Die Earworms, Die!
Jul. 22nd, 2024 09:23 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
rayaso Idol Mini-Season 2024
Prompt 3: Without You
Due Date: Tuesday July 23, 2024
It was another foggy San Francisco morning. Dave Bradley loved the fog, the way it hugged the City, dampening sound and his t-shirt. He was on his way to an 8:00 a.m. meeting at St. Drogo’s Church.
St. Drogo was the patron saint of coffee, which Dave found especially apt for this morning’s event.
More precisely, Dave was headed to the basement at St. Drogo’s. The kindly priest let him use it from 8 to 10 each Saturday. The alcoholics, addicts, and other groups in the recovery pantheon got the later times. That was ok with Dave, since his people were early risers. It was the nature of the affliction.
Also, he got to use the coffee urn first, so he could still make his supercharged, barely palatable coffee. He brought donuts from Local Donut. They donated unsold goods from the previous day, rather than throw them out. Bad coffee and stale donuts – the fuel Dave needed to keep his group going.
Dave didn’t have a title and his group didn’t have an official name. It was simply known as That Earworm Group. His participants were engaged in a fight with the earworms that were ruining their lives.
Very little research had been done on earworms. They just weren’t that big a problem. Everyone had snippets of songs running through their heads which usually went away on their own, replaced by the sounds of life. But for a few unlucky people, the music never went away.
In the 1960s, experiments were done with brain surgery, freezing the part which processed music. That didn’t just kill the earworm; it destroyed the patient’s ability to hear all music. The technique rapidly fell out of favor following a number of suicides by people who just could not live without music in their lives.
Earworms were frequently caused by hearing only part of a song. That could trigger an unknown response in the brain that caused listeners to repeat the fragment over and over and over again. It just never stopped.
Retail stores were earworm incubators. The barely audible, catchy tunes they broadcast were responsible for over half of the earworms. The rest were self-inflicted, by turning off a song before it was done.
Dave’s brain was especially fertile ground for earworms. His current one was “Without You” by Badfinger, mostly the second stanza:
Well, I can't forget tomorrow
When I think of all my sorrow
I had you there, but then I let you go
And now it's only fair that I should let you know
What you should know
It wasn’t even his favorite part of the song; it was just the part that stuck. He’d heard it in a grocery store several days earlier. He hadn’t heard the full song, just that part. And now it was his, probably for days.
Dave was hearing it even now, as he arranged the uncomfortable metal chairs in a rough circle and got the coffee going. A few people arrived early to help him. He could see them bobbing their heads or tapping their fingers in time with their individual pieces of hell. Humming and whistling were forbidden, for obvious reasons. Earworms spread like wildfire with this bunch.
That morning’s group meeting was for songs from the late 50s to early 70s, what some referred to as the Golden Age of Rock. Those at the meeting would only listen to these oldest of oldies, depriving themselves of all the wonderful music of the last 50 years, leading a shallow music life. Those sufferers were as old as their music; they were a dying breed who still refused to accept the break-up of The Beatles.
“Good morning,” began Dave, “I see we have a great turnout today, along with a few new faces. Would you please arrange yourselves so that those who think The Beatles were the best band ever are sitting on the left, and those who think it was the Rolling Stones are on the right. The rest of you sit in the middle.”
The middle ‘barrier’ group was very important. Separating The Beatles’ fans from the Stones’, it cut down on the fights.
“As you know,” continued Dave, “this is the earworm group. Our goal is to help each other overcome this pernicious condition so we can lead normal lives.”
“For those of you who are new, this is not a twelve-step program. There is no prayer. I just have some techniques that may help slay the intruders in our brains. I am an M.D., with a specialty in aural phenomena. And I suffer from chronic earworms.”
Dave had come to this specialty in a round-a-bout way. He played the violin, not very well, but well enough to be last stand in the second violin section of the Astoria Symphony Orchestra when he lived in Oregon. That was rock-bottom for violinists—only unemployment was worse. But Dave had enjoyed it, and he’d kept playing as long as he could.
