Music as Medicine
as seen at It's Psychedelic Baby Magazine
There exists three separate, but equally important aspects of being; the mind, body and spirit. And in each of these elements there lies the potential for an elevated state of being through the enrichment of music. Indian culture recognizes the extraordinary and very important potential behind the subtle nuances of music in this trilateral relationship. The emotive and complex ragas are a testament to the transcendence and healing response it can evoke in the listener. Every part of an ensemble contributes to a unified whole; a meditative release for the mind, a tensive shedding for the body and a transcendence for the soul. There is no room for conceit or overindulgence in a composition, for it would be considered damaging to its inherent nature and purpose. Compositions are as delicate as a flower in its spring bloom. They can be incredibly simple in their structure, but it is with the musicians and their unspoken extrasensory understanding that the truly mythical nuances lie, and precisely why such appreciation and pride is taken in musicianship within India. Now apply India’s time-old musical customs to the lightning fast advancements of the 20th century, introduce the music of the East to the music of the West, and neither culture would ever exist in the same way.
I’ve
always had a mad hunger to experience things, just as Kerouac valued in his
classic novel, “mad to live, mad to
talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time.” And
even when the opportunity to manifest these urges isn’t readily at my fingertips,
it’s in my experience that it can be boldly experienced through the artistic bloodletting
of music. Every strum of the guitar, beat of the drum or stroke of the piano is
an expression leading your mind to busy streets or barren wastelands, sometimes
transporting you all within the span of seconds. Music has always been an
integral therapeutic device of mine when it’s come to reaching for a better
state of mind. The rhythm of the music is bound to the pulse of the earth; the
heartbeat emanates from the ground up in all 360 degrees. The mad desert
caravan drum beats of Guy Blakeslee’s “Valium Blues” will echo straight through
the earth’s crust and core to the heart of the Sahara where visions of mad
adventure and grandeur intoxicate the mind and body. It’s the poor man’s travel
agent, health insurance, doctor, therapist; call it what you will, I call it
medicine.
It was with Ravi Shankar’s family history that we have to
owe much of our embrace in the realm of world music, and its small sublet, “Psychedelia.”
He toured Europe among dance and musical groups with his siblings at a very
young age. He became acquainted with numerous traditional Indian instruments as
well as taking to Western influences such as Classical, Jazz and cinema. He was
forced to resign from dancing, and return home, yet the influence of the West
had not dissipated. He took up study in Indian Classical under the rigorous
teachings of Allauddin Khan in the traditional gurukul system (Ramchandani). It was with his chance
introduction to Western violinist Yehudi Menuhin, and a series of
consequential differences that Ravi would be convinced to return to the UK to
perform and educate for audiences in the late 50’s. He recorded an LP in London
titled “Three Ragas” in 1956, and began to garner attention for Indian
Classical. It wasn’t until the 60’s that the fire burned hot for a change in
the musical landscape.
There
are two figures I give enormous credit to. Without their mad hunger for
everything on this green earth at once we wouldn’t have apparitions of Vishnu
and Krishna channeled through the sitar plucking of “Love You Too” or the
brittle beauty in the pained bent strings of the wayfaring “No Expectations.” George
Harrison took up the Sitar, and with that he forged together two realms of
existence as one; he brought the east to the west. He and
Brian Jones were both men, mad to live, and constantly famished, but the paths
they walked were very different, and very much defined their places in musical
history; they outlined all essential aspects when concerning our “Psychedelia.”
Their
mission was to be taken to another time and place through their instruments. George,
Brian, and their respective bands mingled with the same relative influences, so
once the neighborhood friendly Beatles and diabolical Rolling Stones hit the
states they were no exception to the excesses of the fast lane. It’s hard to
justify the means by which their inspiration for grander sounds was unlocked,
but let’s face it; man has never been a stranger to drugs as a means of escape
or even enlightenment. Peyote is testament to that. They found themselves
ensnared by the drug frenzy of the sixties, which no doubt opened their eyes to
an eternity. George was left empty by the vacuum of this culture his music was
creating; sounds of enlightenment for deaf, ignorant ears. He continued onward
with his investment in the sounds and ideas of the world, but it was no longer his
gift to the world, it was a personal self-fulfilling affair that he rather allowed
us into. He was never afraid of investigating the great unknown, and what he
developed was a medicine for the mind that knows no bounds as long as mankind
continues on as a species capable of abstract, complex thought.
