Want to Enjoy Music More? Go For a Run.

Hey, everyone, it's Rachel. If you are not yet a time subscriber, we have some news for you. You can enjoy full access to the times without a paywall for 30 days, and all you have to do is download the app to get your first month completely free. And if you're already a time subscriber, I want to say thank you. Okay, here's the show. In the New York Times, I'm Rachel Abrams, and this is the daily on Sunday. Hi, can I ask you something? Last week, producer Elena Richards went to Central Park to ask runners a question. You need a question? What are you listening to? Everyone's preparing for the marathon. I'm stopping that. Yeah, it's like 25th. You're 25th marathon. Can I ask what you're listening to? I was telling me that it was North girls. And their answers were, this is it, pare-de-de-deux. All very different. I am listening to the strokes. Why are Sundays so depressing? Radiohead. Optimistic. Believe it or not, bad religion. They're Christmas album. Jimmy, world, why do I know the name, but there is a girl you're in, yeah, yeah. The middle, the middle, there you go. Eric Thomas. You might be smarter, your family might come from Primlicz, your daddy, my own, the company, but you will not outwork me. He's not a musician, he's like a motivational guy. Eric Thomas. Eric Thomas. Keep me moving, right? Yeah, they'll take his words and like chop them up and put a beat behind it, you know. Some of you need to give up yourself, Paul. It is not surprising that people like to listen to music while they run. And for the most part, people told us that it basically just takes the edge off. It's just relax, just making it. It helps them set the pace. It's just like a fast-runninglex, just like fast BPMs now, just the whole night, they'll motivate it. So I had to sort the BPM from the slowest songs to the fastest songs at the end of my run, so I'd save my energy towards the end. Makes things more fun. I probably look like a weirdo sometimes, because I'm going crazy to my music. Or it helps them pretend maybe just for a minute that they actually aren't running. Anything to really distract me from like where you're at in the run? I guess it just gives me something to think about that's not running. Right. But Ben Ratliff, a former New York Times music critic and author, thinks of running to music completely differently. He runs to make the music better, not the other way around. And the fact that he could do that was such a profound discovery to him that he wrote an entire book about it. It's called "Run the Song." And so today, on the day of the New York City Marathon, my conversation with Ben Ratliff on how running can make you a better listener. It's Sunday, November 1st. After the break, we'll be right back. Ben Ratliff, thank you so much for coming to the Sunday Daily. Thank you. So we are here to talk about running and music, two things, which I think a lot of people think go together. First, I want to talk a little bit about the backstory to what brings you in here today. You are a long time music critic. Yes. Including for the New York Times. So how did you get into that to begin with? I saw Miles Davis when I was a teenager. And I had so much to say about it afterwards that the only response that made sense to me was writing. So I wrote an article for the high school newspaper. He did the things that people all know that he did, which was play very short melodic phrases on his trumpet and then leave long silences and just sort of wander around the stage. And sometimes turn his back to the audience for a long periods of time and put like a whole open the heel of his hand down on a keyboard. He just mashed his hand on the keyboard. Is that what you're describing? To get one of those strange chords. And I thought, I don't know what's happening here. It was so mysterious. Did you like it though? Did you like what you heard? I loved it. I loved it. So tell me about kind of going from there to actually doing criticism professionally. I took one writing class in college with a writer I really admired, the jazz critic for the Village Voice at that time, Gary Giddens. And I just sort of set me on my way. I mean, I just started pitching things to little magazines and getting a job doing it professionally was something I never dreamed would happen. And I couldn't believe that The New York Times was trusting me to choose to write about whatever I wanted to because that really was what it was like when I started. There was great faith in the music critics that we knew our way around the scene and knew what was worth writing about. And that didn't necessarily mean what was popular. It just meant what was interesting to us. I wonder if there's a show that's set out to you where you were like, I can't believe I get to do this for a living. I would say that there were some nights at the Village Vanguard was a club that I went to a lot. Still around, I think. Yes. It's been around for 91 years, I think. I saw many, many things there because you're below the ground. It's a little bit like the experience of being in an airplane where you're just like, you're in some other sphere and the concerns of what's happening on the planet earth seem far away. I saw so many groups perform with the Village Vanguard and reach a moment in this improvised music where you as a listener actually didn't know what was going on. And I loved that feeling. I loved the feeling of getting lost. I think about that a lot. You know, you're describing a job that I think a lot of people would consider like a dream job, right? Getting to go listen to music, see music, and write about it. It was. It was. I mean, I know you don't do that anymore, but I'm wondering about that past tense. Was there a point that it stopped being what it was at