4:31 am - Sat, May 18, 2013
244 notes
neurosciencestuff:

Bach to the blues, our emotions match music to colors
Whether we’re listening to Bach or the blues, our brains are wired to make music-color connections depending on how the melodies make us feel, according to new research from the University of California, Berkeley. For instance, Mozart’s jaunty Flute Concerto No. 1 in G major is most often associated with bright yellow and orange, whereas his dour Requiem in D minor is more likely to be linked to dark, bluish gray.
Moreover, people in both the United States and Mexico linked the same pieces of classical orchestral music with the same colors. This suggests that humans share a common emotional palette – when it comes to music and color – that appears to be intuitive and can cross cultural barriers, UC Berkeley researchers said.
“The results were remarkably strong and consistent across individuals and cultures and clearly pointed to the powerful role that emotions play in how the human brain maps from hearing music to seeing colors,” said UC Berkeley vision scientist Stephen Palmer, lead author of a paper published this week in the journal Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences.
Using a 37-color palette, the UC Berkeley study found that people tend to pair faster-paced music in a major key with lighter, more vivid, yellow colors, whereas slower-paced music in a minor key is more likely to be teamed up with darker, grayer, bluer colors.
“Surprisingly, we can predict with 95 percent accuracy how happy or sad the colors people pick will be based on how happy or sad the music is that they are listening to,” said Palmer, who will present these and related findings at the International Association of Colour conference at the University of Newcastle in the U.K. on July 8.  At the conference, a color light show will accompany a performance by the Northern Sinfonia orchestra to demonstrate “the patterns aroused by music and color converging on the neural circuits that register emotion,” he said.
The findings may have implications for creative therapies, advertising and even music player gadgetry. For example, they could be used to create more emotionally engaging electronic music visualizers, computer software that generates animated imagery synchronized to the music being played. Right now, the colors and patterns appear to be randomly generated and do not take emotion into account, researchers said.
They may also provide insight into synesthesia, a neurological condition in which the stimulation of one perceptual pathway, such as hearing music, leads to automatic, involuntary experiences in a different perceptual pathway, such as seeing colors.  An example of sound-to-color synesthesia was portrayed in the 2009 movie The Soloist when cellist Nathaniel Ayers experiences a mesmerizing interplay of swirling colors while listening to the Los Angeles symphony. Artists such as Wassily Kandinksky and Paul Klee may have used music-to-color synesthesia in their creative endeavors.
Nearly 100 men and women participated in the UC Berkeley music-color study, of which half resided in the San Francisco Bay Area and the other half in Guadalajara, Mexico. In three experiments, they listened to 18 classical music pieces by composers Johann Sebastian Bach, Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart and Johannes Brahms that varied in tempo (slow, medium, fast) and in major versus minor keys.
In the first experiment, participants were asked to pick five of the 37 colors that best matched the music to which they were listening. The palette consisted of vivid, light, medium, and dark shades of red, orange, yellow, green, yellow-green, green, blue-green, blue, and purple.
Participants consistently picked bright, vivid, warm colors to go with upbeat music and dark, dull, cool colors to match the more tearful or somber pieces. Separately, they rated each piece of music on a scale of happy to sad, strong to weak, lively to dreary and angry to calm.  
Two subsequent experiments studying music-to-face and face-to-color associations supported the researchers’ hypothesis that “common emotions are responsible for music-to-color associations,” said Karen Schloss, a postdoctoral researchers at UC Berkeley and co-author of the paper. 
For example, the same pattern occurred when participants chose the facial expressions that “went best” with the music selections, Schloss said. Upbeat music in major keys was consistently paired with happy-looking faces while subdued music in minor keys was paired with sad-looking faces. Similarly, happy faces were paired with yellow and other bright colors and angry faces with dark red hues.
Next, Palmer and his research team plan to study participants in Turkey where traditional music employs a wider range of scales than just major and minor. “We know that in Mexico and the U.S. the responses are very similar,” he said. “But we don’t yet know about China or Turkey.”

neurosciencestuff:

Bach to the blues, our emotions match music to colors

Whether we’re listening to Bach or the blues, our brains are wired to make music-color connections depending on how the melodies make us feel, according to new research from the University of California, Berkeley. For instance, Mozart’s jaunty Flute Concerto No. 1 in G major is most often associated with bright yellow and orange, whereas his dour Requiem in D minor is more likely to be linked to dark, bluish gray.

