This is Your Brain on Cartoon Music
The following first appeared in the GRAND JUNCTION FREE PRESS:
Next time you listen to an old song, place your hand on your forehead. Modern brain imaging techniques have shown that right there, within millimeters of your palm, the synapses of what the scientists call your rostromedial prefrontal cortex are flashing like a cerebral disco ball. This same portion of your brain performs an important role in the creation of emotions, which might explain the powerful nostalgic effect of popular music in general — and the songs of Saturday morning TV in particular.
If you doubt the sentimental power of cartoon music, just try singing the theme to GEORGE OF THE JUNGLE in a room full of baby boomers, then count how many people have joined in by “Watch out for that tree!” Younger folk may experience similar warm fuzzies elicited by the music of, say, THE SMURFS or FRAGGLE ROCK. Many of the cartoons we adored as children appear repetitive, unoriginal and crassly commercial to an adult’s eyes, but their music continues to pack a formidable emotional wallop.
And for the past 50 years or so, pop music and children’s TV programming have commingled in a strange, symbiotic dance of cultural give and take. In the 1960s, charting pop acts like the Chipmunks, the Beatles and the Jackson Five morphed into popular Saturday morning cartoons. By the end of the decade, the worm had turned, when the Archies moved from Saturday morning TV screens to jukeboxes and radios with “Sugar Sugar,” the second-biggest pop hit of 1969.
Many talented songwriters and performers have contributed to the music of Saturday morning TV. Some years before she became Kris Munroe on CHARLIE’S ANGELS, the comely Cheryl Ladd was the singing voice of Melody in JOSIE AND THE PUSSYCATS. The Archies benefited from the production expertise of Jeff Barry, who had already engineered pop chart success for the likes of Neil Diamond and the Monkees. And some of the songs performed by Hanna-Barbera’s zany BANANA SPLITS were written by musical luminaries like ’60s pop star Gene Pitney and the late Barry White, who would go on to solo success as the great romantic of the disco floor a few years later. Even rock legend Al Kooper — whose keyboards lace legendary albums like Bob Dylan’s HIGHWAY 61 REVISITED, Jimi Hendrix’s ELECTRIC LADYLAND and the Rolling Stones’ LET IT BLEED — wrote a couple of songs for Bingo, Snorky, Fleegle and Drooper.