the beginning for you? No, it always was. But after a little while, the opportunities to review performances in the times grew less and less through editorial decisions that the paper had made. But I found myself a little bit at a crossroads because I realized that this was the thing that I loved best, was being at a performance, seeing something happen in real time, and using that as a pretext for an essay. So when I couldn't do it so much anymore, I think I began to wonder about what comes next. So you're at this crossroads, and in your book you talk about this moment, when you also realize that you were having a hard time even listening to music, you took a trip to Maine to a recording studio to visit a recording engineer, I believe. Yes, that was Bob Ludwig, who people who have spent time looking at the back of record covers will recognize his name because he's been the mastering engineer for thousands of well-known records. So he has very precise ears, and he put me in his special studio in his chair where he does his important work, you know? And he put on "So What" from the "Miles Davis" record kind of blue. And you know, I know this piece of music really well, and I wasn't blown away. And you thought it would be? I thought that I was going to get closer to this piece of music than I ever had before. And that didn't happen. Where did you think you were going to get closer? I thought I was going to get inside it. Inside? What does that mean? Can you translate what that means for a person who maybe isn't super fluent in music? Well, audio specialists, audio people, of which I am not one, use the language of space of atmosphere to describe how something sounds. They talk about recorded sound as being like a place that you can inhabit, like a stage almost. And I thought that I would be able to do this to a degree that had never been possible for me before. And it might be akin to the feeling of actually maybe being in the studio with that group in 1959, etc. So I was trying to understand if you met like that, you can feel it in your, the music sort of like in your body almost, or you're just talking about like, wow, I feel like I'm actually, this music is so present around me. I feel like I'm actually in the recording studio. Like the energy, is it like a. No, I think that's a great question. I think I, I meant more of the former, but what the idea of the music being inside my body, I suppose I wanted that too. And that also wasn't happening. It made me think about that. Like it also made me realize my desire that, well, what do I want? I think I want to be the music, essentially. Well, as you said, I want to feel it in my own body. And this might be different from dancing to it. But just what I'm understanding this, the issue here is that you're in the special room, the special chair. You've got all this special audio equipment and you're listening to the songs. and expecting that all of your surroundings are basically going to elevate it and they didn't. And that caused you to think what exactly? - I think it just made me feel that I need to figure out a new way of listening and I'm not quite sure what it is. You know, there must be a way to listen better than I have before. Weirdly, that was the same weekend that I went running really for the first time with a friend of mine. - When you went running, not trying to seek out some solutions. - Oh no, we certainly weren't listening to music. There were just, there were two unrelated things that happened on the same weekend. - So you leave the session with this engineer? - Yeah. - Unmove and perhaps a little bit unmoved by how unmoved you were. And you think, I need to figure out a different way to listen to music and then you go on your first run. What was that experience like? - I had memories of running from, you know, being on a high school team or something and just always hating it. And thinking, I'm not good at this. I don't see the appeal. - Relatable. - Seems like punishment, really. Boring, et cetera. And I just thought, well, you know, people can change. Here I am, an adult. Maybe I'll like it this time. And I think that's when I realized, oh, okay, this is what I'm gonna do every day. - Why, what was it about it? - Well, because I felt like a million bucks after I came back every time, I thought better, I wrote better. I had crazier thoughts, which I was dying to articulate. - What kind of crazy thoughts? - Crazy sentences, crazy syntax, crazy vocabulary. - This is wonderful scene in a first-wife club. - Oh, I love it. - Where Goldie Hahn talks about how exercise gives her the best inspiration. - Tell you, I get my best ideas when I'm working out. You, you get ideas. - You're reminding me of that. - Yeah, I think that thinking is one of the greatest parts of running. - And just so I'm clear, during this early period, are you still not listening to music after this initial time? - No, not really. I didn't have the setup for it. I wasn't even sure how to do it. - I'm sorry, sir. You didn't own headphones? - Oh, yeah, but I had the kind like I'm wearing right now in the studio. - Like these big over here? - Yeah. - It's about people wear to the gym when they want to lift weights, though. - Yeah, I couldn't see taking these out outside and like holding the phone. And yeah, I didn't really think that through. - I just think most people are gonna be like, the music critic didn't listen to music when he was running? - No, it was a way to empty my head, I suppose, and get me in a kind of mental position to begin writing when I got home. - And then something changed for you. So tell me about that. - So then the pandemic came and time got all weird. I could run in the middle of the street in the Bronx. And I went running for much longer times. And I remember going out running