Music Goose Bumps Explained

What's with the music "goose bumps"?  Why do we get them?

After wondering for some time what this week's blog was going to be about, I came across an article from ScienceAlert.com that describes some plausible reasons, from a scientific perspective, why many people get "goose bumps" when they listen to certain types of music. This topic is somewhat similar to several of my previous blog posts, especially my post from February called How to Make Your Music More Emotional. For anyone interested in reading the article, I added a link to it at the end of this blog post. Physiological and emotional reactions to music is a favorite topic of mine, as regular readers surely know by now, so I figured I might as well continue the trend in this blog. Besides, once I came across what seems like a well-written and reputable article on the topic, I got too excited and just had to post an entry about it. So, here goes!


Goose bumps in general

I'm going to try and be brief about this because I don't want to get off on too much of a tangent -- but understanding the actual function of goose bumps involves my cat. Well, really it involves all cats. All you have to do is ask yourself, what does a cat do when it is scared? Its fur stands up on end (as does its tail). This is a naturally-occurring, involuntary biological reaction, and it increases the cat's chances of scaring off a predator. Its back also arches to make it look "taller". When an animal's fur stands up on end, the animal looks bigger, scarier, and more intimidating. It's a product of millions of years of evolution, and for most people this makes pretty good sense.

A frightened cat displaying its raised fur.

According to the Science Alert article, as well as other scientific journals, "goose bumps" in human beings are there for the same reason. We don't have very much hair (or "fur") compared to a lot of other animals, but the goose bumps we see on our skin is the hair on our skin standing up. Our biological ancestors used to have a lot of hair, so this might have been useful at one time. However, our goose bumps today don't actually serve any real function. We don't have very much hair, and the hair we do have that stands on end during these "goose bump" periods does not make us look any more dangerous or intimidating. Another function of the goose bumps, apparently, is that the raising of the skin "resets" our body temperature when there are changes in the outside temperature, helping to regulate our body's "thermostat". (This is why we get goose bumps when we're cold). But this is also useless, according to the article's author, because we've invented clothes.

For those who are curious, there are plenty of other examples in evolution where a biological feature or phenomenon has become useless and obsolete (our tailbone, men's nipples, to name a few). But I'm not going to get into nipples right now. Surprisingly, I find the topic of music far more interesting.


The "Sneak Attack" in music composition

Before going into how music is connected to goose bumps, I should clarify some differences in the terminology I use versus the terminology used by the authors, editors, and research scientists who are affiliated with ScienceAlert.com. I don't typically like to make up my own words, but I find my terminology to be a lot funner. (That's right, I said it). For instance, the goose bumps that occur when you hear thrilling or beautiful music is the result of something that scientists call "response to unexpected stimuli",  while I call it the "Ninja Sneak-Attack". I'm not a scientists, so I get to use much funner words for these concepts, although I am still a passionate advocate for doing your own research and ensuring that you're not just spouting off something that you've "read somewhere". I have to credit some people with their sense of humor, though, because according to this same article a few researchers have used the nickname "skin orgasms" to describe this goose bump effect associated with music, instead of the technical term (which is actually frisson). But whatever you call it, the question remains: why do we get these goose bumps, these "skin orgasms"?

Suppose you are alone, unaware that anybody is around, and someone walks up behind you and scares you. The hair on the back of your neck would probably stand up. This happens for the same reason that I just discussed -- your body goes into "defense mode," because as far as you know it could be something threatening or harmful, like a mountain lion. The key component in this occurrence is that it's unexpected. Researchers hypothesize that many other "unexpected" occurrences can have the same effect. So, when you hear something in a song or a musical piece that "violates" your expectations -- in a good way -- you get goose bumps. Hence, the Sneak-Attack.