Genevieve Addison (or, ‘Genny’) had been the premiere violinist back then. Genny had been extraordinary, and belonged in the first tier of the best orchestras. Only one thing had kept her in Astoria – the worst earworm Dave had ever seen.
Poor Genny could not keep her earworms from creeping into her music. The orchestra would be rehearsing, and all of a sudden Genny would break in with whatever earworm was tormenting her at the time. Once, they were rehearsing a Haydn piece when suddenly, there it was: “Pictures of Matchstick Men” by Status Quo. Not the lyrics, just the opening guitar part. Another time it was the refrain from “Crimson and Clover” by Tommy James and the Shondells:
Crimson and clover over and over
Crimson and clover over and over
Crimson and clover over and over
Crimson and clover over and over
Her performances were always beautiful, but those tunes weren’t what the orchestra was playing. It only happened during practice, never in a real performance, and the other musicians got used to it. The conductor just had them start over again. Still, that quirk had had a limiting effect on her career.
But not on Dave’s heart. He wound up marrying Genny – but that’s another story.
The violin was just a side interest for Dave. In real life, he was a doctor. Because of his beloved Genny’s affliction, he became interested in the medical aspects of her problem. He had originally started the group as part of a research project. As his therapy became more and more successful, news spread and now it was a permanent fixture in the basement.
The group always began with introductions.
“Hi. My name is Allen and I have an earworm.”
“Hi, Allen.”
They went around the circle, even though they mostly knew each other and why they were there – although someone had once sought help with her garden because she thought it was an earthworm group.
“As you know,” Dave said, “we begin each meeting by listening to some music. I hope it will help drive the earworms from your life.”
He always chose something without words, something that was discordant and with no discernible melodies. Today it was Arnold Schoenberg, a 20th century Austrian-American composer who created new methods of musical composition involving atonality, serialism, and the 12-tone row. Dave hated his music, but it was perfect for killing earworms. No earworm could stand up to Schoenberg. Five minutes was all he and the group could tolerate.
Next came Earworm Karaoke.
Everyone had to stand up and sing whatever was playing in their heads – the complete song. This was very difficult for some people, especially those who just couldn’t sing, but Dave found this to be a very important exercise.
“Remember folks,” Dave always added, “this is not a performance class, so no judgments, please. You’re among friends.”
Earworms were almost always song fragments, and singing the whole song would, hopefully, kill the worm.
And so, it began.
Ellen sang Gladys Knight’s “Midnight Train to Georgia,” complete with Pip moves. Dave had to caution her about the dancing, which would only feed the worm.
Then it was The Beatles’ “While My Guitar Gently Weeps,” followed by the Stones’ “(I Can’t Get No) Satisfaction.”
On and on it went, for nearly an hour. It was an earworm death match. Most songs were well known, others, not so much. Rose was plagued by John Fred and His Playboy Band’s “Judy in Disguise (With Glasses).”
After Earworm Karaoke, they talked about ways to avoid earworms, like listening to songs all the way through or playing the whole song as soon after as possible. Wearing earbuds and playing Schoenberg while shopping usually did the trick, or finding a podcast to prevent accidental infection.
Then the meeting was over, and the group drank bad coffee, ate stale donuts, talked about how earworms had taken over their lives, and welcomed a few newcomers. After that, it was time to clean up. They left the coffee and chairs for the next group.
When Dave left St. Drogo’s, the fog was starting to clear and the sun was breaking through.
“What a beautiful morning for a walk,” he thought.
He had a big smile on his face. He was headed toward a little café for brunch with Genny. Genny was the best part of any day.
“Next week’s group is Disco,” he thought.
And then it happened. He tried to fight it, but it was too strong.
It's just your jive talkin', you're telling me lies, yeah
“Jive Talkin’” by the Bee Gees had popped into Dave’s brain. He tried to fight it, but it was an earworm struggling to be born.
Jive talkin', you wear a disguise
“Oh no,” he said, as his smile turned to a frown.
Jive talkin', so misunderstood, yeah
He tried to think of Genny, but the earworm was too strong.
