Here’s the thing about being both a head case and a fan of
musical theater: ear worms.
ear·worm noun \ir-wərm\: a song or melody that keeps repeating in one's mind
I had never heard the soundtrack to Billy Elliot, the
Musical until I downloaded it after buying tickets to see the show last week. My
girl and I had just a few days to listen
while driving hither and yon, but we became familiar enough with the songs to
develop favorites and know which would be the big numbers.
The show was fantastic. Really so good and funny and
poignant and relevant and awesome. We loved our seats, we had a great night, we
were so happy we had decided to go.
We continued listening to the soundtrack over the next few
days, reminiscing about the show and comparing the original Broadway cast to
the one we had enjoyed.
A couple of nights later, I woke up in the wee hours and had a hard time
falling back to sleep. This is not unusual for me, I’m a head
case deep thinker. I’ve learned not to get too caught up in worrying
about the fact that I’m not sleeping, cuz whaddayagunnado? Just get comfy and
chill, next thing you know it will be morning.
I settled in, and found myself singing (inside, where it counts) one of the
songs from Billy Elliot. The Letter. I had mentioned this song to my family
earlier in the week, because it’s a sweet, sad song and it made me cry. I joked
that I could not listen to the song without crying, and I felt
sorry for my girl for having to sit next to me through what promised to be an
ugly blubberfest during the live performance. I wasn’t that bad. I cried
quietly, it’s not like I cried so much that my tears actually drenched my bra. Cough.
Anyway.
There I was, awake in the night, just chillin. Singin
inside.
Deeear Billy… la la da
da beeee. Hmm hmmm hmm knoooooow-oh yoooou.
It’s just a letter from his mum. A letter she wrote him
before she died. He was meant to read it when he was 18, but he couldn’t wait.
Proud to have known
you. Proud that you were mine. Proud in la laaaaaaa daaaa hmmmm mmmmm.
Sniff.
Love you forever. Love
you foreevvvvvvvveeerrr.
Oh dear.
It wasn’t not that I did not know the words, I’m used to
making up lyrics. The problem was that I couldn’t stop the tune from repeating
in my head.
Repeat. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat.
A few hours later, I wanted to kill Billy and his dead mum.
I was a wreck the next day, cranky and tired and so very
annoyed with my stupid self and my stupid dumb stupid brain. My girl
tried to put the music on in the car and I screamed and freaked and bellowed
NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO in fear that I would never ever ever sleep again if I
heard that goddamn song one more time.
I wasn’t likely to get any work done in that state, so once
I got to the office I did a little research on the phenomenon that was eating
my brain.
I discovered some interesting facts about ear worms. Most everyone
experiences them, but no one is quite clear on why. A researcher named James Kellaris says that women,
musicians and people who are neurotic, tired or stressed are most prone to
earworm attacks. Fuck you too, James Kellaris.
I found loads and loads of quippy, fun lists of people and
their ear worms on the internet, and just as many suggestions about how to get
rid of them. Everything from engaging in
brain teasers to chanting to listening to the most annoying song you can think
of. One thing that made sense to me was the idea that I was stuck on the song because
I didn’t know it, and my brain was trying to make sense of the music so that it
could complete the melody.
I knew what I had to do. I put that bitch on repeat. When I
picked her up after school, my girl was surprised, but game. We listened to the
shit out of that song. We nailed every harmony and mastered every run. We sang with
perfect Geordie accents.
Maybe it was the science, maybe it was exhaustion, maybe it
was just an ear worm. But it worked, and the song is now out of my head unless
I invite it in. Which I do, quite frequently. It’s a beautiful song. It’s "very
fookin special". And I still cry every time.
Oh, how I love this. Oh, how I love you, Littlest.
ReplyDeleteI have an earworm, too. Must be because I'm a woman [snork]. I can't stop with the "Hey Soul Sister", but the Glee version, with The Warblers (or The Garglers, as Puck would say) which is better than the original.
I use it to get annoying songs *out* of my head, but I like the other idea too. Of course, though, in that case, everyone in America -- or at least every woman, musician and tired or stressed-out neurotic -- would be singing "It's a Small World After All". All at the same time.
Nice one, sistah!
xxx
Ellie
Yes, nice one indeed! very fookin special, if I do say ;)
ReplyDeleteThe earworm phenomenon is so interesting. I actually have two language learning CDs, Earworms Spanish and Earworms Chinese. They totally play on this repeat, repeat, repeat brain function of ours. The learning is all set to music, so that your brain can't easily forget. It's pretty damn funny, or maybe annoying. But I do think it works. Although I can't speak Chinese yet!
Love the post.
Glad your deep thinking can back to something other than The Letter and Billy and his dead mum!
xoxox,
Beth
I think music virus sounds better than earworm.... love, mom
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