I want to provide a few examples of this, but I first want to point out that, from an evolutionary standpoint, the goose bumps resulting from a piece of beautiful music have absolutely no biological function whatsoever. It's just a by-product of evolution that is now outdated. However, the pleasure we feel in our brains when having this experience is perfectly harmless (and, I would argue, healthy) and listening to music in general has been shown to be very therapeutic in many ways. So, goose bumps or not, it's one of many reasons to take advantage of a pleasure that we can access, for no other reason than to enjoy life, and to benefit from these therapeutic effects.

Above: The late Oliver Sacks, neurologist and musician, experiencing the joy of listening to one of his favorite pieces. The photo was used as the cover on one of his books, Musicophilia, published in 2007.

Musical ninjas through the ages

And now to the examples of composers and artists who use this "Sneak-Attack" method. Bach did this constantly. I don't think he called it the Sneak-Attack, but he did it. It's one of the reasons why he is so well-known. From the composer's perspective, the trick is to establish a noticeable pattern, like a theme, a motif, or some sort of catchy melody, and nowadays this is often referred to as part of the "verse." Most listeners will quickly become familiar with this pattern when listening to the song, even if it's subconscious. After establishing this melody, the pattern can be repeated yet again, but this time there is some kind of unexpected change, variation, or subtle difference in the pattern that the listener does not quite expect. It's this element of slight unpredictability in music that stimulates a part of the brain, causing the "surprise," thereby a sense of pleasure, and incidentally produces those goose bumps (although the goose bumps themselves, like I said, serve no real purpose). Bach was known for creating these "surprises" in his melodies, and he was a master at it. His music was enormously popular during his lifetime because of his ability to do this, and to do it incredibly well. The challenging part of creating this effect is that you don't want too much unpredictability, because then it will just sound random and meaningless. On the other hand, if it's too predictable, it may sound boring -- much like a movie that is too predictable, where you already know what's going to happen (take a poorly-written and cliche romantic comedy, for instance). The trick is to find that "happy middle ground" in music, where you have some sort of pattern, yet you introduce just enough unpredictability in certain parts of the song to generate that perfect amount of "surprise".

Johann Sebastian Bach

Other examples where this is done in music:

1. Frederic Chopin does this in Nocturne No. 19 in E minor (video below). There are two notes in the beginning of the verse, and the second note is sustained for a bit (first played at 0:08 in the video), which is played with the right hand, and then there are three notes that follow. This is a simple motif that gets repeated each time the verse starts up again. The fun part of this is that, if you're hearing this piece for the first time, you won't always be able to predict exactly when the verse starts up again. The composer "sneaks" the verse in unexpectedly, or somewhat earlier than expected. This happens at 0:33, 1:36 and 2:04 of the video. One of the ways that Chopin accomplishes this is that he adds other stuff in between the repetitions of the motif, i.e. between 1:08 and 1:35 the song lingers a bit, with basically the same rhythm and tempo (sort of like a "bridge" to a song) and it keeps you guessing as to when, or whether, the verse will repeat again. I like to do this between the bridge and/or climactic part of my songs, and then revisiting a verse towards the end in a more dramatic way (i.e. in a different key or with embellishments). A great way to do that is to re-create part of the motif in the last part of the bridge, and then repeat that motif and sneak the verse in there, creating a subtle transition from the bridge back to the verse. I've done this in many of my songs and people seem to like it. Again, violating a listener's expectations just enough is the key to tickling that musical funny bone.

                                     Nocturne No. 19 in E minor by Frederic Chopin

Speaking of climaxes, Chopin puts one in this song. You may notice that, starting at 1:55, the music gets very dramatic, again creating that feeling of anticipation in the listener to where he or she will not quite be sure when the verse occurs again. Beethoven did this a lot as well. This is a similar effect to a person watching a horror movie and not quite knowing when a creature, monster or "bad guy" is suddenly going to jump out, even though you know it will probably happen at some point. Building anticipation is just another way that these goose bumps form. The Science Alert article discusses this quite thoroughly.