Moreover, people in both the United States and Mexico linked the same pieces of classical orchestral music with the same colors. This suggests that humans share a common emotional palette – when it comes to music and color – that appears to be intuitive and can cross cultural barriers, UC Berkeley researchers said.

“The results were remarkably strong and consistent across individuals and cultures and clearly pointed to the powerful role that emotions play in how the human brain maps from hearing music to seeing colors,” said UC Berkeley vision scientist Stephen Palmer, lead author of a paper published this week in the journal Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences.

Using a 37-color palette, the UC Berkeley study found that people tend to pair faster-paced music in a major key with lighter, more vivid, yellow colors, whereas slower-paced music in a minor key is more likely to be teamed up with darker, grayer, bluer colors.

“Surprisingly, we can predict with 95 percent accuracy how happy or sad the colors people pick will be based on how happy or sad the music is that they are listening to,” said Palmer, who will present these and related findings at the International Association of Colour conference at the University of Newcastle in the U.K. on July 8.  At the conference, a color light show will accompany a performance by the Northern Sinfonia orchestra to demonstrate “the patterns aroused by music and color converging on the neural circuits that register emotion,” he said.

The findings may have implications for creative therapies, advertising and even music player gadgetry. For example, they could be used to create more emotionally engaging electronic music visualizers, computer software that generates animated imagery synchronized to the music being played. Right now, the colors and patterns appear to be randomly generated and do not take emotion into account, researchers said.

They may also provide insight into synesthesia, a neurological condition in which the stimulation of one perceptual pathway, such as hearing music, leads to automatic, involuntary experiences in a different perceptual pathway, such as seeing colors.  An example of sound-to-color synesthesia was portrayed in the 2009 movie The Soloist when cellist Nathaniel Ayers experiences a mesmerizing interplay of swirling colors while listening to the Los Angeles symphony. Artists such as Wassily Kandinksky and Paul Klee may have used music-to-color synesthesia in their creative endeavors.

Nearly 100 men and women participated in the UC Berkeley music-color study, of which half resided in the San Francisco Bay Area and the other half in Guadalajara, Mexico. In three experiments, they listened to 18 classical music pieces by composers Johann Sebastian Bach, Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart and Johannes Brahms that varied in tempo (slow, medium, fast) and in major versus minor keys.

In the first experiment, participants were asked to pick five of the 37 colors that best matched the music to which they were listening. The palette consisted of vivid, light, medium, and dark shades of red, orange, yellow, green, yellow-green, green, blue-green, blue, and purple.

Participants consistently picked bright, vivid, warm colors to go with upbeat music and dark, dull, cool colors to match the more tearful or somber pieces. Separately, they rated each piece of music on a scale of happy to sad, strong to weak, lively to dreary and angry to calm.  

Two subsequent experiments studying music-to-face and face-to-color associations supported the researchers’ hypothesis that “common emotions are responsible for music-to-color associations,” said Karen Schloss, a postdoctoral researchers at UC Berkeley and co-author of the paper. 

For example, the same pattern occurred when participants chose the facial expressions that “went best” with the music selections, Schloss said. Upbeat music in major keys was consistently paired with happy-looking faces while subdued music in minor keys was paired with sad-looking faces. Similarly, happy faces were paired with yellow and other bright colors and angry faces with dark red hues.

Next, Palmer and his research team plan to study participants in Turkey where traditional music employs a wider range of scales than just major and minor. “We know that in Mexico and the U.S. the responses are very similar,” he said. “But we don’t yet know about China or Turkey.”

