Radiolab - Deep Cuts

Episode Date: April 23, 2021

Today, Lulu and Latif talk about some of their favorite episodes from Radiolab’s past that hold new power today.   Lulu points to an episode from 2008:  Imagine that you're a composer. Imagine getting the commission to write a song that will allow family members to face the death of a loved one. Well, composer David Lang had to do just that when a hospital in Garches, France, asked him to write music for their morgue, or 'Salle Des Departs.' What do you do? This piece was produced by Jocelyn Gonzales. And Latif talks about an episode Jad made in 2009. Here’s how we described it back then: Jad--a brand new father--wonders what's going on inside the head of his baby Amil. (And don't worry, you don't need kids to enjoy this podcast.) The questions here are big: what is it like to be so brand new to the world? None of us have memories from this time, so how could we possibly ever know? Is it just chaos? Or, is there something more, some understanding from the very beginning? Jad found a development psychologist named Charles Fernyhough to explore some of his questions. Support Radiolab by becoming a member today at Radiolab.org/donate.    

Wait, you're listening to radio lab from WNYC. Hi there, I'm Lachif Nasser. And I'm Lulu Miller. We already messed it up. This is radio lab. Okay, the reason we are being so awkward is because we are awkward, but also we're here to ask for money, the money that we need to keep doing our jobs

that we love so much. This is listener-funded journalism, and you are the listener because you are listening to my voice right now. And Lulu, what's the case? Make the case. Okay, the case is like, okay, have you ever turned to anyone and been like, oh, that reminds me of this radio lap episode.

Okay, if you said that phrase, we're in your head. And we're so honored to be in there. But maybe you could just buy us a drink. Kind of thing. Like we'll keep giving you factoids and new ways of seeing the world. We hope just buy us a fancy coffee or a beer. And we know like this is being a really hard year

and a lot of people are strapped and we understand that. And if you can't afford it, that's okay. But if you can afford it. A little bit goes a long way. A little bit goes a long way. That average donation is $8 a month and to do it to actually throw some money away, all you have to do is go to radiolab.org slash donate or text the word radiolab to the number 701-01. 7-01-01. There will be so much fun. 7 oh one oh one. That's how

you get the donate job done. And if you pay us extra, we can make sure Lulu never does that again. Things that song again. If you donate $12, I promise to never sing again. My fingers are crossed. But really, I mean, one of the things we put effort and time and money into is making things that last. And that's why there are maybe shows you mentioned at a party to a friend, even shows that came out years ago. Yeah. And like, we do that too.

Like, we say, have you ever, like, that reminds me of a real episode. There are episodes that, from before I got here that I listened to and I think about and that kind of haunt me in a way that stay with me. Yeah, and so what we've got for you today is a little celebration of durability. We're going to play a couple pieces that have stood the test of time for us. Even if you're a big time listener, these are deep cuts. They're from years back. You may not time listener, these are deep cuts are from you know years back You may not remember them or ever have heard of them

They were not our biggest hits But I don't know just in the last year these pieces have sort of popped back into our minds and and we heard them And knew so to start us off I truly had this just the other day where I was just I was swirling in the grief of still so much uncertainty with all the things in our world right now. And there was so much talk. There was so much like people making sense of how we got here and what the path is out. And I was on a run. I wanted to listen to something. And then I suddenly remembered this old radio lab piece called Salda Daypart that in a way is about how to make sense of grief without words. And it's by this producer, Jocelyn Gonzalez. I listened to it. And it was just as beautiful. It like was helpful to me in

this new way. And you know what? I mean, like enough of me talking. Let's just, let's just play it. Yeah, yeah. This is Radio Lab. I'm Chad. I'm Ron. Welcome to the podcast this week. I think all you really need to know is that it's about this composer named David Lang who got a commission to, I'll just let Chad pick it up from here. He was commissioned to create background music for the most unlikelyest of places. The morgue. He was asked to write background music for that moment when you see a loved one for the last time.

Like what kind of music do you write in that circumstance? Do you even do it? And if you do, like what's the right mood? What as a composer do you want to accomplish in that situation? Like what's appropriate? Well, the project is called Sal de Des Partes. I think it means translates from French to Chamber of Departure, maybe? I don't know, someone correct me if I'm wrong.

