Last Friday, I watched a wonderful movie called "The Music Never Stopped." It was based on a true story about a relationship between a father and a son, and how they reconciled and found each other again through the memory of music. However, this was not an ordinary story.
It was the late 1960s during the Vietnam War. The son, Gabriel, left his home after a bitter quarrel with his father. He remained estranged for the next twenty years. When he was finally brought back to his parents, he was suffering from a benign brain tumor and severe amnesia. After the tumor was removed, the part of the brain that controlled memory formation was permanently damaged. Gabriel was unable to form or retain any new memories.
Through the help of a dedicated music therapist, the parents learn that their son only comes back to life while his favorite music is being played on the record player. Gabriel's time had stopped pretty much at the end of the 60s, the turbulent time when he and many other youth found solace from listening to politically-keen experimental rock groups. He adored the Grateful Dead in particular.
Gabriel's father, Henry, whose taste was molded by the music of his own generation, decides to go beyond his own natural inclination in order to reconnect with his son. Henry listens his son's favorite music, learns the lyrics, spends time with his son, and asks him why he loves the music of the 60s so much. Through the process, he learns that it was he who had driven his own son away from home.
How Henry faces his own demons to have his son back was deeply moving. And how painful it was to witness the hopelessness of this sensitive young man, Gabriel, staring at the hospital wall, his physical body present, but not his mind. He has no access to his dreams and even forgets the tender kiss with a beautiful girl whom he met every day at the hospital cafeteria. But the music becomes the only possibility for him to find connection with the present world.
I will not spoil the ending, so readers must watch the movie themselves. But this movie was a great reminder of how important and powerful the memory of music could be. I often feel sad that I will never share the same memory with most of my American friends since I grew up in a different country. One thing I can do, though, is to create new memories with people through music.
Just like Henry did for his son (and for himself), we should use music as a tool to heal, not to destroy; to unite, not to separate. Before Gabriel left home, the negative dynamic between him and his father was intensified by the different opinions about music. Twenty years later, Henry transformed himself and used music to regain his son.
We have choices. We can use music to transcend our differences. Or we can use it to deepen our hatred. Which would you rather choose?
The Music Never Stopped (2011)
Based on Oliver Sack's essay, "The LastHippie"