As we make the transition from one calendar year to the next, music is our companion. A report last Saturday on National Public Radio documented how music, particularly that of our youth, helps bind those with Alzheimer’s Disease to their earlier selves. Familiar melodies appear to sooth, to reduce anxiety, and to quiet the anger induced by the loss of self.

The music we hear from birth to our mid-20s, it seems, helps establish our identities. Public television stations know this well. They use pops of the past to promote membership, to sell audio and video recordings of aging and aged performers.

Traveling entertainers fill concert halls and, every now and then, are featured for their “economic impact” (Taylor Swift and the Beatles). Tribute bands (the Grateful Dead and the Unborn Embryos) play music that was once popular in the manner of a not-forgotten ensemble.

If you long for the style and song of Elvis, he will appear in Gary at the Hard Rock on January 11 and in Indianapolis at the Murat on January 24. Hollywood turns out movies to celebrate (exploit) the talents and travails of musicians from Mozart to Ma Rainey.

Whether live or on film, the music, the performances recapture memories for many of us. But it goes further, if you are inquisitive. Why and how did Elvis (Bing, Bessie, Taylor) have such sustained and deep influence on audiences? What role was played by the transition from one technology to another?

A 1950 poll by the Gallup organization found Bing Crosby to be the most popular male singer for one third of Americans questioned. Further down the rankings, favorites changed by the age of the respondent.

Billy Eckstine and Vaughn Monroe ranked 4th and 5th among those 21 to 29 years old. Frank Sinatra was 3rd in that age group, but fell to 5th place among those 30 to 49 and did not appear in the top 5 for those 50 and older. John Charles Thomas held 5th place in that oldest group. Would he even be in the top 100 for the 80 and older group today?

This history of favorite male singers was influenced by radio and recordings. TV, tape, and wi-fi would follow as would styles of music from grand opera to calypso and grunge. Technology moved listening from the openness of the hearth and stage to the privacy of the ear buds.

What’s next? Already sampling allows us to sing in our voices but in the manner of others. My voice could sound like Ray Charles, or Dolly Parton by changing vowel sounds. No AI needed.

Files of our reminiscent music are already created by the choices we make on the Internet. The commercialization of our memories is well established. Much pleasure might accompany that reality, but consider the horror as well.

Do you want to be woken each morning and plagued through the day by the Colonel Bogey March? This could happen if your employer or a foreign nation takes control of your phone. Beware; your sentimentality can be your undoing.
Morton J. Marcus is an economist formerly with the Kelley School of Business at Indiana University. His column appears in Indiana newspapers, and his views can be followed his podcast.

© 2025 Morton J. Marcus

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