And producer Jocelyn Gonzalez spoke with David Lang about it. When I was very young, I had a brother who died. I've had a lot of relatives who've died. And so in a lot of my work, I actually have many pieces which are about how to memorialize someone, how to use a piece of music as a way to capture a moment in a relationship between that person and me, or how to freeze something so that I never forget it, or how to express a feeling of rage at finding out that someone died, that I knew was going to disappear as soon as time took the edge off. Some doctors from a very major hospital outside of Paris and a suburb of Paris called Garsh.

And the doctors got together and thought, you know, we have so many people who die in this hospital and they die in this very strange way. They die not after being sick for years and years. They just die instantaneously. One moment, they're alive on the road, the next moment, they're dead. Their family hasn't had a chance to grieve. So the doctors got together, they went to the Fundatio de France and they commissioned an Italian artist at Tore Spaletti to make a little chapel, but it's really a morgue. This beautiful, blue, sensuous, relaxing room. The idea being that when your loved one would die in this hospital, then they would take the body

and move it into this room so that your last memory in the hospital wouldn't be, you know, in this bright, white light in this horribly compromised position in this, you know, real message of eternal defeat. So they made this little space, and then they thought, now that we have the space, we should see if music can participate in this space. So they make a piece which could not be played live because I felt that the whole point of this was a piece

of a death, so the idea that this could have a live performance seemed really like cheating to me. So I made a piece that was supposed to have the unending vocal part that no human being could sing. There are singers who sing their part, and through the beauty of the recording studio, there's no breath. Basically, it's sort of one giant long tune. So in the instruction of how to play it in the score is to play it like angels. It's supposed to be something that's past the ability of human beings to play it. It's not as if it's, you know, piped in like music.

People are given the opportunity to decide whether or not they want an intrusion at that moment. That was something that was very important to me at the beginning was to not feel like I was dictating something. I don't want to intrude on these people. It's strange to do a project like this because your goal is you hope that no one ever hears this piece. Actually, you know, I mean your goal for life is that no one should ever have to hear this music.

The other thing was the idea of how long it should last, because the idea that the doctors had when they came in was that I should write music that was on a loop. And I was adamant with them that I felt like this music should last a certain amount of time until it accomplishes its musical task and then it should be over and then if you decide that you would like to stay there longer That's between you and the silence Here's you know the contribution that I can make and when I've made that contribution I Should get out Music goes into you in the, you know, it sort of bypasses all of your normal protection mechanisms.

So it goes to the place of you which is not dealing with language or rationality. And that's why it's so useful to sell cars and toothpaste and why it's so useful in movies to get people to all burst into tears at exactly the same moment. I mean, it has this ability to go around all of your defenses. So I imagine this music in this morgue as having this horrible power to Make people feel cold or make people break down And I wanted to actually do something which I thought was much more neutral Which was to say here is an environment which does not tell you specifically how you are supposed to feel

but it's an environment which may loosen your resolve enough to give yourself permission to feel whatever you want to feel at that moment. You know, all of our training in our society is to avoid those horrible experiences and avoid those horrible emotions. I understand why you are being strong, but it's okay if you don't want to be strong. For this piece I wanted to make something which gave people permission to examine which way they wanted to go with their emotions. Well I felt as ridiculous as it sounds when this commission came my way I felt

like I'd be waiting my whole life to get this. And I got really happy about the opportunity to make this environment for Mornin, that getting, you know, this miserable, horrible commission, which it was about people in their most vulnerable moments would actually, you know, make me so excited. But what I really liked about this was I really felt like I was trying to make the environment that would have been the right environment for the experiences I have already had. I never imagined it in a frivolous way. I could imagine somebody taking it very frivolously. I could imagine somebody thinking here's my opportunity to write

the tune that's going to make people cry. But I certainly didn't want to do that. When we come back, we're going to go from the end of life to the beginning. Stay with us. Science reporting on Radio Lab is supported in part by Science Sandbox, a Simon's Foundation initiative dedicated to engaging everyone with the process of science. in the modern world. More information about Sloan at www.Sloan.org. All right, Lulu. Lot of radio lab. Yeah. And yeah, today we're just kind of calling back episodes

