When you think of drugs, the mind turns to morphine and antibiotics – things you can ingest or inject. It doesn’t automatically think of percussion or melody. There are, however, other ways to medicate; other roads to health that don’t involve chemicals. Music, it turns out, is a powerful drug.
Music, it turns out, is a powerful drug.
Music – the most abstract of the arts – is increasingly considered when it comes to a broad spectrum of health challenges. Even in the absence of clear scientific data, music is recognized as having the capacity to lower blood pressure and pulse rates, to regulate breathing and to generally lower stress levels. Psychiatric and neurological disorders have been seen to respond positively to music and it’s well recognized that Alzeheimer’s patients can recover some cognitive function when singing.
Yes, there’s magic in music. I’d wager my 90s playlist is more effective than caffeine when it comes to me getting the housework done. If it wasn’t for the Red Hot Chili Peppers, that vacuum would never have racked up the miles it has.
I am susceptible to music. All sorts of music. Even in heavy traffic with a pressing agenda, I’ll come to a standstill for the bagpipes. There’s something about that sound – plaintive, yet rousing – that moves me like nothing else. I can think of little that rivals the sight and sound of a pipe band in full dress kilts coming down a street on parade. Am I the only one, or do your eyes get misty hearing our world-famous SFU pipe band playing the Skye Boat Song? Och, me eyes are wellin’ up even thinking of it.
… plaintive, yet rousing …
I have a friend who feels the same way about the balalaika. The balalaika is neither a guitar, nor a violin nor a ukulele. This triangular stringed instrument makes the unique plinking sound that’s at the base of most Russian folk songs. To him, the strains of the balalaika is like a dog whistle, and his eyes glaze over if he hears the Russian Red Army Choir singing Kalinka.
The Russian Red Army Choir performing the beloved Kalinka. Beautiful … and infectious!
For some people it’s the harmonica; for others, it’s the saxophone that moves them in indescribable ways. That the majestic harpsichord has the capacity to overpower someone into sonic submission is a fact not lost on religious institutions. It’s no accident that the acoustics in any house of worship add glory to sound. I don’t think I’ve ever felt as deep a peace as I did the day I happened upon the choir at St. Paul’s Cathedral in London singing the Evensong service. Angelic doesn’t begin to describe it. And what about church bells? When I lived in Connecticut, the sound of the Sunday morning bells always lifted my spirits.
Various anthropologists chronicled the benefits of music in poverty-stricken Appalachia back in the 1930s and 1940s. One study interviewed men and women between the ages of 23 and 78, yielding remarks like, “music takes away my worries”. Given that catastrophic illness and hunger were a constant threat, that’s saying a great deal. It’s also worth noting that I found that comment in an academic pulmonary science report in The Southwest Respiratory and Critical Care Chronicles.
“Can music save your mortal soul?”
Music is powerful enough that legislators have sought to control it over the years. These attempts are always, always unsuccessful. Don McLean posed a question in his song The Day the Music Died: “Do you believe in rock and roll? Can music save your mortal soul?” Although music might not cure cancer, it’s clear it has applications well beyond the dance floor.
And now, as inspiration to dust the living room, I’m going to go crank up the SFU pipe band playing a perennial favourite: Scotland the Brave.
Have a look at the six time world champion SFU pipe band.
This week’s question for readers:
ARE YOU A MUSIC LOVER? WHAT MOVES YOU?
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Submissions to last week’s question:
WHAT THOUGHTS DOES A NEW YEAR PROMPT FOR YOU?
Every New Year’s Eve I wonder, “What is going to happen this year that we can’t even imagine could happen?” Thinking back on some unimaginable events in the past – 9/11, COVID, unpredictable wars, the loss of loved ones – it reminds me that, what really sustains us, are our wonderful memories of people and events that brought joy to our lives. I resolve to take every opportunity to make more precious memories.
Jan Mansfield
You knocked it out of the park with your Peter Comparelli story, Jane. His dad, Dave, introduced me to carnaroli rice for making risotto.
Heather McGill
I find New Year’s Eve to be the saddest time of the year. I can’t help but think of missed opportunities and wasted time; places I didn’t go, people I lost touch with. I always vow to do better in the coming year but I’ve yet to be able to keep to the resolutions I seem to always make. Maybe the trick is to make simpler resolutions?
K. Smith
December 1981 I was renting an old mobile home while my ex husband remained in our house.
Then came a surprise call from my parents in England – they were coming to BC! In the horrible rental, they never asked about my ex or our house; I hadn’t told them we were separating.
When my ex left for Vancouver, we moved to the house. Hogmanay was big for my parents but all I had to celebrate with was an Andy Stewart’s “Hogmanay Party!” record, which we played. By the end, my parents and I were misty-eyed as we drank a toast to 1982. My father died the following year.
Madeleine Lefebvre
Our first date was on New Year’s Eve 1953. I was 15 and he was 17. We were ballroom dancing. I remember what I was wearing and how we felt. Love was in the air! We would go on to have three sons and six grandchildren. He passed away in 2022 at the age of 86 and his last words to me were, “I love you!”
Janet Cowley
It was New Year’s Eve, 1968. I had been introduced to a student nurse at Vancouver General Hospital but we had only connected by phone. I asked her out for New Year’s Eve but she was working the late shift. So at 12:30, I drove over to VGH and sneaked into the Heather Pavilion. I found the ward where she was working and asked for her. When she came out, I just walked around the desk, gave her a huge smooch and said “Happy New Year’s; I’m Bryan”. This coming February we will have been married 51 years.
Name withheld by request
There is something magical about running into an old love. It doesn’t matter if it’s a quarter century later, you see each other as you were back then. It’s one of the best ways to become reacquainted with the person you used to be. My wife is wary of these encounters when they happen to me, but she shouldn’t be. I think she worries that I’ll pine for the road not taken. In reality, these encounters make me remember the long process of elimination that brought us together.
Name withheld by request