I’ve tried podcasts. I’ve tried movies. I’ve tried TV. I’ve tried reading. I’ve even tried just closing my eyes and meditating.
But nothing makes the time on my exercise bike go faster than listening to music.
Whether I’m scrolling through treasured tunes on my iPod, switching between stations on my Nook’s Pandora app or picking through favorite channels on SiriusXM — the half-hour of pedaling on the recumbent races by.
It just takes eight or nine songs to get through those 30-plus minutes, and when the last is winding down to a precious few seconds, I’m disappointed the ride is at an end.
Anyone who uses treadmills or similar indoor exercise machines knows what I’m talking about. Same for joggers and others who exercise regularly. The undertakings are tedious. A diversion of some sort is necessary.
While fitness centers outfit their machines with TVs, put TVs on nearby walls or face the machines toward scenic views (at high-rise hotels, for example) , my observation is that most people are like me — using personal music devices, piped into their brains through ear buds, to help pass the time.
What is this power of music?
My youngest son, an incredibly talented singer, delved into this subject for his senior project at the Thacher School in Ojai, Calif. He showed how music actually stirs chemical reactions that produce pleasant sensations. It really can have a physical effect.
Other studies have shown that we’re spurred to work out faster and easier with a nice musical beat, thus increasing its intensity.
Such observations will elicit a “no duh!” from many. But, really, stop and consider the incredible power, reach and variety of music. It’s so universal and all-encompassing, I sometimes wonder why we can’t use it as a common ground for human interaction.
“Music is the universal language of mankind.”
― Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
But, of course, the incredible variety of music, together with (my favorite topic) the total subjectivity of art, make it impossible for it to engender any esprit de corps outside of the fact we all are enthralled by music of some sort.
In my youth, I was certain rock n roll music, or pop music in general, would eventually peter out, unable to keep up the ever-increasing demand for new material. I figured there was a finite number of musical note combinations and pretty soon they would start repeating themselves.
Boy, how naïve I was.
While a lot of pop music sounds similar and much is derivative (to my geezer ears), the supply of songs now seems endless. The output of music has exploded with each new generation.
Both my sons love music. When they were at home, I tried to pay attention to the latest tunes. I liked being up on the stuff and occasionally would find something really nice. At my request, as technology allowed for the purchasing of individual songs and burning of personal compact discs, my youngest son made CDs with the best of the new music.
I discovered outstanding new talent like Janelle Monae, Tegan & Sara, Sara Bareilles, the Black Keys, Adele . . .
But now, with the nest vacated, I don’t see or talk to the boys that often so I am seriously out of touch. Looking at several year-end lists of the best music of 2014, I did not recognize a single song. All but a few of the artists were also strangers to me. Sad.
At the same time, my interest in Broadway shows — another regular source of new music for me over the years — has waned in recent years due a combination of factors (ticket prices, unattractive new productions, empty-nest syndrome, age).
Further, my own discovery of rare oldies — primarily music created by popular groups or individuals in the 60s or 70s (like Manfred Mann, the Shangri Las (pictured below), the Zombies, Marvin Gaye, the Hollies, Darlene Love, the Dave Clark Five, Procal Harum) that never gained regular radio airplay and thus escaped my notice — or new music by artists I DO recognize has slowed considerably.
I used to track down several new songs a month and prepare an iTunes playlist every few months (which I then burned to a CD). Now, I may have one or two personal CDs a year.
What new stuff I do find now primarily comes from listening to SeriusXM radio and the new iRadio from iTunes. And I still thrill at hearing a nice new tune, quickly scribbling down the title and artist or searching iTunes.
But my music travels, like those of many my age, now mostly take me down familiar roads. My channels on the above-named sites are troves of familiar selections, like Motown, Broadway, Frank Sinatra, Tom Petty, Bonnie Raitt, Alan Menken, the Beatles . . . you get the picture.
As just about everyone knows, it’s always fun to hear the opening bars of some old chestnut. “Quick, turn it up!! I love that song!!” Tale as old as time. Memories and emotions bubble to the surface.
There probably isn’t a more common experience for Homo sapiens than having memories stirred by music. It’s the basis, ad nauseam, of many movies, ad campaigns and radio playlists.
“When I hear music, I fear no danger. I am invulnerable. I see no foe. I am related to the earliest times, and to the latest.”
― Henry David Thoreau
I’ve always been the type to play a favorite song over and over and over, just lost in whatever sound or lyric that is, well, music to my ears. Thank the good Lord for iTunes and iPods, which allow me to do that so easily. (Better than picking up the needle on the phonograph and either starting that 45 rpm record over or trying to find that groove between songs again.)
