Music is Medicine: Why it Belongs in Every School

When Ed Sheeran wrote to the government this month, calling for renewed investment in music education, one line stayed with me: “Music gave me purpose, it helped with my mental health, it brought me joy.”

That quiet truth — tucked among powerful arguments about opportunity and economy — reminded me just how much music gives us, often in the moments we need it most.

As you may know, I often talk about the power of our senses — sight, touch, smell, taste, and sound — as not just experiences but emotional lifelines. And of all the senses, music is perhaps the most profound. It has the capacity to lift us when we feel low, to calm our racing hearts, to energise us when we’re stuck and to comfort us when we feel alone.

This is why I believe music must be at the heart of every child’s education — not simply to create the stars of tomorrow, but to support the wellbeing of our children today.

In my work as a psychotherapist, I’ve seen the power of music again and again. A song becomes a lifeline for an anxious teenager. A rhythm helps regulate overwhelming emotions. Singing in a group gives a child who feels invisible a sense of belonging. For some children, strumming a few chords on a guitar is the first time they feel confident. For others, listening to music becomes a way to make sense of the world — and of themselves. And of course, this doesn’t only apply to children.

Music is something we carry with us for life. It connects us to memories, to people, to parts of ourselves we may have forgotten. One song can take us back to a time we felt safe. Another can move us to tears in ways we don’t fully understand. When we’re grieving, anxious, uncertain or disconnected — music often finds the words we can’t. It speaks directly to our nervous systems. It grounds us.

That’s why I often encourage people — whether they’re 8 or 80 — to create a small set of emotional playlists: one for calm, one for joy, one to help release emotion. These simple tools can make all the difference in a tough moment. Music is not passive — it’s active care.

The national campaign, led by Sheeran and supported by more than 600 artists including Elton John, Stormzy, Harry Styles and Coldplay, is calling for £250 million to restore music education in schools. It speaks to the scale of what’s been lost — and what we still have time to protect.

Because when music disappears from our classrooms, we don’t just lose creativity. We lose connection. We lose joy. We lose one of the most powerful ways we can help young people feel heard, held and understood.

We’ve seen in recent discussions — from the Netflix documentary Adolescence to Gareth Southgate’s call for better emotional support for boys — just how much young people need safe spaces to explore who they are. Music offers that space. It’s both personal and shared. It’s freedom, structure, expression and reflection — all at once.

And it doesn’t require perfection or performance. Just humming a tune, singing with others, or playing a favourite song in the kitchen can shift how we feel — as children, yes, but also as adults. It connects us. It co-regulates. It reminds us we’re not alone.

So yes, this campaign is about funding and access and building a stronger creative future — but at its heart, it’s about care. It’s about giving every child the chance to feel something, to express something, to heal something. And it’s about recognising that the emotional power of music belongs to all of us.

Because when a child sits at a piano, when a teenager sings with friends, when a parent presses play on a song that brings comfort — they’re not just making music. They’re reconnecting with themselves. They’re finding calm. They’re finding confidence. They’re discovering hope.

Music is medicine. And it belongs in every school.