The Fixit Playlist: 30 Songs that Reset My Brain

Taking a sunset drive

Taking a sunset drive

A few years back I was riding with a friend and fooling with the cd changer in the car. Rage Against the Machine came roaring out of the speakers, practically ejecting me from the car. “That’s my fixit playlist,” he laughed, “for when I need to reset my brain.” His list included Radiohead, The Clash, all music that would get adrenaline flowing in just the right way for him. I thought it was a brilliant idea and started compiling my own Fixit playlist. Being me, I came up with several lists and for years now have been burning Fixit cds with dates on them to make sure I knew when I had finally hit on the real deal. The criteria were that it had to improve my mood under any circumstances and when played the second or third time I did not start skipping songs to get to one that worked – they ALL had to work so  could leave it in the car player for days (weeks) and at time and know I had access to the necessary music. I drive almost every day for long distances and do much of my best thinking in the car, so the music component is key. Someone in our ASD support group once noted, “I do all of my best crying in the car.” It’s true – the car is where we pull it together, and we need the right music to get us to the our next destination (school, doctor, therapist, IEP meeting, liquor store, etc.) in the right frame of mind. A few weeks ago I realized that I was always reaching for the April 2012 disc, so here’s what’s on it (with a few add-ins because even that one is missing some key songs).

This is my list. It’s not about taste, era, nostalgia, or identity. It just works. What’s yours look like?

I started to put in links for the individual songs but it was clear that many of them would not lead to the actual music, so I put in links to the artists instead (and, as an aside, some of these official websites are really creative, really cool or really hilarious).

Who Could Ask for Anything More?

So. It’s a picture perfect autumn day and we are listening to Terry Gross on Fresh Air talk with Michael Feinstein describing his new book/cd about Ira Gershwin. Great program. They play a clip of a radio show in 1933 with Rudy Vallee and George Gershwin chatting with a little piano playing, followed a little later by a second clip of Ethel Merman singing “I Got Rhythm.” Our boy has been next to me in the car the entire time, tapping away on his iPod and soaking up the October sun; it’s been a long day of doctor’s appointments. The Merman recording, Feinstein explains, is from a tribute to George Gershwin that took place just after his death from a brain rumor at age 38. As Merman approaches the bridge in the song – “Who could ask for anything more?” – the boy turns to me and asks,

“Was this right before the Wizard of Oz?”

“I think so!” I reply, but when I get home I look it up because I wasn’t listening that closely. He was right. It was 1937. Oz was released in 1939. The Fresh Air broadcast made no reference to that film or its music but only (and ever so tangentially) to the composers who wrote some of the songs for it – Harold Arlen and Yip Harburg. The only other clues to the era might have been the melodies themselves and the accents – the Brooklyn/Boston/vaudeville kind of patter – both Gershwin and Vallee have voices that sound very much like Ray Bolger, who played the Scarecrow in Oz.

How is it – how is it – that some one who is not supposed to be adept at inferring anything can infer himself right back to 1937 at the sound of a radio broadcast and a familiar accent? Auditory processing deficit? Not today. Fear of music? Not today. Trouble making connections? Not today – at least not at this moment.

During the course of this busy day I jotted down at least a half-dozen moments that are worth writing about, but this is the stunner because it reminds me for the umpteenth time that , in our lives, autism creates so many more opportunities than we give it credit for. They are random, yes, and we don’t always know what to do with them, but they’re there, waiting to be noticed, valued and put into context. It’s kind of like a treasure hunt, every day.

Who could ask for anything more?