Tammy M. Proctor,chair of the history department and associate professor of history at Wittenberg University and author of
Female Intelligence: Women and Espionage in the First World War (New York University Press, 2003):
Music can be an enormous intellectual stimulant for me, but I find that the kind of music that I want to play or listen to depends on the work I’m doing. When I’m grading, I usually pick CD’s that are a bit hard-edged and driving in their melodies because it gives me a certain amount of energy. My most frequent picks are Steve Earle, Lucinda Williams, Gram Parsons, and other rock/country/folk mavericks. For writing or research, I find those energetic CD’s too invasive, so I seek out music that makes me feel cheerful about the prospect of pulling my hair out in front of the computer screen for several hours. In particular, I find bluegrass and Celtic music to be appealing, and my favorite CD for this purpose is Tim O’Brien’s “The Crossing.”
One of the joys I’ve found from music this past year is a weekly gathering of musicians from the university. This interdisciplinary group of scientists, humanists, and a statistician plays fiddle tunes and old Irish and English folk tunes for a couple of hours on Wednesday nights. I find myself trying to be productive during the day so that I can go to the musical soiree in the evening and work on my musical skills with the mandolin and flute. Although I have never consciously thought much about it, I do think I would have difficulty keeping sane in the academic world without access to music on a daily basis.
***
Barry Shank, associate professor of comparative studies at Ohio State University and author of Dissonant Identities: The Rock’n’Roll Scene in Austin, Texas (Wesleyan University Press, 1994):
Miles Davis’s “Bitches Brew.” I cannot listen to music while I work, as my attention is drawn so fiercely to the sounds I enjoy. But there are times, often on mornings such as this, with rain dripping painfully down the screens by my desk and nothing but the gray of the sky filling my head, when I find that only precisely fierce sounds can focus my attention such that I become able to work. When that need arises, I spin “Bitches Brew.”
I am talking about the tune, not the album. There is nothing else like it in the universe. It begins with two basses establishing the initial chord, shaping its outline, determining its direction, only to have that initial direction shattered by the counterharmonies of an electric piano and the echoing thunder of Miles’s trumpet.
That wail by itself can usually clear the head. But then it repeats, with the trumpet wailing higher, replacing thunder with lightning, before a slight calm comes, and the bass lays out a new groove, a groove that you could dance to if you didn’t already know that its ability to move your hips was only a sly trick setting you up for the snakelike cross-rhythms of the most evil bass clarinet lick ever recorded.
After this sonic landscape is traced out in somber colors of dark purple, rich mahogany, and the deepest black, the golden tracings of that gloriously slurred trumpet, the absurd tinklings of that electric piano, Wayne Shorter’s boldly explicit saxophone, and John McLaughlin’s splashing guitar spend about 20 minutes showering those thirsty fields with a prodigious display of the power of meaningful play. And after that 20 minutes, I can usually write something.
***
Harold L. Dibble, professor of anthropology and deputy director for curatorial affairs at the University of Pennsylvania Museum of Archaeology and Anthropology, and author of The Human Evolution Cookbook (University of Pennsylvania Museum, 2003):
I grew up in the ‘60s, and about the only music I listen to is classic rock. But more than anything else, I am still a huge Beatles fan, and it is their music that I enjoy the most. I have taught myself to play many dozens of their songs on the guitar, and when I run into a wall (usually when writing), I will often pick it up and play a couple of them, especially those from the White Album and Abbey Road. I’m not sure, however, that it helps my writing.
On the other hand, music plays an important role in my archaeological excavations in France and Egypt. We encourage our student participants to bring along their favorite instruments (which have ranged from violins to harmonicas), and our jam sessions provide quite a bit of entertainment for the crew.
***
Greg Crowther, visiting assistant professor of biology at the University of Puget Sound:
As a scientist and pop-music fan, I listen to a lot of pop music about science. My personal collection includes over 30 albums of science-themed material, ranging from the a cappella astronomy songs of the Chromatics to zany zoology tunes by the Bungee Jumpin’ Cows.
Listening to science songs is a fun way to review the basics of fields other than my own; for example, I can learn about physics from the Physics Chanteuse and study meteorology with the Weather Dude. Within my discipline of biology, there are many songs I use to introduce my students to a particular topic. “You Can Tell It’s a Cell” by J.P. Taylor offers a nice overview of cellular structures, for instance, while Flanders and Swann’s “First and Second Law” serves as a lead-in to lectures on thermodynamics. The students seem to enjoy these musical mini-lessons, particularly when I perform them live.
Naturally, I also listen to nonscience music on occasion. If I need to psych myself up for some difficult reading or writing, Carole King’s gentle, feel-good virtuosity often does the trick. However, Paul Westerberg holds the distinction of providing the soundtrack for the most academically focused month of my life. As a fourth-year graduate student, I faced the challenge of preparing for my general examination while getting over a just-ended relationship. The hard-driving bitterness of Westerberg’s “Waiting for Somebody” (from the movie Singles) perfectly matched my “martyr” attitude as I grimly prepared my slides.
***
Barry Goldsmith, instructor of comedy writing at the Gallatin School of Individualized Study at New York University:
My musical tastes hark back to another time: I love the music of the ‘70s and ‘80s -- 1770s and 1780s, that is.
I listen to my favorite opera, The Marriage of Figaro, which enlightens me and enables me to write comedy, which is my profession. Mozart captures the essence of comedy and mistaken identity through music in this timeless masterpiece. I also love Verdi, but I can’t play Rigoletto and work at the same time. Because I’m a New Yorker, the stabbing of Gilda by street thugs reminds me of the dangers that await me when I leave my apartment every day.
And then there’s La Traviata, another favorite. I’m just waiting for Peter Sellars (the nutty director who can’t even direct the hairs on his head to move in unison) to change Violetta’s disease from “consumption” to SARS. And when it’s time for romance I think of Chopin -- without trying to think of George Sand in pants. Also in the romantic tradition I love Tchaikovsky -- Swan Lake and Sleeping Beauty.
http://chronicle.com Section: The Chronicle Review Volume 49, Issue 39, Page B4