Love Songs as an Act of Rebellion: Finding Our Way Back to Each Other Through Music

"Anyone can slay a dragon, she said. Try waking up and loving the world all over again. That takes a true hero." - Brian Andreas

Lately, I've been sitting with these words, like a favorite song in my head, this poem is stuck on repeat.  It feels especially poignant now, when it seems like a shadow has been cast over our world. We're living in an era of stark divisions where nuanced thinking has become nearly extinct. Especially here in America, we've fallen into this trap of right versus wrong, us versus them, with fear running the show.

The thing about fear is that it's a hijacker. When we're afraid, our brains literally function differently. The amygdala – our brain's fear center – goes into overdrive, while the prefrontal cortex – responsible for complex thinking and empathy – takes a back seat. We lose our ability to see shades of gray, to hold space for complexity, to recognize our shared humanity.

As a musician and songwriter, I've been grappling with how this plays out in our collective psyche. There's something called the "re-affiliation motive" – our deep psychological drive to reconnect with others when we feel isolated or excluded. It's meant to be protective, pushing us to seek out connection when we're lonely. But here's the cruel twist: when we're anxious and feeling unsafe, this very mechanism can backfire. Instead of helping us connect, it can make us see every social interaction as a threat, pushing us further into isolation. It becomes a vicious cycle where loneliness reinforces our negative view of others, which in turn makes us appear more withdrawn, leading others to pull away – and the spiral continues.

But here's where music comes in – not just as entertainment, but as medicine for our collective soul.

Think about Live Aid in 1985, when over 1.9 billion people across 150 nations came together, united by music and compassion. It was a groundbreaking dual-venue benefit concert held simultaneously at Wembley Stadium in London and JFK Stadium in Philadelphia, featuring everyone from Queen to Madonna to U2, all performing to raise funds for Ethiopian famine relief. That same year, "We Are The World" showed us how music could mobilize global empathy and action. When Michael Jackson, Lionel Richie, and dozens of other artists sang "We are the world, we are the children," they weren't just creating a song – they were building a bridge between cultures and continents.

Or consider John Lennon asking us to "Imagine" a world without divisions. In troubled times, his words still echo: "You may say I'm a dreamer, but I'm not the only one." It's a reminder that dreaming of unity isn't naive – it's necessary. The Hollies captured this spirit of shared humanity in "He Ain't Heavy, He's My Brother," reminding us that caring for each other isn't a burden, but a privilege: "The road is long, with many a winding turn... But I'm strong, strong enough to carry him."

And today, when Andra Day sings "Rise Up," her words "All we need is hope, and for that we have each other" continue this legacy of using music to inspire collective resilience and unity. These aren't just songs – they're touchstones that help us find our way back to our shared humanity when we need it most.

When people ask me why I still write love songs for humanity in these cynical times, I tell them it's because love itself has become an act of rebellion. Every time we choose to see the humanity in someone who thinks differently than we do, every time we resist the pull toward oversimplified thinking, we're engaging in a quiet revolution.

Mr. Rogers famously said to "look for the helpers" in scary times. I believe we need to be those helpers – and music can show us how. Music has this extraordinary ability to bypass our defenses, to remind us of our shared experiences, our common ground. Try searching for songs that celebrate acts of kindness, that tell stories of people coming together across differences, that remind us of humanity's capacity for good. Look for lyrics that speak to unity, hope, and the better angels of our nature. These songs become lanterns in the dark, lighting our way back to each other.

So here's my challenge to fellow songwriters and music lovers: Let's rebel. Let's write and share songs that celebrate our shared humanity. Let's create playlists that remind us of our capacity for connection and understanding. (Pro tip: Make these playlists when you're in a good place, so they're ready when you need them most.)

Some songs that help me reconnect with hope and humanity: My Despair to Hope playlist

The most radical thing we can do right now isn't to push others away – it's to keep reaching out, to keep loving, to keep making music that bridges our divides. It's to wake up each morning and choose to love the world all over again, dragons and all.

Because in the end, that's what makes us heroes – not the battles we win, but the love we choose to keep giving, even when it would be easier to give up.

What songs help you remember your connection to humanity? What music brings you back to love when fear threatens to take over? I'd love to hear your thoughts in the comments below.