There’s a song by the group Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young that I can’t seem to shake. It’s not one of their better or more renowned songs. It’s called Night Song, and it comes from the album American Dream, largely considered the group’s weakest. It’s the musical lynchpin for an episode of the 1980s Twilight Zone revival, also called Night Song, that isn’t particularly good. Its lyrics are weak, and its production is messy. On top of that, I don’t even listen to CSNY.
And yet there’s something about this song’s dated, aggressively ‘80s synths that resonates with something deep inside me. An overwhelming sense of melancholy, of loneliness, permeates every bar. Night Song feels like something you’d listen to driving down a darkened highway in the middle of nowhere. You’re probably the only one in the car, or at least the only one awake. Very few other people are sharing the road with you. Silhouetted hills loom in the distance, imposing. It’s all very liminal — and very haunting.
Night Song is a weird, left-field example of how music can speak to us on a deeper, almost subliminal level. Certain sounds and chord progressions can evoke emotional responses that seem to come out of nowhere. They make us nostalgic for places we’ve never been and people we’ve never met. Or we associate them so strongly with particular moments in our lives that hearing just one note transports us back in time. Music is not only one of our oldest forms of entertainment, but in many ways it’s a language of its own — one we all can understand.
Bringing People Together
Music, as it has evolved in humankind, allows for unique expressions of social ties and the strengthening of relational connectedness.
–Jay Schulkin and Greta B. Raglan, The Evolution of Music and Human Social Capability
Music is a uniquely human experience, one that transcends cultural and linguistic boundaries. Recent studies demonstrate that what we recognize as music follows similar patterns and characteristics across cultures. This implies that music is not merely a development of culture but plays an evolutionary role. While we’re still not entirely sure what that role is, research suggests that music helps us build and strengthen relationships with each other.
For much of my life, I’ve witnessed and appreciated music’s ability to bring people together and cultivate a sense of belonging. I grew up going to a lot of sing-alongs, from Friday Morning Gathering assemblies at my elementary school to bus rides and campfires at Girl Scout summer camp. Throughout my childhood, we used songs as lessons (“We recycle! We don’t just throw it away!”), games (“This is a repeat-after-me song!”), and affirmations of community. I spent much of high school deeply entrenched in music fandom, where we treated our favorite bands like extensions of our souls. Even now, I would consider few experiences more invigorating than screaming the lyrics of your favorite song alongside thousands of other people. For one moment in time, you and everyone around you are united as one.
Music also connects people even if they aren’t in the same physical space or time period! Traditional folk songs, hymns, and classical compositions can endure for centuries, even millennia. They can provide us glimpses into bygone eras and lost civilizations, keeping pieces of culture and people alive. To this day, audiences still pack auditoriums to hear Mozart’s operas and Tchaikovsky’s ballets. Meanwhile, protest songs like We Shall Overcome remind us of our common struggle, of the battles fought and won by those who came before us.
Telling Stories
Common wisdom in musical theatre is that when a character is too overcome with emotion to speak, they instead sing. Katie Birenboim refers to the song and dance elements of musical theater as “little windows into the characters’ souls.” They render visible the ecstasy, rage, and despair that a character might otherwise lack the willingness or capability to express.
Music can elevate a story by allowing audiences access to that inner dimension, like a Shakespearean aside with more punch. Catchy refrains and soaring high notes can stick with you long after the dialogue has faded from memory. Two of the most popular musicals in recent memory, Hamilton and Six, are essentially history lessons with a modern twist. They reveal a layer of humanity in figures like Alexander Hamilton and Anne Boleyn that would be much harder to find in a history textbook.
Movies, meanwhile, exploit music’s emotional power as an additional storytelling tool. Conclave’s intense, string-heavy score emphasizes the heightened tension between the cardinals as they fight to become the new Pope. Carl and Ellie’s moving love story in Up gains much of its poignance from its Oscar-winning musical accompaniment, Married Life. The opening theme of The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly perfectly sets the stage for tense standoffs at high noon in the Wild West.
As an avid playlist-maker and occasional writer, I consider playlists a fun way to think about stories — my own and other people’s. Songs help me get a feel for a character or a world’s overall vibe: does this person lash out or brood in their angst? Is our world gritty and dark or mystical and ethereal? These curated soundtracks act almost as a subliminal inner monologue or narrator, bringing a story to life in a way that feels more tangible than mere words. (They’re also a highly effective way to procrastinate.)
Personal Meaning
Our individual experiences with music are subjective and incredibly personal. Sometimes it’s about the way a melody sounds or a beat hits. Sometimes it’s about the lyrics, how a songwriter can put our joy or pain into words, make us feel seen.
Sometimes it has less to do with the song itself than the context we put it in, the associations we create. Like how Defying Gravity takes on new meaning when Cynthia Erivo, a queer Black woman, belts its triumphant finale on national television. Or how Die with a Smile will always remind me of my grandpa because it came out the day of his funeral. Lady Gaga’s Mayhem feels like a defiant spark of joy amid increased attacks on LGBTQ+ rights. Kendrick Lamar’s Super Bowl halftime show was an unapologetic celebration of Black American history and culture, made even more impactful by its timing.
Music can help us hold onto our sense of self even when it begins to slip away. It’s become a powerful treatment for various psychological and neurodegenerative conditions, such as Alzheimer’s disease. The late singer Tony Bennett continued to perform sold-out shows even as his memory declined. Former ballerina Marta Cinta González Saldaña, also suffering from Alzheimer’s, moved viewers around the world with a mini performance of Swan Lake entirely from muscle memory. And of course, I have to mention the end of Coco, when Miguel plays Remember Me for his aging great-grandmother and she becomes, for a moment, a girl again.
Humans have made music for thousands of years and will likely continue to do so as long as we can. It’s one of the many ways we express ourselves and our relationship with the world, evolving with us over generations of history and innovation. We want to know: How has music shaped your life? What songs mean something special to you? Stop by our Instagram, Bluesky, or Facebook and share your stories.
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