Brain Tunes

When I was in high school, I would often do my homework laying down on my stomach on the floor of my room. The habit occasionally caused back aches, but it allowed me prolonged concentration, the kind that doesn’t come naturally when I am sitting at a desk. But what really made that position so conducive for good work was my proximity to the CD and tape player, or what Dad called the ghettoblaster. I would put music on and do my math homework, sometimes pausing to make fun of Paul or look at the phone, which was also placed strategically close. The music I chose to work to varied pretty widely. I remember putting on Harry Connick, Jr’s Trio album, which is still underrated, or the soundtrack to Tim Burton’s Batman, of which I watched a part on Saturday night while flipping the channels and hummed along to even the slightest nuance in the music. By the way, the movie seemed way worse than I remember it with the exception of the overwrought musical score, but I suspect most everything from the early nineties would be bad to me now. I also remember putting on Yesstory by Yes and Wish You Were Here by Pink Floyd while I wrote proofs and read short stories. What was interesting about it all was that I listened to soundtracks, meant to be background music, in the same way I listened to Yes, which if played as background music has the ability to produce great anger among the general populace. But all of it seemed to make my mind move in clearer ways that made homework and problem-solving less difficult.

I have read studies that suggest that music by Mozart and Bach, whose musical lines, chords, counterpoint, and polyphony might mimic the way the human brain tries to clarify itself, can help with concentration and improve recognition. Maybe. My best attempt at commenting on those studies would be to suggest controls that allow for aesthetic taste and cultural heritage (wouldn’t Chinese opera be much more effective for a Chinese person’s concentration than Handel? I don’t know, but I do know that Chinese opera would make soggy noodles out of my noodle, principally because I hate the way it sounds.) That is, music and brain function probably don’t have a causal relationship as much as a dialogic relationship that has more to do with commonplace, decorum, and desire. If my brain is in part a product of a uniquely Western religious heritage of which Handel and Bach are prominent figures, might it not function at a heightened state if those old musical lines are recognized? Likewise, how different is my brain from the brain that composed “Air on the G String”? Probably not that different, only less capable. Or perhaps, very different. Of course, all of these suggestions are just drivel, especially when tried empirically (I know many more Chinese students whose brains seem to heighten at the sound of Beethoven than American students, so my own observations would debunk that theory).

My point, though, is this. Music has a unique effect on the way our brains concentrate, for better or worse, and I have spent a good deal of time trying to figure out the best music to aid my own concentration. What has resulted is my very generalized suggestions for background music while one tries to work—the kind of work that requires prolonged concentration and very little physical movement. I am not an expert on the other kinds of work accompaniment: country music seems to do the trick for carpenters, easy listening for grocery store venders, and absolute crap for record store owners, but what do I know about any of those things? While I was working landscaping, not only would Bach have been a horrible soundtrack but it would have actually made me a worse employee and allowed Jaime and Ernesto to call me names like Maricon, el ge, and el pinche gringo lleno de mierda. But because I listened to their ranchero garbage and learned to sing along, they actually called me “hombre.”

But here are my perferences for work:

Stars of the Lid, . . . And Their Refinement of the Decline. John claims that he told me about these guys long ago, but I don’t remember so I refuse to give him credit. Rather, I give the Iowa City Public Library credit for having an ambient section in their CDs that I occasionally look through to get new music for working. Brian Eno, in his famous manifesto on ambient music, said that his “Discreet Music” is meant to be played behind something. Of course, I am convinced that Eno’s statement is meant as a ruse, and Stars of the Lid have taken his concepts (that have been endlessly developed by others, and usually result in drone) and made at least two amazing albums. Their latest, though, is their best, and it is almost perfect as an album to create sustained mental energy. The music doesn’t insult anybody with synthesizers and its chords have as much to do with Arvo Part, all hail his great name, as Eno. This album has probably received more play since I purchased it than any other album in the last year, and I have written more in the last year than any previous, which good reason will tell you is all due to this album. Here’s the catch, though: there is no way to describe this album besides using the set terms that would minimize it: “music for lucid dreaming,” “relaxes the soul,” and all the other stuff I am lifting off the Amazon user reviews. I am sometimes embarrassed that a bunch of the music I listen to is described this way, but I am also pretty confident that you will have more respect for me if you actually tried it out.

Steve Reich, Music for 18 Musicians. Supposedly this piece is a hallmark in the minimalist music tradition, and I can see why: it seems to strip melody of its outlying sweeps and reduce it to a series of frantically repetitive notes that have similar chords to the Stars of the Lid stuff, although you’d never tell. This is music if you need to work fast, write for a deadline and think quickly. By the way I am describing it, it doesn’t sound like it is listenable, but it is, so there.

Max Richter, 24 Postcards in Full Color. The concept here is that each of the “postcards” in this album is meant as a ringtone for a cell phone. They are striking, beautiful little pieces that work nicely for writing emails and finding a pithy sentence to end a paragraph. They would also work well to fill up the time left over on your mix tape.


Explosions in the Sky, The Earth is Not a Cold Dead Place. This is another album that inspires people on Amazon to say things that induce nausea, but listening to the record actually induces the opposite. These guys are from Austin, I believe, like Stars of the Lid, but their brand of chiming guitars is very different and really good for running or writing the conclusion of your dissertation chapter. Unfortunately, a bunch of lesser musicians are trying out this style these days, but this album is still the place to go for its apex.

Stile Antico, Heavenly Harmonies: Thomas Tallis and William Byrd. This new recording of some of Byrd’s and Tallis’s best liturgical works is powerful in the way its title suggests: if harmony ignites the neurons to clarify thought, this album works pretty well to wade through the nonsense that the brain regularly accumulates. Besides, both composers were working at the height of the English Renaissance, which already means that they are awesome.