one day, listening to music, and coming back and thinking, I think I've just listened better than I've ever listened in my life. It was a weird feeling. I felt like something had happened. - What were you listening to? - I wish I could remember. - Oh, no. - Yeah, I know, I wish I could remember. But you said you felt like something had happened. - Yes. - So what happened? What changed? - The easiest way to put it is that I think most people when they listen to music as they run, they're listening to music in order to be a better runner. In other words, they're listening to music to set a pace, certain tempo, or maybe to- - Pump them cells up, pump them cells up, or take their mind off of things, or take their mind off the fact that they don't really like running or whatever. And I guess I thought, well, what if you turn that around? And you run so that you could be a better listener. - What does that mean? What happened to you that you thought that on this run? - I realized that I could actually run into the heart of the music itself. And that running could be a way of taking the measure of music in a way that I really hadn't done before. So I started, just in my own mind, I started calling this running a song. Like if I found a song interesting in any way, the next thing for me to do would be to run it and see how it felt. So music was not just about music anymore. Music was about place, and music was about motion. I realized now that one thing about what running with music does for me is it essentially makes all music live music. Like whatever I'm running to, it doesn't matter whether it was a live performance or not, it becomes one through the process of running with it. It like, in live and sit. It turns the music into a sort of performance moment in which I am, you know, I'm in there somewhere. - The experience that you're describing of like feeling that the music is in you and around you, you're in the world with it. It sort of reinvigorates the way that you are hearing the music itself. Like I'm wondering if that is a translatable experience? Other people could have when they put on their headphones and they go out for a run. - I would say that increasingly these days, and this has something to do with earphones, I mean, the fact that we are an earphone culture now, many of us treat music as a means to an end, essentially. Like it's something that can help us accomplish something else that isn't really about music, for say. - Like it could help me with my workout. - It could help you with your workout, it could help the day go faster, it could set a pace, et cetera. And what if music were not a means to an end? What if the music itself is actually what you want to be paying attention to? And then what are you paying attention to? What should you be listening for? - Well, just to be fair, I do think a lot of people would say that they listen to music for the joy of listening to music, but I hear what you're saying as somebody who listens to music to get herself through exercise, class is including running. I hear what you're saying about music for music's sake. So I just sort of wonder what in this scenario, what should I be listening for? You could think about the music as a space. And if it were a space, what would you see in this space? What's to the left? What's to the right? What's behind you, et cetera? You could think about what's at the bottom of this? Is it drums? Is it singing? Or you could just think about what critics do, which is what is the essence of this thing? And that could be a sound, but it also could be an intention or a philosophy or something. Like what is actually at the center of this enterprise such that if you took a pair of tweezers and extracted it, that the whole thing would fall apart? What is that? And I think that pursuing that question is fun. And I think, you know, once you're really engaged in that question, I think you're listening to music as such rather than as it means to an end. I wonder if you could give an example of a song that really came to life for you through this or maybe even just a piece of music that maybe you understood better once you ran it? Sure. This is a jazz record that I have listened to lots in my life. And the record is Eric Dolphee at the Five Spot. And it was made in 1961. It's a thrilling record. It's quintet. And each of these five members has a distinct personality, not unlike the Beatles. It's so that, you know, you feel the sense of like, wow, completely different people here on stage and they will often solo one after the other. OK. So it's this song called The Profit, written by Eric Dolphee. And in the profit, first you hear Eric Dolphee's saxophone solo, then you hear Booker Little's trumpet solo, and then you hear a piano solo by Mal Waldron. And that was the thing that I never really understood. Why? What didn't you understand about it? First of all, it's about four minutes long, so it's sizeable. It always felt kind of oblique. I knew it was smack in the middle of this music that I loved. I just didn't get it. It was a part of the song that you just didn't really care for, basically, and didn't understand why they had included it. Something like that. And when I would listen to the record, I think I would just think of something else for four minutes, not really pay attention. It was like a blank spot for me. Oh, that's so interesting. So it was running to this record that I really loved that I could finally hear this solo. for what it was. - And what was it? - It's tentative at the beginning. You don't really know where he's going and perhaps he doesn't know where he's going. And then, as you can hear right here, it's mad repetitive. He focuses on phrases and repeats them and repeats them and repeats them and just changes them slightly. And