Why We Sing

I found this from Boing Boing, which means CK already thinks he's going to be bored by this since he always reads that stuff before I do, but this goes a little further than the Boing Boing-linked article did.

The post was a link to a rather interesting article about why we would ever have invented singing. I mean, on the surface, it doesn't seem to have much of a purpose, does it? From the article:

One of the fur-clad men started it, a rhythmic sound with rising and falling pitch, and others picked it up, indicating their willingness to cooperate both in the moment and in the future, when the group would have to hunt or fend off predators. The music promoted "a sense of we-ness, of being together in the same situation facing the same problems."

...

Music also promotes social bonding, which was crucial when humans were more often hunted than hunter and finding food was no walk on the savannah. Proto-music "became a communication system" for "the expression of emotion and the forging of group identities," argues Prof. Mithen.

Well, heck. I coulda told 'em that. You see, many of the toys I've bought for the B play little snippets of music. I, in my classical music snobbishness (so snobby, in fact, that I bristle at referring to it as 'classical', as that widely-recognized nomiclature is actually only truly representative of one period of the music that is lumped into that category) have striven to make sure there is some Bach, Beethoven, Mozart, and other esteemed dead guys mixed in with the Mary Had a Little Lambs and Farmer in the Dells.

A recent purchase was a silly little keyboard you can set up at the end of a crib or bassinet, and when she kicks it, it plays one of several little songs. She is still quite amazed when something reacts when she interacts with it, so I usually stick right there by her side to reinforce everything she's learning by playing with it. I, being me, usually end up singing along with the songs because, well, that's what I do when I hear accompaniment. She seemed to like it, and I do so like to please an audience.

Over the past few days, though, it's become a bit of a sing-along. I get out a line or two, and then she looks up at me with her curious blue eyes and lets out a series of mid-to-high-pitched screeches. She stops inbetween the songs, and waits for me to start singing the next one before she joins in.

I have to say, I am feeling the "we-ness".