It’s fascinating how cultures across the world, often with no historical communication, have independently developed music as a cornerstone of their traditions. From tribal drum rhythms to intricate symphonies, music transcends language, geography, and time. Even more intriguing is how humans universally experience emotional reactions to music—whether it’s goosebumps from a melody or pure joy from a rhythm

From an evolutionary perspective, this response is puzzling. What survival advantage could there possibly be in feeling deeply moved by a song? Through the lens of Darwinian theory, every behavior or reaction should have a purpose. Yet music has the power to amplify emotions and even alter brain chemistry, all without any clear evolutionary benefit.

Even if music serves an indirect purpose—like boosting effort, uplifting mood, or facilitating communication—how does it achieve such profound effects? It's nearly impossible to drive the speed limit when Go With The Flow starts playing. It’s easy to understand how physical substances like drugs or alcohol can alter dopamine levels and change someone’s mood and behavior. The cause and effect are visible and tangible. But music is simply sound. What is it about music that allows it to create such a profound emotional and chemical response?

Bad Taste In Music

Music can be so different, yet so universal. Kids and parents often clash over what qualifies as "good" music, with parents playfully teasing that kids just don’t get it. But the truth is, musical tastes seem to develop over time, shaped by the environment we grow up in. What we listen to often reflects the influences around us, making our preferences feel a bit arbitrary—a product of culture and surroundings. This led me to wonder: is our love of music something we simply learn from others?

Yet, as mentioned earlier, music is universal, appearing in cultures that have never interacted. That can’t be a coincidence. It feels like music is deeply rooted in our humanity, connecting us in ways that go beyond individual tastes. Maybe it’s not the specific type of music that matters, but what all music has in common.

As a drummer, I’ve realized that all music follows a beat. If you can clap along to it, it’s a song. In fact, if you can clap, you might just create a song yourself—just look at the example set by Son House:

Music is built on rhythms and patterns, and while it’s a simple concept, it raises an intriguing question: what’s so essential about beats and rhythms that they resonate with us so deeply?

Timing Is Everything

So, what makes a beat... a beat? Timing. It’s the consistent interval between each drum strike or note change, forming a predictable pattern. This predictability is what makes memorizing lyrics so much easier than memorizing a speech. In fact, you can often recall lyrics from songs you haven’t heard in decades as soon as the music starts playing. The structured rhythm seems to imprint itself in our minds with remarkable intensity. Contrast that with a speech you memorized years ago—it’s unlikely you’d retain it with the same clarity.

But why are humans so captivated by predictable patterns of timed beats? Where does this fascination come from? We don’t have to look far to find something in nature that shares these rhythmic qualities.

The heart, one of humanity’s most vital organs, offers an intriguing clue. Across cultures, the heart holds symbolic importance—it represents life, emotion, and even the soul. Its rhythmic beating is essential to survival, striking in steady, predictable intervals. This rhythm is deeply ingrained in our existence. But what is the connection between the heart and music? How might one influence or inspire the other?

Perhaps the answer lies in our earliest development. Imagine a time when the steady rhythm of the heartbeat was one of the first sounds we ever heard. Could this primal, internal rhythm have shaped our deep-seated connection to music?

Nirvana: In Utero

Imagine living downstairs from someone who blasts loud techno music nonstop. The first sleepless night, you’re polite enough not to say anything, deciding to address it in the morning. But when you knock on their door, there’s no answer—just the relentless pounding of bass. All day, the techno beats vibrate through your walls. That night, you finally fall asleep, but even your dreams are infused with those relentless rhythms.

You wake up, and it’s been 34 hours of uninterrupted techno. You feel a little off—claustrophobic, perhaps. Another day passes, then another, and before you know it, it’s been seven life-altering days of ceaseless pounding beats.

Now, imagine this going on for three weeks. Two months. An entire summer. What if it lasted nine months?

This scenario isn’t just hypothetical—it’s our reality before birth. One of the first experiences every human has is hearing the steady rhythm of a heartbeat in the womb. Our brains develop in an environment filled with this constant, rhythmic beating, all day and all night. When our mothers are anxious or active, the tempo speeds up. When they rest, it slows down. Yet the rhythm remains steady, perfectly timed.

Living next to someone blasting techno music for nine months might drive you to the brink of madness. But in utero, humans don’t go crazy. Instead, we may develop an emotional connection to rhythm. Perhaps it reminds us of a time when we felt safest, or maybe it’s our metaphorical walkout song into life.

This connection might also explain a broader mystery: How is it that humans across cultures, with no communication, all share a love of music? What universal experience could link us all? The answer might lie in this shared gestational rhythm—the heartbeat that accompanies every human’s first moments of existence. It’s as if we all spent our earliest days next to a neighbor who loved techno.

Music is Life

Music is a reflection of the heartbeat, and the heartbeat is the essence of life itself. It marks both the beginning and the end of our existence. Music becomes a celebration of life—a tribute to the rhythm that sustains us. We play music at birthday parties, weddings, graduations, funerals, and countless other milestones, using it to honor life’s moments. When we dance, we move in rhythm to the beat, physically mimicking the very thing we are celebrating.

The goosebumps we feel or the powerful emotions stirred by music are more than just reactions—they are deeply rooted in our psyche. Rhythms and beats seem to tap into something primal within us, altering our brain chemistry in ways that feel almost drug-like, transforming sound into an experience that moves both body and soul.

If we delve into the spiritual or supernatural, we might ask: what drives the heart to create its perfectly timed electrical impulses? The heart beats with unwavering precision, but what lies behind that mechanism? Is it a life force, a spirit, God, or something else entirely?

From this perspective, life itself can be seen as music—a series of beats, patterned and predictable, flowing through time. Perhaps the heartbeat isn’t just a biological function, but a metaphorical rhythm that connects us to the music of existence, a melody that reminds us of the profound connection between life and the universal language of sound

Conclusion

It doesn’t matter what kind of music you like—your preferences are subjective and shaped by your environment. Doja Cat, The Beatles, Beethoven, and the Jonas Brothers are superficially different, but metaphysically all the same. What is truly universal is the beat. It's naive to judge others for their taste in music; nothing is inherently bad or good. It’s simply a matter of whether it’s on beat or not.

So, turn on your favorite tune and celebrate the rhythm that connects us all!