Why Music Might Just Save Your Soul

You don’t need a scientist in a white coat to tell you: music changes you. Right there, on the spot. It shifts your mood, lifts you when you’re low, and sometimes even smacks you in the chest so hard you have to stop and catch your breath.

It’s not just background noise. It’s one of the few true magic tricks left in the world.

Every type of music has its place. Classical? It’s like a conversation with the universe. Blues? That’s the sound of every heartbreak you ever survived. Country tells the truth when nobody else will. Rock belts it out when you can’t find the words yourself. And electronic dance? Sometimes you just need to feel alive in your skin, no overthinking it.

Then there’s pop music. Let’s be bloody clear: pop writers get a bad rap they don’t deserve. It’s hard to write something simple, catchy, and powerful enough that millions of total strangers will tap their feet, sing along, or feel a little less alone for three minutes. Pop isn’t stupid. Pop is an artform. It’s popular because it works — because it feels good. And in a world this cooked sometimes, feeling good is no small thing.

Earlier today, I stumbled across something that put real words to an experience I’ve had a million times but never had a name for: frisson. That electric shiver you get when the music hits just right — a voice cracks, a drum kicks in, a key changes — and boom, goosebumps. Turns out it’s a full-body dopamine blast. Not imagined. Not coincidence. It’s your brain flipping all the lights on at once. How bloody brilliant is that?

Music cuts through everything. All your worries, all your bullshit. It goes deeper than thoughts. It reminds your body and your spirit that you’re still here, still human, still feeling. A song can pick you up off the floor when no mate, no shrink, no self-help book could. It can make a memory 20 years old feel like it happened this morning. It can crack your heart open in the best possible way.

If you ever needed proof that we’re meant for more than just working, worrying, and waiting — music’s it. It’s built into us. Little kids hum before they can talk. Ancient cultures sang before they wrote anything down. Even birds get in on the act. It’s primal. It’s sacred. It’s bloody necessary.

So whatever you listen to — pop, punk, polka, doesn’t matter — lean in. Play it loud. Play it soft. Sing badly in the car. Cry into your beer. Get goosebumps at the bridge. That’s living. That’s connecting. That’s real.

And while you’re at it, tip your hat to the musicians and the writers who spend their lives chasing that magic, capturing it in songs so you and I can plug straight into it whenever we need to feel human again.

Because at the end of the day, mate, life’s short — but music?

Music makes it bigger.