I know that title sounds a little disgusting, but I don't mean it to be. Earworms are not worms at all, it's metaphorical, you see.
Earworms are those songs (tunes) that get stuck in your head. We have all had them. I love to quote Wikipedia on occasion, their descriptions being so neutral as to come off hilarious sometimes. In this case, they say "a catchy piece of music that continually repeats through a person's mind after it is no longer playing." Very straightforward.
It also gives me the odd factoid that a woman murderer famously had a 33 year long obsession with the song "Put the Blame on Mame" (from Gilda with Rita Hayworth). I also find that to be an earworm-y song, though not to that extent but I've had "Put the Blame on Mame" in my head on more than one occasion; it was especially annoying because it's very hard to find a good recording of the acoustic version I preferred. The scenes in the film in which the song plays are very intense, it can really stick with one. For decades, apparently.
I've heard that women are more susceptible to earworms - also called "brainworms" - than men are, and that simple tunes, or "hooks" are the best candidates for becoming one. I've read about various cures over the years, especially when I was being tormented (and it can feel that way) by a song or a tune. Tunes are a little more innocuous, they can be more background-y since there's no lyrics, but songs - you get it from both angles, the same music over and over AND the same words over and over.
One suggestion for ridding oneself of an earworm is to write out the lyrics, or speak them over and over but NOT sing them. An unusual one was to sing "Walk Like an Egyptian," specifically the "way oh, way oh" part. Some scientist did a study and somehow scientifically calculated that this song has the right frequency, duration, pitch etc to drive any other song out of your head but not replace it. It's an important point - it's no cure if replacement song gets stuck in your head instead. For to change one earworm for another is sometimes the only relief, but not ideal.
I tried all of these cures but I never had much luck with them. No, like hiccups, you just have to wait and hope will go away on its own. The best advice I ever heard was from some psychiatrist who suggested that this was a mechanism of the body that served a purpose. As Captain Picard councils Data to stick with the images in his dreams and explore them, so we are to just let those songs play in our heads and their meaning sink in. There's a message there for us, and we only need relax for it to emerge - and once we get the message, we don't have to keep hearing the messenger.
That last one doesn't really remove the song quicker, but it does give one a sense of purpose during, as if this is a special time, when one is growing, changing, learning. Sometimes, this is true. Music is a huge and wonderful part of my life, and I can't imagine going without it - so naturally, it has played a significant role in many significant moments. Singing on stage with the vocal group SoVoSo, I heard the 20-min uber-complex "Dirt" for the first time, an experience so rich and profound it remains a watershed moment in my life. While writing my first 72-Hour Novel, I listened to just a few different CD's, and especially two U2 songs ("Stuck in a Moment You Can't Get Out Of" and "In a Little While," both songs I still love). Hem's "When I Was Drinking" (and all of Rabbit Songs) was THE soundtrack for one winter in New York in 2005, when I was there to see "The Gates," an installation by Christo and Jean-Claude in Central Park. I sang that song 10,000 times, walking around New York; later I would write my first song ever while walking on the streets, headed home from a great show at Joe's Pub.
Earworms can manifested in unexpected ways; during one period in time, I started to notice that Peter Gabriel's "Blood of Eden" would be in my head a lot; I would find myself singing it in the hallways at work (yes, I sing in the hallways at work, it just happens subconsciously) even though I hadn't recently listened to it. Later, I noticed it happened after my commute, and then I realized it started happening after I got a new (used) car, automatic and a nice change from driving stick. Finally, I realized that it was that sound of the shift from fourth to fifth (on the freeway only, hence during the commute) was exactly the same sound, same change in pitch and such, as the beginning of that Peter Gabriel song. Hearing that sound, unbeknownst to me, and was triggering my brain to think of the song.
Similarly, Leonard Cohen's "Suzanne" was in my head almost the entire time I spend in Budapest. I finally realized that the unique chiming sound that city's subway makes to warn of closing doors was the same four-chord progression that Nina Simone starts off her famous Suzanne cover - I'd hear it, my brain would make the connection without me, and then I'd be singing it again without even realizing it. Weird.
Another one has happened lately - something unexpected, I mean. I have a sort of whole artist stuck in my head. This happens to me too - in this case, it's more like I'm just stuck on the general sound of the band or artist - that Pink Floyd phase, that Led Zepplin phase. Nothing is stuck in my head in the sense of playing over and over, but that sound is what I need and nothing else will do. In the case of this artist, the songs ARE catchy and so they are ALSO earworms. Luckily, this particular musician also has tons of songs - it's always bad when there's just that one CD you wear out - although it's only a few that are really stuck in my brain. It so happens that through an unexpected turn of events, he has a song that is based on a melody of one of my songs, and it's totally earwormy. In this case, it's my own fault. He did the lyrics and the harmonies and all that, but the annoying hook that is causing the "stop singing that, Kar" in my head is mine. A weird sensation. I have no one but myself to blame, but isn't that always the case?
I'm actually kind of okay with it. I know I have a multi-track mind, and so maybe something I like (and thank God, usually my earworms are tunes and songs I love) rattling in there over and over is sort of taking up a track, like I'm getting a break as it does a menial task. You, part of Kar's brain, you just do this little 15-second thing, and don't worry about anything else. It's like sitting zazen - narrow, narrow focus as a way of opening up and relaxing into being.
Maybe there IS some spiritual element to earworms, who knows? Probably only a matter of time until someone creates an earworm app - something that offers cures and interpretations, like one does with dreams. Until then, I'll just be bouncing around singing those earworms - or Walk Like an Egyptian, when it gets to be too much.