2. Christina Perri does this in her hit song, "Jar of Hearts". She uses a technique called a "chord substitution", where the listener expects to hear a certain chord (based on an established musical pattern in the song) but a different chord is played instead, slightly "surprising" the listener. In the original version (where Christina Perri is singing) the chord substitution is very quick and subtle, partly because she drags her voice a lot and sings over the piano chords with a rather raspy voice, so it's hard to catch. Christina Perri might not even know that she's using this technique in her song because songwriting for many people is far more intuitive, but I notice it because I'm a big nerd who likes to analyze everything. Anyway, there is a piano cover of this song that I absolutely love (below) and you can hear the chord substitution a lot more easily. The chord substitution first happens at 1:01 in the video. Most listeners will expect to hear a major chord because the pianist is already playing in the key of E flat major, and the chord he's using right before 1:01 is A flat major. It changes to a minor chord instead, which a first-time listener will usually not expect. This happens again at 1:14, 2:10, and 2:34.

"Jar of Hearts" by Christina Perri (piano cover)

Below is an excerpt from the lyrics in Christina Perri's original version. I underlined the parts where the chord substitutions take place (from A flat major to A flat minor).

     And who do you think you are, running around leaving scars?
     Collecting your jar of hearts, and tearing love apart.
     You're gonna catch a cold, from the ice inside your soul,
     So don't come back to me. Who do you think you are?


3. Whitney Houston does this with the famous key change in the song "I Will Always Love You." The key change in the middle of the song is so effective that now people use it as a parody in comedy films and TV shows, creating a comedic "dramatic" effect whenever someone falls in love or if there is "love at first sight." Key changes in the middle of a song are very popular, and they are tremendously effective; the listener generally does not expect it, and it surprises them, usually to their delight. It sort of "wakes up" the listener. This technique was very popular with 80's and 90's pop music. Michael Bolton was a fan of doing this in his music, and our old friend J.S. Bach did this as well. In Whitney Houston's hit song (below) the key change takes place at around 3:07, following a gap of complete silence (creating a great deal of anticipation), and the original key she was singing in, which was in A major, goes up by a major second, or a "whole step," as some music theory nerds might call it, and the remainder of the song is sung in B major instead.

"I Will Always Love You" by Whitney Houston

4. Ludwig van Beethoven: I mentioned this guy before. Aside from the fact the he (and others, including Bach, Mozart, and a host of other classical composers) used key changes very effectively, he was also very skilled at creating a simple motif and repeating it multiple times throughout a piece, but with an enormous range of variations. A perfect example of this is the first movement of Beethoven's famous 5th Symphony, which boldly begins with four hard-hitting notes: "Ba-ba-ba baaaaaaah!" This motif is often known as the "Fate Motif" because Beethoven apparently described it as "fate knocking at his door". One reason why this piece is so well-known is because you will hear that same exact pattern (the four familiar notes) again and again, throughout the entire song, but with many different variations. Sometimes the variations of the four notes are loud, sometimes they're quiet, sometimes they're played in the melody, sometimes they're played by the cellos in the background, etc., but you hear it again and again. Try listening to it and count how many versions of "Ba-ba-ba baaaaaaah!" you hear throughout the song, and you will run out of fingers. Or, play a drinking game and take a shot every time you hear it; you will be smashed before the piece is over. Beethoven's remarkable use of variations in this simple motif is one of the ways you can keep the listener "guessing" and, again, get those goose bumps on your arms. 

Just an FYI, there is an on-going written commentary about the music in this particular YouTube video, obviously created by some big nerd like myself. For the sake of simply listening to the piece and noticing the variations I discussed, the written commentary in the video can be ignored (especially since it changes so rapidly) unless you really want to read it. 

That being said, there is no better example to end on than Beethoven's famous masterpiece. But seriously, be careful if you try that drinking game, because you really will be two sheets to the wind by the time you're done. ;)

                                      Beethoven's Fifth Symphony (1st Movement)

Click here to read the article from ScienceAlert.com

Yes, your taste in music is largely based on your culture...

