Out of desperation for companionship this week I consented to take part in “music therapy.” A large man in a red polo with multiple painful looking ear piercings came to my door holding a guitar and a boom box. My day had already been wasted to level 576 of Candy Crush. I didn’t know what this strangely perky man wanted but whatever. I’d let him give me his best sales pitch.

“Hi my name is so and so and I’m the music therapist!” He told me that he sings to patients and they sing to him. He told me he could write a song with me or teach me guitar, both of which sounded awesome. But I didn’t know him and wasn’t in the mood. So I let him play live performances of Fleetwood Mac live on his iPad.

How was it you ask? Awkward. Really awkward. He hummed and tapped his fingers on his lap like little drum sticks. I just watched and thought “Wow. Stevie Nicks has really aged but her hair looks great. And who is that one in the tight pants? That’s got to be uncomfortable.” I would have paid more attention to the song had I known I was going to be quizzed after.

“How did that make you feel? What did the lyrics do for you?” He asked.

“Umm I don’t know. It’s very mellow. I liked that.” I responded. Aren’t I so articulate?

“Alright then…” He said with hesitance. “Why don’t you pick the next song?”

Of course I went straight to my french music of choice, “Moi C’est” by Caméila Jordana. (Warning: this song is extremely catchy and will leave you singing gibberish for weeks.) Immediately the therapist started jamming his finger drumsticks on his thighs and swayed his head back and forth. He loved it. I recruited yet another French fan.

Then he told me tried to have another therapist-type conversation with me about how he didn’t know what she was saying but he felt the soul and the passion. I knew what she was saying and it wasn’t anything particularly deep. I nodded my head and raised my brow in agreement and ostensible surprise at the relevance of his statement. He seemed to catch on that I wasn’t so much actually agreeing as appeasing him. So then, he talked to me like a real person about how Camélia’s voice reminded him of Ingrid Michaelson and Imogen Heap. Then we watched the “Hide and Seek” video to enjoy it and not awkwardly do it because it’s his job to entertain me.

We agreed to meet once a week and start some sort of musical project. I might rescind that agreement, but after he left I realized the only music I had listened to all week was the sound of the alarm monitoring my heart and the percussion sounds of my typing. Now, I can’t be too sure, but I believe that doesn’t count.

I felt an overwhelming sense of calm after he left. The music really was a change of pace from what I had been doing to occupy myself and it calmed me down. Music has always been very important to me, but I always listened to it in the background while I was on a roadtrip somewhere or cleaned my room. I rarely ever just sit and listen to music as the main attraction. Focusing on music— the beat, the lyrics, the melodies, the harmonies— clears your head.

Black Swan: The Sequel

My music therapy came in handy Thursday when I had to have my Black Swan taken out and replaced. No one had previously told me this was the protocol, but I need to have the procedure redone weekly to prevent infection. The last time was pretty uncomfortable so I was anxious. This time the doctors let me bring in my phone and I could listen to my own music.

They have speakers that they offered to play music over. My one doctor informed me they had a teen patient who requested only Kendrick Lamar, his favorite song being “Bitch, Don’t Kill My Vibe.”

I opted out of picking my own pandora station because the music still would have only background music. With music only playing it the background I wouldn’t be able to focus on it —the beat, the lyrics, the melodies, the harmonies. To be ironic I considered Tchaicovsky’s Swan Lake, but A) I didn’t feel like typing his name into Spotify premium until I spelled it right and B)I wanted something more familiar and soulful.

So I settled on Kimbra’s  “Settle Down” and the rest of the Vows album. Her latest and much anticipated album, The Golden Echo, just came out, but I didn’t think it was the appropriate time to try and get into something new. The lyrics and beat I knew all to well helped to calm me and really allowed me to remove myself from the procedure. I also had a better gauge of the time that passed as each song fell into the next. Overall, I had a much more pleasant experience and I am glad I gave music therapy a shot.