Week 29 - The Music of My Mind

Last week, I said that the firstborn will certainly not have Mozart inflicted upon him, in or out of the womb. I say so because:

1. The argument that classical music is inherently superior to other musical genres forms is specious, at best.
2. Allegedly, listening to Mozart (or any other classical artist, Wagner aside) actively improves the child’s cognitive and reasoning processes – kind of like an aural equivalent of Chlembuterol or EPO. Now, I am a child of the eighties. I was told, repeatedly, that when it comes to drugs, ‘Just say NO!’ Mozart, in this context, must be seen to be a performance enhancing substance, thus a drug. So I must say no.
3. Seriously though, I would argue that it (classical music) can only enrich the child’s developmental experiences if it were something that the child’s parents already enjoyed – a sort of ‘value added’ experience. Imagine, for example, that I enjoyed Beethoven’s Ninth. Sharing this pleasure with our son would be infinitely more pleasurable and meaningful than the abstract experience of listening to it simply because it’s supposed to be good for you.
4. Now, as it happens, I do like Beethoven’s Ninth. However, so did Alex in the book (and Kubrick film) ‘A Clockwork Orange’. I worry that it may turn our child to random ultra-violence with his droogs. Another reason to say no.
5. Classical music devotees tend to be high-maintenance. The cost of piano lessons alone makes me blanch. Why create problems for the future, when I will have more than enough already? (Grammatically incorrect, but you know what I mean.)

But the boy’s got to listen to some music, hasn’t he?

So these are my pre-requisites for the perfect ante-natal playlist

1. It has to be cool
2. It has to be chill (tranquillity is probably the word I am looking for here)
3. It has to come from my collection.

If I can develop any link between the songs and the concept of parenthood, all the better.

This is what I came up with:

1. ‘Retrospect for Life’ by Common (‘One Day It’ll All Make Sense’, 1997)

American rapper Common has a, shall we say, complicated relationship with concept of parenthood. The song is about the very mixed emotions he experienced when he discovered that he was about to become a baby father. Brutally honest – when Common says ‘$315 ain’t worth your soul’, you just know that he seriously considered a termination – it still comes across, perhaps surprisingly, as a sober acknowledgement of a father’s responsibility towards his child.

Also check out ‘Pop’s Rap/Fatherhood’, the monologue-style coda to the album contributed by Common’s father, ‘Pop’ Lynn. Covers essentially the same ground - I wasn’t prepared for fatherhood, but you, my son, made it easy for me – but also featuring exquisite hard-bop interplay between bass, piano and drums. Crucial.

3. ‘Sleep’ by Anya Garbarek (‘Briefly Shaking’, 2006)

The perfect lullaby – soft, seductive without being sensual, and completely eschewing maudlin sentimentality. Oh, it has a Hammond organ too. I love Hammond organs. I suspect that sleep is something I will think a lot about, nostalgically, pretty soon.

4. ‘Maybe I’m Amazed’ by Paul McCartney (‘McCartney’, 1971).

The best thing McCartney has ever done, period. And that includes everything he did with the Beatles. The fact that I’m going to be a parent still amazes me. The fact that we have created a life amazes me. Always will, I hope.

5 ‘Teo’ by Miles Davis (‘Someday My Prince Will Come’, 1961)

When Eldrick Woods was born, his father played a selection of his favourite Jazz records on the car stereo whilst driving his wife and son back from hospital. He wanted the sounds of the music ingrained early into his son’s consciousness.

Eldrick, who is perhaps better known by the nickname Tiger, is probably the most successful competitive sportsman ever. Is this too much to ask of my first born?

Miles Davis was a prodigiously talented trumpeter and bandleader. He also knew how to get the best out of his sidemen. Check out Coltrane’s surprisingly subtle tenor sax on this track.

