What Does My Music Library Say About Me?

A Rebuttal to the Personality Link

William Sundwick

Ever since I can remember, I’ve liked listening to music. My childhood was spent with a father who was a failed violinist in his youth. (He became an engineer.) But, while he never played for me, he was totally dedicated to the classical, mostly 19^th century, orchestral catalogue. He took off from Paganini and didn’t stop until Heifetz. Listening to music was very serious business to him. It was clearly emotional. I inherited the emotional content, if not the literature.

For me, dramatic always trumped soothing. Heavy was generally better than light. I adored Beethoven -- a love shared with my dad. Schumann, Berlioz, Brahms all get honorable mention. I liked the Russians, too – along with my mother – father not so much (no violinists).

Something happened to me culturally, however, when I got to high school, and obtained a driver’s license. With a little help from my friends, I discovered top 40 radio in the car. It became a social thing. My previous group of friends, intellectually precocious New York Jews, with holocaust survivor parents, had aided and abetted my classical predilections up to that point -- although none of us ever played an instrument. Driving around listening to radio in the car became a liberating experience. Independence at last!

Social acceptance changed tone in college. There, the driving force seemed to be “what’s new.” And, then, what would come next. Thus, the avant-garde invaded my mind, with musical, artistic, and theatrical dimensions. Grafted onto that avant-garde sensibility was social awareness of a different world – an underclass world of black people. Blues and avant-garde jazz were, in my mind as a college student, part of the same “movement.” I had already gained an appreciation for the left from my New York Jewish friends in high school – college gave me the chance to integrate all that into an aesthetic that would become my own.

I still listened to classical music in college but replaced the 19^th century romantics with baroque and more 20th century artists. I liked Shostakovich and Prokofiev symphonies.

After college, it became clear that the future lay with rock music. It was symbolic of the age, and drew from a fabulous, beautiful history of the great migration from the South to the industrial Midwest. Urban blues became my music. As it transmogrified into Chicago Blues or British Blues, it seemed to be part of an evolving tradition. A working-class artform.

I, too, became a worker. I may have been an intellectual worker, but a worker, nonetheless. Adding to that, I was slow to develop intimate relationships – adolescent “sturm und drang” didn’t disappear from my psyche until my late marriage at 35. By that time, I was dedicated to Bob Dylan, the Rolling Stones and Led Zeppelin. The revolution was still coming – in the future.

If there is anything at all to the psychological studies which claim to correlate musical tastes with personality, I might confess being a “systemizer” more than an “empathizer” – like my engineer father. This does tend to support the basic genres of music I like best. I prefer complex melodies and rhythms, and intense music.

One parameter for musical taste which is clearly bogus in my case is age. I’m still discovering new musical genres at age 71. I have only recently become a fan of heavy metal and punk/post-punk. It says something to me which is as valid now as it was when I was 20 or 25. I’ve never rejected my roots. Sadly, I never participated in creating music. But I still appreciate it.

Today the only time I listen intently to music is at the gym. This means I associate my music library with biofeedback (cardio) and may even use it for “productivity enhancement” (makes me pedal harder). This is a departure from my youthful serious listening, although that listening mode is still imprinted in my emotional affect. I still like sad songs (blues), especially when linked to social alienation and emancipation. I continue associating avant-garde with class struggle, opposing the mainstream.

When music stays “underground,” it is better than when it is commercially successful. I’ve never liked “soothing” or “easy listening” music of the pop world. I reject overly sentimental music, as it cheapens my own emotions. And, I steadfastly reject music with a conservative social message. Commercial Nashville usually epitomizes that -- although I still enjoy some Rolling Stones anthems like “Ruby Tuesday” or “You Can’t Always Get What You Want” (both examples of Keith Richards lapsing into extolling market capitalism’s virtue).

Blues is good. The purity and depth of its sentiment is real. It’s mostly about struggle, as I see it. The world of rock, whether blues-based or more experimental (like heavy metal), strikes me as great when it features virtuoso musicians – vocalists, guitar players, drummers, especially. Harmonica and tenor sax can often give an extra treat to the ear, as well. They contribute a plaintive tone to a song.

But the beat must remain predominant. Even in experimental electronic forms, there must be an underlying regular, repetitive beat. Sometimes the beat gets lost but is heroically rediscovered in the denouement. Zeppelin were masters of this, especially “In My Time of Dying” and “Dazed and Confused”. “Noise rock,”  like Sonic Youth, has tried the same approach – the beat must be at the heart of the song, even if lost in the middle.

