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Please pause here. Welcome back to Pause Here, where we delve into the art and science of breathing to improve our daily lives. I'm your host, Sarah, here to guide you through the science and simplicity of breathing, meditation and relaxation techniques that can transform your day, your health and even your sleep. This episode is about how different genres of music can shift your emotions in your nervous system, not just in a vague music effects mood way, but in a real embodied way, through tempo, rhythm, repetition, unpredictability, texture and the whole energy setting music creates around us and inside us.
We use music all the time, to focus, to calm down, to wake up, to grieve, to cope. But we do not always stop to ask what it is actually doing to us. Is this song helping me settle? Is it helping me feel? Is it helping me process something?
Or is it quietly winding me up even more? A slower tempo can feel settling. A restless beat can feel energizing. Repetition can feel meditative. Predictability can help the brain relax.
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Harsh textures can feel agitating or cathartic. But that's only half the story. The other half is all you. Your memories, your taste, your history with a genre. What a song meant to you at 16.
What your body has learned to associate with safety, heartbreak, comfort, rebellion or release. So when we ask whether classical music is calming or heavy metal is aggressive, the answer is sometimes. Because, well, for one person, a soft piano might feel like peace. For someone else, it might feel empty or sad. For one person, heavy metal might feel like overwhelm.
And for another, it might feel like structure, release, or finally hearing something big enough to hold what they feel inside. So that's where we're heading today. We're going to do some research, slow it down, get curious and listen a little more closely to the ways music shapes our emotions, attention and our bodies. Because sometimes the playlist is not just background noise, sometimes it's our nervous systems environment. So let's start with figuring out what is actually happening inside the body when music affects us.
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Because I think sometimes we talk about music as if it lives only in taste, or memory, or mood. Like it's this soft floating emotional thing. But music is physical. It is vibration. It's timing.
It's pattern. It is expectation. And the body responds to all of that. In a very real sense, our nervous systems are always asking a few quiet questions in the background. Am I safe?
Am I mobilizing? Am I overwhelmed? And music can often nudge the answer. That doesn't mean a song can magically fix everything. But it does mean music can influence breathing, heart rate, blood pressure, arousal, stress chemistry and emotional processing in ways that are measurable, not just poetic.
Research on music and physiology has linked different kinds of music to changes in cardiovascular and respiratory activity, perceived stress and stress recovery, especially when tempo, structure and listener experience are taken into account. One of the clearest ways music affects the nervous system is through activation. Not excitement in the everyday sense, but how revved up or settled your system gets. Think of it like an internal dial. On one end, you have lower activation, slower breathing, softer muscle tension, less urgency, a greater sense of ease.
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But turn that dial right up to the other end and you have higher activation, faster breathing, more alertness, more readiness, more energy, sometimes more agitation. And music can move that dial. There is research showing that music can influence breathing patterns and cardiovascular responses and that musical structure matters. One study found that changes in tempo and musical phrasing were associated with changes in breathing and circulation, and interestingly, that silence mattered too. The pause in between pieces is not neutral, they have their own physiological effect.
And I love that, because it means that silence is part of the music's effect. The pause matters, the release matters, the contrast matters. Sometimes, what changes the body is not just the sound, it's the space after the sound. We tend to think about relaxation as a property of a song, as if a piece of music is just relaxing on its own. But really, the nervous system is responding to a whole relationship between movement and rest, tension and release, sound and silence.
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So if a song feels calming, it may not only be because it is slow, it may also be because it gives your system room. Another piece of this puzzle is stress. Not just whether music changes our mood in the moment, but whether it changes how we recover from stress. Because sometimes we use music almost like wallpaper. We throw it on and assume it's just in the background.
But music can shape the way the body comes down after a challenge. Studies have found that listening to music can influence subjective anxiety and physiological stress markers like heart rate and blood pressure. There's also evidence that music can affect cortisol-related stress responses and recovery after an acute stressor. That means that music is not just about how you feel when the song is playing, it may also be about how quickly your body believes it's allowed to come back down. And that is huge because many of us are not walking around in one gigantic dramatic crisis.
We are often walking around in tiny unfinished stress responses all day long. Emails, noise, bad sleep, social tension, deadlines, traffic, life. And if music helps the nervous system recover even a little bit faster, or helps you stay from escalating quite so hard in the first place, that matters. It's not trivial.
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Now I do want to be careful here because I think this is where oversimplified wellness language can tend to creep in. Not all slow music is soothing, not all fast music is dysregulating, and not all relaxing music will actually relax you. A track can be objectively soft and still feel emotionally unsettling. A calm piano piece can make one person feel safe and another person feel lonely. A highly energetic song can feel stressful for one listener and empowering to another.
