Music

I love music.
And I cannot stand music.

Okay, to unravel this, I will start with the radio.
Radio is basically an instrument of terror for me. Not only do they refuse to loop music, they also always talk into it. Not only talk, but kind of yell just how amazingly great and indispensable their station is.
Terror.
It is very rare that the radio plays a song I like, and then they ruin it in the said way.
So, the CD was my favorite invention.
Before CD I had to tape my favorite music in just the ways I needed to listen to it.
And that even was an improvement to back then when I had to always set the arm of my record player back.
But I have to admit that I didn't listen much to music when I was pre teen.
I loved Karl May's Winnetou, and listened to those stories on records. And the Winnetou soundtrack actually was my first love in music.
But that was due to my love for Winnetou. I wouldn't have loved the music without the movies.

Two songs I really loved, just because I loved the music, were Danyel Gerard's "Butterfly", and Paul McCartney's "Mull of Kintyre". That was awesome! The sound of the bagpipes touched me deep down inside. Mother owned both songs on small records, and I actually went at times and put them on.
By the way, the bagpipe still thrills me. So much, that I actually play one.

But my first real love in music was Chris de Burgh.
Like so many other things I had picked that up from my sister. Sister loves music in kind of a musician way, plays several instruments, and actually is able to compose little pieces.
I can barely read music.
But Chris de Burgh had an awesome impact on me.
Some of his songs still touch me so much, that I cannot sing properly along because I have to sob, or actually start to cry.
Over the years I have picked up more likes. But nothing beats Chris de Burgh.
And I'm not liking his music because it is romantic, and a great thing to hear when one is in love or some such.
I cannot explain what exactly is going on inside me when I hear it, but I can say that at times it nearly bowls me over, and it is a necessity to listen to it.
Back in eighth grade we went on a class outing, for about ten days.
And it being Waldorf school, we were explicitly not allowed to take Walkmen along, which had just been invented.
Terrible! Going on these outings was of course a strain anyway. But the mere thought of not being able to listen to my favorite songs nearly made me sick.
At those times, when I feel that need to listen to a certain music, it seems that every hour without that music is utterly wasted.
That got me into a box, because of course I cannot just simply disobey orders. One doesn't do that.
But ten days...
In the end I took the Walkman along.
I had to.
I start hurting when I feel a need like that, which cannot be mended.
And I'm not just saying it like that. I react bodily to music, both in good ways and bad ways.
Of course my teacher found out that I had my music along, and took it away.
I'm not sorry that I did what I did. But I wish that I could tell my teacher that I hadn't done it just because I was thick-skinned and not interested in rules.

I must say, my children have done a real great job going along with my music. They never complained that I have it running not only in loops, but that also for weeks, months, and sometimes even years.
At home not so much, but always in the car.
And they even were so good to not let their own music run too loud.
I didn't know I have Asperger's while my children still lived here, but of course I always had strong reactions.

Most terrible: bad music usually gives me what we call an "ear worm", it keeps running in my head in endless loops, imposing itself on my consciousness, more often than not for days, or even weeks.
That happens lamentably rarely with music I like. But hearing just the tiniest bit of some gruesome old pop song, triggers the loop.
The lesser I like the music, the easier it creates the loop.
And because it is in my head, there is just no way away. I'm stuck with it.

I had one great big incident with music way back when I worked at McDonald's.
We had a tape of music running in the lobby. Just some music to tinkle in the background while people ate their meals.
Very early on in my "career" there I was assigned to do the lobby, to clean up after people, and see to the floors and things.
Most crew members hate that job, but I really enjoyed it, keeping everything neat and clean.
And while I worked there, (nearly every day, because my superiors were impressed by my likes to clean up.), I took notice of a song from the tape.
It got so that I was looking out for it, and I actually got a bit snappy when people started talking to me while the song was running.
And one day I came into the store, and a new tape of music was running.
I am not exaggerating when I say that it nearly made me sick.
I rushed into the office and challenged my superior to put the old tape back in.
And I must say considering the fact that I was way out of line, the man was kind enough to apologize, and tell me properly sorry that the old tape didn't even exist anymore.
I could hardly work that day, and went home in tears.
Two days later my sister called me up, and she was surprised that I sounded terribly down.
Despite my feeling a little bit embarrassed about acting silly over a piece of music, I told her about it, and how I really missed it.
I didn't know the title or anything, but I sang the chorus to her. More because it was so prominent in my mind, rather than hoping for relief.
But my sister was totally easy about it. "Oh that. That is Hello Again by Neil Diamond. I have that on a CD. Come by if you want to borrow it."
Oh my goodness!
It was such an enormous relief that I felt, that I actually had to shed some tears.
I went quickest possible to her to borrow the CD, but I'm afraid it has to count as stolen by now, because I never could give it back again, and bless Sister for never making me part with it.
Whenever I hear that song, it feels like stepping into a hot bath on a real cold day, where one stops shivering instantly. Everything inside me that sticks out from being rubbed the wrong way gets smoothed back down, and all I feel is soft rightness.
I am okay when I hear it.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XGE_v-KMV-o

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KBQVKzNpW4s

(Never mind the terrible videos. It's just the music.)

As I was googling for these songs, I realized that I forgot to mention one important point.
I cannot stand any changes to my favorite songs.
Actually it was my dream to once go and see Chris de Burgh live in concert. But after I have seen him several times performing on TV shows, I have given up on that idea. Because like most artists, he always tweaks his songs, to achieve a kind of variety.
And that disturbs me massively.
Inside me the effect is close to what happens when one scratches on a black board, and depending on my general state, at times even can trigger tears.