6. ‘Davyan Cowboy’ by Boards of Canada (‘The Campfire Headphase’, 2005)

Michael Sandison, one half of the Scottish electronica outfit, says that a major inspiration for the group is the theme of ‘lost childhood’; the sadness that comes with the realisation that the halcyon days of youth will never be replicated. I suppose this is a somewhat melancholy theme for an ante-natal playlist – ‘All is doom! It’s all downhill from here! You’ve never had it so good! etc etc. Even so, we must remember to treasure every moment, because we won’t have it again. I must try to remember this.

Also, the video (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lrBZeWjGjl8) addresses itself like a metaphor for the experience of birth. I dunno. Enjoy it, anyway.

7. ‘Someday We’ll All Be Free’ by Donny Hathaway (‘A Donny Hathaway Collection’ 1976)

Between 1970 and 1978, Donny Hathaway recorded, alone and with Roberta Flack, exquisite impassioned Soul music. This track was used in a children’s film when I was a kid. I can’t remember the film at all now, but the song never left me. Neither did the optimism it communicated. I hope our son has good cause to be optimistic about his future.

8. ‘After Midnight’ by J.J. Cale (‘Naturally’, 1971)

We’re going to be up a lot after midnight. And not by choice, either.

9. ‘Snow Camping’ by Laura Veirs (‘Carbon Glacier’, 2004)

I’m not sure why the onset of parenthood makes me feel a little melancholy. Perhaps because everyone tells me that my life will change irrevocably; I should cherish the last months and weeks of ‘freedom’. I don’t think that things are going to change. Evolve, yeah, but not change. Or maybe I’m just being naïve and optimistic.

There’s a great verse in this song:

‘with brother sleeping right beside me

the blankets pulled up to his chin

the makeshift snow cave settled slightly

but held us in and sheltered us

like Mum and Dad, they always helped us…’

It means a lot to me, that sense of safety and security. I hope we can keep our son safe.

9. ‘Family Affair’ by Sly and the Family Stone (‘There’s a Riot Goin’ On, 1971)

Allegedly, the sound quality on this album is dreadful because Sly, in exchange for (ahem) ‘favours’, allowed innumerably groupies the opportunity to record backing vocals for him (‘Baby, I’ll make you a star’ etc). He then meticulously wiped their contributions immediately afterwards, but damaged the tape in the process with the repeated erasures.

This has nothing at all to do with putting together a soundtrack for the firstborn. But it’s a cute story. And a cool, laid back groove.

10. ‘What I Am’ by Edie Brickell and New Bohemians (‘Shooting Rubberbands at the Stars’, 1988)

‘I’m not aware of too many things

I know what I know if you know what I mean’

My dad told me once that, as far as arguments between him and I were concerned, he was right even when he was wrong. Took me a while to get my head around that.

Edie Brickell is married to Paul Simon. I wonder what their children look like?

I wonder what our children will look like, come to think of it?

11. ‘Epie’ by Royksopp (‘Melody A.M.’, 2001)

T-Mobile used this as the theme to a media campaign a few years ago. The centrepiece of the campaign was the picture of a rotund and well fed baby. I’m still not sure what the relevance of the picture was to the campaign, but clearly it worked; I still remember the product. Sublime down-tempo Nordic electronica.

12. ‘Tom the Model’ by Beth Gibbon and Rustin Man (‘Out of Season’, 2002)

I’ve been told, in no uncertain terms, that I cannot call my child Lieutenantjohnmcclane. So we are thinking about other names. Tom is riding high near the top of the charts at the moment. Maybe our son will be a model.

The idea of putting together Beth Gibbons from Portishead and Paul Webb from Talk Talk was inspired. ‘Tom the Model’ has a delicate, waiflike quality to it, like cool mist floating across a lake on a winter’s morning. Ethereal.

Ok. That’s the playlist. 12 songs. Sixty odd minutes. Enough to sooth our child, pre or post partum, into a state of blissful tranquillity. Probably won’t do any harm to the brain cells. Exposes him to decent music, early on.

Oh, I would also add the complete works of Stevie Wonder, 1971 to 1976

And 'Tour de France' by Kraftwerk. Just because they're Kraftwerk. And it's about cycling.

I’m off to the States tomorrow – a friend’s wedding. I’m the Best Man.

See you in a week or so