So again, we come back to the body and the biography. The sound matters, but the relationship to that sound matters too. What does your body associate with this kind of sound? Do you soften into it or brace against it? Does it lower the temperature in you or raise it?
Research on neurochemistry of music also suggests that music's effects are not just about vague feelings but involve systems linked to reward, stress and bonding, including dopamine and cortisol-related pathways. So, when a song makes you feel relief, anticipation, comfort, tears, motivation or release, it's not just in your head. I mean, it is in your head, but it's also in your body. And I think that kind of noticing can completely change the way we listen to music. Because once you start paying attention, you realize that music is not neutral in your life.
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It is often shaping your internal environment, sometimes beautifully, sometimes accidentally, sometimes in ways you did not realize until you stopped long enough to feel them. So, maybe one useful way to think about it is this. Music can stimulate, music can settle, music can help process, and music can sometimes do all three in different proportions all at once. A slow, ambient piece might soften the edges of the day. A steady instrumental track might help organize your attention.
A loud, emotionally intense song might help you deal with something that's been trapped inside. A song with the wrong tempo, texture or emotional charge might tip you further into overwhelm. All of that just means your nervous system is listening. And this is where I think the conversation gets even more interesting, because if music affects the body this much, then the next question is what exactly in the music is doing this? A big part of the answer to what exactly in the music is influencing your nervous system is tempo, rhythm and predictability.
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Because before we even get to lyrics, nostalgia, genre identity or personal memories, your body is already responding to the motions and patterns of the music. It notices pace. It notices repetition. It notices whether something feels steady or jagged. It notices whether it can anticipate what is coming next.
And that matters because your brain is not just hearing music, it is constantly making predictions about it. It's listening ahead. It's guessing what beat will land next, whether the next phrase will resolve, whether the rhythm will continue, whether the tension will release. And when music either meets those predictions, delays them or breaks them, we feel that. Not just intellectually, but physically and emotionally.
Research on musical expectation has long argued that emotion in music is deeply tied to anticipation, fulfilment, delay and surprise. Research on music and low-level psychoacoustic features also suggests that moment-to-moment emotional response can be predicted from structural properties of the music itself. So let's break this down. First, we have the tempo. Tempo is one of the most immediate signals music gives to your body.
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A fast tempo often feels like movement, urgency, propulsion, activation. Slow tempos often feel like spaciousness, settling, gravity. This means that the tempo is telling your nervous system something about the energy of the environment. A fast song says, in a way, we are moving now. Well, a slow song says, we've got some time.
And because we are rhythmic creatures, our bodies often respond accordingly. Not perfectly, not mechanically, but often enough that we all know the feeling. A faster beat can make your walking speed change without you even noticing. A slow suspended piano piece can make the room feel like it suddenly got bigger. A mid-tempo groove can make you feel more organized inside, like your scattered thoughts have been given a spine.
That is why tempo is such a powerful part of regulation. Sometimes what you need is not to calm down immediately. Sometimes what you need is a bridge. Not silence, not sedation, just a tempo that meets you where you are and nudges you one step over. And I think that's really useful to think about music selection.
Not what is the calmest possible song I could be listening to right now, but what tempo can my body actually trust right now? Because if you are highly activated, very slow music may feel amazing, or it may feel irritating. It may feel too far away from where you are, impossible to get to. Your system may just simply reject it. It may feel like someone telling you to relax and your whole body going, absolutely not.
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Whereas a slightly slower but still gently pulsing track, might feel a bit more believable to your body. More followable, more regulating. Then there's rhythm. If tempo is the speed, rhythm is the shape of movement inside that speed. Rhythm is how the music steps, and rhythm matters because it gives the body something to organize around.
A steady pulse can feel anchoring, a groove can feel like a guiding hand, a repetitive rhythmic pattern can gather a scattered mind and bring it back to focus. This is part of why people talk about getting locked in with a song. You're not just hearing it, your body and nervous system is aligning to it. That process is often described as entrainment. The tendency of internal processes or bodily rhythms to synchronize, at least loosely, with an external rhythm or pulse.
In music research, entrainment is one of the major ways rhythm is thought to affect movement, attention and emotion. I think we all understand entrainment somewhat intuitively. It's when your foot starts tapping to the beat before you've even realized. When your breath changes because the music's changed. When a repeated beat starts to gather your attention and your mind stops darting around quite so much.
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Rhythm can be regulating because it provides orientation. A stable rhythm can create a sense of containment. It can make the body feel held by a pattern. But rhythm can also do the opposite. An irregular rhythm or one with constant interruptions, off-balance accents, abrupt shifts or a lot of jagged attacking can feel thrilling, unsettling, demanding or destabilizing.