that happen like even before our time, before my time at least, a radio lab that really do stand the test of time and have kind of stood up to listen even 10 years later. And there's an episode I wanted to put in front of you. In a way, sort of taking it from the last one, which is about death, to this one's about birth

and about babies and about sort of the wordless place, not the wordless place of grief, but the wordless place of like potential and possibility and yeah, like just what's going on in all of our heads right after we're born. And so yeah, so Chad made this in 2009. It's beautiful. Take a listen. Alright, so for this podcast, I want to talk about my kid. His name is Emile.

This is him right here. And by the way, I do plan to make this interesting to people who don't have kids, because I was just one of those people two months ago, so bear with me. But, uh, okay, a meal. He's two months old. He's still in the lunch game phase. And he's just starting to tune in the world. What was that? So there are these moments. Like yesterday, for example, where he gets real quiet.

And he just stares at me. And it's kind of amazing. Actually, it's a bummer. But it also kind of presents an interesting question, which I want to explore right here. In fact, you can't avoid it. You're just staring at this thing. You're like, what is this little creature experiencing? Like here is a little human being that is brand new in the world.

What does the world look like to a tiny baby? What does it smell like? What does it sound like? And I have to find somebody who could help me at least begin to answer these questions. Hello. Hi, Chad. Hi, is this Charles? Yes, that's right.

Woohoo! Good to talk to you. Charles, before we get started, can Charles? Yes, that's right. Woohoo! Good to talk to you. Charles, before we get started, can I just have you introduce yourself so I can get your name right? Okay. Hi, my name's Charles Ferny Ho. I'm a writer and developmental psychologist from Durham University. Back when Charles had his first child, Athena, he decided to tackle that question.

What is it like? What's going on for this little person? As a dad, you know, as an all-struck new dad. But also as a scientist. So he wrote a book. Called a thousand days of wonder, a scientist's chronicle of his daughter's developing mind. It's an amazing book where he basically goes through what we do and don't know about what's happening in the minds of little babies when they're brand new.

So I put the scenario to him, okay, and he'll be brand new. When I'm sitting there holding him and we're staring at each other, what exactly is he seeing? One difference that does relate to the visual system is that the lens of their eye is absolutely crystal clear. Whereas your lens, my lens, because they're of a certain age, they've become slightly yellowed. So they filter out some of the blue frequencies

of the light that we see. So we paint the picture out, what would that be like for them? I mean, this is my stab at imagining what this would be like. But if you can imagine being in a Greek village in the summer, that moon. Sun is directly overhead, and it's one of those villages where. Everything is white. You know, the houses are all painted white you're wearing sunglasses and then you suddenly take off those sunglasses

it's that bright yeah I think light is a big it's probably the biggest shock to newborn babies but it's interesting the biggest shock to newborn babies. But it's interesting to consider that that blinding haze of whiteness might actually be how the world really is. We just don't see it. In any case, then I ask them about sound. Do babies hear things differently than adults, in the same way they see things differently? And he said, yeah, we think so.

We think they hear echoes. The echoes are actually there. But our brains filter them out. But it takes some time for them to learn to do that. I mean, the science behind it is quite complicated. And I don't think I could explain it now, but it's to do with the relative times of arrival that the sound makes on the two years. But the brain basically has to learn to make this adjustment.

It can't do it straight away. And so a newborn baby's hearing, we guess. We don't know for sure again because we can't know what it's like. But we guess that babies hear things in a very echoey way. But it gets even stranger. Tell me about the experiment with the babies in the brain cap. Yeah, I described a study that was done with babies where they were taking EEG measurements. And these are the kind of measurements that you get when you put a net of 16 or so electrodes over the scalp. And these electrodes pick up the very small electrical changes that go on as your

brain works. And it's a perfectly safe, harmless procedure, which you can do with very young babies. Well, usually when you do these studies, you can see the way in which particular parts of the brain respond to different kinds of stimulus. In an adult brain, he says, if you show someone a picture, you will see a little bit of electricity towards the back of their brain. If on the other hand, you heard a sound, then the bit of your brain sort of slightly further forward from that, the auditory cortex, would fire. And you wouldn't see any in the visual cortex.

