I don’t think of myself as a Type A. With the exception of the Orange Monster and co., not that much raises my blood pressure.
But there is one thing that gets under my skin: music ostensibly designed to help me relax. That includes music they want to play when you’re getting a massage, when you’re on hold with customer service, in an elevator or supermarket. Most unnerving of all is music that is supposed to help you sleep.
I count myself well-schooled when it comes to sleep deprivation. I’ve been deprived for decades. I sleep with my ears plugged, my eyes blocked and with an adhesive strip that goes over my nose which, when I peel it off in the morning, comes with a fresh layer of skin.
I’ve been prodded, poked, psychoanalyzized and strapped into electrodes. I’ve been prescribed 10 useless kinds of opiates, semi-opiates and pills in other god-knows-what categories.
Melatonin? Don’t make me laugh.
Finally, a pill did come my way, Ambien, which I now know so well, I can you give its pharma name by heart: zolpidem tartrate. Is it sure-fire? No. We have a relationship that works best when we don’t see each other too often. With stretches apart, we get along well.
Recently, a music PR person sent me the press release for a putative event called “World Sleep Day.” No specific day is actually mentioned, which fits with the general motif of ambiguous marketing that surrounds the sleep industry. I’m offered the opportunity to review a compilation of 54 tracks with names like “Aura,” “Sleeping Giant” and “Dream Portal.” Each track has a name attached to it, but names are easy to invent and any half competent AI program could have “composed” this stuff.
The very existence of music is predicated on performing two functions: Waking up either your brain, your body or both. Or, putting you in a trance-which is NOT the same as being asleep. In a trance (you know, transcendence), REM cycles are not the goal. You can watch reruns of Perry Mason for that.
No question, Americans need more sleep. The arms of Morpheus grow lonely and cold. Dr. Somnabule has no answer, but he is certain that music as sleep aid is oxymoronic; hold the oxy.