Doublestop Magazine

Book Review: This is Your Brain on Music

Levitin, Daniel J. This is Your Brain on Music: The Science of a Human Obsession. New York: Dutton, 2006. (Note: this review covers the hardback edition; a paperback edition has also been recently published.)

Sure, you know your music theory. You probably took a class, or picked up the basics along the way. But, how much do you know about why music is the way it is? In his engaging book, Daniel Levitin, a former musician, recording engineer, and producer turned professor, explains how the latest findings from the world of neuroscience and psychology map to music.

Levitin’s first few chapters cover the basics: pitch, timbre, rhythm, loudness, and harmony. More experienced musicians might not find much new ground here, but Levitin quickly moves into more interesting territory. He explains how our enjoyment of music is a result of a dazzlingly-complex neurochemical dance between many different brain systems: the auditory system, speech centers, memory, emotions, movement, pattern recognition, and more. As Levitin explains, music is essentially about the connections between these systems.

In one example, as we become savvy listers and musicians, we learn that music follows a certain structure and we learn to expect certain things from music, including a rhythmic pattern. Our brains get a kick out of playing the anticipation game. Composers and musicians who play with our expectations are the most interesting to our brains. The rhythm game has its roots in the cerebellum, the so called “lizard brain,” one of the more primal parts of our brain. This is the part of the brain responsible for the startle reflex when you (or, say, a rat) hear an unexpected noise. Our enjoyment of rhythm is also connected to our emotions and memory, as Levitin explains:

“We don’t usually talk about groove in the context of classical music, but most operas, symphonies, sonatas, concertos, and string quartets have a definable meter and pulse, which generally corresponds to the conductor’s movements; the conductor is showing the musicians where the beats are, sometimes stretching them out or compressing them for emotional communication. Real conversations between people, real pleas of forgiveness, expressions of anger, courtship, storytelling, planning, and parenting don’t occur at the precise clips of a machine. To the extent that music is reflecting the dynamics of our emotional lives, and our interpersonal interactions, it needs to swell and contract, to speed up and slow down, to pause and reflect. The only way that we can feel or know these timing variations is if a computational system in the brain has extracted information about when the beats are supposed to occur. The brain needs to create a model of a constant pulse–a schema–so that we know when the musicians are deviating from it. This is similar to variations of a melody: We need to have a mental representation of what the melody is in order to know–and appreciate–when the musician is taking liberties with it.” (p. 168)

After covering the brain-music connection at a micro level, Levitin takes a step back and addresses the evolutionary impact of music. Few musicians would argue against the conclusion that music is a sign of sexual fitness, akin to the peacock’s feathers. Those who can sing and dance well show excellent physical and mental health and a wealth of resources, as learning music is time-consuming, and not possible if you’re spending all your time gathering food. One does, of course, need to remember that this evolutionary adaptation arose when music production was more widespread than in today’s culture, where many more people are consumers of music than creators. Levitin even suggests that music may predate speech, and in fact music may have helped in the development of speech.

My only substantial complaint about the book is that it is a book. Ultimately reading about music is much less satisfying than actually hearing it. This material begs to be made into a documentary, or at least a podcast. Fortunately, Levitin has done the next best thing and created an rich website to accompany the book. Readers will be able to find, among the many features of the site, short clips of most of the music mentioned in the book. If possible, I’d recommend staying near a computer when reading, especially if you’re unfamiliar with some of Levitin’s references.

Although the book isn’t strictly focused on strings, I encourage any musician to read this book. It won’t help your intonation, but it may give you a better insight into going on in our heads when we make or hear music.