(via stevencurtis3)

1:28 pm - Tue, Apr 23, 2013
24 notes

oneweekoneband:

        “It’s hard to say the meaning of this song.” He was right about that. The closing track on On the Beach is one of Neil’s most esoteric pieces of songwriting. Constructed of a series of free flowing vignettes, “Ambulance Blues” pulls sorrow out of empty cafes and waitresses crying in the rain, while finding hope in the form of a pithy aphorism from the old farmer’s market, “and he still can hear him say…” Elsewhere feelings of lost innocence are conjured up as, “Mother Goose is on the skids,” and “Isabela is torn down and plowed under.” This cryptic approach to songwriting allows for simple, straight forward open interpretation, it’s easy to attach your own memories and feelings onto each character and create your own backstory for every unfolding impressionist scene. Everyone suffers their own tragedy in “Ambulance Blues.” But it’s also tempting to read from a historical context as an allegory about the death of the hippie dream and the passing innocence of flower power. There’s the folded paper on the cover reading, “Senator Buckley Calls for Nixon to Resign,” and it’s easy to imagine Nixon’s face in the line, “I never knew a man could tell so many lies.” So the car crashes. The hippie dream dies. The naively youthful optimism passes and you try to figure out how to move on as the world does. As John said, “The dream is over.” 

         It all begins in hindsight, “back in the old folky days, the air was magic when we played.” These first lines appear autobiographical, Neil referring to his early days as a folk singer playing in cafes such as the Riverboat. He ruminates on the passing of it all, Isabela has been torn down and plowed under, the scene has dissipated. Disenchanted with the fame around him and daydreaming about a more innocent time when the, “air was magic,” he can feel that this innocence has long passed and it can never return. Time fades away, rust never sleeps. Cold realization sets in as he realizes in the words of Stephen Malkmus, “you can never quarantine the past.” “An ambulance can only go so fast, it’s easy to get buried in the past, when you try to make a good thing last.” 

      However this glum reality turns to comfort in the final verses. The subways and cafes are empty but the old farmer’s market is still open. A sign of hope and a symbol of wisdom, the “old farmer” reminds him, “you’re all just pissing in the wind, you don’t know it but you are.” And suddenly all those meaningless problems dissolve. They are what they are, meaningless, inconsequential in the grand scheme of things. The old farmer perhaps acting as a representation of Neil’s maturation, looking back on the youthful optimism of the hippie dream as, “pissing in the wind.” He’s not going back to Woodstock for a while. 

       Formally speaking, the music follows along accordingly to the rustic imagery and  rueful tone of the lyrics. Neil’s guitar is tuned a full step down allowing his signature clawhammer picking to ring with added weight from the loosened strings. Dust and tumbleweeds blow down the empty streets with each hammered on note. The harmonica sighs like a funeral hymn blowing in the wind across the rooftops of old T.O. and Rusty Kershaw’s violin is the sound of Isabela being plowed under because nothing gold can stay. 

     Neil Young is an artist who has been obsessed with nostalgia and the passing of time his entire career. At age nineteen he was pensively writing how, “you can’t be twenty on Sugar Mountain,”  and at twenty-six he was singing about taking a journey through the past. But “Ambulance Blues” is his nostalgic masterpiece, it’s arcane lyricism never allowing you to completely comprehend its mysteries so it never loses its magic. For him in 1974 the magic and the innocence of, “tuning in, turning on, and dropping out,” had faded. Drugs were killing his friends. He knew “an ambulance can only go so fast,” and this innocence could never be saved. But for us the magic of this nostalgia is captured forever, preserved in a series of cryptic images that will never and can never be fully understood. I guess I’ll call that sickness gone.

this is a pretty good response to my favourite song by Neil Young

(via oneweekoneband)

6:08 pm - Sun, Feb 10, 2013
427 notes

jasonrbradshaw:

This Disease

Been dealing with a lot of depression lately. I don’t know what else to say other than it’s just terrible. It really takes over your life. Sort of makes you numb to everything. Perpetually unexcited or motivated. Tried to capture that somewhat here.

Jason </3

(via jonathanbogart)

5:06 am - Sat, Feb 9, 2013
37 notes
Bee GeesWish You Were Here
  • 390 Plays

oneweekoneband:

“Wish You Were Here” from One (1989)

The death of their youngest brother Andy absolutely destroyed the Bee Gees. They had tried to reach out to him over the years to help him beat his addiction and regain a music career, but unfortunately his demons proved to be too large. He died from inflammation of his heart caused by an infection brought on by years of cocaine use on March 8, 1988, 3 days after his 30th birthday.

Shortly after Andy’s death, the Bee Gees returned to the studio hoping that getting back to work may help ease their heartbreak. But it was not meant to be.

