As someone with ASD, I’ve often found myself navigating the world in ways that are a little different from most. While these differences sometimes present challenges, they also open doors to unique experiences that might be closed to others. One such experience is my deep and abiding love for classical music—a genre that resonates with me on a profound level, in ways I now believe are deeply intertwined with my autistic traits.

I found myself contemplating this as I was listening to the BBC Proms performance of Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony, a singularly beautiful and complex piece.

https://www.bbc.co.uk/iplayer/episode/m0022g49/bbc-proms-2024-beethovens-ninth-unwrapped

A Symphony of Details

One of the hallmarks of my experience with ASD is a heightened perception of details. This trait isn’t just a quirk; it’s a lens through which I view – and hear – the world. Classical music, with its intricate interplay of instruments, rhythms, and themes, is like a rich tapestry woven from countless threads. While some might find this overwhelming, I thrive on it. The way a symphony unfolds, with different instruments carrying their own themes while still contributing to a greater whole, mirrors the way my mind naturally processes information. I’m not just hearing music; I’m experiencing it as a complex, multi-layered structure where every detail matters.

This ability to focus on the minutiae might be why I find myself particularly drawn to pieces that others might perceive as chaotic. Where they hear noise, I hear structure. The violins, the woodwinds, the brass – they’re not competing for my attention; they’re all part of the same conversation. This detail-oriented perception is a gift, allowing me to appreciate the full richness of classical music in a way that feels both immersive and deeply satisfying.

The Joy of Hyperfocus

Another aspect of ASD that enriches my experience with classical music is the capacity for deep focus. When I listen to a symphony, concerto, or sonata, I don’t just hear it – I enter into it. This is more than just listening; it’s an immersive experience where time seems to stop, and the music becomes my entire world. I can lose myself in the patterns and themes, noticing connections and details that others might miss. This state of hyperfocus is one of the great joys of my life, turning a simple listening session into something much more profound and fulfilling.

Emotional Resonance Without Words

Interestingly, I’ve always preferred instrumental music over vocal music. I find that lyrics can sometimes distract from the pure emotional and intellectual experience that music offers. For me, the beauty of a symphony or a sonata lies in its ability to convey deep emotions without the need for words. The emotions expressed in instrumental music are abstract, allowing me to interpret them in my own way, making the experience personal and unique every time.

This preference might also be related to how my brain processes information. Lyrics introduce an additional layer of cognitive processing – one that I don’t always find necessary or even helpful. Without them, I can focus entirely on the music itself, engaging with it on a level that feels more natural to me. The absence of words allows the music’s structure, complexity, and emotion to come to the forefront, providing a richer, more nuanced experience.

I started this entry by referring to Beethoven Symphony Number 9 … famously this is the Choral Symphony, yet, whilst I enjoy the rousing tune, its the rest of the symphony that I enjoy. From the also sinister opening bars, through the Bacchanal in the middle, the almost pastoral third movement, the dramatic openings of the forth which give way to the playful hints at the main theme of the last movement. Towards the end of the piece, when the choir is in full flight, my ability to appreciate and interpret what I am hearing breaks down as my brain tries to make sense of the words sung … and fails.

The Art of Listening to Everything

One of the more curious aspects of my experience with ASD is my ability to hear everything in a piece of music simultaneously, rather than separating background sounds from the foreground. In daily life, this can sometimes be overwhelming, as every sound competes for my attention. But in the context of classical music, this trait becomes a powerful asset.

When I listen to a piece, I don’t just focus on the melody or the most prominent instruments; I hear everything. The way the bassoon supports the strings, the subtle shifts in the timpani, the interplay between the flute and the oboe – these aren’t background details to me; they’re integral parts of the whole. This holistic approach to listening allows me to experience the full complexity of a piece in a way that is deeply satisfying. I don’t filter out the so-called background noise; instead, I integrate it into the overall experience, allowing me to appreciate the music’s richness and depth.

The Gift of Complexity

In many ways, my love for classical music feels like a natural extension of how my mind works. The complexity that might overwhelm others is something I embrace and find joy in. Classical music offers a world of order within chaos, structure within complexity, and emotion within abstraction – all of which resonate deeply with me.

Perhaps this connection to classical music is one of the ways my ASD enriches my life. It allows me to experience music in a way that is both intensely personal and uniquely fulfilling. In a world that often feels overwhelming, classical music provides a space where my mind can thrive, finding harmony in the very complexity that defines both the music and my own way of being.

And, perhaps, this is why an odd young boy was drawn to the wordless magic of the symphonic.