Brian
Jones’ legacy is far less motivating. His ambition was enormous, but consumed
by excess. His path tells the better known story of what the world knows as
Psychedelia. Without his influence the landscape of Rock and Roll, and its
predecessors like Blues and Country wouldn’t be nearly as ambitious or
fulfilled by a thousand miles, but the tragedy lies in the human condition, and
no amount of enlightenment could steer him from the spectacle of being a rich
artist without limits. Like Jones, the excess took many brilliant minds, and
muddled the very point behind this new exploration in the curative powers of
music. It’s given some very credible artists a very bad name by mere
association, and it’s precisely why the Kraut Rock movement coined their motto
“music is the drug” for disassociation. It would be very easy to dismiss the
quite impressive artistic merit, and label a nineteen minute track of droned
out instruments as druggy-rock. It all stems from, and attempts to lead
straight back to the original curative properties that our Psychedelia was bred
for.
It’s
thanks to the friendship between Ravi and George that a massive scale
cross-pollination of music erupted. Jazz took serious inspirational cues from the
Raga, and especially redefined the concept of improvisation, which is so vitally
important within Indian music, but differs tremendously from our own ideas. One
such album that displays this influence is “Journey in Satchidananda” by Alice Coltrane, composed after the death of
her husband, John Coltrane three years previous (Kelsey). It’s composed in a
strong meditative mode; the title track introduced with a repetitive bass line
and a drone that balances between its two essential notes while the sympathetic
strings echo and elongate the growing ecstasy, finally allowing for the
xylophone to ease our ears into the role of the saxophone as it teeters and
tumbles over and around the shakers and percussions. The Saxophone, Xylophone
and percussions balance, trade and mingle for nearly seven minutes, creating
euphoria and easing tension as if the players are communicating beyond words. The
album continues much in this same way, revealing to the listener a world in
which the mind can rise above the body, and allow for it to heal in all the
ways that our conscious troubled minds cannot through a meditative state.
Coltrane was a devotee of the Indian guru Sathya
Sai Baba, and she continued with her studies of this cosmic realm in music
until her passing away in 2007 (Turiyasangitananda).
The pollination wasn’t exclusive to artists of the West by
any means. The influences went both ways. Ananda Shankar, the
nephew of Ravi Shankar, was well renowned for his fusing of East and West
(Ramchandani) as well as the fusing between different ethnic styles from
within. He displayed not just an understanding, but a very deep and great
appreciation for the various young and budding genres that made Western music
increasingly unique. His travels to Los Angeles in the late 60’s found him
collaborating with greats like Jimi Hendrix, and releasing his first
self-titled album. It featured original Indian Classical compositions and two
covers of modern titles, “Jumping Jack Flash” and “Light My Fire,” both very
spirited interpretations of some now-staples of Western music. His
understanding of sitar and the tabla crossed with the very Western moog
synthesizer (which he puts to full use), and the interaction between is
fascinating. The instruments don’t sound as if they’re caged within a studio,
but instead given free roam to expand as vast and far as their nature could
imagine.
Something
must be said, however, for Michael Brook whom produced Nusrat’s music under the
Real World label in the 90’s. The album “Night Song” in particular; the purpose
of the recording isn’t clear at all. The recordings are so over-produced and Westernized
that the raw spiritual quality and gusto of Nusrat’s voice is completely lost.
It’s as if he’d been reduced to a whisper with Western instruments and pop
stars (like Eddie Vedder and Alanis Morissette) to back him. As long as the
music found its audience and inspired the right ears, the point is moot, but it
simply shows that all music is absolutely susceptible to the hollow production
aesthetics of the West. To this day, rare and unheard recordings are being
pulled together and released to honor Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan, one of the very
finest vocalists in the history of recorded music.
I
believe very much in the healing powers music has over the mind, body, and
spirit. I had the privilege of a brief dialogue with Jón Sæmundur Auðarson of
the Icelandic band Dead Skeletons on his battle with Hepatitis C, and the
healing influence that traditional Indian music, more specifically the Mantra, has had over him. Nonni’s
fascination with the power of the mind over the body took him to boundaries
that medicine simply couldn’t reach, specifically with Eastern medicine (Auðarson),
which emphasizes visualization of the body in its healing (Shayhorn).
“Sá sem óttast dauðann kann ekki að njóta lífsins” or simply “he who fears
death cannot enjoy life” is the mantra he has abided by, repeated in three different
languages over exotic instruments and repetitive drumming rhythms for over
eight minutes. The concept behind this
track alone has kept him on a road of transcendental purity for ten years, and
thus cheating what was his supposed “expiration date” by leaps and bounds. “’The Dead Mantra’is my battle and healing song, and it works very well!” he proclaimed,
and so it’s with the healing, meditative and spiritual
powers of the Mantra and music as a whole that Jón is absolutely convinced he
is still alive today. He aimed to pour this same foundation of healing he found
into his 2011 album “Dead Magick,” tapping into the nuances of what makes
Indian music such a powerful force.
