Rhapsody of a Teenage Girl

Do you ever get that sinking feeling in your stomach when a song starts playing? A sudden weight in your chest pulls you down, and a lump grows in your throat — a visceral reaction to such a small thing. Three seconds into the song and you’re back in your high school parking lot, studying for a history test as the sun rises behind you. This memory either warms your heart or brings you back to a time of terror. Nonetheless, you’re instantly transported back there, all because of one little song by The Strokes. How does this happen?

I have long questioned this phenomenon with my friends. We all agree that one single song can encompass your most gut-wrenching experience or your happiest moment. I’ve noticed it myself. Shuffling through my old playlists, I’ll land on a song that makes me freeze up. Most of the time, it’s one of those listen-to-in-the-dark-when-severely-sad type of songs. Yet, I’ll sit there and listen to it in its entirety. Why? I'm not sure. It might be a mild form of psychological warfare, but no one’s stopping me! As a self-proclaimed “why child,” I couldn’t let this spectacle go unexplained in my mind.

So, I took to the internet. Unfortunately, there’s a great deal of science behind this, so get ready for a bunch of psychological jargon.

Music has a profound impact on our emotional state because it engages the brain’s memory, cognitive, sensory-motor processing and emotional components. Music induces brain oscillations (big word, I know) that occur in specific frequency bands, so a certain song or sound can activate this band and grant access to state-dependent brain functions. In simpler terms — our brain can remember the state it was in when listening to a certain song, so re-listening to the song returns the brain to the prior state.

This is called state-dependent memory and happens when a neural connection is made while in a specific chemical state; like listening to a song after a particularly memorable moment. But this doesn’t happen for every song you listen to, only those that cause particularly strong neural oscillations. So yeah, science.

Now that we’re done with that, we can get to the fun part— me! I am by no means a musical connoisseur, but I do my fair share of listening and I think that’s good enough. The entire premise of this article stemmed from a conversation with my friend, where we both agreed that our Spotify playlists from junior year cause us great emotional turmoil when we re-listen. I let the conversation process and realized that I have both good and bad experiences with state dependency. Here are some of my most memorable, in no particular fashion:

“Stardust Chords” by Greta Van Fleet: It’s two in the morning. I’m frantically studying for my Econ test and I need a quick intermission from my dramatic classical renditions before I doze off. I stare at the vanilla candle I lit while this song plays on my computer, and for a second I forget about the frightening graphs I have yet to memorize. The same song plays as I drive to school four-and-a-half hours later. Sleep-deprived and all, I didn’t stop listening to it all of senior year.

“Come On Eileen” by Dexys Midnight Runners: First, I’m trying to learn the dance from The Perks of Being A Wallflower with my best friend in middle school — we failed miserably. Second, I’m driving with my friends to Orlando for Halloween Horror Nights my senior year of high school. That place is not for the faint of heart; I still flinch whenever someone walks too quickly into the dorm elevators. Shoutout to our road trip playlist!

“Sweet Disposition” by The Temper Trap: I’m sixteen and sitting on a plane the summer before my junior year. My family and I just dropped my brother off at college in Connecticut. The plane starts to take off back to Florida and my mom cries beside me as my dad holds her hand. Looking out the window, I turn up the music and blink away my tears as the plane ascends.

“Untouched” by The Veronicas: This one’s an oldie but a goodie. I’m in elementary school and driving up to Ohio to see my mom’s family, as we did every year. Yes, we drove. I was given an iPod shuffle as a hand-me-down to listen to music for the trip. Except I didn’t think to download any songs besides this one and “Viva La Vida” by Coldplay. A two-song rotation was fun at the beginning but not so much after the fourth hour, and especially not after the full eighteen hours. Either way, this song still gets me excited like a mom hearing “Dancing Queen.”

“80’s Comedown Machine” by The Strokes: It’s senior year and I’m driving home after painting my parking spot. I’m sweating and sticking to my seat because my car’s AC is broken and I just spent two hours outside in the South Florida summer heat. It’s one of those times when you realize everything’s changing and you can’t do anything but sit back and let it happen.

“Let It Happen” by Tame Impala: Tame Impala and this song specifically were pivotal to sophomore year. The neon strip lights epidemic got me and I would only listen to this song in my dark, purple-lit bedroom past the hours of 10 p.m. Coincidentally this was the same year of the coronavirus lockdown, so the isolationist tendencies were rampant.

“Sleepyhead” by Passion Pit: This song smells like Urban Decay All Nighter Waterproof Setting Spray and burnt toast. I’m getting ready for my first gameday here, unbeknownst to the chaos I’m about to witness (and ensue). My roommates are figuring out how to do their hair with orange tinsel we have from old pom poms. Do I braid my hair? Or half-up, half-down? It takes us a frustratingly long time to get ready, but at least I get to whip out my camera and document our excitement.

“Starlight” by Muse: My dad has a playlist with an ungodly amount of songs called his “SuperJams” that always plays when he works at home. For some reason, even when sharing a wall with his office, this is the only song I would hear from time to time. This song reminds me of Sunday afternoons at home and leaving for college. It’s a painful sting but still one of my favorites.

Now that you’ve read through some of my worst and best times, I encourage you to take some time to do the same for yourself. I’m not telling you to relive your worst experiences, but simply listen to the music you’ve saved over the years. It can be incredibly healing to recognize the differences and similarities of your personality as you’ve grown — good and bad. If you’re anything like me, you might not be so different from that angsty teenager, but you have grown to realize that the world does not end at seventeen.

Strike Out,

Writer: Sofia Bravo

Editor: Sofia Ramos

Gainesville

Sofia Bravo is a writer for Strike Magazine Gainesville. When she’s not forcing her friends to pose for her digital camera, you can find her drinking an iced chai from Opus or starting another book she knows she won’t finish. You can reach her on Instagram, @sofiebravo, or by email at sofiebravo26@gmail.com.

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