Jive talkin', you're really no good
“This is going to be a monster,” Dave thought.
He had to use the nuclear option. He grabbed his cell phone, put in his ear buds, and blasted Schoenberg into his brain. He could feel the earworm curl up and die.
Dave kept playing Schoenberg until he was at the café and saw Genny, looking as beautiful as ever. His smile was back as he turned the music off. She’d found an outdoor table, with a great view of the Bay and its docks.
And then it started.
Sittin' in the mornin' sun
I'll be sittin' when the evenin' comes
Watching the ships roll in
Then I watch 'em roll away again, yeah
I'm sittin' on the dock of the bay
Watchin' the tide roll away, ooh
I'm just sittin' on the dock of the bay
Wastin' time
“Oh well,” he thought, “I can live with Otis Redding.”
More importantly, Genny was waiting for him, wearing a big smile. With Genny, Dave always knew everything would be great, earworm or no.
___________________________________________
Many thanks to
halfshellvenus for beta-reading this story, particularly as to the music terminology.
Songs mentioned in the story. Press “Ctrl” and click on the link.
“Without You” by Badfinger (1970)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9aTnwArYjoM
“Pictures of Matchstick Men” by Status Quo (1968)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KhoDUHLjW8M
“Crimson and Clover” by Tommy James and the Shondells (1968; long version)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=q65x6jddc88
“Midnight Train to Georgia” by Gladys Knight and the Pips (1973)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A0F9lh8TiSM
“While My Guitar Gently Weeps” by The Beatles (1968)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bI8P6ZSHSvE
“(I Can’t Get No) Satisfaction” by the Rolling Stones (1964)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eUpb-ALfUzc
“Judy in Disguise (With Glasses)” by John Fred and His Playboy Band (1968)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=n5JSKKPC2Cs
“Jive Talkin’” by the Bee Gees (1975)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XBw25CrUS-o
"(Sittin' On) The Dock of the Bay" by Otis Redding (1968)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rTVjnBo96Ug
Prompt 3: Without You
Due Date: Tuesday July 23, 2024
DIE EARWORMS, DIE!
It was another foggy San Francisco morning. Dave Bradley loved the fog, the way it hugged the City, dampening sound and his t-shirt. He was on his way to an 8:00 a.m. meeting at St. Drogo’s Church.
St. Drogo was the patron saint of coffee, which Dave found especially apt for this morning’s event.
More precisely, Dave was headed to the basement at St. Drogo’s. The kindly priest let him use it from 8 to 10 each Saturday. The alcoholics, addicts, and other groups in the recovery pantheon got the later times. That was ok with Dave, since his people were early risers. It was the nature of the affliction.
Also, he got to use the coffee urn first, so he could still make his supercharged, barely palatable coffee. He brought donuts from Local Donut. They donated unsold goods from the previous day, rather than throw them out. Bad coffee and stale donuts – the fuel Dave needed to keep his group going.
Dave didn’t have a title and his group didn’t have an official name. It was simply known as That Earworm Group. His participants were engaged in a fight with the earworms that were ruining their lives.
Very little research had been done on earworms. They just weren’t that big a problem. Everyone had snippets of songs running through their heads which usually went away on their own, replaced by the sounds of life. But for a few unlucky people, the music never went away.
In the 1960s, experiments were done with brain surgery, freezing the part which processed music. That didn’t just kill the earworm; it destroyed the patient’s ability to hear all music. The technique rapidly fell out of favor following a number of suicides by people who just could not live without music in their lives.
Earworms were frequently caused by hearing only part of a song. That could trigger an unknown response in the brain that caused listeners to repeat the fragment over and over and over again. It just never stopped.
Retail stores were earworm incubators. The barely audible, catchy tunes they broadcast were responsible for over half of the earworms. The rest were self-inflicted, by turning off a song before it was done.
