For
 most of us, music is an ever present element in our lives. Look down 
any busy city street and you witness a spectrum of musical activity, 
from the haggard guitarist panhandling on the corner, to the high-end 
department stores blaring upbeat pop in front of their stores to attract
 customers, and not to mention the countless number of pedestrians 
toting oversized (and overpriced) headphones, lost in their own personal
 soundtrack as they go about their day. Whether we take an active 
interest in it through singing or playing an instrument, or if we are 
simply passive consumers, music permeates our daily experience. 
Differences between the passive and active participants are glaringly 
obvious to anyone. Most of us consider ourselves as either being musical
 or not. I know I’ve never considered myself at all musical. In my case,
 a childhood fascination with music was curtailed by a 
less-than-supportive orchestra teacher that informed me that I just 
“wasn’t cut out for it”. But for a select portion of the population, 
music has been an integral part of their lives since childhood. So the 
question that comes to mind is, what fundamental differences arise 
between those of us with the ability to produce music and those of us 
who cannot? A number of psychologists and neuroscientists have looked at
 this question and offered some fascinating insights into the contrasts 
between the “musical brain” and the rest of us. 
What is it about musical training that allows an individual to discern 
things like pitch? Well, like any type of learning, music training 
relies on the concept of brain plasticity, or the brain’s ability to 
rewire itself. The brain has an unparalleled ability to reshape itself 
as we learn and this reshaping leads to improved skills in areas such as
 those that are responsible for our ability to discern sounds. 
Differences in the brains of musicians vs non-musicians is a well 
documented phenomenon. Notable characteristics of the trained musician’s
 brain can be found in regions of the brain employed in music. Areas 
such as the planum temporale, an area that has been equated with pitch 
perception, have been shown to develop differently in musicians. These 
studies also can show us how areas of the brain with large roles in our 
other faculties can play a contributing role in music. For example the 
cerebellum, an area of the brain usually associated with motor 
coordination, is also responsible for the sense of rhythm necessary to 
produce music. Other brain areas can be dually utilized in music and our
 other facilities, which seems to be the case when studying the subject 
of language.
Both
 language and music rely heavily on rhythm and pitch in their 
comprehension and so are likely relying on the same processing areas in 
the brain. Talk to any native English speaker trying to learn Chinese 
and they will tell you how important pitch and rhythm can be to a 
language. Tonal languages, like Chinese, rely on different intonations 
and pitch when trying to confer meaning. Marcus’s contribution to this 
area of discussion draws heavily on his evolutionary background. Marcus 
points to the medley of brain areas involved in music that have been 
observed over the years with the help of brain-imaging technologies. 
What he and other neuroscientists can infer from that is that there is 
no single module in the brain responsible for music. Instead, it draws 
on areas of the brain that have evolved to be implemented in other areas
 of perception and have just recently become utilized in music. 
Researchers at Northwestern’s Auditory Neuroscience Laboratory are 
addressing questions similar to the ones that Marcus addresses in his 
book. They are looking at tasks that are likely implemented in both 
music and language learning, things such as working memory and making 
“sound-to-meaning connections”. 
So
 what is the overall message we can draw from work by Marcus and others?
 I would like to think it is all about the idea of potential. We, as a 
species, can take parts of ourselves, of our brains, that evolved to do 
things completely outside the realm of music, and create works of art. 
Songs that persist in the collective milieu of culture for centuries. 
Songs that can inspire. Songs that can humanize. Songs that push the 
boundaries. I believe that, in most cases, the esteem that most 
societies have placed on musicians can be well founded. Musicians can 
take the very essence of human experience and put it to a melody, give 
it a rhythm, and make it accessible to anyone willing to listen. But 
there is no reason we cannot all do that in some way. It may not be in 
the way Jimi Hendrix or the Beatles have, but it can still be something 
profoundly real to you. Something that captures the very core of you, if
 only for a few brief minutes. I believe music, art in general really, 
can be our most veracious endeavor. And for people like Marcus, an 
endeavor that knows no “critical period”, no defined time to blossom. 
Marcus’s success in learning the guitar at such an age, however modest 
he made it seem, speaks volumes of potential and of the benefit of 
concerted effort. Such an effort can overcome the greatest barriers 
erected in our psyches by ourselves, or in some cases by others, and 
help us achieve the goals we once thought impossible, just as impossible
 as Marcus once believed it would be for him to rock.   
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