Science, Music, and a Major Case of the Creeps

A few years ago, I went to a concert and heard a trio of talented musicians present “Dancing Helix Rituals” by Augusta Reed Thomas. As the name suggests, it was about the fascinating world of DNA, and the piece was equally fascinating. It was unique, energetic, majestic at times and, well…it was weird. Good weird, mind you, but still weird.

It popped back into my head recently, and it got me thinking about other pieces of classical music about science. I listened to Holst’s “The Planets” and (some of) Glass’s opera “Einstein on The Beach”. I went through OP 10 of Strauss’ “Thus Spoke Zarathustra”, which is subtitled “Of Science and Learning”. Weird. All so very weird.

Then I thought about pieces that may not have been written about science per se, but have been used in science-y ways, like Stravinsky’s “The Rite of Spring”, the soundtrack for the extinction of the dinosaurs in Disney’s “Fantasia”. I got a little silly and looked up the bit they put in classic cartoons whenever there’s heavy machinery or tech, which is Scott’s “Powerhouse”. Weird, weird, weird.

Every single one of these tunes was generously loaded with cacophony, minor chords, unusual combinations of instruments, and driving, aggressive rhythms. There was nothing lighthearted, dreamy, or lilting about them. They all made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up, and I was slightly uncomfortable and antsy. It wasn’t the sound of reverence, celebration, or admiration. It was more like something you’d play as aliens invaded the planet.

“What about pop music?”, I thought, and I did a little more digging. Tom Leher’s “The Elements” was kind of perky, I guess, but still, someone singing the periodic table is unusual. Thomas Dolby’s “She Blinded Me with Science” was fun and nostalgic, but still strange, because that’s his brand, right? And then there was Kate Bush singing “Pi”. Good on her for being experimental, but whoa.

There’s a certain mood expected from science-inspired music, a certain ambiance, and it ain’t wistful or frivolous. It’s often dour, foreboding and imposing, with a hint of “randomly mash fist into keyboard”. It’s made me wonder what music about science can tell us about  how we see science in general. Art, as they say, often imitates life.

So, here’s the conclusion on which I landed: science makes us uncomfortable. We make weird music about science because science gives us the willies. It needn’t, but it does.

If you think I’m wrong, flip through a history book or two and brush up on the many great minds who said the quiet part loud, and were consequently exiled, ridiculed, and even terminated because of it. Jump on social media and see how people feel about what science tells us about the spread of viruses, the degradation of our environment, encroaching AI technology, and many other squirm-worthy subjects. Think of how we typically envision and portray scientists in cartoons, as lab coat-wearing, bespectacled, socially awkward misfits. Even in 2023, when virtually everything we use or do is a result of scientific exploration, science makes us itchy. It hits every raw, exposed nerve we have.

There’s a bitter drop of truth to science. At its very core, science about looking deeper into stuff, even when it’s uncomfortable to do so. Science exposes all kinds of creepy stuff that we’d prefer stay at the periphery. Scientific fact doesn’t care how we feel about the world around us and our relationship to it, and being the self-centred creatures that we are, that gives us a major case of ick.

Well, if science-y music can express our discomfort with all of these truths, maybe it can also help us get acclimatized to them. Perhaps if we “face the music” (sorry, couldn’t resist) figuratively, we might be able to do the same in the real world. It may be possible for us to become a little more aware of the discord (sorry, did it again) that’s going on around us through the discord in these quirky compositions. No more hitting pause or fast-forward, just listening carefully and taking note (can’t stop myself) of what’s really going on.

There’s something important I didn’t mention about “Dancing Helix Ritual” that you may have noticed in the title. It’s meant to be performed with dancers, to be a collaboration, a coming together of different talents and perspectives. Maybe there’s something in that. What if, instead of tuning out the truth that science reveals, taking it personally and getting offended by it, we learned to sing and dance play and along? Maybe we weren’t meant to be mere spectators in all of this, but active participants who see themselves as part of it, connected to it and responsible for it.  

Science is weird. Music about science is weird. And more than ever, weird is actually helpful.