In Noah Baumbach's "The Squid and the Whale," the younger sibling, Frank, played with deft expressionism by the rising star Owen Kline (the son of Kevin and Phoebe Cates), there are numerous sexually uncomfortable scenes underscored by a minimalist piece of music, presumably written by the film's composers, Luna's Britta Philips and Dean Wareham. To me, the music sounded like an inescapable homage to a few minimalist anthems, the stuff of Terry Riley and Steve Reich. I'm still unsure of the actual piece of music I'm speaking about, but details aren't terribly important here, for the issue at hand is not who wrote these pop-hypnotic musical cells but how well they help one feel uncomfortable when faced with a child's distress. I came to listen to this form of music -- in both its original and popified variety -- when I was in college, and for me it was always soothing -- not in the way that a boomer might find Hadyn soothing on the drive home -- but in the philosophical sense. After seeing Baumbach's film, which I respect but can't seem to write about for various reasons, I listened to Reich's Music for 18 Musicians, and realized just how jarring some of this music can be. I worry that I might now associate something with a form of music that never carried with it any clear associations before. This too shall pass, I imagine. But for now, Terry Riley makes me want to squirm.