I
believe very much in the healing powers music has over the mind, body, and
spirit. I had the privilege of a brief dialogue with Jón Sæmundur Auðarson of
the Icelandic band Dead Skeletons on his battle with Hepatitis C, and the
healing influence that traditional Indian music, more specifically the Mantra, has had over him. Nonni’s
fascination with the power of the mind over the body took him to boundaries
that medicine simply couldn’t reach, specifically with Eastern medicine (Auðarson),
which emphasizes visualization of the body in its healing (Shayhorn).
“Sá sem óttast dauðann kann ekki að njóta lífsins” or simply “he who fears
death cannot enjoy life” is the mantra he has abided by, repeated in three different
languages over exotic instruments and repetitive drumming rhythms for over
eight minutes. The concept behind this
track alone has kept him on a road of transcendental purity for ten years, and
thus cheating what was his supposed “expiration date” by leaps and bounds. “’The Dead Mantra’is my battle and healing song, and it works very well!” he proclaimed,
and so it’s with the healing, meditative and spiritual
powers of the Mantra and music as a whole that Jón is absolutely convinced he
is still alive today. He aimed to pour this same foundation of healing he found
into his 2011 album “Dead Magick,” tapping into the nuances of what makes
Indian music such a powerful force.
He took
this stone he was handed, and clutched it until it bled gloriously. He is now heading
a record label of likeminded musicians and inspired artists, collaborating with
groups like The Brian Jonestown Massacre (an infamously respectable collective),
spearheading his own band, The Dead Skeletons, and selling his artwork,
inspired by his fight, on a massive scale.
Music in
itself is curative. Setting the entire psychedelic fustian aside, doctors are
now agreeing that music can “not only help lower your blood pressure and slow
your breath, but could actually assist you in battling serious illnesses.” It’s
a practice that’s been exercised in some of our most ancient cultures, but
hardly recognized at large. Research of “sound healing” has established a
scientific link between music and its ability to impact the body at the
cellular level based on 1990’s research studies conducted in Lincoln, Nebraska.
Critically ill patients that listened to Mozart sonatas required less sedation,
had healthier blood pressure, and left with overall cleaner bills of health
than those not subjected to music.
It’s Jón’s album that influenced me in my fight against
Glioblastoma Multiforme, a type of brain tumor. With his music’s influence, and
now broadening my horizons with investigation of my own into the healing powers
of music, it has provided a sort of gateway beyond self-pity and misery;
transcendence, acceptance, and embrace beyond the quality of living that even
those with a clean bill of health could ever touch. Therefore if I may make a
personal voucher, the cross-pollination of musical styles and ideas between
East and West goes far deeper than cultural enrichment. The benefits of
embracing the sounds and ideas are positively mystical. George Harrison, Alice
Coltrane, Peter Gabriel and Jón Auðarson all seemed to have recognized this,
their lifestyles forever changed when they looked down the rabbit hole,
something I’ve only begun to glimpse into.
What is
it about music that creates this insatiable desire to escape the body? Are the
imperfections of our own personal reality so much to bear? Be the reasoning
what it may, there is a corridor, and walking down you will find a door of
every size and shape. And when you find the door that meets your needs, walk on
through and it will surely take you miles far and away if you let it. That, to
me, is the power music has over the mind, and in the mind there exists the
potency to heal stronger than any medicine a doctor can prescribe.
Auðarson, Jón S. E-mail interview. 09 Oct. 2011.
Kelsey, Chris. "Alice Coltrane on AllMusic." AllMusic.
Web. 31 May 2012. .
Ramchandani, Indu. "Shankar, Ananda." Students'
Britannica India. Vol. 1-5. Google Books. Google. Web. 31 May 2012. .
Ramchandani, Indu. "Shankar, Ravi." Students'
Britannica India. Vol. 1-5. Google Books. Google. Web. 31 May 2012. .
Turiyasangitananda, Swamini A. "Swamini A.C.
Turiyasangitananda, Spiritual Director, Sai Anantam
Ashram." Swamini A.C. Turiyasangitananda, Spiritual Director, Sai
Anantam Ashram. Saiquest.
Web. 03 June 2012. .