Because different parts of the brain have different jobs. But what happened with these babies is that things got very strange. Like the researchers would show them a bunch of pictures. Like, boop, here's a circle. Boop, here's a cross. And often things would work as they were supposed to. They would see like a little spark

in the back of the baby's brain where vision is processed. Sometimes they wouldn't. Sometimes when they showed them what's say across, the vision part would be silent. But they'd see a spark in the auditory cortex, the hearing part of the brain. So the picture would trigger a sound in their head? We don't know what it triggered in their head for them subjectively, but we do know that a part of the brain that shouldn't have fired did fire.

They were, I mean, what you're saying, but not quite allowing to pass through your list is that they were hearing the picture. But we don't know what they heard. But it's a good basis for saying that when a newborn's brain is developing, these different wiring that lead information into different parts of the brain are still taking shape. It might be, he says, that inside a meal's brain, right now, at two months, all of his senses are in a big, synesthetic knot, so that when he hears my voice,

maybe he sees flashes of color, or maybe when he looks at the wall, he hears tones. Or maybe when light comes in through the window, he tastes it. Like salt or something, I don't know. And that's the thing. We can't know. I mean, there was really strong philosophical grounds for being skeptical there. I mean, actually, I can't know that anybody is conscious. Wait, what does that mean? I can't know that anybody is conscious. Wait, what does that mean?

I can't know that you're conscious. But I'm talking to you. Sure, you are. But, you know, you could be a really smart zombie, you could be a robot, you know, I can't see you, you're 5,000 miles away. I mean, maybe that I'm the only person in the university who is conscious. Huh.

We tend to, you know, the vast majority of us tend to say, well, he looks like me, he talks like me, and he thinks like me, and he perceives like me, so he's gonna be like me. But it is a leap of faith. Then I told him about the stere. How, you know, just in the last little bit, Emil has started to really stare at us,

and we stare back, and it's, that's not a leap of faith, that's for real. And he told me something really depressing. In those first couple of months, the visual system is controlled by the sub-cortical regions and they're kind of the old bits of the brain. The cortex is the relatively new, evolutionarily speaking, the relatively new part of the brain surrounds the whole thing. And there's a switch between one kind of control system, the sub-cortical system and the cortical systems.

But as the handover happens, and this is happening at about two months, it's probably, it's interesting to know if he's doing this now. As the handover happens, there's a kind of struggle for power and the sub-cortical regions, which we're controlling vision, kind of don't immediately want to seed power to the cortical regions. So the baby loses, temporarily loses control of where he or she is looking

because of this struggle for power. The scientist called a sticky fixation. And it's where a baby will just keep staring at you. It's as if the baby can't take its eyes off you. Yes, this is what's happening now. You're telling me this is a brain glitch. It's quite a well-documented phenomenon and it's bad news for the parents who think that their babies are gazing at them adoring them. Because actually they're just kind of they don't know where to look. They can't control where they're looking. They don't know how to look away basically. Ah, depressing.

This might actually be one of those cases where ignorance really is bliss. Because the truth is you have to project. You have to make that leap of faith, or at least you have to believe whatever it is you have to believe so that when he looks at you and you look back at him, you smile. Because eventually that will teach this little dude how the world works that humans operate

on relationships, which are these feedback loops, which, okay, at this moment in time for him or not real, they will be. Soon. That's it for Radio Lab this week! See you again next time! Hi, this is Spencer, calling from Beautiful Barry Vermont. Radio Lab was created by Chad Ebbamrod and is edited by Soar and Wheeler. Louis Vu Miller and Latis Nasr are our co-hosts.

Suzy Lekteng is our executive producer. Dylan Keith is our director of sound design. Our staff includes Simon Adler, Jeremy Bloom, Becca Bressler, Rachel Kusik, David Gabel, Matt Kielte, Annie McEwan, Sarah Curry, Ariane Wack, Pat Walters, and Molly Webster, with help from Shima Oliai, Sarah Sandback, and Karen Leone.

Our fact checkers are Diane Kelly and Emily Krieger.