“The week after we thought, ‘Maybe if we get back to work we can get re-centered’…I was playing the strings [on keyboards] and it was very beautiful. Barry and Robin just started crying, and I just started crying. I said, ‘I can’t play anymore’; we went home. And about a month later we came back in and wrote ‘Wish You Were Here’…That was difficult to sing, very difficult. But we wanted to sing it.”

– Maurice

“Wish You Were Here” is one of the finest lyrical pieces the brothers wrote during their entire career. The widespread message of the lyrics is a prime example of how extremely talented Barry, Robin, and Maurice were as songwriters: not only does this song function as a suitable and heartbreaking tribute to someone who has passed on, but the lyrics are so expertly written that if you look at it from a different angle, it can also function as a gut-wrenching breakup song for anyone who has had to watch the love of their life walk away from them.

* * *

For me personally, “Wish You Were Here” is a song that sums up everything you can’t bear to say out loud after someone who you love passes away. I lost my grandmother, who played a big role in shaping me in to the person I am today, to cancer when I was 17, and that loss was a profound one. After she passed away this was one of only five or six songs I could bear to listen to; the pleasure of music was lost on me for several months. I was a senior in high school who was in the midst of applying to university and trying to keep up with the mark expectations of my parents on top of my extra-curricular activities when, so my days really did not allow me to spend any time grieving. But as soon as I had 4 minutes and 45 seconds to myself, usually at the end of the day, I would lock myself in my bedroom, grab my discman, pop in my headphones, lie on the floor, and quietly let any tears that needed to be released trickle down the sides of my face. Every word the Gibbs sang ripped away at the walls around my broken heart that I had to put up in order to get through my day and soldier on through life. Even today, eight years down the line, it’s difficult for me to listen to this song all the way through without getting a little misty-eyed.

1:25 pm - Thu, Jan 10, 2013
11 notes

imathers:

image

  1. Michael Zapruder — Happy New Year (2:50)
  2. Red Rocket — Fast Trains (6:05)
  3. Calla — As Quick as it Comes/Carrera (6:23)
  4. Mogwai — Burn Girl Prom Queen (8:34)
  5. Arvo Pärt — Cantus in Memory of Benjamin Britten (4:48)
  6. Gramophone — Motel Lullaby (5:12)
  7. Eluvium — Cease to Know (11:17)
  8. R.E.M. —…

(via lonepilgrim)

5:32 am - Fri, Sep 14, 2012
10 notes

readingwritingandarithmetic:

A couple of days ago a tumblr friend posted 13 traits that adult children of alcoholics tend to share, and I recognised myself in around two thirds of them. I stopped thinking about it for a day or so, and then today I had a think about it again. Then I took one of these quizzes designed to…

I’m not the child of an alcoholic - but most if not all of these ring true for me. I suspect that some of it may be the legacy of my grandmother.

6:28 pm - Tue, Aug 14, 2012
48 notes

isabelthespy:

i keep thinking about this, now that i’m not-depressed. i am kind of an emotionally volatile person, swinging from wannabe-man-killer rage to gross lovebird schmoopiness to weird sourceless sorrow to intense far-ranging euphoria in like, one evening. it can get honestly sort of exhausting but do…

1:43 pm - Mon, Jul 30, 2012
3 notes

mindsonmusic:

Olivia G., New York, NY

I love depressing music. There is honestly nothing I love more than an acoustic guitar and the soulful voice of a bearded, flannel-wearing man (or woman, minus the beard) who understands my every emotion. Bon Iver, Sufjan Stevens, Damien Rice, Cat Power, Sia, Antony and…

7:09 pm - Sun, Jul 29, 2012
29 notes
fuckyeahmarytimony:

In “Dr. Cat,” you note that you “hated life;” what was it that led you to this point?

“Well, I’ve struggled with depression for as long as I can remember. I’ve had a few really severe depressions, the last time was right before we recorded The Golden Dove. Some of the songs have to do with that, like the song “Owls Escape” is about having escaped from the impulse of wanting to kill yourself, and kind of being happy about that. I think the song “14 Horses” is also about that depression. It was like falling into a poison well. Sometimes, if I’m not busy touring, I fall into depressions, but it’s getting a lot better as I get older”.

fuckyeahmarytimony:

In “Dr. Cat,” you note that you “hated life;” what was it that led you to this point?

