Mahler’s Fifth is the perfect soundtrack to a tooth extraction

Frantic chewing of sugar-coated nicotine gum had caused my left lower molar to go irretrievably rotten, and the dentist finally extracted it after a prolonged and heroic struggle. Mahler’s Symphony No. 5 in C-sharp minor was playing in the background and the extraordinary thing was that from start to finish the music exactly mirrored the vicissitudes of his battle to pull the tooth out. While we waited for the anaesthetic to take effect the music was gently soporific. As he applied his pliers to the tooth and carefully loosened it, the mood darkened and built to a turbulent climax until I gestured with an unhappy hand signal that I could feel the roots twisting in a place that the anaesthetic had yet to reach. He downed tools and placed two more injections of anaesthetic deep in the gum. As he did so the musical tsunami crested and broke and then flowed calmly again.

The roots were unfortunately bifurcated and it took him ten minutes of hard, sweaty physical labour with several rests in between — during which he flexed and massaged the strained muscles in his forearm — to loosen the tooth without snapping it off the roots. Again, the increasing intensity of his exertions and his periods of rest were exactly matched by the sweeping emotional ebb and flow of Mahler’s Fifth Symphony. It was as if the man were being subliminally directed by it. The match was so perfect that during one of his resting periods I asked him if the music he was playing was carefully chosen. The suggestion was peremptorily dismissed, however. ‘Music? I put music on because it’s better than silence, that’s all. I’m not even hearing it,’ he said, making a fist and flexing his strained forearm.