As some people know, one of the subjects I've been most interested in lately is how music affects the human brain. I found out very soon, and to my delight, that there is a field of study that relates to this, called psychoacoustics. There is a developing science in which researches are devoted to finding out exactly how, and why, music affects people in certain ways (i.e., Why do some types of music make people feel energetic? Why does it make some people feel happy, sad, soothed, or relaxed? Why does it make some people cry? etc.).

The study of psychoacoustics, however, spans more than just the study of how our brains respond when we hear a song that we like. It includes the brain's responses to all sound, and not just music. Experts in this field of research may, for example, study the way a human brain responds to the sound of a baby crying, or someone saying "I love you", or the fact that the sound of other people laughing can cause you to laugh also. From what I've gathered, sound seems to be deeply connected to triggers of human emotions.


There's more to it than just a reaction in your brain

I don't pretend by any means to have an authority when it comes to science, nor am I an expert on the human brain. I just look stuff up because I'm bored, or because I'm putting something off that's way more important but it's crap I don't really want to do. So I found out while browsing around that, apparently, our appreciation of music is not just a result of hearing a collection of sounds, but also a result of a cultural influence. Even more so, it's a result of the culture we were raised in. The interesting part about this is that when it comes to people's favorite music, they often can't explain why they like it, other than saying "because it's just awesome." I once asked a friend of mine why she liked country music, and this was her response:

     "Because, it just... it's just awesome, that's why. It's country. It's just awesome."

Here are other common answers to the question, "Why do you like this type of music?"

     "Because it just rocks. I love it!"
     "Because you can totally dance to it, that's why!"
     "Because I can just, ya know, let my hair down and rock out, you know?"
     "Because, everything, it's just like rich, you know?"
     "Because it's the Beatles, that's why!"
     "How could you not like this music?"
     "Because it's ________________!" (insert name of band here)
     "Because, I could just listen to it all day."
     "Because I just feel so relaxed when I hear it."
     "Because it just, like, puts me in the zone, you know?"
     "Because it makes me want to cry."

From a completely objective and logical point of view, while I thoroughly understand and respect the feelings these people are experiencing, none of these responses really answer the question. Before going into the cultural aspects of it, I want to mention again that there are reasons why these people love certain types of music, and that a lot of it still does have to do with the brain. If you understand music theory, and you understand certain things about the brain's responses to anticipation, surprise, subtlety, key changes, and sound perception, then you can start to understand why. I can very easily sum up, for example, why Adele's new song "Hello" is so popular. It has partly to do with the primary beats in the rhythm starting out as tied notes with different time values, partly with the chord progressions, partly the timbre in Adele's voice (as well as her range), and partly the melodic contours in the second part of the verse and in the chorus. So a lot of it is the brain. But enough about that -- we're here to talk about cultural influences. So let's talked about my favorite stir fry.


Beef: it's what's for dinner! 

Depending on your age, you may or may not remember a commercial back in the 90's that was funded by the Beef Checkoff Program, where they showed people cooking a bunch of beef-related dishes (you know, stir fries, stews, soups, kebobs, steaks, etc.), and there's this music in the background that's very fast and upbeat. In the end of the commercial, a man's voice comes on and says "Beef: it's what's for dinner!" followed by three loud, punchy notes (with the orchestra and kettle drum) - boom, boom, boom! If you've never seen the commercial, you can watch it below.

The reason I bring this up (yes, there's a reason) is because of the music that was used in this commercial. The music is from a classical piece called Rodeo, by a 20th-century American composer named Aaron Copland. He was very popular, successful, and wrote hundreds of pieces, including soundtracks for films that came out in the 90's. Chances are, you've heard some of his music and don't even know it. I admire this composer a lot, but when I listen to this selection from Rodeo I have trouble taking the piece seriously, because all I can think of is steak. You can watch a live performance of it below, and if you are one of those people who was exposed to this commercial as a kid, it might be hard to watch it without thinking about that same beef commercial.

This is a great example of how culture can shape our perception and our appreciation of music. Food is obviously a big part of any culture (and for the American culture, TV advertising is too) and instead of just hearing an upbeat tune by Aaron Copland, whenever I hear this piece I just want to go out and have a barbecue.