Again, this is not always bad. Sometimes that's exactly the point. Sometimes a broken rhythm feels alive because it keeps the system alert. Sometimes complexity is energizing. But if your system is already overloaded, too much rhythmic unpredictability may feel like one more thing to keep track of, one more thing to brace against.
Now let's talk about predictability. Your brain is constantly trying to reduce uncertainty, not eliminate all novelty, we would get bored, but reduce enough uncertainty to feel in control and orientated. Music plays with that beautifully. It gives us patterns, then it repeats them, then it slightly changes them, then it delays the resolution, and then it gives us the payoff. That cycle of expectation and release is a huge part of what musical emotion is.
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So, when music feels satisfying, part of what you may be enjoying is not only the sound itself, but the way your predictions are being managed. A phrase resolved where you hoped it would. A chorus lands exactly where you wanted it. A beat drops after just enough tension. A repeated figure returns and your whole system goes, yep, there it is.
That kind of predictability can feel safe. Not boring safe. Structured safe. And for a nervous system that has been dealing with too much ambiguity, too much chaos, too much emotional static, predictability can be a relief. This is also one of the reasons why repetition feels so good.
Repetition is powerful and sometimes gets underrated because we confuse it with simplicity. But repetition is not trivial. It can be a container. It can narrow the field of attention and it can reduce cognitive load. It can turn listening into something almost mantra-like.
Repetition can deepen absorption, intensify meaning and create a kind of suspended attention state. A repeated rhythm or motive can help the mind stop chasing novelty for just a moment. And that can be deeply regulating. This is part of why drones, ambient loops, white noise, minimalist piano, steady electronic textures, chanting and groove-based music can all feel meditative in very different ways. They reduce the demand to constantly reorient.
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They make attention less effortful. They give your nervous system fewer surprises to guard against. Now, of course, repetition can become irritating. If you are restless, understimulated, and just not in a relationship with a sound, repetition can feel claustrophobic instead of calming. Again, same principle.
The feature itself matters, but the listener's state matters too. That all being said, the goal of a musical piece is not total predictability. It would flatten music. Part of what makes music feel alive is the surprise. A lift in harmony, a dramatic drum entrance, a silence where you expected sound, a note held longer than expected, a beat that lands slightly differently the second time.
Surprising music keeps our attention engaged. It creates tension and release, and it gives music shape. The question is not whether surprise exists. The question is how much surprise your system can metabolize in any given moment. A small deviation inside a stable pattern can feel exciting.
Too much unpredictability, especially when you are already stressed, may feel jarring. So sometimes regulation is not about removing surprise, it's about finding the right ratio between familiarity and novelty. Enough pattern to feel safe, enough variation to stay present. That balance is part of why some songs feel so perfect for certain moods. They do not overwhelm the prediction system, but they do not bore it either.
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And once you start hearing music this way, as tempo, pulse, repetition, expectation, tension, release, genre starts to make a little more sense. Because genres are not just labels, they are collections of patterns. Different genres tend to carry different relationships to speed, rhythmic density, repetition, contrast and predictability. Which means different genres often create different emotional climates.
Now that we've gone over tempo, rhythm, repetition, and predictability, we can start looking at genre a little bit differently. Different genres tend to gather certain patterns together. Certain tempos, textures, production styles, vocal qualities, rhythmic habits, emotional codes, and ways of handling tension and release. So when we say a genre feels calming, intense, raw, spacious, dramatic, euphoric, or cathartic, we are often responding to that whole package. And this is where I think the conversation gets really interesting, because genre affects us through both sound and meaning.
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There's the sound of the genre, what it does acoustically, and then there's what it means to us, culturally, emotionally, autobiographically. So this is not going to be a tidy ranking of good regulating genres and bad regulating genres. It is much more nuanced than that. Because the same genre that overwhelms one person can regulate another. The same song that dysregulates one nervous system can make another feel seen, held or released.
Research on music and emotional regulation keeps pointing back to this idea. People do not choose music only for its acoustic features, but for what it helps them do emotionally. That includes calming down, feeling validated, increasing energy, processing anger and moving through stress. Work on extreme music also suggests that for many listeners, heavier music genres can serve functions like cathartic, mood regulation and identity support, rather than simply causing distress or aggression. So, let's walk through a few contrasts.
Classical vs Metal. This is probably the most obvious place to start, because people often treat this like the simplest contrast in the music world. Classical equals calm, Metal equals chaos. But that framing really falls apart as soon as you look a little closer. Because classical is not one thing.
