Oh the Things I Could Know...

So... still here at Telethon, listening to random artists who have written random songs and typing out their lyrics and counting the bars between verses and listening for back up vocal etc. To my loyal readers who don't know what happens in the script department, this is my whole job on the telethon. I am creating a picture on paper of each musical performance so the directors know where to put the camera. So it needs to be detailed. I need to know if there is a half a bar beat between the first and second line of the chorus. If there's a cymbal roll in the middle of a verse, I need to know that too.

The other day, I was working on an 80's song that I once liked but haven't really heard in many years cause sometime in the late 80's I realized that it sucked. So probably haven't really heard this song since about 1980-something. And it's not as though I psychotically loved it at the time either. I liked the movie it was in, but that's about it.

So it was something like my third song I had broken down during the day and my ear buds were starting to bug me so I took them out to take a break for a while after listening to about the first :30 of this 3:30 song. I was just going to surf the internet for a few minutes to give my ears a break when all of a sudden I realized that, in my head, the song had continued to play. My mental jukebox was already into the first chorus and I was even bouncing my knee to the beat. (This is me, ashamed.) So I realized, at that moment, that I could continue to break down this song and get all the lyrics, the count between bars and the back and forth between the two lead vocals... all WITHOUT listening to the song.

I figured I would at least make it through most of the song, get the basics and go back in with the song playing on my iPod and fill in all the musical details and the little breaks between lines, etc. But it turned out my recall was near perfect. When I went back over it with the music on a few minutes later, I had to make two or three changes and that was it! I was proud of myself for an instant (as only a music geek can be) and then I was almost immediately flooded with shame (as any music geek should be.) I couldn't believe I knew that song well enough to break it down by heart. It's not like it was the Beatles or something and I listen to it all the time... it was a song I never hear that I don't even like. If it comes on the radio, I turn it off. If it's playing in an elevator, I sing something else in my head until I can get off. If it's playing in someone else's radio or iTunes, I whine until they either knock me unconscious or turn it off.

So that got me thinking. I've been a script supervisor, on and off, since 1997. I've broken down too many songs to count. There have been some great shining moments in that time where there were Beatles' tributes and Paul Simon performances and good contemporary artists that made me excited for rehearsal. But for the most part, they've been stinkers and I take great joy in deleting them from my iTunes immediately when the show is over.

All the same, if you pulled a random name of a random song out of my past, I could sit down and count you through the opening bars and then sing you the lyrics (if you could stand to hear my singing voice.) So now I'm wondering... how much room in my brain is currently being used by song lyrics to songs I don't even like or songs I loved when I was young and didn't know any better. And, even more importantly, what could I use that brain storage space for if it wasn't being wasted in this frivolous manner.

For exmaple, if I didn't know every word to the Patti LaBelle song "You Are My Friend," would I remember to roll my trash can to the curb every Monday night instead of remembering as I hear the truck on the street Tuesday morning?

If I didn't know all the words to "We Built This City" would I be able to remember people's names for longer than 0.25 seconds after they introduce themselves to me?

Without Wierd Al's "Eat It" song lyrics, could I remember the streets that are parallel to each other in downtown Charlotte and which of them are one way? Would I remember to go to the pet store to buy Richie more food when we are totally out and I've been buying him McDonald's hamburgers for breakfast and dinner every day for a week? Would I remember to send out birthday cards in a timely manner and not have to have computer reminders pop up every time someone in my family has a birthday?

I don't know. Clearly, there are other people out there with better memories than me when it comes to the practicalities of life. But can those people recite on command both sides of the Beastie Boys' debut album "License to Ill"? (Not that I'm ashamed of that one...)

Let's assume they can't. But they can remember the equation for pi to the 156th digit. (Or, for that matter, they can remember how to spell "pi" and not spell it "pie" accidentally and then have to look it up on dictionary.com to confirm the proper spelling.) Are they better off than I am? Are they more productive than I am? Are they more prosperous than I am? Do people like them better because they remember the names of people they meet?

I love that Jim Carrey movie "Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind." If you haven't seen it, it's really angsty... right up my alley. In it, Jim Carrey is so devastated by the breakup he has with his girlfriend that he has her erased from his memory by a doctor. The message of the movie is that you can't ignore destiny, blah, blah, blah, but what I took from it was the idea of cleaning things out of your mind and your memory so you can replace them with something better.

I would like to experiment by removing certain songs. Not all of them by any means. I'm a big lyrics lover and I would hate to no longer remember the lyrics to "In My Life," the first Beatles song I ever fell in love with or the angry song Adam Sandler sings in "The Wedding Singer" when he was "listening to the Cure a lot." ('But it all was bullshit... It was a goddamn joke...And when I think of you Linda... I hope you fucking choke.' I love that movie.) But certain songs can be cleaned out and replaced. "Who Let the Dogs Out" could be replaced by the relationship between all of my now deceased aunts and uncles. The space reserved for not only the song "Macarena" but also the accompanying dance could better be used for remembering to go buy more shampoo when I'm running low. The Wayne Brady parody of the Four Tops' song "Bernadette" which he cleverly titled "Halle Berry" when she was going to be a guest on the show and he wanted to do a special song for her... imagine how much better off I would be if that space were reserved for the prices of all of my inventory so I could recite them off the top of my head when people ask instead of having to grab a catalog and look them up.

Alas, there are certain complications with this idea I have, since the procedure in the movie only erased old memories. It didn't allow you to choose what you wanted to replace that memory with.

So until modern medicine catches up with Charlie Kaufman's imagination (another case in point... I love Charlie Kaufman, but just now, I couldn't remember his last name and had to look it up on IMDB) I guess I'm stuck with stupid Wiggles' songs generously given to me by my beautiful niece running through my brain (fruit salad... yummy, yummy) at random intervals.

And I will have to content myself, on the other end, with knowing that the first digit of pi is 3. And after that, I think there's a point. But then I'm lost.

('Cause I am lo---st. Livin inside myself... living inside this shell... livin outside your love.' -Gino Vanelli "Livin Inside Myself". And I didn't have to look it up to confirm.)