There's no running away from the song in my head

In this recent post I discussed my brain's proclivity for having random songs pop in to my mind. (Go ahead. Read that one first if you haven't already. I'll wait. Done? Okay.)

Two morning's after the one mentioned in that post my mind gave me another such tune: Bon Jovi's "Runaway."

(Yeah, we'll touch on the specific track at the end of this post.)

So what pattern is emerging? The previous post noted Nirvana's "Love Buzz" (1989) as my brain's song du jour, and as "Runaway" came out in 1981 it appears songs that were released during these past two decades are too recent for my mind to have entered them in to those crevices from which these music moments emerge.

(As further proof I must mention that during the night after the "Runaway" incident, as I brushed my teeth, my brain commenced with Felony's 1983 new wave hit "The Fanatic".)


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Perhaps there is something about the chemical development of the brain that makes the experiences of a particular age range more indelible. When really young the brain isn't developed enough for those memories to stick as well, and after a certain age the brain probably deteriorates to some extent. It's not that the brain cannot still think and reason, but the capacity to integrate memories diminishes.

Let's get something else about this acknowledged: When it comes to remembering music there's almost certainly a part of the equation that comes from the state of one's life emotionally; in one's teens and twenties one's emotional development probably makes the importance of the songs one hears then carry more weight regarding what gets stored in those crevices of the brain than what one hears in one's thirties and later. It's not that one cannot hear new songs and like them very much, not that one doesn't consciously know those songs just as well as the ones from earlier days, but the unconscious organization in the grey matter is not putting those songs on this out-of-nowhere playlist. Sure, a song that was recently heard can linger in the short term memory easily, but that's not the brain pulling it up from the depths; it's merely parroting what's on the surface.

Enough vague generalization. This started with what happens in my mind, and that's all I can pretend to know.

Was music more important in my life priorities when I was younger? Of course. How I feel about it now is not even close. It's not that I don't consider it somewhat important; it's still something to which I devote a reasonable percentage of my free time; I still acquire new music for the collection, but I don't follow the press, don't debate it, don't feel compelled to try to turn others on to what I like, nor do I spend time analyzing it and arranging it in year-end (or decade-end) lists. Seeing the bands perform live is not as urgent (in fact, I don't think I attended a single concert all of last year, although the wedding—both getting ready for it, and then later paying it off—played a role in that).

In short, it's not that I don't actively enjoy music still; it's that I merely enjoy it, without being as passionate about it. I'm not saying it's better that I'm not as obsessed with it (and on some level I lament that I don't still have that relationship with music... insert wistful sigh here).

And that, I proffer, makes it less likely for the songs from this era of my life to worm their way into those recesses of the brain from which the unconsciousness will pull out something for the personal soundtrack in moments when there's no other distractions.

Of course, it's possible that no one else in the world experiences this. Perhaps others' minds don't have an inclination toward having something "playing" in them when they're standing in front of the bathroom mirror, brushing their teeth or combing their hair; it's possible their brains just think about whatever they're apt to think (or not think at all). Or maybe they keep some source of sound—the radio, the TV, an iPod, something—going during all waking hours so their brains have some other focus, music-wise, and never encounter this scenario.

Some people cannot quiet the voices in their head; I can't stop the music.

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Okay, now about the whole fact that it was "Runaway":

The mildly discouraging aspect of the morning's particular selection is that it wasn't even culled from tracks that I owned at one time. It's not that I hated the songs of the boys from New Jersey; I merely wasn't that into them. I heard them on the radio, but not because I sought out their tracks; it was nothing more than exposure due to occasionally regarding what was happening on the pop charts.

I vaguely recall coming across the video for "Runaway" on VH1 Classic while flipping around channels one night (under the somewhat specious auspices of a block they call "Metal Mania"; I suppose they were "metal" in some interpretation of that genre) many months back. That undoubtedly planted the seed that, in this manner of speaking, came to fruition earlier today. However, it doesn't explain why such was the fruit it bore on this particular day.

It's a decent enough song, sure, and not one where if it came on the radio I'd jump to change the station or anything. Still, the other noted track (Nirvana's cover of "Love Buzz") was at least one that I do have in the library, one that I actively liked and one which held a more significant role in my relationship with music.

I suppose such is the danger of having years of my life with the radio on. Riding in the car, while doing homework, and certainly as the background while working. Thanks to the radio I know the words to songs I don't even like much, only because I heard them over and over. So technically the random song pulled from the depths could have been something much worse.

That's not really making me feel better about what songs my brain will whip out in the future.

Well, whatever the unconscious throws on the turntable inside my cranium, it seems the one predictable aspect of its selection is this: It won't be something I only got into during the first decade of this century; that stuff simply came to the party too late.

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Aren't you glad I shared? Now tell me what your brain does to you. Click the link below and fess up.