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A slow piano nocturne is not the same nervous system experience as a huge stormy orchestral finale. Some classical music feels spacious, tonal, flowing and breathable. It may offer long phrases, dynamic sensitivity, lower rhythmic aggression and the kind of predictability that allows the body to soften. That can feel deeply regulating. It can slow your internal tempo.
It can widen the room inside your mind. It can give emotion shape without overwhelming it. And that is part of why classical music shows up so often in relaxation, reflection and guided imagery settings. But even then, it is not because classical is inherently healing. It is because certain pieces often use qualities that many nervous systems experience as less demanding.
Slower tempo, smoother phrasing, gentle timbres, more space, more dynamic contour, less relentless attacking. So classical can regulate by creating spaciousness. But metal music is where things get especially interesting. Because from the outside, metal can sound like the exact opposite of regulation. It can be loud, dense, fast, distorted, rhythmically forceful, vocally intense.
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On paper, it looks like pure activation. And acoustically, yes, it is often highly activating. But activating is not the same thing as dysregulating. And that distinction matters a lot. For some listeners, especially fans of heavy metal music, it can be incredibly regulating.
Not because it lowers stimulation, but because it gives that excess energy somewhere to go. It can provide containment for anger, structure for overwhelm, validation for intensity. A sense that the music is emotionally honest enough to match what they actually feel. In other words, metal music may regulate not by soothing, but by metabolizing. There's research suggesting that heavy metal music can help fans process anger, increasing feelings like inspiration rather than simply causing aggression.
Some listeners use intense music deliberately for catharsis and emotional release. And I think that is such an important corrective. Because sometimes people talk about regulation as if it only counts when it looks peaceful from the outside. But that's just not true. Sometimes regulation sounds like a string quartet.
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And other times it sounds like a wall of distortion. Sometimes your nervous system needs softness. Sometimes it needs force that feels organized enough to hold what's inside. So I think one useful way of thinking about it is that classical music often regulates through spaciousness, whereas metal music can regulate through containment.
Now let's take a look at rock music vs pop music. This comparison is a little subtler. Both can be energetic, both can be catchy, both can be emotional. But they often build different kinds of internal climates. Pop often leans heavily on reward through predictability that we mentioned previously.
Clear hooks, memorable repetition, strong chorus payoffs, rhythmic consistency, production that guides the ear cleanly. And that can feel really good to your nervous system. A good pop song often gives your brain exactly enough novelty to stay interested, while giving your body enough pattern to feel orientated. It's easy to follow, easy to anticipate, easy to sing along with, easy to inhabit. But that doesn't make it shallow, it makes it efficient.
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Pop can regulate by making pleasure accessible. It can create quick coherence. It can give the system a familiar pathway. Verse, chorus, verse, chorus, bridge, chorus. And because of that, pop often feels emotionally legible.
You know where the song is taking you. And that kind of clarity can be surprisingly soothing. Rock, on the other hand, often carries a little bit more grit, push and edge. More attack in the drums, more distortion or roughness in the guitars, more dynamic swing. Even when rock is catchy, it often feels less polished in its emotional posture.
A little more friction, a little more drive, a little more body. That means rock music may regulate your body differently. It may not calm you by smoothing everything out. It may regulate by helping you move, by giving frustration momentum, by turning passivity into agency, by making you feel less collapsed. Of course, as mentioned in the previous comparison, this varies song to song, but speaking in broad brushstrokes, both are incredibly useful.
Pop music can feel rewarding and organizing. Rock music can feel mobilizing and emboldening. For someone who is emotionally flat, a rock track may do more good than a gentle ambient piece. For someone who is already feeling a bit jagged and overcaffeinated, pop's cleaner structure may feel easier to hold on to. Again, same question.
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What state am I in and what state is this music creating in my body? One last comparison for now. Alternative Music vs Emo Music. This one is quite rich emotionally. Alternative is such a broad category, but in the kind of everyday language people use, alt often points to music that feels atmospheric, textural, slightly detached, moody, observational, maybe a little spacious or angular.
It can create distance, not emotional numbness exactly, but just creating room. Alt can feel like standing beside your feeling and looking at it under a certain light. It often regulates through atmosphere, through texture, through mood, through ambiguity. This can be incredibly helpful when you need space around an emotion, rather than full immersion into it. Emo music, by contrast, feels much more immediate, more confessional, more lyrically exposed, more emotionally driven, more unresolved.
Emo music often does not stand beside the feeling, it steps right into it. And this can often make people assume that it is somehow less regulating because it is intense. But I think that misunderstands what regulation sometimes is. Not all regulation means reducing a feeling. Sometimes, regulation means allowing a feeling to become coherent.
