I'll concede the point

Research discussed in an article in Sunday's New York Times confirmed what the peddlers at WCRB were hoping nobody would realize: that classical music excites the brain.

Observing 13 subjects who listened to classical music while in an M.R.I. machine, the scientists found a cascade of brain-chemical activity. First the music triggered the forebrain, as it analyzed the structure and meaning of the tune. Then the nucleus accumbus and ventral tegmental area activated to release dopamine, a chemical that triggers the brain’s sense of reward.

The cerebellum, an area normally associated with physical movement, reacted too, responding to what Dr. Levitin suspected was the brain’s predictions of where the song was going to go. As the brain internalizes the tempo, rhythm and emotional peaks of a song, the cerebellum begins reacting every time the song produces tension (that is, subtle deviations from its normal melody or tempo).

That sure sounds like relaxation to me!

Of course, maybe I'm not giving them credit. On a recent trip to New York, I hit a bump hard in Queens. (More fairly, I think, the bump hit me.) This damaged the underbelly of my car.

Because of the brevity of my trip (only about 36 hours), and because it was the weekend, I didn't have an opportunity to have to have my car inspected by a mechanic and cleared for the trip back to Boston. I did my best to rig up the loose parts with duck tape, said a quick prayer, and started driving. I didn't get very far; I left the part in question on the shoulder of the JFK. (I wonder if it's still there; I wasn't really in a position to try to retrieve it.)

So here I was, with 200 miles ahead of me in a car that, for all I knew, could fail at any moment. That it ultimately turned out to be a dispensible part is irrelevant; at the time, I didn't know. For the drive, I'd brought a number of 20th century operas. With my nerves on edge as they were, Wozzeck was not helping.

In this situation, I needed something to silence the voice in my head that was warning of the impending $500 towing bill or being stranded somewhere in Connecticut, or something in between. Yet, I couldn't impair my ability to drive.

I made it home, and visited the mechanic the next day. He said everything would be fine, and I went back to listening to Wozzeck.

In that very peculiar circumstance, the lobotomy that commercial classical radio provides proved helpful. I'll concede the point.