Oh, the good old days...

Keeping in mind this cultural influence on musical taste, you can find more examples of it by asking people in their 50's and 60's to talk about the music they liked when they were kids. I guarantee that you will run into at least a few who get nostalgic and smile. Some people will not only describe the music they liked but they will tell you little stories about what they did while they were listening to it. You know, something like this...

"Oh yes, I remember  listening to Simon and Garfunkel. I must've been 23, 24. I was with my    
buddy Hank, and his girlfriend, and we were sprawled in the back of a Chevy when we watched
them live. It was awesome. Everybody cheered and sang along. They played 'Homeward Bound,'
one of my favorite songs, and my friends and I were completely hopped up on acid. Great times!"

Simon and Garfunkel in concert

You will hear this kind of rhetoric quite frequently when you ask people of the older generation about their musical tastes. This is because our tastes in musical genres are heavily influenced by our upbringing. Not only does music stimulate certain parts of the brain that make you enjoy it, but your brain is "molded" and formed in such a way that you will end up liking the type of music you were exposed to when you were young. People overwhelmingly love the types of music they do because it's nostalgic and it reminds them of a "different time". Almost everyone I know that likes country music likes it because they listened to it (and their parents listened to it) growing up. I never listened to country music as a child, so I don't happen to care for it. From a strictly music theory perspective, I have an idea as to why people enjoy most country songs (aside from their upbringing) but listening to it does nothing for me.


I like Pink Floyd, and it's all my dad's fault...

It's fairly easy for  me to come up with anecdotal evidence for this argument. I was exposed to certain types of classical music as a child, which explains both why I get into a "trance" whenever I hear certain types of classical, and why I get enormously (and delightfully) distracted during movies because of the soundtracks in the background, and why a lot of the music I write on the piano has heavy classical undertones. But I also love Pink Floyd, as well as the progressive rock group The Alan Parson's Project (which are both very similar). Also, I absolutely love Steve Winwood. The question is, why do I like these groups so much? Well, here's a hunch: my father listened to these groups a lot in the house when I was growing up. I was exposed to them early on, so now when I listen to these bands I get nostalgic, and sometimes even homesick for the town in Iceland where I grew up. I also found The Alan Parson's Project to be a great band because they incorporate some features of classical music into their songs (The Moody Blues does this also), and a lot of their songs are purely instrumental.

When I listen to Steve Winwood, the music triggers something in my brain that instantly makes me feel nostalgic, energetic, happy, and blissful -- the same way a country music lover feels when he or she hears some sappy song by Garth Brooks. People's brains develop differently, and it's clearly a part of the exposure they had when they were kids. My appreciation for this particular artist, however, has caused me some embarrassment. My brother once caught me dancing to Steve Winwood's music when he walked into my bedroom. He said that I looked like a turkey on hot coals. I mean, I was thirteen -- I do not do this anymore and you can't prove it. And, more recently (I won't specify when) a roommate of mine came home one day and heard me singing to the song "Don't You Know What the Night Can Do" while I was in the shower. Even more embarrassingly, I was singing it loudly, and the frightening part is that I can't sing very well. To be fair, I thought I was alone. My roommate is now traumatized for life.

                          "Don't You Know What the Night Can Do" by Steve Winwood


I tried to listen to Tchaikovsky, but all I could think of was the Roadrunner from the Looney Tunes

I won't say that this has "ruined" some people's perception of classical music, but children's cartoons have definitely shaped some people's reaction to it. First and foremost, I need to clarify something that many don't seem to realize: "classical music" is not just one type of music. A few people seem to think that you either love classical music or you don't, and I completely disagree. There are some types of classical music that I can't stand. Saying "I like classical music" is kind of like saying "I like rock and roll." It's not very specific. There are many different types of "rock and roll" (pop, classic rock, blues, punk rock, metal, soft rock, etc.), many of which a person can love while that same person can dislike another type. The same is true with classical music. Opera, for instance, is a type of classical music, and there are people who can't stand opera but love Beethoven. Johann Strauss' waltzes are a part of classical music too, and many people don't like those pieces but they love Mozart. There is a huge variety of classical music that many people in the modern age don't seem to think about. Also, the span of time that classical music takes up historically is far, far greater than that of rock and roll. When you really look at it, classical music is not so much a "genre" of music, but more of a historical time period in which a whole bunch of music was written. To be more specific, music from the Rennaisance era (15th-17th century) sounds very different from the music in the Baroque period. There's lots of music from the Baroque period that I also don't particularly care for.

