John Thompson describes harnessing raw sound, and eventually experimental music – such as the monotonous Krautrock seen above – to cope with a high-functioning developmental disorder:
Eventually, I learned to self-medicate through sound. Repetitious and regular sound is best for this purpose: laundry machines, police sirens, ticking clocks, ceiling fans. Sometimes I would hide in the dark of the crawlspace behind my bed and hold my enormous Manx cat to my ear as he purred himself to sleep. … Since that time my most beloved music has been characterized by revolving motifs and pointillism, from Can and kosmische to the rigid corners of dance music to its strains that felt more pure. Disabused of its human elements and compartmentalized into patterns, music presented itself as bare scaffolding that I could drape myself over. This music is what I’d been waiting to hear in that crawlspace, the order I’d been seeking all my life.
It was like this that I discovered there was a socially acceptable side to stimming, that I wouldn’t always have to pace, or torture my fists. Sound in a certain orderly placement exerts the same curtailing force on my mind that movement used to, and my headphones are a leash that keeps me in check. I wear them constantly, and although I’m aware that their constant presence can be seen as strangely hostile in some environments, they are a safety net I can’t afford to forfeit. Music is my sensory diet and also my self-care kit.
Recent Dish on the therapeutic quality of music here.
The Dish 