Dave’s brain was especially fertile ground for earworms. His current one was “Without You” by Badfinger, mostly the second stanza:
Well, I can't forget tomorrow
When I think of all my sorrow
I had you there, but then I let you go
And now it's only fair that I should let you know
What you should know
It wasn’t even his favorite part of the song; it was just the part that stuck. He’d heard it in a grocery store several days earlier. He hadn’t heard the full song, just that part. And now it was his, probably for days.
Dave was hearing it even now, as he arranged the uncomfortable metal chairs in a rough circle and got the coffee going. A few people arrived early to help him. He could see them bobbing their heads or tapping their fingers in time with their individual pieces of hell. Humming and whistling were forbidden, for obvious reasons. Earworms spread like wildfire with this bunch.
That morning’s group meeting was for songs from the late 50s to early 70s, what some referred to as the Golden Age of Rock. Those at the meeting would only listen to these oldest of oldies, depriving themselves of all the wonderful music of the last 50 years, leading a shallow music life. Those sufferers were as old as their music; they were a dying breed who still refused to accept the break-up of The Beatles.
“Good morning,” began Dave, “I see we have a great turnout today, along with a few new faces. Would you please arrange yourselves so that those who think The Beatles were the best band ever are sitting on the left, and those who think it was the Rolling Stones are on the right. The rest of you sit in the middle.”
The middle ‘barrier’ group was very important. Separating The Beatles’ fans from the Stones’, it cut down on the fights.
“As you know,” continued Dave, “this is the earworm group. Our goal is to help each other overcome this pernicious condition so we can lead normal lives.”
“For those of you who are new, this is not a twelve-step program. There is no prayer. I just have some techniques that may help slay the intruders in our brains. I am an M.D., with a specialty in aural phenomena. And I suffer from chronic earworms.”
Dave had come to this specialty in a round-a-bout way. He played the violin, not very well, but well enough to be last stand in the second violin section of the Astoria Symphony Orchestra when he lived in Oregon. That was rock-bottom for violinists—only unemployment was worse. But Dave had enjoyed it, and he’d kept playing as long as he could.
Genevieve Addison (or, ‘Genny’) had been the premiere violinist back then. Genny had been extraordinary, and belonged in the first tier of the best orchestras. Only one thing had kept her in Astoria – the worst earworm Dave had ever seen.
Poor Genny could not keep her earworms from creeping into her music. The orchestra would be rehearsing, and all of a sudden Genny would break in with whatever earworm was tormenting her at the time. Once, they were rehearsing a Haydn piece when suddenly, there it was: “Pictures of Matchstick Men” by Status Quo. Not the lyrics, just the opening guitar part. Another time it was the refrain from “Crimson and Clover” by Tommy James and the Shondells:
Crimson and clover over and over
Crimson and clover over and over
Crimson and clover over and over
Crimson and clover over and over
Her performances were always beautiful, but those tunes weren’t what the orchestra was playing. It only happened during practice, never in a real performance, and the other musicians got used to it. The conductor just had them start over again. Still, that quirk had had a limiting effect on her career.
But not on Dave’s heart. He wound up marrying Genny – but that’s another story.
The violin was just a side interest for Dave. In real life, he was a doctor. Because of his beloved Genny’s affliction, he became interested in the medical aspects of her problem. He had originally started the group as part of a research project. As his therapy became more and more successful, news spread and now it was a permanent fixture in the basement.
The group always began with introductions.
“Hi. My name is Allen and I have an earworm.”
“Hi, Allen.”
They went around the circle, even though they mostly knew each other and why they were there – although someone had once sought help with her garden because she thought it was an earthworm group.
“As you know,” Dave said, “we begin each meeting by listening to some music. I hope it will help drive the earworms from your life.”
He always chose something without words, something that was discordant and with no discernible melodies. Today it was Arnold Schoenberg, a 20th century Austrian-American composer who created new methods of musical composition involving atonality, serialism, and the 12-tone row. Dave hated his music, but it was perfect for killing earworms. No earworm could stand up to Schoenberg. Five minutes was all he and the group could tolerate.
Next came Earworm Karaoke.
