Music That Moves Me

...On The Power of Music

Music has great power to move me. It always has. I am certainly not unique in that regard, and that's what makes music so special -- its power to evoke human emotions across culture, history, and all the identities that might otherwise divide us.

(Photo: H Grotevant)

Music can amplify my existing emotions --- if I'm in a pensive mood and want to lean into that experience, it will help me do it.  A favorite is “Spiegel im Spiegel” by Arvo Pärt (version for cello and piano). Close your eyes and let it penetrate.

If I'm happy -- the right music can lift me higher and even get me dancing. I can't find the link, but several years ago there was a YouTube video that made the rounds showing this guy dancing to upbeat music and being transported to different parts of the world, getting people to dance along with him -- absolutely infectious. (If anyone has that link, please share!)

Music can also modify my emotions --- When a day is starting out kind of iffy, all I have to do is put on my Raul Midón playlist, and the sun will shine more brightly.

The right music can take my sad mood and lift it out of the depths. It's not just me. A few years ago, I happened on a brilliant book, "Symphonies for the Soul:  Classical Music to Cure Any Ailment," by Oliver Condy (Hatchett Book Group, NY, 2021). Condy was editor of BBC Music Magazine for many years, so comes by this knowledge through deep experience. The book is organized alphabetically by "ailments," from Abandonment and Acceptance (lack of) ... to Youthfulness (yearning for) and Zen (deficiency in). Clever book with fascinating recommendations. (But you won't find any spoilers here!)

Music is almost always playing in my house. Over the past few years, I've found the TV to be so obnoxious, I rarely watch any more. Although I initially was not keen on them, Susan's Echo Spots (placed in several rooms around the house) can respond to my "Alexa" commands to pull anything I'd like from Spotify. I also learned to say, "Alexa, play <a given piece> everywhere"  -- and it will play that piece simultaneously on all devices throughout the house. I use them all the time now.

Here are four pieces that have moved me a lot over the years. In some cases, I have repeatedly returned to them because their impact on me is timeless. In other cases, they were impactful because of specific things happening at the time. (You'll understand as you read the examples.)

Here's a timeless one: 

"7 O'Clock News / Silent Night" by Simon & Garfunkel, on "Parsley, Sage, Rosemary, & Thyme" (1966)

This piece came out in my freshman year of college as the Vietnam War was accelerating. It begins with S&G singing "Silent Night" in their sweetest, calmest, softest voices. In the background is a man's voice, but you can't quite make out what he's saying. As the piece progresses, "Silent Night" recedes into the background, and the man's voice (reporting the evening news on TV, it turns out) grows louder and more insistent. 

Counterposed with the verse, "Holy infant so tender and mild" is the reporter saying, "Former Vice-President Richard Nixon says that unless there is a substantial increase in the present war effort in Vietnam, the US should look forward to five more years of war." ... and then the music fades out with "sleep in heavenly peace," while the reporter intones, “Opposition to the war in this country is the greatest single weapon working against the US. That’s the seven o’clock edition of the news. Good night.”

Friends, it was not a good night. This piece made me cry, many times. It's making me cry as I write this. It was deeply personal in many ways --- I was 18 and facing the draft, more and more people were being killed by the day, and, for the first time, the killing was being brought into our living rooms on TV every night. It intensified my anti-war feelings, which were already strong. As they did throughout their careers, Simon & Garfunkel used music to trouble us, in a way that no text alone can. My description pales in comparison to hearing the piece. I encourage you to listen to it here. Sit quietly with it, and be open to its message. Close your eyes. Let it in.

Canon in D, by Johann Pachelbel

I referred to this in my earlier post, "Ordinary People, Ordinary Families" (July 6, 2024), but will elaborate further here.  The Pachelbel Canon was prominent as the main title theme and the ending title theme in the movie, "Ordinary People" (1980). Marvin Hamlisch created the soundtrack score, which highlighted the importance of music in setting the emotional tone of the film. For example, teen Conrad Jarrett (played by Timothy Hutton), sang tenor in the high school choir.  One scene found Conrad at a rehearsal in which they were singing a choral version of the Canon. This occurred fairly soon after he had been released from a psychiatric hospital following a suicide attempt.  His friends, his parents, and his grandparents were all walking on egg shells, not quite knowing how to interact with him. He was equally awkward around them. But he seemed to enjoy singing, and there are sweet scenes in which a girl who stood in front of him (Jeannine Pratt, played by Elizabeth McGovern) complimented him on his singing. He was absolutely overjoyed, but couldn't really believe it. That little interaction led to some poignant interchanges between them and to significant growth in his courage. I will forever associate the Canon with that movie and Conrad's vulnerability and ultimately, his transcendence. (for further musings about the movie and broader issues about families, please see my post.)  

"God Only Knows What I'd Be Without You" by The Beach Boys -- Track 8 on "Pet Sounds"  (1966)

Since my college years, I've loved "Pet Sounds" - great tunes, positive vibes, always good for an emotional lift. Hey, it's the Beach Boys! I still have it on vinyl, and it's almost worn out. Although it came out in the 60s, this track had little special meaning for me until 2022 - yes, over 55 years later. By then, Susan's illness was progressing to the point where it seemed like her end could be approaching in the not-so-distant future. Many times, I pondered the verse: "If you should ever leave me / Well, life would still go on, believe me / The world could show nothing to me / So what good would living do me?" So many complex feelings to unpack. Many tears were shed.

"You're Gonna Be Okay" lyrics by Cody Fry, Sung by Blake Morgan (VOCES8) (Track 8 on "The End" by Cody Fry (2023)

This song was released 2 months after Susan's passing, when I was not at all sure I'd be okay. The verses were not so relatable, but oh, the choruses (sung by my favorite vocal group VOCES8, and their tenor, Blake Edwards)...

"Slowly, surely/ Night will turn to day / Whisper softly / You're gonna be okay"

And oh, the bridge:

..."But I think maybe that's what it means to be brave / To feel all the fear and show up anyway."

I thought of myself in there, of course ... but I also thought of Susan, who had endured extremely difficult health challenges for a very long time - yet felt "all the fear and show[ed] up anyway." A very brave woman, indeed.

More tears. I think I believed the message about being okay after I had sung it for, oh, 2379 times.

My point in this post is not to talk about the impact of music as some abstract thing, but rather as a deeply emotional and personal force. Each of these pieces had powerful impact on me because of their direct personal relevance. Music does that to me, and I wouldn't have it any other way. These are only a few examples of many.

I bet you have such stories of your own. If you'd care to share them, I'd love to hear them.  What's a piece that moves you? Feel free to put your stories in the comments.  Words cannot begin to express the depths of my gratitude for music. It's all around us. All we have to do is listen and let it in.

Thanks to you for joining me this day on this seeker's journey.

You can be assured that I'll be writing more about music in the future. This post has focused on the subjective impact of music on me, and I hope it's gotten you thinking about its impact on you. There's now a growing scientific literature about the psychology of music, which I find fascinating and am exploring. I thank my friend and colleague Mike G. for some great exchanges on the topic, and just this morning I saw a flyer about a talk being given in Boston on August 27 by Daniel J. Levitin, "Music as Medicine: An Evening with Daniel J. Levitin." I can't attend in person, but I contacted the venue (Boston Museum of Science), and they responded that events are usually posted on their YouTube Channel several days after they occur. I'll post about it then.

(photo: H. Grotevant, taken at Tanglewood May 2024)