We were sitting in a circle, like an AA meeting or something, but we were inside a recording studio talking about how to market music. We were going around the circle, telling our names and what we had done in music. Me, I said I sang weird stuff (I do) but I was really a psychiatrist. My main talent had been choosing to marry my husband, who discussed his serious musical accomplishments.
My dear, remarkable father of blessed memory was no mere a musician. He was a Harvard-trained composer and arranger, played that complicated organ at his temple for fifty years, and was very, very serious about music.
In fact, he was so serious that only “serious” music could be played in our household. After all, he was a classmate of Leonard Bernstein, and studied under Aaron Copland and was one of the few fellowship students allowed to attend lectures by the great Stravinsky.
Now THAT’S serious!
As such, I missed out on popular music while growing up. I was not allowed “American Bandstand” after school. I was not give Beatles records. We didn’t even watch Elvis on Ed Sullivan.
He did have obsessive compulsive disorder. He had been on a variety of medications which one might expect to be helpful with that, but which had not. In my experience this was not uncommon. He was seeing a therapist who was trying to help him with this, but who was doing traditional “insight oriented” therapy. Of course, this did not work. His worries were mainly about cleanliness and order; common ones. I recommended the most recent edition of hte book I have been recommending for years, in its most recent edition. (Bantam Press) Despite my efforts to avoid making his therapist sound like an idiot, I sent him to some of the wonderful free self-help you can find on the internet. But wait, there’s more. He said that he frequently heard, in his head certain lines or phrases of songs he had performed in the sixties. Not whole songs or even parts he liked. Just opening lines, or one line or phrase, that would repeat an infinity of times. He had tried to drown it out, all sorts of things, and yet he felt victim to it. It was frustrating and he did not know how to stop it. This was not conventional obsessive compulsive disorder. Read more on Musical Hallucinosis — Too Much Of A Good Thing?…