Rock anthems continue to have an appeal to me. They seem to be hymns, crying “we shall overcome someday.”  Often, they take the form of a personal story, but sometimes they preach. The underlying emotion is hopefulness, with a dash of triumphalism – arrived at mostly through resistance to malevolent forces. Two of my favorite anthems are from the Rolling Stones: “Gimme Shelter” and “Midnight Rambler.” The former is the preaching style, the latter more bluesy.

The singer-songwriter folk tradition also contributes much to my music library. But always a folk-rock beat and instrumental backup is added. Mumford and Sons made a big impression on me when they entered the scene about ten years ago. Banjo replaces lead guitar on their first two albums, but it’s unmistakably folk rock.

The main reason I can’t buy the link between personality and musical tastes is that my tastes are way too varied to be pigeonholed. Why would I want to define who I am, anyway? Different studies have come up with different dimensions of personality and music – there is an “extroversion” scale where the most outgoing folks like the music I like, but the introverted folks also like some of the music I like. The “neuroticism” dimension in different studies concludes that people who rank high in neuroticism like totally opposite kinds of music. Go figure.

I think it’s not about musical genres, but more the socio-cultural tradition you live in that determines your musical taste. Mine has been developing for 71 years. There’s quite a history behind it. If I share it with nobody else, I don’t care.

Pittsburgh

Nice to See Yinz Agin’

William Sundwick

Pittsburgh used to feel so familiar. Countless trips from the time I first met my wife, a native of McKeesport in southeastern Allegheny County. Then, after her mother died, and father moved to Florida, the trips stopped. But when both our kids went to school in the ‘burgh, nine consecutive years ensued of schlepping around Oakland, Squirrel Hill and Shadyside. One went to Carnegie Mellon four years, then his brother to Pitt for five years. The city became very familiar.

After the Pitt School of Education Masters ceremony in 2012, however, there were no longer kids there. We visited again in 2014, anticipating a final goodbye to the city.  That visit came as we circled home from our great midwestern road trip to Michigan and Chicago. We stayed at the Priory, enjoyed cocktails on its veranda, walked to a game at PNC Park, and across the Andy Warhol bridge to his museum.

It would have made a spectacular adieu to the city of rivers.

Five years later, though, another opportunity arose. My wife, the Pittsburgh native, had a milestone birthday! For my 70^th  she had treated me to a Baltimore overnight, exploring parts of Charm City I had never seen. Now, it was my turn to reciprocate.

In addition to the celebratory occasion of my wife’s birthday, this would also likely be the last road trip for our old reliable 2007 Toyota Highlander. The old girl continued to impress us with her stamina, after 88,000 miles, but was due for replacement – probably sooner than our next ambitious  

highway trip. The car had performed yeoman’s service on the much longer 2014 trip, but she was five years younger, then. Her maintenance schedule had been (fairly) religiously followed since, and I was confident she could make it.

I even had the car washed, the “Manager’s Special” at my local car wash. She was cleaner than I’d seen her for years! Her metallic grey/green finish glistened in the sunlight (my wife always hated that color – we had bought the car used off a dealer’s lot). Tire pressure checked out. We were ready to go.

I can only hope that some future worthy owner, who relies on the vehicle for livelihood and family, will cherish her as much as we have,  for at least a little longer (we plan to donate the car to “Vehicles for Change,” as we have the last two cars we’ve replaced).

Our destination was a historic downtown hotel, the 103-year-old Omni William Penn. Historic hotels are a thing with us on vacations – we’ve stayed at the Palmer House in Chicago (in 2014) and the Omni Grove Park Inn in Asheville (2008) on previous excursions. We like the gilded age elegance evoked by these grande dame hotels. Our “Deluxe Suite” at the William Penn was no exception. A massive sitting room was even larger than the bedroom. It was located on the sixth floor, the next floor down was, mysteriously, the fourth floor. We never asked about the missing fifth floor.

The hotel lies directly across the street from Mellon Square, a picturesque be-fountained park on multiple terraced levels. Market Square is also nearby with its live music and vendor stalls. But downtown doesn’t have quite the panache of the cultural district or Oakland to the northeast, or Squirrel Hill with its dignified air of Pittsburgh urban upper middle class. Those neighborhoods had become our stomping grounds a decade earlier during the college years. The hotel was an easy walk

across Roberto Clemente Bridge to PNC Park for the baseball game on Sunday against the San Diego Padres.

First, however, we did take the car out of the garage for our Saturday night dinner reservations in Mt. Washington. LeMont restaurant is noted for its view of the Point, where the Allegheny and Monongahela Rivers meet. Our table, by a large picture window, provided ample photo ops. But, for us amateur photographers, the restaurant is just three doors down from the Duquesne Incline, an even better photo op of the same scene. The food was good, but not extraordinary like the view. We both had fillet mignon and a California merlot.