Earworms are those songs (tunes) that get stuck in your head. We have all had them. I love to quote Wikipedia on occasion, their descriptions being so neutral as to come off hilarious sometimes. In this case, they say "a catchy piece of music that continually repeats through a person's mind after it is no longer playing." Very straightforward.
It also gives me the odd factoid that a woman murderer famously had a 33 year long obsession with the song "Put the Blame on Mame" (from Gilda with Rita Hayworth). I also find that to be an earworm-y song, though not to that extent but I've had "Put the Blame on Mame" in my head on more than one occasion; it was especially annoying because it's very hard to find a good recording of the acoustic version I preferred. The scenes in the film in which the song plays are very intense, it can really stick with one. For decades, apparently.
I've heard that women are more susceptible to earworms - also called "brainworms" - than men are, and that simple tunes, or "hooks" are the best candidates for becoming one. I've read about various cures over the years, especially when I was being tormented (and it can feel that way) by a song or a tune. Tunes are a little more innocuous, they can be more background-y since there's no lyrics, but songs - you get it from both angles, the same music over and over AND the same words over and over.
One suggestion for ridding oneself of an earworm is to write out the lyrics, or speak them over and over but NOT sing them. An unusual one was to sing "Walk Like an Egyptian," specifically the "way oh, way oh" part. Some scientist did a study and somehow scientifically calculated that this song has the right frequency, duration, pitch etc to drive any other song out of your head but not replace it. It's an important point - it's no cure if replacement song gets stuck in your head instead. For to change one earworm for another is sometimes the only relief, but not ideal.
I tried all of these cures but I never had much luck with them. No, like hiccups, you just have to wait and hope will go away on its own. The best advice I ever heard was from some psychiatrist who suggested that this was a mechanism of the body that served a purpose. As Captain Picard councils Data to stick with the images in his dreams and explore them, so we are to just let those songs play in our heads and their meaning sink in. There's a message there for us, and we only need relax for it to emerge - and once we get the message, we don't have to keep hearing the messenger.
That last one doesn't really remove the song quicker, but it does give one a sense of purpose during, as if this is a special time, when one is growing, changing, learning. Sometimes, this is true. Music is a huge and wonderful part of my life, and I can't imagine going without it - so naturally, it has played a significant role in many significant moments. Singing on stage with the vocal group SoVoSo, I heard the 20-min uber-complex "Dirt" for the first time, an experience so rich and profound it remains a watershed moment in my life. While writing my first 72-Hour Novel, I listened to just a few different CD's, and especially two U2 songs ("Stuck in a Moment You Can't Get Out Of" and "In a Little While," both songs I still love). Hem's "When I Was Drinking" (and all of Rabbit Songs) was THE soundtrack for one winter in New York in 2005, when I was there to see "The Gates," an installation by Christo and Jean-Claude in Central Park. I sang that song 10,000 times, walking around New York; later I would write my first song ever while walking on the streets, headed home from a great show at Joe's Pub.
Earworms can manifested in unexpected ways; during one period in time, I started to notice that Peter Gabriel's "Blood of Eden" would be in my head a lot; I would find myself singing it in the hallways at work (yes, I sing in the hallways at work, it just happens subconsciously) even though I hadn't recently listened to it. Later, I noticed it happened after my commute, and then I realized it started happening after I got a new (used) car, automatic and a nice change from driving stick. Finally, I realized that it was that sound of the shift from fourth to fifth (on the freeway only, hence during the commute) was exactly the same sound, same change in pitch and such, as the beginning of that Peter Gabriel song. Hearing that sound, unbeknownst to me, and was triggering my brain to think of the song.
Similarly, Leonard Cohen's "Suzanne" was in my head almost the entire time I spend in Budapest. I finally realized that the unique chiming sound that city's subway makes to warn of closing doors was the same four-chord progression that Nina Simone starts off her famous Suzanne cover - I'd hear it, my brain would make the connection without me, and then I'd be singing it again without even realizing it. Weird.
Another one has happened lately - something unexpected, I mean. I have a sort of whole artist stuck in my head. This happens to me too - in this case, it's more like I'm just stuck on the general sound of the band or artist - that Pink Floyd phase, that Led Zepplin phase. Nothing is stuck in my head in the sense of playing over and over, but that sound is what I need and nothing else will do. In the case of this artist, the songs ARE catchy and so they are ALSO earworms. Luckily, this particular musician also has tons of songs - it's always bad when there's just that one CD you wear out - although it's only a few that are really stuck in my brain. It so happens that through an unexpected turn of events, he has a song that is based on a melody of one of my songs, and it's totally earwormy. In this case, it's my own fault. He did the lyrics and the harmonies and all that, but the annoying hook that is causing the "stop singing that, Kar" in my head is mine. A weird sensation. I have no one but myself to blame, but isn't that always the case?
I'm actually kind of okay with it. I know I have a multi-track mind, and so maybe something I like (and thank God, usually my earworms are tunes and songs I love) rattling in there over and over is sort of taking up a track, like I'm getting a break as it does a menial task. You, part of Kar's brain, you just do this little 15-second thing, and don't worry about anything else. It's like sitting zazen - narrow, narrow focus as a way of opening up and relaxing into being.
Maybe there IS some spiritual element to earworms, who knows? Probably only a matter of time until someone creates an earworm app - something that offers cures and interpretations, like one does with dreams. Until then, I'll just be bouncing around singing those earworms - or Walk Like an Egyptian, when it gets to be too much.
So we don't get to find out who "this particular musician" is?
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