Music and Motor Sequencing

/ New Posture Workshops/

The Box

A few months ago, I bought some AirPods, thinking I could use them for teaching online classes. But I was waffling about starting that, so the AirPods stayed in their box. Perhaps I would send them back, an unnecessary expense if I wasn’t going to teach online.

One morning I was working out in my living room with music booming from my speakers. In the background I heard my neighbor shouting outside my window. It was early days in the pandemic and this man was trying to work from home. Or maybe Nicolas Jaar wasn’t his cup of tea.

Inside the music. Spencer Imbrock, Unsplash.

Inside the music. Spencer Imbrock, Unsplash.

This was a problem because intense music helps me maintain the exercise regimen that staves off the progression of PD. (High intensity exercise stimulates the production of neurochemicals that increase the efficiency of dopamine.) I don’t always feel like doing the workout, but my music streaming app helps me overcome inertia.  

That night I remembered the AirPods, packed up to be returned. I tore open the box. The next thing I knew I was surrounded by Neumz, a choir of female voices singing Gregorian chant. I was inside the sound. I walked around my house in a kind of rapture. So beautiful.

But there was something else. I was walking around my house like a normal person—taking normal-sized steps, swinging my arms and undulating my spine. Sometimes in the evening when I’m tired, a PD symptom called bradykinesia kicks in. This makes me move stiffly and in slow motion, as if the air were thick as molasses. But that wasn’t happening now. Moving around my kitchen, cleaning up, I stepped up on a stool to reach a high shelf. Whoa! I had just stepped up there with no thought about balance or coordination. A confident, spontaneous move like that had not happened in months.

I’m writing about this not to elicit concern for my condition (I’m really doing fine. Really.) but because I think it’s fascinating!

Your Putamen

It turns out that music, especially rhythmical music, stimulates the putamen, a part of the basal ganglia that is implicated in the PD experience. Stimulating the putamen has been found to help with motor sequencing—how one movement melds into the next. It also influences cognition. 

Music therapy is a standard adjunct to other PD treatments, and I had stumbled onto the basis for it. The AirPods give me the experience of being inside the music which is different from just listening to it —although that’s helpful too. However, music coming from external speakers can be ignored. When you’re making the music yourself, you can’t tune it out. The earphones simulate that experience. 

Although stimulating for the putamen, I doubt that it would be good for my hearing to keep them on all day.  So I save my AirPods for when I need help getting motivated or turning the corner on fatigue.

 

Takeaways?

  • Music is a powerful drug—you knew that, but now you know a bit about how it works.

  • Normal human movement has rhythm. Movements can be more or less rhythmic depending on one’s stress level. 

  • Everyone has a putamen. You don’t need to have PD to benefit from bathing your basal ganglia in rhythm. 

  • Your neighbor’s frustration might be a blessing in disguise.

© 2020 Mary Bond