Why We Wear
Music Like Identity?

Music used to be a refuge, but today, it increasingly works like coffee on an empty stomach: it perks you up, but quietly wrecks your nervous system. We press play “to calm down,” and ten minutes later catch ourselves with clenched jaws, a racing pulse, and that familiar sense that the world has sped up again.

The paradox is simple: music hasn’t changed, the environment has, and so has the way we consume it.


Music no longer exists as a separate experience. It’s embedded in a constant stream of notifications, deadlines, news cycles, and screens. It has become part of a broader sensory overload — and in that context, it often amplifies anxiety instead of soothing it.

According to the World Health Organization, global rates of anxiety disorders increased by more than 25% between 2019 and 2023
From a neurobiological perspective, music is a powerful stimulus. It directly engages the limbic system and affects dopamine, cortisol, and overall nervous system arousal.

A 2019 study from McGill University showed that listening to music activates the same dopamine pathways as food or gambling.
Music quite literally rewards the brain. The problem begins when that reward becomes continuous.Researchers link this rise to the pandemic, digital overload, and chronic stress.
Streaming platforms are designed as attention-retention systems.
Internal behavioral studies associated with Spotify show that tracks with higher tempo, abrupt openings, and emotional intensity are more likely to be promoted through autoplay and algorithmic playlists — including those labeled “focus,” “productivity,” and even “relaxation.” The algorithms's KPI is time spent listening.

The result is counterintuitive: people turn on music to concentrate and instead receive a steady stream of micro-stimulation. The nervous system never fully shifts into recovery mode. Music stops being background and becomes another active stimulus, another open tab that never closes.

Modern popular music has objectively changed — and this isn’t a matter of taste.
A 2022 University of California study analyzing over 500,000 tracks across five decades found that:
  • average tempos have increased;
  • dynamic range has narrowed (the so-called loudness war);
  • intros have become shorter to hook listeners faster.
Music has grown denser, louder, and more insistent. That makes sense in an attention economy. It makes far less sense for already overstimulated nervous systems. The brain doesn’t get pauses, and without pauses, regulation collapses.

And there’s another subtle trap: music is often used as a tool for emotional self-regulation — especially by people prone to anxiety. But here, intention and outcome don’t always align.

A 2021 Frontiers in Psychology study showed that people with anxiety disorders tend to choose music that matches their current emotional state rather than helps shift it. An anxious listener gravitates toward anxious music; a sad one toward melancholy. The result is emotional looping.

Music stops being an exit and becomes an echo chamber — refined, intelligent, even beautiful, but still a chamber.

Then there’s the issue of constant background sound. Music in headphones on the commute, in the office, at home, while working, exercising, cooking, falling asleep.

A 2020 Journal of Environmental Psychology study found that continuous auditory stimulation raises baseline nervous system arousal and reduces recovery capacity even in otherwise healthy individuals. Simply put: the brain tires faster and rests worse.

We’ve learned to think of silence as emptiness. For the nervous system, silence is maintenance mode. When it disappears, the system begins to glitch.

This is the key point: music itself isn’t the enemy. Context is.
Today, music plays alongside:
  • news feeds,
  • work chats,
  • constant social comparison,
  • visual noise.
It’s no longer a ritual. It’s no longer “I’m listening to an album.” It’s “something is playing while I live at maximum speed.” In that mode, even the most beautiful sound becomes just another stimulus — not support.

We don't talk about “listen to less music” or “go back to vinyl” (though vinyl is undeniably romantic). Let's talk about the quality of attention.

Research consistently shows that:
  • intentional listening (one album, no parallel tasks) lowers cortisol levels;
  • low-tempo and instrumental music supports recovery — but only in the absence of other stimuli;
  • periods of silence improve cognitive function and emotional regulation.
Music begins to heal again when it stops being endless background noise. In a world where everything screams for attention, even the most beautiful sound can wound if it never allows space.The real question is whether we use it as support — or as another way to ignore our own exhaustion.

Sometimes the most radical playlist is silence, and strangely enough, it’s the most revolutionary sound we have left.