The Pittsburgh Parking Authority mandates all garages charge the same rate, $6/day on weekends. Hence, we paid $6 when we took the car out to go to dinner, and another $6 the next day when we left for home. $12 total for a full weekend in downtown Pittsburgh seems like a parking bargain to me. We had to pay $10 for just two hours in a lot at Mt. Washington.

We indulged ourselves Sunday morning at the hotel’s “breakfast buffet,” an all-you-can eat orgy containing everything on their menu. We ate too much. My FitBit calorie count was inestimable, but I took a guess at somewhere in the 800-calorie range. I don’t eat out much. The Bob Evans in Breezewood on Saturday was kind enough (ha!) to provide calories on its lunch menu. I hate that.

It was a very warm – and sunny – Sunday for the game. Dressing lightly was certainly appropriate, but uncovered seats presented a new problem, not encountered by me before. Wife was cautious enough to pack sunscreen, but she never spends time outdoors. I was well-acquainted with walking year-round, and yard work into the summer. I could tough it out. Wrong. Sitting in one place for the duration of a long (very slow moving, it turned out) baseball game – fully exposed to the sun – leads to sunburn! 

It’s not like moving around or walking. I’ve never been a beach person, so didn’t know this. I’m still recovering two weeks later.

Ultimately, it was an exciting game – Pirates came back from a three-run deficit in the ninth to send it into extra innings. Then, again, in the 11^th inning, not only overcame another three-run deficit, but walked in the game-winning run. Fireworks, as always, when home team wins!

The four-hour drive home to Virginia was relatively painless at night. Traffic was light and we had no problem alternating driving stretches in the same manner we had done during the many daylight trips we made over the that Parkway (376) –> Turnpike (76) –> I-70 –> I-270 –> Beltway (495) route as always. The birthday weekend in the ‘burgh had come to an end. We showered, ate midnight snacks and watched a pre-recorded half-hour sitcom from our DVR. Then to bed. Next morning, wife got herself to work for another week. I felt like I had given her something, then proceeded into my Monday routines of breakfast, doing my laundry, going for a walk -- before it got too hot – then the gym. And, so it goes.

Read too late to cite in recent post: "And the First Debate Is History" -- but, I concur with author's feeling of disappointment in debate

And the First Debate Is History

What Did We Learn?

William Sundwick

On June 26 and June 27, the DNC sponsored its first Presidential Candidates’ Debate, in Miami. It was hosted by NBC/MSNBC/Telemundo. Who won? Who lost? Did we learn anything? Were there any memorable lines?

Twenty (alleged) candidates for president in 2020 faced off in the two-night spectacle. Everybody watching wanted to see blood on the floor. None of us wants to choose between twenty different politicians and other aspirants very much longer. We want fewer choices for next month’s debate in Detroit, fewer still by September, when the DNC qualifying requirements will be stiffer.

The moderators called the shots. It was Lester Holt, Savannah Guthrie, Jose Diaz-Balart, Rachel Maddow, and Chuck Todd – collectively representing the unspoken corporate interests of the Comcast/NBC Universal empire – who determined the questions to ask, and to whom they would be directed. The ten candidates first night were not asked the same questions as the ten on stage for night two. Yes, all candidates presumably had equal chance to raise their hand in rebuttal, or additional elaboration, so we were told. There was crosstalk and shouting at one another allowed (especially on night two).

The live audience was instructed to restrain themselves -- they laughed at that admonition.

But we still did learn some things. We learned that early labels on the left-right spectrum for the various candidates were probably too simplistic. We learned that some candidates preferred to define themselves by what they were against more than by what they were for. As a high school debater many decades ago, I remember the coach assuring me that the negative position is far easier to sustain than the affirmative (assigning me, a junior, less-skilled, debater to a negative team). And in a few cases, we learned about policy positions we hadn’t heard before, perhaps invented for the occasion?

Also, we learned some things about candidates’ personalities. This leads to the loaded question: what kind of personality makes for the most successful president? We think being forceful about your beliefs is important. Many candidates were. Others tried, with varying degrees of credibility, to sound committed to certain policies.  If they are practicing politicians, we have their voting records to check.

Overly cautious is not a good look in a forum like this. Some candidates sought to differentiate themselves from the main firebrand on the stage (Bernie Sanders) by appearing more cautious, or “realistic” (John Delaney), but that generally led to a performance that most viewers would consider a loss. Optics this year do not favor either caution or reasonableness!