Some of the music that I do absolutely love comes from the Romantic era. Compared to music from the other "periods," this music is more dramatic, more dynamic, more daring, has more variety (the piano has been introduced, there are more brass instruments, more percussion, cymbal crashes, etc.,) and more like the kind of music you might hear in a movie soundtrack. Some of the earlier stuff has less variety. You have to realize, for example, that the music of Antonio Vivaldi (famous for composing The Four Seasons) was all written before the piano was even invented.

John William's music, on the other hand, whose work includes the soundtracks for films like Star Wars and Jurassic Park, writes pieces that are much more in the style of Romantic-era classical music. Some of my favorite composers from this era include Sergei Rachmaninoff and Modest Mussorgsky. So keep in mind that listening to a single piece of classical music will not represent the full spectrum. It would be like listening to a reggae song and saying, "Nope, I don't like rock and roll at all."

Okay, now back to the cartoons. If you are like me and many others, you may have gotten up on Saturday mornings to watch cartoons in your pajamas as a kid. During my cartoon-watching phase, I watched the Looney Tunes episodes, one after the other. If you also watched these shows, you were exposed to an enormous amount of classical music without realizing it, because they used this music as the soundtracks in those cartoons. When I was a little older than my cartoon-watching years (sixteen or so) I was living with my dad and my stepmom, and I remember listening to Tchaikovsky's first piano concerto on my dad's CD player. I was taking piano lessons at the time, and my piano teacher wanted me to listen to this piece so that I could get inspired and think of new ideas for my compositions. Tchaikovsky's first piano concerto, by the way, is a very dramatic and epic-sounding piece, with a beautiful and punchy-sounding rhythm on the piano, especially in the beginning. It's one of my favorite pieces.

Out of curiosity, when I was listening to it in the living room, I asked my brother what he thought of it, and his response was: "It makes me feel like I'm watching a cartoon."  And there you have it -- upbringings and cultural surroundings will mold your brain and musical tastes.

                                            Tchaikovsky's Piano Concerto No.1


Apparently, Yanni writes music that sounds like movie soundtracks

I was reminded of my brother's response to the Tchaikovsky piece when I got a similar reaction from a friend of mine. I was in my car with him and I was listening to a very popular song by Yanni called "Santorini". It's sort of his standard "opening piece" whenever he has concerts, and he performed this piece with his orchestra when I watched him live in 2012 (yes, he has his own small orchestra). As soon as my friend heard it, he said, "This sounds like the opening to a movie." He's a fairly avid movie-goer, and so this would make sense. But the interesting thing is that the idea of that particular song being a movie soundtrack (which it could very easily pass for one) didn't even occur to me. I'm just so used to hearing the song as it is, by itself, with all the instruments and the percussive qualities of the piece, etc. It's just another example of how people's individual experiences shape their reactions to hearing a song.

                                                        "Santorini" by Yanni

The diversity that exists among people's musical tastes, their reactions, and their associated upbringing that ties into them further solidifies the notion that one type of music isn't necessarily "better" than another. It's also why I immediately dismiss the claim from anyone who thinks, for example, that "classical music is the finest of all music", or claims from others who make statements such as, "If it ain't country, it ain't music." There is no such thing as a superior genre, and the science behind it confirms this. The genre that you like the best is the best genre, for you.

The exception, of course, is Steve Winwood. I mean, come on... if you don't like his music then there's clearly something wrong with you ;)