you get to a point listening to it where if you're really listening, you draw closer and you think, what is he doing? What is he doing? And it becomes interesting rather than off-putting. What I've understood finally by running with it, he doesn't necessarily need to know where he's going. That's the amazing thing. With the other soloists, there's so much of a sense of forward motion and resolution and there's high points and low points and he's just kind of steady and he's persevering. And it's this spirit of non-virtuacic perseverance that really appealed to me as a runner. And it gave me the feeling of like, I think I could probably run forever. To the, if this solo lasted forever, I think I could probably just keep going with it. This is the way to move into the future. Why, what about it? Made it you think you could listen to it forever? The spirit of perseverance. You know who you are, but you don't need a desired outcome. And actually, I think proper listening means not desiring a particular outcome. You don't know what's going to come next. You're just paying a lot of attention to the moment, to each second. And I felt that that's what he was doing. So do you think you actually had to be in motion in order to appreciate these four minutes? That was my conclusion. I mean, it certainly helped. I was running alongside Mal Waldron as Mal Waldron was making these adjustments and having all these ideas. Well, Ben, it is Marathon Day here in New York City. And we had an idea based on all of this. The New York City Marathon is run through the five boroughs of Manhattan. And you made us an entire five hour marathon playlist, which we will link to in the show notes for this episode. Yes. But from that list, you brought in today five songs that represent each of the five boroughs that thousands of people will be running through today. And so after the break, we are going to talk about how those songs might be eminently more enjoyable if experienced while running them. And if you can't run the race today or you don't live in New York City, you can vicariously go there through these songs. We'll be right back. So just to set the scene, if you're running the marathon today, you're at the starting line. New York City, going to the concrete five beautiful boroughs here with Marathon. Varizano Bridge, all in the Staten Island side. There's a lot going on, tons of energy. People are really amped up. At least all we ready. The star-spangled banner comes on through speakers at various points. You're taking it all in. One more time. I wonder if they should hear you up in the boogie down Bronx. Athlete, so are we ready? Don't put in those headphones yet. Enjoy the scene. Listen for the starting canon. Taken whatever New York theme send off song they play this year. And now that you're on your way crossing that bridge, Ben, what are we listening to? The instrumental version of It's Yours by the Wu-Tang Clan. Wu-Tang is Staten Island. Staten Island is Wu-Tang. It just sort of seems like what's sort of got to be that. I thought about a piece of music that was, first of all, repetitive because you know, you're getting into the flow, but also that does not have words. When you're beginning the race, you don't really need somebody wrapping in your ear. There's a huge crowd around you. You need to be aware. Also, the song is called It's Yours, whether you know that or not when you're listening to it. I think the whole point of this marathon experience for you should be like, you're doing this for yourself. This is not for social media. This is not for Strava. This is not for the person you want to impress. This crazy experience that you're undertaking should be entirely for you. OK, so Wu-Tang Clan, Staten Island, where are we going next? Well, after you come across the Verizon of Bridgier in Bay Ridge, Brooklyn, and one of the most famous things about Bay Ridge, Brooklyn is that it was the setting for Saturday Night Fever, the movie, based on the fictional story written by Nick Cohn. And I believe that the film scenes actually used the disco 2001 Odyssey, which was a functioning disco in Bay Ridge in the late '70s. OK, so why don't have a song that they might well have played around that time in the disco in Bay Ridge. So a song by Sheik, the great disco band, called Sheik Cheer, which has a kind of like high school sports team cheer thing going on in this. And it very naturally gets you sort of pumped up and excited. Come on, everybody. Give me a C. C. Give me an H. H. Give me an H. I mean, it's such an incredible rhythm section. Also, Nile Rogers from Sheik, before Sheik, used to play in a bar band in Staten Island all the time. So he can be our Verizon of Bridg, connecting Staten Island in Brooklyn. What does it feel like to run to this? A song like this really does establish an atmosphere. It's long, it's open. There's a lot of instrumental sections in it. It has texture. It has amazing rhythm. It has a whistle. It has a whistle. Also, it's quite repetitive. It's great. But you know, when you think about it, so much music in the world is repetitive. Maybe the only music that is like noticeably not that repetitive is some classical music from the European classical tradition where the idea of variation was so important. But outside of that, music repeats. That's just what it does. And running is repetitive. But as we all know, there's some kinds of repetition that's really great. I'm sensing a theme here. Repetition, persistence, basically like music running just keeps you going without maybe a destination mind. Yes, thank you. I think it's heroic, this kind of thing. Although for the marathon, I suppose there is very much a destination, which is a finish line. But the thing about the New York City marathon is that it is a party. When the runners