The Routledge companion to music, mind and well-being

Philosopher George Santayana (1905) noted the importance of history, primarily in order to keep us from being “condemned” (p. 284) to repeat any actions that may be stagnant, limiting, or even detrimental. Underpinning Santayana’s sentiment is an interest in future growth through a valuing of the past. The intersections of music and health are ancient; when we value the historicity of these intersections, we can see them as both diverse and complex. Our field has documented some of these intersections, for example in the writings of Alvin (1975). One might wonder if we have only scratched the surface, and perhaps have risked our own repetitions of history. Contemporary music therapy philosophy and theories both appear to seek alignment with or “invent” contemporary ideas, perhaps risking a lack of nuanced engagement with the origins of those ideas. Historical analysis of music and health likely provides us with ways to better connect various underpinnings of our work to both the past and future.

I review here The Routledge Companion to Music, Mind, and Well-being, which illuminates early and contemporary world views on the intersections of music and health. This book engages with topics including but not limited to music, self, emotion, expression, embodiment, and health. Editors seek “to probe not only how music relates to the mind and emotions and how it has been used to….gain or maintain well-being, but also to push beyond this” (p. 2). By pushing forward, editors seek to challenge some common philosophical frameworks with which we often make claims about music and health. These frameworks include, but are not limited to, the tensions between subjects and objects, agency and community, biological account versus lived experience, and music as “high art” versus music as “other purpose” (p. 3). Discussions on these topics provide new depth and nuance to current dialogue. Diverse authorship includes expertise in fields such as musicology, health sciences, cognition, sociology, linguistics, education, music education, philosophy, and music performance. With such a range of fields and perspectives, one can assume that definitions of music, health, and self are differentiated, highlighted, and connected in myriad ways.

The book includes 330 pages that are separated into an introduction and two primary sections. The first section focuses on historical understanding, covering ideas from Antiquity to the 20th century. Each chapter engages with doctrines and/or concepts in unique ways; examples include (a) the evolution of the Doctrine of Ethos (music and character development); (b) early symbolism (Pythagoras and the harmony of the spheres); (c) the Doctrine of Affections (music and emotions); (d) aesthetic considerations of music and high art; and (e) the history of music, psychology, and neurology. The second section concentrates on contemporary perspectives and includes discussion on (a) music and emotion from various perspectives, (b) musical engagement and health with differing populations, and (c) the relationship between music and learning.

We all can likely agree that books only have so much space in them, and there is always more to write! Given that acknowledgement, some content-related limitations are still worth noting. While the editors strive to include a broader view of the world regarding music and health (i.e., perspectives from Persia), some global perspectives appear absent from this book. I personally think of active, indigenous concepts from Africa (e.g., Ngoma as music, drum, dance, sport, and health) and Asia (e.g., the writings of Yue Ji, as noted by Wu [2019]). These concepts may connect with European and Middle Eastern perspectives in important and new ways. In an increasingly global world, we will likely benefit from a broader “image of thought”: one that not only includes a range of cultural perspectives, but sees potential links between them. Perhaps less important but also worthy of note is a lack of contemporary philosophy. To some degree, the work of Plato, Aristotle, Kant, Hanslick, Meyer, Kivy, and Small have already been directly or indirectly chiseled by the most recent generations of global philosophers. For example, Graham Harman’s re-envisioning of objects and lived experience, as well as his resultant articulation of music and art, would engage interestingly with some of the important challenges this book puts forward.

Occasional mentions of music therapy occur throughout the book. Sometimes these references connect to ideas prior to the profession (such as mention of Italian uses of Greek musical modes for self care, p. 56) and those that are currently occurring within the profession (such as Community Music Therapy practices, p. 305). However, the book does not include any authors who are music therapists. I am left to wonder if such an omission is in some sense our responsibility as music therapists, the responsibility of the editors, or some combination of both. I believe it apparent that the publisher sees a value in our engagement with this topic since they requested a review. However, a larger question looms: how might we contribute to that engagement? For example, in what ways might current music therapy practice embody and inform current manifestations of the Doctrine of Ethos? Current iterations of Ethos—as related to rhetorical presentation—have reframed the tensions and interactions between narrator and participant. What if such articulations were also applied to music-making practices in music therapy? These types of questions, on a range of topics prompted by this book, may prompt us to future action.

Given the above minor limitations (some of them likely inevitable), I believe The Routledge Companion to Music, Mind, and Well-being can contribute to many related fields, including music therapy. I believe our future development includes building on the historical writings of Eva Vescelius, Juliette Alvin, Kenneth Bruscia, William Davis, Alan Solomon, and others. We can continue to evolve our historical and philosophical awareness of music therapy. Such work may help us to better engage with each other as we continue to develop the field’s practice and theory. History inevitably has its moments of repetition, but our engagement with it allows us to move forward in new and exciting ways.

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