My conclusion from two nights of the first Democratic Candidates’ Debate is that my preferences changed little. My ranking of the top three candidates going into the debates was: 1) Warren, 2) Sanders, 3) Harris. Coming out, only one ranking changed (tentatively): 1) Warren, 2) Harris, 3) Sanders. I guess I thought Kamala Harris’ prosecutorial zeal directed against Joe Biden was impressive. But not much else changed my mind.

That is not to say there weren’t some memorable comments by some of the candidates, which further clarified in my mind who they were but had little effect on my top picks. Here is a rundown of those moments:

Strength vs. caution: this includes clarity of positions.  Andrew Yang was clear in how he would finance his UBI of $1000/month for every American -- a Value Added Tax (VAT) -- okay, don’t care what that means, we know it’s used throughout Europe for public finance. Kamala Harris was emphatic when she stated: “nobody should have to work more than one job in order to provide food and shelter for their family,” cool. Joe Biden, on the other hand, was full of equivocation, getting bogged down in abstruse details of how universal health care would work (he’s against Sanders’ Medicare-for-All). Elizabeth Warren was asked what she would do about Mitch McConnell and the Senate blocking everything good, she replied “I have a plan for Mitch McConnell!” (to thunderous applause from audience). Also, there were statements that fit the old saw “Where’s the Beef?” (Walter Mondale’s 1984 debate line against Gary Hart) – e.g., Biden saying we need to “restore dignity to the middle class” (how?), Julian Castro is in favor of “common sense gun reform” (whatever),  Marianne Williamson invented a label for the absent health care system in the U.S., deriding it as “a sickness management system” (meaning what?), and Bernie Sanders totally ducked the hypothetical, “Roe v. Wade is overturned, what would you do?” (perhaps a bad question from Maddow?).

Most combative moments: these might be either good or bad – Warren asserted the need to FIGHT, make the Roe v. Wade SCOTUS decision LAW! Amy Klobuchar shouted out to Russia: stop stealing our elections!  Sanders’ closing statement asserted, “we need guts to make things change!”  Warren will “give Congress 100 days” to get their act together, then ban assault weapons by executive order. And, the most famous moment of the entire two nights: Harris’ full-frontal attack on Biden for his racist connections in the old Senate, considered by some pundits to be a game-changer so far in the primary.

Humor: sadly, not much humor was visible on either night, it would have gone far toward warming our hearts to some of these candidates. Eric Swalwell did illustrate something when he said “as a parent of a two-year-old,” changing dirty diapers often smelled better than serving in Congress – and Harris managed to interject some early levity into night two, when she managed to get the floor after a cross-talking shouting match saying “America doesn’t want to see a food fight” (setting the tone successfully for the rest of the evening). Humor might have been used to establish dominance of one candidate over another -- but wasn’t.

Magnanimity: some candidates feel they can trade on magnanimity, or generosity, as part of their persona. We saw examples of this personality trait (contrasting with current occupant of the oval office) from Kirsten Gillibrand, who took pains to describe her objection to Sanders’ program by saying “there’s a difference between capitalism and greed” (won’t dispute that).  Or from Harris, who gently admonished the president by saying he “could use his microphone in a respectful way.” Cory Booker offered on the first night that the “humane” way to deal with immigrants is not to criminalize their being here in the first place, thereby offering full support to Julian Castro, who had just floored the audience with his detailed proposal to repeal sec. 1325 of the Immigration and Naturalization Act (which most of us never knew by its full legal name).

Winners and losers:  hard to say, but we always want to evaluate performances in such debates. The most new Twitter followers coming out of night one went to Julian Castro, but that may have been simply because he was less well-known around the country – and, he impressed viewers. The post-debate analysis after night two, by the MSNBC and CNN crews, was that Kamala Harris hit it out of the park when she landed squarely on Biden. Biden lost, Harris gained, but so did Warren after night one, and Buttigieg and Yang after night two.

Let’s be honest, we want to see some clear losers at this point – more than winners. If Williamson struck out on the second night, so be it. If Gillibrand or O’Rourke just seem too glib to be believed, fine. This is what we wanted from the debate. We don’t care about John Hickenlooper and his assertion that “socialism isn’t the answer” any more than Delaney’s belief in a “realistic” policy approach. We object to Tim Ryan’s characterization of anybody living on the east or west coast as part of the “elite,” out of touch with fly-over country. And, we don’t want the country run by a Silicon Valley tech geek who won’t even wear a tie on the debate stage (Andrew Yang).

Many of them probably hope for cabinet posts or book deals. That’s fine with me. I just want to see no more than five or six on stage by the third debate in September.