Bloody earworm!

“Time is fleeting, madness takes its toll …”

“The Time Warp” · Lyrics by Richard O’Brien; music by Richard O’Brien and Richard Hartley

There I was, enjoying my art-journalling process, and in marched this song. Absolutely nothing on my sheet of paper or in my sticker collection should have triggered it. There were no fishnet stockings. No corsets. No transvestites. Nothing!

And yet, that song marched in, cup of coffee in hand, and made itself comfortable in a chair. I can’t even recall the last time I heard it or watched the movie.

Naturally, being as curious as I am, I wanted to know more about why this sort of thing happens. It was such an iconic song, yet apparently my brain had carefully filed it away in a dusty corner, only to retrieve it decades later when I least expected it.

It is truly fascinating how the brain works. Sometimes a smell, a sound, or even a phrase can trigger a memory—or seeing someone in fishnet stockings. In my case, nothing obvious woke up the memory, and out popped the lyrics to the song.

Then the dance instructions started up. There it was again. I hadn’t invited it back, but my brain clearly had other plans.

Psychologists often refer to this as involuntary memory. Involuntary—as in, don’t go there? I picture my brain as a filing cabinet, and while I was journalling along, ripping papers and sticking down stickers, my brain’s assistant walked up to the cabinet, yanked open the bottom drawer, and pulled this song from the darkest corner, covered in dust and cobwebs.

The brain is gloriously odd at times.

Which is why I have this insatiable interest in human behaviour. Every strange little quirk—like the music from a 50-year-old musical barging into my consciousness—is another reminder of how wonderful and baffling our brains are.

How does the brain do this? We sometimes forget where we put our car keys or our mobile phones, yet lyrics to a song pop in and hang around, sometimes for days!

We often hear people say that their memories are failing. But perhaps our brains are simply waiting for someone to knock on the right door?

As mentioned earlier, psychologists refer to this as involuntary memory—or involuntary autobiographical memory—when an old memory suddenly surfaces without a conscious attempt to retrieve it. But because I had a song popping in to say “Hi!”, it can also be referred to as involuntary musical imagery—better known as an earworm. Earworm: not such a mouthful as involuntary musical imagery.

Bloody earworm! Not the slimy garden variety, but the musical one that barges into your brain uninvited while you are doing routine tasks such as driving, cooking, washing dishes, or, in my case, art journalling. And the frustrating part was that the harder I tried to ignore the song, the louder it became.

I could even picture Tim Curry doing his iconic strut across the screen!

So, why does this happen?

Here’s the interesting part. Scientists still don’t fully understand why one particular song will pop in, take up residence for a while, and then simply vanish again—only to be promptly replaced by the next song. Sometimes there is an obvious trigger, and sometimes there isn’t. Our brains seem to be making connections long before we become aware of them.

Perhaps that is the most fascinating part. We like to believe we are in control of our thoughts, yet somewhere within our subconscious, our brains are busy filing, sorting, connecting, and retrieving memories without asking our permission. Every now and then, a memory pops up, taps us on the shoulder, and says, “Remember me?”

And now, if you’ll excuse me … the chorus is centre stage again! ◆