The Old Music Part of Writing “New People”

My novel, Old Music for New People, is driven in part by its characters’ thoughts and feelings about specific songs and musicians (baseball and food also have prominent roles in the plot). Many of the stories I write, whether long or short, have music painted into them. Sometimes I wonder if I’m a bit too hopeful about the idea of using words to describe what music does to characters emotionally and philosophically–and what it does to readers as well in their everyday lives.

In Old Music for New People, I worried as well about how readers connected to gender-curious and transgender teens might react in the first few chapters of the book because there’s a lot of struggling people have with questions connected to gender identity. But there’s also a good amount of discussion of music and its meaning in those early chapters. I don’t want to go into what that meaning could be here, that’s for each reader to consider and figure out on their own, but it’s important to consider the value of music in any story and how it can counter-balance or even smooth out rough edges, pain, suffering, and frustration. Music in stories tends to point at something less than concrete but always meaningful.

For those who have read my occasional essays that touch on my admiration for Haruki Murakami’s novels (I am just finishing up Dance, Dance, Dance this month), it’s true that one of the elements of his work I am constantly intrigued by is his music references.

Dance, Dance, Dance, for instance, was first published in Japan in 1988 with numerous references to everyone from Elvis Presley and John Coltrane to Mozart and Bob Marley. A number of songs with the “Dance, Dance, Dance” moniker pop up when you run a search on Apple Music. Both the Beach Boys’ song “Dance, Dance, Dance,” and the somewhat esoteric “Dance, Dance, Dance” by Steve Miller on his Fly Like an Eagle album might have been sources for the title to Murakami’s novel, however, with a little digging I’ve discovered that the vintage late ’50s R&B number, “Dance Dance Dance” by The Dells was the original inspiration.

One thing that Murakami does with music is to fit it into a story the same way a writer might fit in the weather or the smell of a dinner cooking or light as it dances across a body of water. Sometimes he lets the reader know what’s playing while a character contemplates vanished love or the mystery of some beckoning, dreamlike, parallel universe. Sometimes a song plays during or after a scene involving an erotic encounter in the dark.

Murakami’s musical reference moments are often quite personal and unique to both him and the narrator of the story. That singular awareness of music is often on the same level as characters who prepare and cook meals alone, go for late night walks in search of lost cats, or drive around aimlessly trying to figure out what they want out of life.

More than anything, Murakami seems to use music in his stories as a poetic way to point at ideas of inspiration and emotional grounding for his characters. Some people think of his musical references as Easter Egg offerings to readers. I see them as reminders to readers (and critics) that there are simple ways to regain contact with our creative connection to life.

In my work, that individualized and atmospheric aspect of music is a starting point, but what I’m usually trying to point to in an open-ended and hopeful way is the idea that music can be a powerful force in connecting people’s emotions to each other and, ideally, can inspire people to be aware of the idea of being in tune with themselves and in synch with others. Hopefully I don’t do that so obviously and directly, but that’s what I see as my reason to continue going back to music as a major conceit in my stories.

The music references in Old Music for New People could have been Rolling Stones, Bonnie Raitt, Elton John, Santana, and The Beatles. Those were my original choices. I considered as well, Beyoncé or Tina Turner or Taylor Swift. In the end, though, all of those artists seemed to me predictable and a bit too obvious. I don’t mind popular culture in my stories or conspicuous media connections, but I do feel it’s part of a writer’s job to be a bit unpredictable and off-center. So while I didn’t go esoteric by any means, I chose musical artists who might have brought something extra to the Scattergood family dinner table and the Maine summer cosmos.

Hopefully you can take the time to track down Old Music for New People and read it. I’ve put together a Spotify playlist as well, flavored with the music referred to in the story and a few other special treats that may or may not be connected.