Everyone had to stand up and sing whatever was playing in their heads – the complete song. This was very difficult for some people, especially those who just couldn’t sing, but Dave found this to be a very important exercise.
“Remember folks,” Dave always added, “this is not a performance class, so no judgments, please. You’re among friends.”
Earworms were almost always song fragments, and singing the whole song would, hopefully, kill the worm.
And so, it began.
Ellen sang Gladys Knight’s “Midnight Train to Georgia,” complete with Pip moves. Dave had to caution her about the dancing, which would only feed the worm.
Then it was The Beatles’ “While My Guitar Gently Weeps,” followed by the Stones’ “(I Can’t Get No) Satisfaction.”
On and on it went, for nearly an hour. It was an earworm death match. Most songs were well known, others, not so much. Rose was plagued by John Fred and His Playboy Band’s “Judy in Disguise (With Glasses).”
After Earworm Karaoke, they talked about ways to avoid earworms, like listening to songs all the way through or playing the whole song as soon after as possible. Wearing earbuds and playing Schoenberg while shopping usually did the trick, or finding a podcast to prevent accidental infection.
Then the meeting was over, and the group drank bad coffee, ate stale donuts, talked about how earworms had taken over their lives, and welcomed a few newcomers. After that, it was time to clean up. They left the coffee and chairs for the next group.
When Dave left St. Drogo’s, the fog was starting to clear and the sun was breaking through.
“What a beautiful morning for a walk,” he thought.
He had a big smile on his face. He was headed toward a little café for brunch with Genny. Genny was the best part of any day.
“Next week’s group is Disco,” he thought.
And then it happened. He tried to fight it, but it was too strong.
It's just your jive talkin', you're telling me lies, yeah
“Jive Talkin’” by the Bee Gees had popped into Dave’s brain. He tried to fight it, but it was an earworm struggling to be born.
Jive talkin', you wear a disguise
“Oh no,” he said, as his smile turned to a frown.
Jive talkin', so misunderstood, yeah
He tried to think of Genny, but the earworm was too strong.
Jive talkin', you're really no good
“This is going to be a monster,” Dave thought.
He had to use the nuclear option. He grabbed his cell phone, put in his ear buds, and blasted Schoenberg into his brain. He could feel the earworm curl up and die.
Dave kept playing Schoenberg until he was at the café and saw Genny, looking as beautiful as ever. His smile was back as he turned the music off. She’d found an outdoor table, with a great view of the Bay and its docks.
And then it started.
Sittin' in the mornin' sun
I'll be sittin' when the evenin' comes
Watching the ships roll in
Then I watch 'em roll away again, yeah
I'm sittin' on the dock of the bay
Watchin' the tide roll away, ooh
I'm just sittin' on the dock of the bay
Wastin' time
“Oh well,” he thought, “I can live with Otis Redding.”
More importantly, Genny was waiting for him, wearing a big smile. With Genny, Dave always knew everything would be great, earworm or no.
___________________________________________
Many thanks to
halfshellvenus for beta-reading this story, particularly as to the music terminology.Songs mentioned in the story. Press “Ctrl” and click on the link.
“Without You” by Badfinger (1970)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9aTnwArYjoM
“Pictures of Matchstick Men” by Status Quo (1968)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KhoDUHLjW8M
“Crimson and Clover” by Tommy James and the Shondells (1968; long version)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=q65x6jddc88
“Midnight Train to Georgia” by Gladys Knight and the Pips (1973)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A0F9lh8TiSM
“While My Guitar Gently Weeps” by The Beatles (1968)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bI8P6ZSHSvE
“(I Can’t Get No) Satisfaction” by the Rolling Stones (1964)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eUpb-ALfUzc
“Judy in Disguise (With Glasses)” by John Fred and His Playboy Band (1968)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=n5JSKKPC2Cs
“Jive Talkin’” by the Bee Gees (1975)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XBw25CrUS-o
"(Sittin' On) The Dock of the Bay" by Otis Redding (1968)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rTVjnBo96Ug
no subject
Date: 2024-07-26 06:26 pm (UTC)