turn onto Lafayette in Brooklyn and around the nine mile marker, there are huge crowds. There are people with signs. We're cheering. So again, good to take your headphones out sometimes, take in the scene. But when we put them back in, we keep running. Now we're in Queens. What are we listening to? In Queens, you can think about Rendee MC, who came from Queens. And by that time, you will have been running for long enough that you have to moderate yourself. Unless you're a champion runner of the world, you have to slow down a bit. You have to find a pace that is agreeable, that's going to carry you through. Because at this point, you've been running for something like 13 miles. Yes. This is the part where you get tired. Yeah, and you have to reconcile yourself to not being fast, but just being persistent. Is that why you picked a song called "Walk this Way?" Is that what we're going to listen to? No, that would have been perfect. No, I picked "Slow and Low." OK. Let yourself go. Slow and low, that is the tempo. When this is being repeated in your ears over and over, it makes the idea of going slowly, but consistently seem really appealing. [MUSIC PLAYING] Sometimes I find myself going too fast, And I start to wonder why I'm feeling uncomfortable. And then I realized, oh, I'm going rather fast. And I have to tell myself, it's OK, slow down. Where are you going so fast? You know, cool it. [MUSIC PLAYING] And so to have a run DMC tell you that, you might make you listen. OK, so after Queens, technically you go through Manhattan. But then you get to the Bronx. [MUSIC PLAYING] Yeah, and so the song I chose for the Bronx is by a group that existed for a short time in the '70s called Grupo, Folklorico, Iexperimental, Nueva, Yorkino. And it was a group of New York-based musicians, some American-born, some from Cuba, et cetera, who all convened for these kind of intense practice sessions and listening sessions. In the basement of two musician brothers, the Gonzalez brothers, in the South Bronx. And it was a kind of like a laboratory. And out of this laboratory came this fantastic record. So there's a song from that record called "Canto e Bioso." It's a Cuban rumbo. But rumbo, in general, rumbo music in general, I find to be about as good as it gets for running. Why? Because it's relentlessly energetic. It's full of life. It's ecstatic. And it's also like there's so many things happening at once between the interplay of drums and voices. And also, the drums and voices aren't perfectly in sync. So there's lots of jostling going on. And especially running through a city, it's sort of perfect. [MUSIC PLAYING] Because the city is so busy and it kind of matches the music? Yeah, exactly. If I'd spent a whole day in the newsroom, and I'd left at the end of the day, especially if it was dark, I loved to walk around the Times Square area listening to rumbo records. Because all around me was flashing lights. And such a sensory experience. Oh, it's amazing. It's coming from all directions. And the music seemed like a perfect counterpoint to that. Yeah. [MUSIC PLAYING] OK, well, we have one more for a Manhattan. Well, Manhattan-- I mean, it's like the upward mobility capital of the world. It's almost funny sometimes. How Manhattan is this place that's just built on dreams of having the perfect department and the perfect job and being famous and all that. They're like, it's been that way for so long. So I thought of this song by Ashford and Simpson called Booji Booji, which is, again, like the Wu Tang song. It's an instrumental, and it's quite long, and it just keeps developing and growing and growing. And because it's an instrumental without lyrics, both of them great singers, but you can put yourself into it as a listener or as a runner. It's a glamorous song. And I think that by the end of this enormous tour through the burrows, you finally arrive at a part of New York that is almost objectively quite glamorous. You know what this music reminds me of as the non-music writer? It may I? What's that? OK, I can imagine this music playing over like a montage of glamorous city life at the beginning of a movie about the young woman coming to New York City with all her dreams. Then you see her coming out of her apartment building all excited before she gets crushed by whatever it is that happens in the second act. Yeah, now I agree with you. It is kind of a beginning-- it's a beginning song, like an opening montage, just kind of thing. And there was a great DJ named Larry LeVan, who was sort of-- who was presided over this great disco in the '70s and '80s called Paradise Garage. And he would use this song sometimes at the beginning of a set to sort of like tenderize people, get them ready. I like the idea of this song, helping with new beginnings. I think we're talking about a lot of new beginnings. I think we are. And it's funny that this would come at the end of a race. Well, Ben Ratliff, this has been a pleasure. Thank you so much. Thank you. Before we go, we have a special treat for all of you about to run the marathon. Ben made us a playlist for the entire run, all 26 miles. You can find a link to it in the show notes. And Ben Ratliff's book is called Run the Song, Writing About Running, About Listening. It was long listed for the 2025 National Book Award for Nonfiction. This episode was produced by Lena Richards and elicit Dudley with help from Alex Barron. It was edited by Wendy Dorr and contains music from Dan Powell, Diane Wong, and Mary and Luzano. Field recordings by Dan Powell, Mary and Luzano, Nick Pitman, Sophia Lannman, Alicia B. YouTube, and Pat McCusker. We had production assistants from Dahlia Hadad and Tina Antelini. It was engineered by Rowan Nemisto. That's it for the Sunday Daily. I'm Rachel Abrams. See you tomorrow. [BLANK_AUDIO]