Song is Strong

Bart emailed me a question this morning. I met him at a seminar a couple days ago.

I dabble in video production and the seminar was about using video on the web. It was technical and mostly beyond me, but the price was right (free) and I thought I’d pick up some crumbs of wisdom. Largely, the seminar leader spoke several atmospheric layers above me and could’ve been talking about embedding files, Chinese calculus or the cellular structure in spirogyra, for all I knew.

At the conclusion, we all exchanged business cards and web sites. Bart had checked out mine and observed that all the video seemed to fall within some repeated themes except one, “Call Me Lightening.” “What’s up with that?”

It’s a compilation of shots of champion swimmers set to upbeat music. “On cold, dark mornings, I don’t always feel like crawling out of bed, going to the gym and swimming laps. I use that to get me going.”

“And that works?”

Music and odors are two of the strongest evokers of memories and emotions. I think I even recall the first time I realized this.

I was a sophomore dressing for a game in the locker room. Chickie, another neophyte benchwarmer, had the locker next to mine. Someone slapped us simultaneously on the backs of our heads. “We’re spinnin’ a platter on the PA system and you’re gonna sing. We’re all gonna sing,” rumbled Jimmy Walker, an upper classman who was a little smaller than a dumpster, but twice as hard. We nodded enthusiastically, although it didn’t strike m as such a hot idea.

Perhaps it was because a couple months before we had attended the first team meeting. The coach gave a pretty good talk and then left. Okay, meeting over. Not quite.

Jimmy and some of the other veterans backed the newcomers up against a wall and fixed us with a baleful glare. “We don’t lose.” I nodded agreement. Chickie didn’t. Jimmy repositioned himself directly in front of Chickie. “I said, we don’t f---in’ lose. You wanna remember that.” Jimmy emphasized every syllable with a finger stab to Chickie’s chest.

“Lose this,” replied Chickie, which was a fairly standard Philly response. Chickie was unable to practice for the next couple days.

Understandably, we joined in when the music (“Be True to Your School”) commenced. As we sang, everyone moved to a central point in the room. I was thinking it was a bit silly, but when we came to “Come Friday we’ll be jacked up on the football game and I’ll be ready to fight, we’re gonna smash ‘em now!,” and everyone amped up their volume and pumped their fists, I knew. Beyond a shadow of a doubt, we were ready to fight. No, to paraphrase Jimmy, we were f---in’ ready to fight.

That became a ritual for as long as I was at the school and I never failed to feel that adrenaline jolt. Made a believer out of me as far as the power of music.

I’m still a big believer. We were on a car trip and “Let’s spend the night together” came on. The hon started singing along softly and I joined in. When it came to that great part where the tempo slows and the volume drops, and then it abruptly kicks back into high gear (“You know I’m smiling baa-bee!”), we were looking at each other and practically yelling it. Now, we always do that when the song plays. “In the Still of the Night” is great for warm and romantic feelings, but this is flat out hammer time.

And so it is with the swimming video. When I need help getting fired up for a hard practice, that stokes me.

“Yeah, it works.”

“From the hit count, you must need it a lot.”

“My son uses it to pump up the team he coaches.” Or, maybe I do need it a lot.