She's hearing voices...

Amusia is a disorder, which is often called ‘musical deafness’. The sufferer cannot process musical pitch or rhythm or both. There are two types of Amusia; Acquired Amusia and Congenital Amusia. Congenital Amusia is when you are born with the defect and Acquired Amusia is when Amusia is developed, often due to an accident or event.

            As someone who includes music into most attributes of my life, even the thought of developing Amusia both scares and intrigues me. I can’t even image how much it would affect my everyday life.

            Musicophilia states, “Many people are unable to sing or whistle in tune, though usually we are very conscious of this” It also states “Five per cent of the population” have it and people who suffer from it “can veer off key without realising it”.  Amusia is also known as “tone deaf”.

            When I was reading about Amusia, I found a lot of the symptoms remind me of my mother. I have made jokes about her being “tone deaf” before, but did not realise that she may actually be it.  There is a difference between Amusia and bad singing, so I wanted to test my mother.

            I started by asking her to sing notes I played on the piano. She only got one note right, which she wasn’t aware was correct. I then asked her to listen to me sing two songs; one that was in tune and one that I sang with sharp notes thrown in. I then asked her which she preferred. When asked she said she “liked both” and could not tell me what was pleasant or not pleasant about either.

            I have always thought it was strange that she does not listen to music and when she has been to performances and concerts with me, she could never tell who was singing well and who was not. She has also never understood why I have such an interest in music and Amusia has made me realise that she possibly does not hear music with as much intensity as I do.

            Severe Amusia sufferers cannot recognise, for example, the tune of Happy Birthday. I am not sure if my mother does have Amusia or not because she can recognise some tunes, but I definitely think this shows that people hear things in different ways.  

The book I read was in your eyes...

Musicophilia: Tales of Music and the Brain


I'm not normally into book reviews, but this book is an exception. I originally read Musicophilia: Tales of Music and the Brain by Oliver Sacks for a university module.... I soon grew to love this book as it is devoted to the cognitive miracles of music.
I never thought about it before reading this book, but it's amazing that if I merely type "the Mission: Impossible theme tune" or "Beethoven's Fifth", you will probably start humming these tunes to yourself.


It's something we all take for granted, but how is it possible? What is going on in our brains? Oliver sacks says "It really is a very odd business that all of us, to varying degrees, have music in our heads."


Oliver Sacks's interesting and sympathetic study is about the pathologies of musical response and what they might teach us about the "normal" faculty of music. It reports that a musician's brain is easily distinguishable on a scan from those of others; and the passage from ear to brain is not a one-way conduit, but works both ways. Mostly Musicophilia is about the more mysterious, and currently inexplicable ways in which music affects the brain, for good or worse. 


Musicophilia outlines some very remarkable stories about those with profound Amnesia, or Alzheimer's disease, for whom music can "restore them to themselves". Also, People with aphasia can be taught to speak again through singing. On the other hand, previously healthy people begin to have "musical hallucinations" and others have seizures in response to music. As a musician, the thought of developing any kind of "musicogenic epilepsy" both scares and intrigues me.


There is, of course, a continuum between the pathological states that Musicophilia discusses and everyday experiences of music. The phenomenon of irritating tunes and jingles that get lodged in our heads is only one step away from a full-blown musical hallucination and Oliver Sacks also compares it to the obsessive ticcing of Tourette's syndrome. It is intriguing, too, to wonder where on the continuum certain historical figures could be placed. Here, for example, is Tchaikovsky as a child: "This music! It is here in my head. Save me from it!" Was he suffering from vivid musical hallucinations, which he learned to manage by writing them down?


At the other end of the continuum are those Sacks describes as "amusic", who do not seem to understand or feel music at all, this is a condition that is completely alien to me. He considers with pity the case of Vladimir Nabokov, who famously said he experienced music merely as "an arbitrary succession of more or less irritating sounds". Another lady also described her experience of listening to music as "knives and forks falling to the ground".


Another part of the book which caught my attention were the stories of people who were awakened to profound musical powers after some kind of brain injury. For example, a 42-year-old man struck by lightning suddenly experiences an unquenchable thirst for music, learns to play the piano, and becomes a composer.


I recommend this book to anyone, It has really got my brain going!