The Earworm Thread

[gurnemanz]

And from another annoying, nit-picking pedant: the plural of Ohrwurm is, of course, Ohrwürmer.

http://yourdailygerman.wordpress.com...y-der-ohrwurm/

How annoying to be an annoying pedant that gets things wrong. Sorry about that. I'll double-check next time. Hardly any masculine nouns take an "er" plural.

[Lateralthinking1]

Rather like "mind's eye", the "ohrwurm" is being discussed on the basis of an assumption. That is, that everyone is talking about the same thing.

Throughout my life, I have had days in which one song or musical phrase has returned to me umpteen times. It can be infuriating and rather like some sort of compulsive thought like "did I leave the front door open when I left the house today?".

While very clearly a piece of identifiable music, I would say that it is a rather silent thing, at most muffled, as if some sort of thought were on a very old magnetic tape. It seems musical because one finds oneself singing it. It also seems uncontrolled but one is more the manager of it than it seems. You say "that damned song again" and then stop. This I think of as the "ohrwurm".

In the nineties, and under stress, I had a fortnight of something very different. I experienced actual music in my head that was very persistent and far more troubling. I would try my best to recognise it rather like attempting to tune a dial into a radio station. Sometimes I could - of the identifiable, it was inevitably one of two or three songs, sometimes merging - but at other times it was entirely novel and often symphonic. I could pick out individual instrumentation - at times it felt uncanny - but I couldn't get it to stop. It was also far too complex to be able to sing it. In fact when I tried, the music tended to fade at least for a while.

I did wonder whether this experience was the same as that of classical music composers. Obviously this idea was quite exciting, as well as troubling, but whenever I tried to compose it - ie decide where the music was going - it invariably went somewhere else.

[LeMartinPecheur]

I hope this isn't too far off-topic, but has anyone else experienced 'communicable earworm disease'?

When I lived at home as a teenager I might have a tune going round in my head and when I whistled or sang it out loud my dad would quite often say, 'I was just thinking of that tune'. I was enough of a scientist to try to recall if we had both heard the tune recently, or if I'd whistled it before, but I never spotted this being the case. After I was 22 we never lived in each other's pockets again and I don't recall the phenomenon recurring when we met.

Unfortunately the ol' da is no longer available for scientific inquiry/ experimentation...

[Flosshilde]

The (almost finished) Schubertfest has provided me with plenty of Ohrwurms

[LeMartinPecheur]

The (almost finished) Schubertfest has provided me with plenty of Ohrwurms

Flossie: I hope that's a good outcome...(?)

[Flosshilde]

Is any Ohrwurm a good outcome? Having a few bars of music running through your mind, even if they are by your absolute top favourite composer (which Schubert isn't,btw) can be irritating to say the least.

[Pabmusic]

Is any Ohrwurm a good outcome? Having a few bars of music running through your mind, even if they are by your absolute top favourite composer (which Schubert isn't,btw) can be irritating to say the least.

Quite I must admit, that's how I understood the image of an "ear worm".

[salymap]

I have a very strange phenomenon - going through my head a rather stupid/unkind line of Betjeman " Come friendly bombs and fall on Slough". I don't agree with the sentiment, have nothing against Slough,[never been there] but shall have to look up the poem to get rid of the ear-worm.

[Flosshilde]

Slough
Come friendly bombs and fall on Slough!
It isn't fit for humans now,
There isn't grass to graze a cow.
Swarm over, Death!

Come, bombs and blow to smithereens
Those air -conditioned, bright canteens,
Tinned fruit, tinned meat, tinned milk, tinned beans,
Tinned minds, tinned breath.

Mess up the mess they call a town-
A house for ninety-seven down
And once a week a half a crown
For twenty years.

And get that man with double chin
Who'll always cheat and always win,
Who washes his repulsive skin
In women's tears:

And smash his desk of polished oak
And smash his hands so used to stroke
And stop his boring dirty joke
And make him yell.

But spare the bald young clerks who add
The profits of the stinking cad;
It's not their fault that they are mad,
They've tasted Hell.

It's not their fault they do not know
The birdsong from the radio,
It's not their fault they often go
To Maidenhead

And talk of sport and makes of cars
In various bogus-Tudor bars
And daren't look up and see the stars
But belch instead.

In labour-saving homes, with care
Their wives frizz out peroxide hair
And dry it in synthetic air
And paint their nails.

Come, friendly bombs and fall on Slough
To get it ready for the plough.
The cabbages are coming now;
The earth exhales.



Apologies for quoting it in full, but it is a rather complex poem - at least, when I just read it (for the first time - like Sally, I only knew the first 2 lines) my feelings about what Betjeman was saying swung all over the place.

[cloughie]

I have in my head the finale of Schubert 9 - maybe it's my subconcious telling me the Schubert has finished, or maybe I've just listened to it!

[salymap]

Thanks Flossie, saved me looking in my Betjeman book but why is it haunting me?

[Pianorak]

Bruckner symphonies 1 & 2 have so far failed to dislodge this Ohrwurm: The opening bars of Evocación from Albeniz's Iberia. But since I prefer the latter to the former I shouldn't really complain, should I.

[Serial_Apologist]

Bruckner symphonies 1 & 2 have so far failed to dislodge this Ohrwurm: The opening bars of Evocación from Albeniz's Iberia. But since I prefer the latter to the former I shouldn't really complain, should I.

No indeed Pianorak; and you really shouldn't be surprised either.

[Lateralthinking1]

I have a very strange phenomenon - going through my head a rather stupid/unkind line of Betjeman " Come friendly bombs and fall on Slough". I don't agree with the sentiment, have nothing against Slough,[never been there] but shall have to look up the poem to get rid of the ear-worm.

And with less elegance, echoed in tone by Steven Morrissey. His lyrics to 'Everyday is Like Sunday' were mainly inspired by a visit to Borth in Wales and Nevil Shute's novel 'On the Beach' but are clearly also a reference to JB's 'Slough'

Trudging slowly over wet sand
Back to the bench where your clothes were stolen
This is the coastal town
That they forgot to close down
Armageddon - come Armageddon!
Come, Armageddon! Come!

Everyday is like Sunday
Everyday is silent and grey

Hide on the promenade
Etch a postcard :
"How I Dearly Wish I Was Not Here"
In the seaside town
...that they forgot to bomb
Come, Come, Come - nuclear bomb

Everyday is like Sunday
"Win Yourself A Cheap Tray"
Share some greased tea with me
Everyday is silent and grey

[ahinton]

Bruckner symphonies 1 & 2 have so far failed to dislodge this Ohrwurm: The opening bars of Evocación from Albeniz's Iberia. But since I prefer the latter to the former I shouldn't really complain, should I.

Clearly your inner ear's been Powelled into submission!