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Allowing sadness, anger, longing or heartbreak to take a form that feels shareable and survivable. Emo music may not soothe by reducing emotional charge, it may soothe by offering recognition. By saying, yes, this is messy, yes, this hurts, yes, this matters. And there is something profoundly regulating about being emotionally mirrored. So, I might put it like this.
Alternative music often regulates through distance and atmosphere, while emo music often regulates through immersion and recognition. If you're feeling overwhelmed, you may need music that gives you more room around that feeling. But if you're feeling disconnected from yourself, you may need music that helps you enter that feeling honestly. But to reiterate one of the most important points, genre effects are not universal. Preference matters, familiarity matters, personal history matters.
The same genre that overwhelms one person can regulate another. One person hears noise, another hears home. And that's why the better question is not which genre is best for the nervous system. It's what does this genre tend to do acoustically and what does it do to me personally? And that is perhaps a more honest question.
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Because different genres can support different nervous system needs. Classical music might help with slowing and widening. Heavy metal music might help with containment and catharsis. Pop music might help with reward and structure. Rock music might help with momentum and agency.
Alternative music might help with spacious moods and observation. Emo music might help with immersion and emotional recognition. None of these are moral categories. They are just different ways music can help your body. So the next time you put some music on, pause for just a few seconds and ask, what do I need right now?
Do I need calming? Do I need movement? Do I need comfort? Do I need honesty? Do I need something that helps me feel less alone?
Do I need something that gives my nervous system more space? Then, after a song or two, ask again, is this helping? Not in a huge dramatic way, just gently. Is it helping to settle me? Is this helping to organize my thoughts?
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Is this bringing me closer to myself? Or is this pulling me further away? These questions can change your whole relationship with music because then your playlist becomes less random. It becomes more responsive. And one of the most practical things you can do is build playlists by function, not just by genre.
So instead of only having a songs I like playlist, you might have a grounding playlist, a processing playlist, a moving through a playlist, a heartbreak playlist, a soft landing playlist, an everyday playlist, a work sucked playlist. That kind of intentional music use shows up both in research and real life listening practices. People often use music purposefully to manage anxiety, stress and mood, and many find it helpful to prepare playlists ahead of time rather than choosing reactively in the moment. Not every song has to heal you. Not every playlist has to be optimized.
Sometimes you can just want to blast something in the kitchen and be alive, and that counts too. But being a little more mindful with our choices and thinking ahead a little bit more might help you out in a future tough spot. So maybe that's the real invitation here. To listen a little more closely. Not just to the music, but to yourself inside the music.
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Because music is never just background.
Thanks for pausing here with me today. If you've enjoyed our time together, try out the Pausing Point app for more mindful rest. Why not share this episode with someone who could use a pause in their playlist? And don't forget to follow us on your favorite podcast platforms to never miss an episode. If you want, you can also follow us on our social media platforms.
We're at Pausing Point to get updates and stay connected.
Guided Practice
Next time on Pause Here, we're getting into the temperature trick, hot, cold, and why your body cares so much. From sauna research to circadian temperature dips and cold exposure studies, the science suggests that temperature is not just background, it's one of the body's core signals for safety, recovery and readiness. Before we finish today, I want to leave you with a small moment to pause with a quick guided meditation. If you can, let your body get a little bit more comfortable. Nothing dramatic, just soften where you can.
Maybe sit down, close your eyes, or just soften your gaze. And take one slow breath in, and a slow breath out. Breathing in, and out.
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Now just notice your body as it is. Right here in this moment. Notice your shoulders, your jaw, your chest, your stomach. Notice whether you feel settled, restless, tired, heavy, open, buzzed, or somewhere in between. No need to change anything.
Just notice. And now, bring to mind a piece of music that feels grounding to you. Not what should feel grounding. Not what other people would choose. Just a sound, a song, an artist, or even a texture of music that your body trusts.
You don't have to hear it perfectly. Just imagine it. And as you do, notice what happens inside of you. Does your breath change? Do your shoulders soften?
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Does your chest feel more open? Do your thoughts slow down even a little? Or maybe nothing changes right away? And that's okay too.
Now ask yourself, What kind of sound do I need today? Do I need more softness? More space? More honesty? More movement?
More comfort? More release? Take one more slow breath in. And a slow breath out. Gently blink your eyes open if you close them.
Wiggle your fingers and toes. And as you go back out into the rest of your day, carry this with you. The playlist is not just background noise. It's part of your inner environment. So listen kindly, choose gently and notice what brings you back to yourself.
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I'm Sarah and you've been listening to Pause Here. Until next time, breathe deeply and listen a little closer.
