was my freshman year at college. Not on campus but back home in Batavia N.Y. while on a break from Alfred Tech. Dan and I, yes Fragnito, were at a friend’s apartment, Gary Riso. (Sorry Gary, if you’re reading this.) Someone pulled out a pipe and passed it around. Soon I was feeling pretty good. Very good in fact. I was wonderfully relaxed into my own body while “Crimson and Clover” by Tommy James and the Shondells was playing in the background. An ethereal sounding song, some might have described as “trippy”. Although the lyrics may convey a sense of longing or desire which went over my head, it was the dreamy melody that enveloped me and defined my first experience that autumn afternoon.

Black Light, Black Wall & My bedroom speakers

I think now is a good time to explain how important the hardware, the physical components required to play and listen to music were to me during my teenage years. Maybe it’s a guy thing but the record player, stereo speakers, amplifier, et al mattered. The environment was also key to the listening experience, and the only place I had some semblance of control was my bedroom. This 10’ x 12’ room which accessed the attic would be my private concert hall. But since I didn’t have more than two nickels to rub together, I had to get creative.

I convinced my mother to let me paint one of the walls in my bedroom, black. I do not recall even remotely being motivated by the 1966 Stones song of the same name. I used a brush, not a roller.  I then added various types of neon shapes, fluorescent symbols and a small poster of San Francisco because it’s what I had. In a flurry of creativity, devoid of any talent, I added a few squiggles, flowers and a peace sign or two using dayglo paint.

I then added the piece de resistance, a 48” blacklight that would flood the wall and the room with ultraviolet (UVA) light. My younger sisters were of course intrigued by my project and watched patiently as I created my masterpiece.  Our teeth looked super white under the blacklight just as they did later in the early days of digital photography. I was amazed at how much lint and dust was present in my bedroom. Each flake was illuminated as they drifted everywhere around my room. Very cool. Not as cool as strobe lights, but way less disruptive.

My stage was ready. Bring on the music.

Sound quality was important to me but I lacked any of the essential components required to achieve high fidelity. Getting a Marantz, my gold standard for stereo equipment was years away.  I would do the best I could with what I had. I didn’t even have my own record player, so I had to rely upon my parents record player consol located below me on the first floor.

First things first. Connect the downstairs consol to my yet to be built speakers. I could not simply run the 2 speaker wires along the floor and up the stairs to my bedroom. Tacky and my mother would never allow it. My standards were higher than that anyway. It was almost a straight shot upwards from the stereo below which was located near an abandoned chimney that ran from the basement to the roof. (The basement section of the chimney served as a place to record our heights while growing up. I remember my height being marked in pencil in 1955. (Tina, one of my sisters sent me the proof.)

Using coat hangers and whatever else it took; I ran 2 sets of wire (one for the left speaker and the other for the right) up one side of the chimney between the bricks and fake wood paneling to my room exiting through the baseboard to where my speakers would be. I hid the wires under the carpet and behind the baseboards. Nice and tidy.

The black wall and its primitive artwork served as a backdrop for the 2 stereo speakers. I decided they would reside on the floor for the time being sparing the wall further “damage”.

My two speakers each incorporated the base, mid-range and tweeter all in one. Far from ideal but compact. I built a cubical frame for each out of 2 x 4’s and covered them with a nice warm, patterned burgundy fabric. They measured 12” x 18” x 6” deep and looked pretty cool. I located the 2 sets of wires and attached them to the speakers. A quick test of the system proved they worked.

However, it was important that I was listening to true stereo sound. Remember, in those days we listened to our music over the home or car radio or a small hand-held radio all of which had but a single speaker. Actually, not much different than today, come to think about it. Stereo is not possible with only one speaker. It wasn’t until the late 1950’s that stereo recordings became widespread in the music industry. The first turntables with stereo playback were released in the 1960s, the first stereo consols shortly there after and we had one of them.

I’m not sure how, but I determined that I was listening to true stereo by playing “Ramble On “by Led Zepplin. I was never into Heavy Metal but I did like a few of their songs, especially “Stairway to Heaven” and “Going to California”. One part of “Ramble On “played two notes that could only be heard through the left speaker followed by 2 notes that could only be heard through the right speaker. Then a third set of 3 notes were heard on both speakers simultaneously. ♫ Da Da (left) ♫ Da Da (right), ♫ Da Da Da. I used this tried-and-true method the rest of my life with newer equipment just to be sure. I have as of yet not developed a way to double check 5.1 or 7.1 surround sound. Or, if that’s even possible.

When I later left home for collage my sisters informed me that my mother had a heck of a time painting over that black wall. It took like 5 coats of paint. Sorry mom.