Always number one on my iPod’s “Top 25 Most Played” songs is a pretty obscure old pop hit by Vanessa Williams (pictured below), “Save the Best for Last.” I can listen to it anytime, any place and get goose bumps. It harkens back to a time (early 1990s) when I was flush with parenthood, freshly free from burdens of our energy-sapping business ownership and working pre-dawn hours in the stockroom at our local JC Penney department store.
But Williams’ song produces more than nostalgia for me. It also has a special sound to my ears. The combination of notes, the use of the electric piano, the sound of Williams’ voice, the emotion of the lyrics . . . it hits me somewhere and makes me feel good.
The usual slew of songs came out in the early 1990s so it says something that this was one that stuck out for me.
I have the same relation to certain musical instruments, like the sound of a solo violin, or fiddle, as used a lot in traditional Irish tunes or in the theme songs for old TV shows like “Days and Nights of Molly Dodd” or “Evening Shade.”
I’m not much for chamber music but a violin solo, when performed with expertise and playing certain classical music, can bring me to tears.
Country music, by and large, sounds like a cat’s wail or fingernails across a chalkboard to my ears but there is one song, “New Way Home” by veteran KT Oslin, that puts a lump in my throat, especially when she and a backup singer harmonize for the final, drawn out “hooooome.”
Not many people, if any, probably share my reactions to those individual songs or sounds but I’m guessing everyone, even the savage beasts among us, has musical sounds that elicit similarly strong feelings, positive and negative.
They are what move us, mentally and physically. Just a simple little fact of life that never ceases to amaze me, whether sitting at my desk or pushing the recumbent pedals.
“Life seems to go on without effort when I am filled with music.”
― George Eliot, The Mill on the Floss (Mary Ann Evans, known by her pen name George Eliot, was an English novelist, journalist, translator and one of the leading writers of the Victorian era.)
“There is no feeling, except the extremes of fear and grief, that does not find relief in music.”
― George Eliot
“Music has always been a matter of Energy to me, a question of Fuel. Sentimental people call it Inspiration, but what they really mean is Fuel. I have always needed Fuel. I am a serious consumer. On some nights I still believe that a car with the gas needle on empty can run about fifty more miles if you have the right music very loud on the radio.”
― Hunter S. Thompson
But nothing makes the time on my exercise bike go faster than listening to music.
Whether I’m scrolling through treasured tunes on my iPod, switching between stations on my Nook’s Pandora app or picking through favorite channels on SiriusXM — the half-hour of pedaling on the recumbent races by.
It just takes eight or nine songs to get through those 30-plus minutes, and when the last is winding down to a precious few seconds, I’m disappointed the ride is at an end.
Anyone who uses treadmills or similar indoor exercise machines knows what I’m talking about. Same for joggers and others who exercise regularly. The undertakings are tedious. A diversion of some sort is necessary.
While fitness centers outfit their machines with TVs, put TVs on nearby walls or face the machines toward scenic views (at high-rise hotels, for example) , my observation is that most people are like me — using personal music devices, piped into their brains through ear buds, to help pass the time.
What is this power of music?
My youngest son, an incredibly talented singer, delved into this subject for his senior project at the Thacher School in Ojai, Calif. He showed how music actually stirs chemical reactions that produce pleasant sensations. It really can have a physical effect.
Other studies have shown that we’re spurred to work out faster and easier with a nice musical beat, thus increasing its intensity.
Such observations will elicit a “no duh!” from many. But, really, stop and consider the incredible power, reach and variety of music. It’s so universal and all-encompassing, I sometimes wonder why we can’t use it as a common ground for human interaction.
“Music is the universal language of mankind.”
― Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
But, of course, the incredible variety of music, together with (my favorite topic) the total subjectivity of art, make it impossible for it to engender any esprit de corps outside of the fact we all are enthralled by music of some sort.
In my youth, I was certain rock n roll music, or pop music in general, would eventually peter out, unable to keep up the ever-increasing demand for new material. I figured there was a finite number of musical note combinations and pretty soon they would start repeating themselves.
Boy, how naïve I was.
While a lot of pop music sounds similar and much is derivative (to my geezer ears), the supply of songs now seems endless. The output of music has exploded with each new generation.
Both my sons love music. When they were at home, I tried to pay attention to the latest tunes. I liked being up on the stuff and occasionally would find something really nice. At my request, as technology allowed for the purchasing of individual songs and burning of personal compact discs, my youngest son made CDs with the best of the new music.
