After John Harris’s son was diagnosed, conversation always seemed focused on the things he would struggle with. But a shared passion for playing music grew into something James could do – brilliantly
I start playing songs to my son James from the moment he is born. If I’m given the job of rocking him back to sleep, I usually put on reggae: Junior Murvin’s Police and Thieves and Dawn Penn’s You Don’t Love Me (No, No, No) tend to do the trick. If my partner Ginny or I sing along to whatever is on the CD player, it brings him a gurgling kind of delight. In this, he is – obviously – no different from any other child. But not long after his first birthday, I get a sharp sense that music might speak to him in a particularly vivid, mood-altering way.
I play James the title track of Clear Spot by Captain Beefheart and the Magic Band only once. Its mixture of discordant guitar, growling vocals and knock-kneed drumming, I suspect, might strike him as curious and funny, like a big, monster-centred production number from Sesame Street or The Muppet Show. But it has pretty much the reverse effect: within a few seconds, his face is suddenly filled with an expression of absolute panic, he screams in protest, and I instantly know I have to turn it off and never put it on again.
Continue reading… After John Harris’s son was diagnosed, conversation always seemed focused on the things he would struggle with. But a shared passion for playing music grew into something James could do – brilliantlyI start playing songs to my son James from the moment he is born. If I’m given the job of rocking him back to sleep, I usually put on reggae: Junior Murvin’s Police and Thieves and Dawn Penn’s You Don’t Love Me (No, No, No) tend to do the trick. If my partner Ginny or I sing along to whatever is on the CD player, it brings him a gurgling kind of delight. In this, he is – obviously – no different from any other child. But not long after his first birthday, I get a sharp sense that music might speak to him in a particularly vivid, mood-altering way.I play James the title track of Clear Spot by Captain Beefheart and the Magic Band only once. Its mixture of discordant guitar, growling vocals and knock-kneed drumming, I suspect, might strike him as curious and funny, like a big, monster-centred production number from Sesame Street or The Muppet Show. But it has pretty much the reverse effect: within a few seconds, his face is suddenly filled with an expression of absolute panic, he screams in protest, and I instantly know I have to turn it off and never put it on again. Continue reading… Family, Autism, Children, Education, Music, The Beatles, Neurodiversity, Culture, Life and style