Perfect Pitch

April 23 2013

Other drivers see me in the slow lane

tapping on the dashboard, head bobbing

in my sound-proof booth

of glass.

As if enthusiasm

might excuse

my untuned ear.

I am the woodpecker

who starts at dawn

outside your bedroom window.

The gaggle of geese

in their ragged V

complaining all the way north.

The puffed up warbler

trilling sweetly,

his proclamation

of territorial war.

The birds do not sing

for beauty

as we understand it to be.

Only humans make music

for no reason at all.

Antidote to reason

beauty, or not.

Imperfect pitch

is fine, behind the wheel

no one listening in.

To feel the ecstasy of speed

becalmed, at 5 pm

in a sea of traffic,

big rigs revving

a chorus of horns.

Watching gulls

free-wheeling overhead.

 Birds are a symbol of freedom and agency. But, of course, we anthropomorphize everything.

External circumstances are beyond your control. But our can control we own state of mind. This is a cliché. But by the inexorable logic of survival, and our own helplessness, it’s what we do.

Language is what distinguishes (elevates?) humans from other animals. That, and music. Our cortex light up, our synapses jump, and there is a widespread activation and coordination of the brain when we listen to music. This activation is not only more widespread than language, but more powerful, because music enters directly into emotion -- without cognitive processing, without decoding or interpretation. It is raw and elemental. And a mystery why so uniquely human. What was it  in evolution that so exquisitely tuned out brains to this hypnotic combination of rhythm and pitch?

I envy those with perfect pitch. Mine is only good enough to let me know that I’m off, but not good enough to let me find the actual note! I heard a reference today to Tom Cochrane’s iconic song Life is A Highway, and thought about racing down the blacktop, cranking it out at full voice …and not giving a damn how good or bad I sound!