How to Use Music to Boost Motivation, Mood & Improve Learning

Andrew Huberman, who introduces himself as a professor of neurobiology and ophthalmology at Stanford School of Medicine, opens the episode by reframing what music is. Most people, he says, think of music as something outside of us: sounds, lyrics, their meaning, and the way songs tie us to emotional or social moments in our history. His central claim is that music, "believe it or not, is a neurological phenomenon." He says listening to music activates nearly every part of the brain, and that the brain and body help produce the music at the level of so-called neuro ensembles, meaning the firing of neurons.

In other words, when we listen to music, our brain and our body become part of the instrument that contributes to our perception of that music.

From there he lays out the practical questions for the episode. He wants to cover how music can shift brain and bodily states, what kinds of music people listen to in order to feel happy (he notes that studies have looked at this), and how long to listen in order to change mood. He also raises an old question: does sad music help us process sadness, or does it pull us further into despair? He says studies have looked at this too. He also previews how different types of music activate different neural circuits, how music can support emotional processing, learning and memory, and how music might be used to increase neuroplasticity, the brain's ability to change with experience, so that people can learn more in other areas of life as well.

Huberman also previews a finding about music and work. He says there is "a very clear answer" to whether music or silence is better during certain kinds of work, and gives a hint: "it is best to listen to music in between bouts of work or during brief rest periods, as opposed to listening to music while you work." For people who enjoy music while they work, he proposes that their brains were likely "wired up that way at a particular phase of development," and promises to come back to this later. He frames the goal as using music both for productivity and for enrichment and enjoyment of life.

The source carries a note that the transcript "is not in its final form and will be updated," so the wording may change. This part of the episode also includes an announcement of live events in Australia, a statement that the podcast is separate from Huberman's Stanford teaching and research roles, and sponsor segments for Eight Sleep and ROKA. These are promotional and do not belong to the scientific argument about music.

To show what makes music unusual, Huberman compares it with language. Language, he argues, is "essentially infinite" in what it can describe: a glass, an apple, a story, a face. Music without lyrics cannot tell you a glass's shape or that a glass is in the room, cannot describe a face, and cannot say what the person with that face did. By that measure, music might seem limited next to language.

He then reverses that view. Even without lyrics, music can describe emotions in fine detail: not only happy or sad, but different degrees of each, along with longing, nostalgia, delight and awe. "So whereas music can't describe nouns very well, it can beautifully describe emotions." He adds that music can also evoke those emotions with the same level of nuance, and says that in this respect it "overwhelms what language can do."

Huberman links this to an evolutionary claim. He says it is "very likely," and that there is "a lot of scientific evidence" to support it, that music evolved before spoken language. He also says singing likely evolved before spoken language, and that music, singing and dance together came before language. On that basis he calls music, even without lyrics or movement, "the fundamental form of human communication." In this section he states the evidence in general terms and does not cite specific studies.

Huberman says music without lyrics can evoke empathy, and he sets this apart from two other kinds. One is cognitive empathy, where you look at someone, nod and understand. The other is emotional empathy, where you feel what the other person feels. He qualifies the second: "you never really know what somebody else is feeling." You only have a sense of what they might feel and of what you feel yourself.

He cites Dr. Karl Deisseroth, a previous guest, who observed that we rarely understand how anyone else truly feels because we rarely understand how we ourselves truly feel. Huberman adds that words fall short of describing inner states, even at extremes of happiness or sadness. Music, by contrast, can evoke emotions in us that give us empathy for the person playing or for other people in general.

His proposed mechanism is that music does more than enter through the ears. Neurons in the brain and the body can become activated so that "the frequency of those neural impulses, comes to match the frequency of the sounds that you're hearing in your outside environment."

In other words, when you listen to music, not only is that music coming into your body through your sense organs, your hearing, but your body itself is an instrument playing that music from within.

His example is a light piece of music that evokes the change of seasons from winter to spring, which he says is common in some classical music and other genres. As neurons respond to those frequencies, he says, the body "plays" that transition internally. This is why the body may feel lifted or lighter, and why a whole set of emotions comes up that, for that listener, resembles the shift from winter to spring. He says neurons and hormones are both involved, naming oxytocin and "some other hormones" that he will discuss later, which together contribute "to a symphony of emotion from within your body and brain."

Beyond describing and evoking emotion, Huberman says music can imply intent. His example is distant, low drumming ("doom... doom... doom") whose beat gets faster as it approaches. He says that "we know from numerous studies" and from movies that this kind of low-frequency drumming with a rising tempo implies aggression or war, or at least that something serious is about to happen. He compares it with a higher-frequency, faster pattern ("ta-da-dun-tun"), whose meaning he calls "far less clear." He allows that some listeners may not have a strong emotional reaction to either, but says the two patterns still convey distinct intents.

He grants that spoken language can also convey intent, and with a great deal of nuance through intonation, frequency, inflection and stress. His example is the phrase "I'm going to hurt you," which means different things when said solemnly, lightly, or as a question. The difference with music, he argues, is that it conveys intent "through the body of the listener, not just bringing it in through their ears."

This bodily route, he says, engages premotor circuits, which he defines as "the neurons that start to fire before a particular pattern of action is generated." So when music conveys or evokes emotion, and especially when it conveys intent from outside, listeners start to feel that they need to move or respond in a particular way.