Take a step toward the wall mural in psychologist Sandra Trehub's lab, and you'll find yourself in a tropical rain forest, enveloped by a riot of purple flowers, lush green ferns, oversize butterflies and bees. The only thing missing is the cry of macaws. But take a step back, and you're likely to hear other cries— those of babies. And then it all makes sense— the forest, the Teletubbies, the toy trucks scattered on the floor, the graceful mobiles hanging from the ceiling, the picture books and bright posters. This is a lab where mothers and very small children feel comfortable. It is also a lab with a very specific quest, a search within the infant brain for the biological roots of music.
Music accompanies every human milestone, from baby-naming to marriage to memorials for the dead. It's found among every people on Earth. Is it hardwired into the brain or carried in our genes?Model: Doug Lohmeyer/Gilla Roos Body Painting by Tara Meadows
Thousands of babies have passed through this facility at the University of Toronto at Mississauga in the past 25 years, and each one has departed with a diploma attesting to his or her contribution to "the advancement of science and the understanding of child development." Here Trehub has observed parents singing to their babies and watched how the babies respond to those songs (they are mesmerized). She has studied the history and universality of lullabies (they sound the same the world over). She has documented the power of a mother's singing (it decreases stress hormones in her child). She also has found that babies seem to have an innate appreciation for music.
In one study, for example, a pudgy-faced, redheaded 8-month-old sits on his mother's lap in a soundproof booth, fascinated by the fluffy toy a smiling lady is waving in his face. In the corner, an audio speaker spits out a tinny little tune over and over— the sequence of notes arranged on the Western major scale (do re mi fa sol la ti do) familiar to fans of The Sound of Music. At first, the baby seems indifferent. Then an anomalous note— one that doesn't belong in the scale— intrudes on the recording, and he suddenly turns his head toward the speaker. He'll do this repeatedly when the wrong note is played.
