'When I was mentally ill, I could only listen to hard techno': Why is music so important to us?

This Record Store Day, as we celebrate the independent stores and artists that bring us all joy in one form or another, it’s an interesting time to reflect on exactly why music is so important to us. Why do these diverse collections of beats and riffs, whether melded into hardcore techno, classical melodies, political punk rock or sugary pop hits – play such an important role in our daily lives?

I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone who isn’t affected by music in some way. And it’s no surprise when you think about it. When we are born, we are sung lullabies, when we are dying, we carefully select the songs that will be playing us out at our funeral, knowing that these tracks will epitomise who we were during our lives and how we want to be remembered.

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In some ways, we are expressing ourselves through music after we’ve left this planet, and, in fact, before we are even born – think about the heartbeat we hear in the womb, and the music being played to us by our prospective parents in the hope we pop out as a fully formed rock music fan (or whatever genre plays an important role in their identity).

I’m currently curating an exhibition at Bethlem Gallery, the art gallery based in the grounds of Bethlem Royal Hospital – a place where I was an inpatient on more than one occasion to recover from mental health and addiction problems. During my time as a patient there, I became involved in the arts activities delivered by the hospital and, over the years, these have evolved into the creation of the gallery space and a wide range of professional exhibitions.

But one facet of the arts that has always intrigued me in terms of how it affects our mental and emotional health is music, which is why I put forward the idea of Bethlem Live Lounge – an immersive exhibition where visitors are able to be the art and make the music. The gallery will be transformed into a live lounge and 90s style record store, where the public will come into an extraordinary space packed with wall hangings, sofas, rugs, projections, a piano, drums, digital music equipment, a DJ booth and more. They’ll be able to browse reimagined vintage rock t-shirts and a cassette tape library and mix or make music.

When you think about visiting a record shop, particularly in the days before streaming, it was about much more than just buying the physical album. It was ceremonial – discovering something new, poring over lyric sheets, finding a rare limited edition pressing and snapping it up before your mates did. The physical piece of vinyl is one part of our relationship with music – albeit an important one (which is why, as part of the exhibition, we have made a vinyl album in collaboration with the Bethlem community and renowned artists such as Gawain Hewitt and Nitin Sawhney.) That physical piece of plastic means something – particularly to my generation – and it’s nice in the digital age to be able to hold the thing that can play us the music, not to mention enjoying the design that goes into the sleeve. It’s really no surprise that younger generations are enjoying vinyl these days too.

Aside from us entering and leaving the world to music, our formative years are also particularly important when it comes to the kind of music we enjoy. I’ve been working with professor Sally Marlow of King’s College London on Bethlem Live Lounge, and she says that the music we enjoy in our youth is particularly important as it came to us at a time when we were working out who we were – a time when we were forming our identity. That’s why it sticks – and why we always return to it years later. It’s perhaps also why there’s such a tribal element to music. We carry music to different countries as part of our identity, but in addition to identity, we seek music to uplift us, or to find a sense of comfort or belonging.

It’s interesting that the sense of comfort or belonging that we get from it might not always come from happy, uplifting tunes. When I was mentally ill, the only music I could listen to was hard techno. Everything else was unbearable. 

In the 80s and 90s, when many of us, including myself, were fleeing Thatcher’s bleak Britain for the sunny shores of Ibiza, big Balearic beats were a key component of making us feel more hopeful (not to mention the drugs – which brought with them highs and some serious lows too as I know from experience). But, as professor Marlow points out, music can make you feel better by not just changing your mood, but reflecting it back on you too – by helping you feel less alone. Which is probably why that dark, heavy techno was my comfort zone when I was an inpatient.

Whatever your taste in music, it’s clear that it affects almost all stages of our lives in some way. Our identity, wellbeing, emotions and sense of belonging and community. But when it comes to actually making music, it can also help us communicate ideas and experiences where words might fail us. That’s what our collective Bethlem Live Lounge vinyl album will be doing. Entitled Melancholy and Madness, it will explore these states that are common not just in mental illness, but also more fleetingly throughout all our lives, through music and lyrics. It’s a way to get people thinking about mental health, about stereotypes and about how these states do not define who we are, but instead are something we experience. 

Sometimes, music is the most compelling way to express ourselves, and, whether we are making a collaborative album, browsing rare vinyl, creating a mixtape or playlist for someone else or soaking up the vibes in a techno club or the middle of the mosh pit, music is more than a hobby or interest – it’s part of who we are. 

Bethlem Live Lounge, which is free to the public, is curated by Mark McGowan, the ‘Artist Taxi Driver’. The exhibition opens at Bethlem Gallery, London, on 8 May until 13 July. The programme includes the public drop-in space in the gallery, a festival, vinyl album, public lectures and more. For further information click here.