“Sticky Fruit” photo by Leo Stachowicz
I believe that goose bumps say something about a person. What, I’m not exactly sure, but probably that the person is, at the very least, emotionally sensitive. I can get them thinking about a passage of music. My trick is to think about the moment Orpheus turns to look back at Eurydice in Stravinsky’s “Orpheus” and there is a moment of silence, and my entire body is covered with goose bumps. Or thinking about the opening of the 2nd movement of Ravel’s Concerto for the left hand. Everyone has their own list. It’s related to crying when you hear music, but it’s a stage before. My former partner was incapable of experiencing emotional goose bumps, only I’m-cold goose bumps, and maybe that is why we broke up after 14 years. I get them telling a story. I get embarassed when I see people looking at my arms seeing my hair stand on end. It manifests an overwhelming excitement about whatever the trigger is. Goose bumps are interesting and often overlooked body communication.
[...] If anything, my own closed-mindedness is exactly the opposite. I rarely enjoy music where the emotional content is not driven by harmony; where it’s all about timbre and nothing else. (Although, for some reason, I do quite like Varèse.) My mind wanders during 12-tone music, and music that’s all about timbre and/or atmosphere, like that of George Crumb, for example. Harmony —not necessarily tonality— is the key to activating the listener’s Emotional Goose Bumps. [...]
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