- “Summer of glove” campaign calls for the end of Berejiklian-era strip-searches
- The great Australian dream of owning a backyard is dead, but it can be resurrected
- Thoughts on facing the quarter life crisis
- McKenzie awarded a grant to a gun club without disclosing she was a member
- If America implements a universal basic income, the working class will be short-changed
The medical benefits of music have been well documented, but the serious conditions that it blunts are impressive. Tune!
Doctor doctor, give me the news, I’ve got a bad case of…if the answer to that question is PTSD, Alzheimer’s or depression, you’re in luck. You’re liable to get 50cc’s of Robert Palmer. Or 50cc’s of 10cc. Remember them? They did that song about cricket, that was actually about getting mugged on holiday in Jamaica.
Anyhow, various findings from various brains from the Cardiovascular society of GB (heart), from McGill University (depression, through the release of everyone’s favourite compound, dopamine) and from the Alzheimer’s Foundation of America (guess what they study), have all arrived at the same conclusion:
Mad bars equal a lesser chance of meeting St Peter in front of those pearly ones. It’s all good in the hood. Rolling down the streets in my ’64, may indeed see you rolling down the street until you’re 64. Grand findings from the minds of science, yes, but these feelings seem dipped in the sour honey of “duh”. After all, didn’t Scott Ferguson (Jimmy Stewart) go through the same treatment following his “dead bae/alive bae/dead bae” pickle in Vertigo?
Moving on swiftly, before I get sidetracked and delve into the freaky chicanery of Hitchcock’s best, elsewhere, independent of normative science realms, those who suffer from PTSD the most, re: those are needed on the wall, and stand a post have too been salved by the balm of music, with the humble guitar used to numb the symptoms of that horrible condition.
According to the US Department of Veterans Affairs released the findings of their study, which saw a reduction in symptoms, as learning the instrument is similar to vanilla music therapy. Which I’m all for, unless they all decide to meet for a rousing rendition of Wonderwall, if so, their next live appearance might be the Hague.
Looking over the vast cacophony of musical treatment, and I shouldn’t say it out loud, but it needs to be said, suddenly those movies where people sing to salve/solve their problems, just got rather relevant indeed. Thanks, Sondheim!
Incidentally, if anyone is keen to jam, drop me a liz-ine (line – Ed) and we can cover Mysterious Girl in the name of medical treatment.