I discovered outstanding new talent like Janelle Monae, Tegan & Sara, Sara Bareilles, the Black Keys, Adele . . .
But now, with the nest vacated, I don’t see or talk to the boys that often so I am seriously out of touch. Looking at several year-end lists of the best music of 2014, I did not recognize a single song. All but a few of the artists were also strangers to me. Sad.
At the same time, my interest in Broadway shows — another regular source of new music for me over the years — has waned in recent years due a combination of factors (ticket prices, unattractive new productions, empty-nest syndrome, age).
Further, my own discovery of rare oldies — primarily music created by popular groups or individuals in the 60s or 70s (like Manfred Mann, the Shangri Las (pictured below), the Zombies, Marvin Gaye, the Hollies, Darlene Love, the Dave Clark Five, Procal Harum) that never gained regular radio airplay and thus escaped my notice — or new music by artists I DO recognize has slowed considerably.
I used to track down several new songs a month and prepare an iTunes playlist every few months (which I then burned to a CD). Now, I may have one or two personal CDs a year.
What new stuff I do find now primarily comes from listening to SeriusXM radio and the new iRadio from iTunes. And I still thrill at hearing a nice new tune, quickly scribbling down the title and artist or searching iTunes.
But my music travels, like those of many my age, now mostly take me down familiar roads. My channels on the above-named sites are troves of familiar selections, like Motown, Broadway, Frank Sinatra, Tom Petty, Bonnie Raitt, Alan Menken, the Beatles . . . you get the picture.
As just about everyone knows, it’s always fun to hear the opening bars of some old chestnut. “Quick, turn it up!! I love that song!!” Tale as old as time. Memories and emotions bubble to the surface.
There probably isn’t a more common experience for Homo sapiens than having memories stirred by music. It’s the basis, ad nauseam, of many movies, ad campaigns and radio playlists.
“When I hear music, I fear no danger. I am invulnerable. I see no foe. I am related to the earliest times, and to the latest.”
― Henry David Thoreau
I’ve always been the type to play a favorite song over and over and over, just lost in whatever sound or lyric that is, well, music to my ears. Thank the good Lord for iTunes and iPods, which allow me to do that so easily. (Better than picking up the needle on the phonograph and either starting that 45 rpm record over or trying to find that groove between songs again.)
Always number one on my iPod’s “Top 25 Most Played” songs is a pretty obscure old pop hit by Vanessa Williams (pictured below), “Save the Best for Last.” I can listen to it anytime, any place and get goose bumps. It harkens back to a time (early 1990s) when I was flush with parenthood, freshly free from burdens of our energy-sapping business ownership and working pre-dawn hours in the stockroom at our local JC Penney department store.
But Williams’ song produces more than nostalgia for me. It also has a special sound to my ears. The combination of notes, the use of the electric piano, the sound of Williams’ voice, the emotion of the lyrics . . . it hits me somewhere and makes me feel good.
The usual slew of songs came out in the early 1990s so it says something that this was one that stuck out for me.
I have the same relation to certain musical instruments, like the sound of a solo violin, or fiddle, as used a lot in traditional Irish tunes or in the theme songs for old TV shows like “Days and Nights of Molly Dodd” or “Evening Shade.”
I’m not much for chamber music but a violin solo, when performed with expertise and playing certain classical music, can bring me to tears.
Country music, by and large, sounds like a cat’s wail or fingernails across a chalkboard to my ears but there is one song, “New Way Home” by veteran KT Oslin, that puts a lump in my throat, especially when she and a backup singer harmonize for the final, drawn out “hooooome.”
Not many people, if any, probably share my reactions to those individual songs or sounds but I’m guessing everyone, even the savage beasts among us, has musical sounds that elicit similarly strong feelings, positive and negative.
They are what move us, mentally and physically. Just a simple little fact of life that never ceases to amaze me, whether sitting at my desk or pushing the recumbent pedals.
“Life seems to go on without effort when I am filled with music.”
― George Eliot, The Mill on the Floss (Mary Ann Evans, known by her pen name George Eliot, was an English novelist, journalist, translator and one of the leading writers of the Victorian era.)
“There is no feeling, except the extremes of fear and grief, that does not find relief in music.”
― George Eliot
“Music has always been a matter of Energy to me, a question of Fuel. Sentimental people call it Inspiration, but what they really mean is Fuel. I have always needed Fuel. I am a serious consumer. On some nights I still believe that a car with the gas needle on empty can run about fifty more miles if you have the right music very loud on the radio.”
― Hunter S. Thompson