History tells us that we have always known to count on the power of music. We do not know of any culture, past or present, without music. Some say Neanderthals sang. We instinctively sing to crying babies, and to soothe people in pain. We sing and dance together to bond, to commemorate, and to commiserate. Communal experience of music reminds us that we share our time and space, and how what we share is greater than our differences.
However, today, in the age of headphones and earbuds, when people use mechanically reproduced music to shield themselves from the rest of the world, it is up to us musicians to remind the world how dispensable communal experience of live music is to our humanity. That is what I do as “Dr. Pianist,” advocating what we have always known, what is innately human: our desire to understand and to be understood, to connect beyond thinking, beyond words.
In 1878, when Thomas Edison presented his phonograph to the National Academy of Sciences, several audience members fainted. Their extreme disorientation is something to which we, in 2020, have a hard time relating.
Aurality was the sense that our ancestors relied on the most to detect danger because, until the invention of phonograph, they always shared their physical space with the sound source. That is why when we hear something, our primal instinct makes us look to identify the sound source, to make sure that it does not pose any threat. Unlike vision, our hearing is always alert even when we sleep, nor does sound require us to be facing in its direction for detection. And because sound is so vital to our survival, our brain is wired to process it much more simply and quickly. The process of sound cognition bypasses parts of our brain that deal with rational thought and goes straight to emotions. Sounds can make us react faster than we think. The power of music lies, at least partially, in the direct connection between our sense of hearing and our primal instinct and emotions. We are more musical than we are verbal. That is why music can “speak” to pre-lingual babies and people suffering from aphasia, the loss of ability to understand and/or express words because of brain damage.
As the story of Edison’s phonograph demonstrates, however, with the advancement of technology we have become increasingly disconnected from our senses and instincts. The modern world has conditioned us to tune out much of the sound we are exposed to every day: noise pollution, chimes, beeps, and background music of all types… Listeners consider their musical needs met with the digitized, theoretically organized sounds coming out of their speakers and headphones. Many of them do not know the pleasure of harmonizing their voices with others. They have never held their breaths, as the pianist leans into play the last chord as softly as humanly possible with all her emotional might.
           I believe music to be a human necessity, as food is to animals. And the mass-produced digital “music” people listen to today through their machines is the equivalent of junk food. It may bring instant gratification. It may be preferable to starvation. However, the real nourishment and human connection that the communal experience of music and food provides is absent.  Â
　　　I have always imagined the soundwaves I send off into the air enveloping and caressing my listeners. I feel the strings vibrating inside the piano, through the key surfaces, and imagine the piano technician preparing the piano for me and think back to the craftsmen of these pianos and their predecessors. I listen to the sound in the hall and imagine the people who designed and built it, wondering what they wished for their creation to be for its community. With each concert, I think about everyone whose legacies lead me here, just as I am mindful of composers, and the audience members I play for.
The healing power of music is in its ability to connect us, transcending our differences, even those of space and time.