“Well, I’ve struggled with depression for as long as I can remember. I’ve had a few really severe depressions, the last time was right before we recorded The Golden Dove. Some of the songs have to do with that, like the song “Owls Escape” is about having escaped from the impulse of wanting to kill yourself, and kind of being happy about that. I think the song “14 Horses” is also about that depression. It was like falling into a poison well. Sometimes, if I’m not busy touring, I fall into depressions, but it’s getting a lot better as I get older”.

(via athousandvoicestalk-deactivated)

4:18 am - Sun, Jul 22, 2012
31 notes

isabelthespy:

metric - satellite mind

on first listen the new album is terrific and i am going to be really into it, but also it sort of just made me want to revisit fantasies, which is my ultimate nervous breakdown album. it came out around the first big surge of nervous breakdown #2 and maybe more than any other album gave me a sense at the time that it had secretly been written just for me. that nervous breakdown more than the others was tinted with a manic fragility; when i look back at those months i swear the colors of everything from buildings to sky seem brighter, the lines unnaturally clear, fine to the point of delicacy, like the whole world was made of venetian glass.

which in a sense it was: one of the reasons it took me so long to admit it was really happening is that i was trying so hard to convince myself it couldn’t be, again. i reached for all manner of distractions. i wore goofy brightly colored outfits and clung to conversations with people i wasn’t sure i really liked (and, to be fair, some i really did). i bought a parasol; once, i drew a heart on my face in eyeliner. i drank an obscene amount of red bull. help, i’m alive, my heart is beating like a hammer, sang emily haines at the beginning of the album, and i walked around cambridge in time with the beat, wide-eyed and over-caffeinated and telling myself that my frantic energy was just determination for life, that i was in no way on the precipice of shattering.

or sometimes i did; then i would start to feel the wear of it, the sheer exhaustion desperate denial brings to your nerves, and i would think, gimme sympathy, after all of this is gone, like a prayer devoid of holiness. oh, seriously — you’re gonna make mistakes, you’re young: that was true, it was something i had held onto even in the depths of the first nervous breakdown, so that meant it was okay, right, that i was once again higher than high, lower than deep (a line friends of mine rightly identified as kind of stupid, but depression made me kind of stupid so it resonated more for not being especially articulate). i mean, right? right? please?

i got worse. i got tired. struggling with a paper that was four days late i would remember how three years ago it looked to everyone i knew like i was the one with the world at my feet, and think how untrue that had always been: you gave me a life i never chose, i would spit at the blur of forces i felt had pushed me into using certain knacks i had to go somewhere i had never been meant for. i wanna leave, but the world won’t let me go, i wanna leave, but the world won’t let me go. too much hung on the thing making me so unhappy, on maintaining an identity i felt had been constructed for me and only much later realized no one was nearly as invested in as i was.

i played the entire album over and over again, but no song brings me back to that time more sharply than this one. i’m not suicidal, i just can’t get out of bed, and i used the first fact to bolster my belief that the second didn’t really matter, that i should snap out of it and surely i would, any day now, if i just kept going, even though in reality after every attempt i would drift into a deep fog. if the world seemed over-saturated with color, my room —  a double i shared with no one, with drab linoleum floors and white walls i never got around to decorating beyond a poster of the nightmare before christmas that kept falling down — felt starkly drained, sterile as a hospital waiting room save for the handful of knick-knacks on my desk and, as the semester wore on, the pile of clothes on the floor. i spent hours at a time staring at the ceiling, hating the music from the nearby suite that held parties at least once a weekend (and always seemed to play paper planes at least three times), heard you fuck through the wall, you being the next-door neighbor i never spoke to but who i knew had frequent apparently excellent and, yes, very noisy sex with her boyfriend, which i resented less for the disturbance than for the reminder that i hadn’t so much as kissed anyone in over a year and saw no prospects on the horizon. when i’m bored i send vibrations i send vibrations in your direction through a satellite mind: there was a boy, a friend i don’t think i would have wound up nearly as obsessed with if i hadn’t been losing steam to create my own distractions and thus needing something outside myself to hang on to, somewhere to center the angst i could neither shake nor justify.

fantasies didn’t save my life, or jumpstart it into a better place, or keep me from falling further down. but it kept me better company than i could allow any actual person to, at the time.

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