Two Soundtracks, Dual Minds

Previously I said that slamming podcasts into your brain can stifle creativity -- or words to that effect: When you fill your head with the opinions of others, there ain't no room for your own.

But music works differently to podcasts.

Some music can open up your creative space. Some will drive focus. The trick is knowing which to use —- and when absolute silence might be the better choice.

Music is mood. Music builds momentum. Music shapes what's going on in your head.

When you listen to music, it changes how you work.

When I’m writing HatDP (Hellsborough and The Dark Peak), I have found that if I listen to sounds that are atmospheric, they tends to open up mental space -- they let my imagination wander about a bit: They induce melancholy and wistfulness.

By contrast, when I'm coding, I like something the opposite. Jagged, chaotic, punky energy, stuff that is the opposite of calm; a relentless wall of impenetrable sound. That's exactly what I need when I'm problem-solving. The noise keeps my focus tight. It drives pace and precision, but not reflection. Coding is creative, but also mechanical; it’s about maintaining rhythm and flow.

The difference between the two isn’t taste —- it’s function. Different projects demand different states of mind. The pros and cons of each kind of music depends entirely on what I'm trying to do.

For creative work —- writing, drawing, designing —- slower or ambient music is best. It leaves cognitive space, helping you stay inside your own imagination.

For technical work —- coding, analysis, editing —- faster music helps you suppresses distraction and fuels forward motion.

Music is more than background noise, it’s a tool for you to direct your mental energy. The right soundtrack amplifies the mind you need for the job. Of course, the wrong one can hijack it.

For me, The Scholars of the Peak belong to the world of imagination —- mist, moors, and memory. Otoboke Beaver is for code —- speed, precision, and chaos. Both have their place.

Books I’ve been reading recently

The Inevitable by Kevin Kelly, Understanding the 12 Technological Forces That Will Shape Our Future

The Paper Menagerie by Ken Liu, the only story ever to win the Hugo, Nebula, and World Fantasy awards

The Coming Wave: AI, Power and Our Future by Mustafa Suleyman, the essential challenge of our age

The Book of Elsewhere by Keanu Reeves and China Miéville, a comic book for the mind as John Wick meets Perdido Street Station

Memorable things I’ve watched lately

Reputation on Amazon Prime, gritty Northern drug-fuelled drama

The Days Ahead on Amazon Prime, probably the most visceral film about nuclear war in the UK since Threads

Air on Amazon Prime, the game-changing partnership between the undiscovered Michael Jordan and Nike's fledgling basketball division

Jobs on Amazon Prime, early days as a college dropout, to the rise as the co-founder of Apple Computer

Inspiring things I’ve listened to in the last month

Good Bad Billionaire - Snapchat co-founder Evan Spiegel

News articles that inform me about The Dark Peak

New lab-built neuron mirrors real brain cells in energy, runs on just 0.1 volts

New bio-glue mimics oysters, fixing shattered bones in 3 minutes without major surgery

Physicists have now built a quantum array containing 6,100 qubits, the largest of its type

Cormac McCarthy’s personal library

An analogue computer circuit which uses radio and microwave signals to do massive calculations while using less energy than conventional digital electronics

Scientists develop fingernail-sized chip that can map 5,600 stars in seconds

This Month’s words and pictures

The Lonik is a small, secretive creature that lives in the Wisewood. Despite the reputation of its habitat, the Lonik is neither monstrous or magical. It is, by all accounts, a wholly natural inhabitant of that liminal space — a quiet presence, more observed in signs than in sight.

Standing no taller than a hare, the Lonik’s body is covered in a soft pelt that shifts colour with the seasons — mossy green in spring, bark-brown through summer and autumn, and ash-grey in winter. Its limbs are short but sturdy, ending in dexterous digits used for pulling down leaves and stripping bark from saplings. Its face is defined by two wide, liquid eyes and a narrow snout suited to rooting through decaying wood. Though herbivorous, the Lonik has a fondness for the tender shoots of bramble and the fruiting bodies of certain mushrooms that thrive in the forest’s half-light.

The Lonik is most often heard rather than seen. Travellers sometimes speak of faint rustling behind them on the path, or the sound of soft chewing when the air is still. If startled, the Lonik freezes completely, blending into the mottled backdrop of the tree trunks. It will only fight if cornered, lashing out with its short forelimbs and a sharp, surprising hiss. Its defence is not strength but fear: it makes itself appear larger and more aggressive than it truly is, then vanishes into the undergrowth as soon as the threat recoils.

The creature’s solitary habits have given rise to an odd reverence among those few who venture deep into the Wisewood. Woodsmen say a Lonik’s den marks an area of quiet luck — the ground near its burrow is rarely prone to rot, and saplings there grow straighter than elsewhere. Naturalists have noted that where Lonik populations are healthy, the forest’s balance is better maintained; their constant foraging clears space for new growth, preventing chokeweed from smothering younger trees.

In this way, the Lonik serves as both guardian and ghost of the Wisewood — unseen but essential, keeping the forest alive between the human fears of Hellsborough and the harsher wilds of The Dark Peak.

Ssshhh… Keep quiet in the Wisewood at murkrise, and you may just spot one 😉 — have a great November!