What if an earworm is not an irritation, but a pleasant repetition? In their essay, our contributor reflects on the potential of a song as a safe haven to come back to.

It goes like this:
First, mangled guitar strings. Then. Percussion, two hard hits on the drum.
Years, days, makes no difference to me
The bridge, my favourite part –
This place smells like piss and beer –
Then –
In a tone of defeat –
Can you get me out?

This is difficult to admit. But the terrible person that I am, the bitterest of slobs, the most narcissistic of outfit repeaters; I am also privy to occasionally passing secret judgement on my friends’ questionable little quirks and thinking to myself, thank God for my mental stability. Me. The Sane One.

But let me divulge a moment of terrifying truth. One that has me questioning my title as The Sane One. The best of my worst quirks:

You know it, Ohrwurm – Earworm –?

– usually used to describe the horribly captive feeling of having the same part of a song stuck in your head. The bridge of a pop song, in a way both unpleasant and against your will. But what of the voluntary feeling? I am often too busy to expand on my musical palette, as I am stuck listening to the same song over and over again for weeks on end. Gleefully disassociated. To me, earworms are a safe haven.

What clicks in my brain that yearns for that repetition?

Skittish Honesty

Two weeks ago it was that song by MIA, you know the one that starts I fly like paper get high like planes etc. etc. Not interested in narrating the rest because it’s not The One, not anymore. This week,

The mangled guitar strings

Percussion

Two hard hits on the drum

Years, days, makes no difference to me –

Not even in this safe angelic space called Sonic Worlding could I possibly divulge how often I’ve listened to it. Over and over again

This place smells like –

My title as The Sane One, taken from me –

– piss and beer.

But, of course, you! You know what I’m talking about, don’t you, even if we can’t admit to each other, you might be able to agree, in the safety of your own subconscious? This phenomenon: that music isn’t for listening, music is more a yearning for disassociation.1 Just check your friend’s Spotify Wrapped.2 Or your lover’s. Or your own.

Repetitive Stimulation

I itch for it when I’m trying to focus or when I’ve had a shit day, or when I try to stop myself from texting abominable ex-lovers. I want a sound’s familiar arms wrapped around me to get unfamiliar with myself; gently nudging me out of my own head, allowing me to separate from the worst of myself. To divorce from the most tangled garbage of my thoughts – I need the comfort of sound I already know. Zone in now. First, mangled guitar strings. Feel the feelings that have already been named. Then. Percussion, two hard hits on a drum. Lyrics that have been heard before.

Notes that I can memorize. Words, imprinted.

Can you get me out?

Music can stimulate a pleasure that centers in our brain. And when I find that song that clicks

Piss

I want to press that tender spot again and again

Beer

I want to engage that part that activates the dopamine. For me, earworms aren’t a nuisance. Earworms are my musical g-spot.

Can you get me out?

The first sound of percussion, the guitar that twirls again and again.

Years, days –

The drums.

Makes no difference to me –

And then my phone shuffles to the next song, and my sweet escape ends, the thoughts get frazzled again, the flood of anxiety pushes through. Angrily. << rewind.

– Piss and beer

(Relief.)

Can you get me out?

• 1. The feeling of dissociation can be described as disconnecting from yourself and the world around you, possibly detaching from your body while feeling that the reality around you is not real.
• 2. Spotify Wrapped is a viral marketing campaign by Spotify that allows its users to view a compilation of data about their activity on the platform over the past year.