How you know it's music
I was walking down U st this morning around 9am to get some coffee. I consider this to be a delicious luxury. Saturday mornings: farmer's market downstairs (I hardly ever make it, but it's great just knowing it's there). Sunday mornings: Mocha hut. It sounds so mundane, but when you've spent half your adult life out of town, these simple things are extra sweet.
U & 14th is a particularly busy intersection with 4 lanes of traffic on both streets and all sorts of stuff going on - the buses stop at 3 of the 4 corners, so there are usually people everywhere. McDonald's is on the corner. You know, pedestrian city life at its best and worst.
As I walked toward the corner wondering if I should tell someone about the fairly well-dressed man lying in the alley with one shoe missing, I thought I heard something through the racket of the buses and the squeals and car engines and pigeons and people talking on their cell phones and car stereos and sirens (but never any air traffic except the occasional helicopter). Yes, there it was - something faint but oddly regular - too regular to be just street noise. Then it stopped. Oooh, but there it was again...what was that sound? I stopped on the corner for the light and started looking around, trying to locate it. Once I was standing still, I could hear it a little better and soon spotted a large beautiful black woman singing pretty much at the top of her lungs while fanning herself and waiting for the bus kitty-corner across from me. I decided to cross the street and, of course, now that I was watching her, I could hear her song (what's the mechanism behind the phenomenon that seeing something makes you better able to hear it??). She seemed to be singing some chorus over and over again. It had the sound of Jesus, although I don't think I heard the name. I wondered how long she'd been singing it, and what the other people around her thought about it. I thought it was beautiful, actually...she had quite a voice. I briefly thought of going over and telling her so, but then thought not. I realized that what I'd heard through the cacophony of the street noise was her rather extreme vibrato, which she would dive into as often as possible. I didn't hear it long enough to get tired of it. I wondered if she ever came to the end of her song and started another, or if she just sang it just like a song that's stuck inside your head - a little clip less than 15 seconds that won't stop.
As I continued on my soy latte expedition, I marveled as usual at the brain's ability to find music in a forest of noise, or to turn noise into music at the slightest hint of repetition and pattern.
I'm still praying fervently that I get the assignment to go to MIT this year and study how to make use of this ability for scientific analysis of complex data systems. I feel like my whole scientific and creative future is packaged up in a little 8 page application sitting on the desk of another overworked NASA headquarters employee, who probably has to consider politics way more than he wants to in the selection of NASA's first cadre of Innovation Ambassadors.
On my way back home, latte in hand, it happened again. This time it was a guy walking the other direction across the street from me, just singing and strolling. I guess I didn't get the memo that today was Singing in the Street Day.
I'm thinking of all of you in Houston and SW Louisiana and all the places that were hit so hard by Ike. I hope you and your families and friends are all OK and life can return to some sort of normalcy soon.
U & 14th is a particularly busy intersection with 4 lanes of traffic on both streets and all sorts of stuff going on - the buses stop at 3 of the 4 corners, so there are usually people everywhere. McDonald's is on the corner. You know, pedestrian city life at its best and worst.
As I walked toward the corner wondering if I should tell someone about the fairly well-dressed man lying in the alley with one shoe missing, I thought I heard something through the racket of the buses and the squeals and car engines and pigeons and people talking on their cell phones and car stereos and sirens (but never any air traffic except the occasional helicopter). Yes, there it was - something faint but oddly regular - too regular to be just street noise. Then it stopped. Oooh, but there it was again...what was that sound? I stopped on the corner for the light and started looking around, trying to locate it. Once I was standing still, I could hear it a little better and soon spotted a large beautiful black woman singing pretty much at the top of her lungs while fanning herself and waiting for the bus kitty-corner across from me. I decided to cross the street and, of course, now that I was watching her, I could hear her song (what's the mechanism behind the phenomenon that seeing something makes you better able to hear it??). She seemed to be singing some chorus over and over again. It had the sound of Jesus, although I don't think I heard the name. I wondered how long she'd been singing it, and what the other people around her thought about it. I thought it was beautiful, actually...she had quite a voice. I briefly thought of going over and telling her so, but then thought not. I realized that what I'd heard through the cacophony of the street noise was her rather extreme vibrato, which she would dive into as often as possible. I didn't hear it long enough to get tired of it. I wondered if she ever came to the end of her song and started another, or if she just sang it just like a song that's stuck inside your head - a little clip less than 15 seconds that won't stop.
As I continued on my soy latte expedition, I marveled as usual at the brain's ability to find music in a forest of noise, or to turn noise into music at the slightest hint of repetition and pattern.
I'm still praying fervently that I get the assignment to go to MIT this year and study how to make use of this ability for scientific analysis of complex data systems. I feel like my whole scientific and creative future is packaged up in a little 8 page application sitting on the desk of another overworked NASA headquarters employee, who probably has to consider politics way more than he wants to in the selection of NASA's first cadre of Innovation Ambassadors.
On my way back home, latte in hand, it happened again. This time it was a guy walking the other direction across the street from me, just singing and strolling. I guess I didn't get the memo that today was Singing in the Street Day.
I'm thinking of all of you in Houston and SW Louisiana and all the places that were hit so hard by Ike. I hope you and your families and friends are all OK and life can return to some sort of normalcy soon.
3 Comments:
There's a guy on Congress in Austin that plays a horn on the corner. Really nice jazz. It's great to turn off my own headphones and just listen to the town's soundtrack on those days.
But this guy is looking for a job, and is asking for tips. How different is that than the lady waiting on the sidewalk?
The only reason I ask is because I find that sometimes I jump to a conclusion on many things, but very considerately think about other things. Trying to look at this situation differently and thought I'd ask.
On finding data, it seems to me more than half of what is studied is politically related one way or another. But all you can do is try. And show up, as some like to say. And you did that. Yay you!!
There was a guy who used to play an upright piano on a street corner in downtown San Francisco. Can't remember his name, though, and Google isn't helping at the moment.
whoa, connor - that's commitment.
stacey - hmmm - it seems it's differnet if you're asking for tips than if you're just singing into the wind, but maybe not...hmmmm.
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