The phenomenon of the return of old music: why young people play their parents’ songs on repeat

The main suspect is music. It has a rich past, an interesting present, and, probably, a vibrant future. It long remained unquestioned by investigators, but now silence is impossible. Music, originally a purely oral form of creativity, over time, with technological development, acquired its notation, instruments, various genres, and devoted listeners. Every day new musical works are born; every few years, the mood of compositions, methods of presentation, and styles change. However, in recent years, the phrase “all new is well-forgotten old” has become increasingly relevant in relation to music, when the foundation of new works is taken from those written many years ago: songs from our parents’ youth, grandparents’ songs are increasingly gaining a second life among young generations and, at record speed, occupy top chart positions. Why does this happen? What is the main secret of “old” songs? And what is music really hiding?

The 20th century became a true musical Big Bang. First, jazz rose from the depths of New Orleans to change the planet’s rhythm forever; then rock and roll burst onto the scene, challenging everything staid and proper. Following them, an era of experiments began: psychedelic rock, soulful R&B, rebellious punk, and powerful heavy metal reshaped the musical map decade after decade.

This was a time when music finally ceased to fit into narrow genre boxes—a period of genuine musical breakthrough, where composers and singers experimented with new styles and techniques, sought themselves, and created a large amount of material.  

Commercialism gradually began to take over the music industry, but it was not yet developed as it is now. Musicians did not chase after the first place in global charts, did not write songs just for the sake of songs, and did not try to please their listeners in everything. Music was composed painstakingly: creating a hit took months. Songwriters and composers poured a piece of their soul into lyrics and melodies, personal stories to express themselves and be heard. Songs addressed important themes that stirred hearts and souls; each song was a kind of dialogue with listeners, with oneself, and with the world. Albums were released extremely rarely because they required special inspiration. For example, American singer and pop music king Michael Jackson spent four whole years working on his tenth and final solo album Invincible.  

Back then, music was a labor-intensive and meticulous process requiring special skills, knowledge, talent, and ability. Today, anyone can become a musician—even if they’ve never seen sheet music or written poetry. Modern AI systems like SUNO, Soundraw, OpenAI Jukebox, Loudly, and many others can generate lyrics and create full arrangements within minutes, tailored to any request. Additionally, AI can even sing vocals for you and design cover art for a single, which can then be simply uploaded online under your name. With this approach, albums can be released every month. This is undoubtedly a technological breakthrough, but can we call it true creativity when there’s not a hint of personal emotion involved?  

Of course, there are still composers and songwriters who write their own songs, but their voices are drowned in the noise of the conveyor belt, where a hit is the result of a well-coordinated mechanism of marketers, producers, and algorithms. A song becomes a product with a defined shelf life: a clever beat, catchy chorus, empty lyrics. Its goal is not to touch the soul, but to catch the ear for three weeks, gather likes, and give way to the next.  

And the brain gives up before this monotony. Most hits are built on four basic chords—analogous to fast food: filling, familiar, but bland. Music of the past spoke in a different language; it used complex harmonies, Dorian and Phrygian modes—those “indirect chord movements” that create a pleasant challenge for the mind, a multifaceted flavor that makes you want to feel again and again.  

It was in this “complexity” that the magic lay: not in technique for its own sake, but in a sincere attempt to convey shades of emotion, for which four chords simply didn’t have room.  

Digital sound, especially compressed streaming formats, often has a depleted frequency spectrum and can cause subconscious stress. Meanwhile, analog recordings of the past, with their warm noise and live instruments, provide physiological relief to the nervous system and are perceived as more natural. The high tempo of modern dance tracks and electronic sounds can also evoke stress and disorient the body, whereas the moderate tempo hits of the 70s to 90s create a cardio-resonance effect—a state of comfort and calmness—thanks to a rhythm close to the human heart rate in resting state.

People seek resonance, support, understanding, and the feeling that the emotions they have experienced are not lonely in this world—not just sound, but emotional connection. Songs written in that era served as a kind of dialogue—person to person: they became friends, advisors, voices of entire generations.

Perhaps this genuine connection is what explains why sounds from the 70s to 90s still resonate today. But that’s just one theory. The investigation continues, and we have other clues.

Another piece of the musical puzzle lies in our subconscious: humans tend to feel nostalgia for times long gone. Scents, objects, words, and our suspected culprit—music—can all evoke this feeling. Researchers at Durham University in the UK conducted several studies and found that music is closely linked to memory and emotions. It has a particularly strong impact on the brain between the ages of 10 and 30, because during these years, a person’s life is constantly filled with new experiences, impressions, and feelings that are often accompanied by listening to specific songs.  

Thus, music becomes a kind of soundtrack to certain life events, an analgesic, a companion, a friend, and even a healer. A song heard by chance in adulthood can temporarily transport a person back to certain memories, making it feel valuable. Even if a musical composition was completely disliked several years ago, one may later change their attitude toward it, because it helps recall something important.

In adulthood, the brain still lights up when familiar melodies are heard, activating powerful neural associations. Importantly, these emotions are unconsciously perceived by the younger generation. When a child sees a parent’s face lighting up at the sound of an old song, mirror neurons—those responsible for empathy and imitation—help the child “catch” this feeling. The brain registers: this music is powerful because it evokes a genuine emotion. 

Thus, a transgenerational emotional bridge is created: when nostalgia from others becomes part of the child’s own musical experience.

Thanks to these clues, music has been adopted by doctors: today it is used to reduce stress, aid physical and speech rehabilitation, and work with autism and Alzheimer’s disease.

The mechanism behind this is rooted in the unique anatomy of our brain. Areas responsible for music processing (the temporal lobes) and related emotional centers (the amygdala) are often more resilient to the progression of Alzheimer’s than the hippocampus—the “keeper” of episodic memory. Here, an important process occurs: a familiar melody becomes a neurobiological key—it doesn’t restore exact memories (people are unlikely to recall names or dates), but it awakens the emotional trace of the event—the vivid feeling of joy, excitement, or security once associated with that particular melody.

In practice, it looks like this: a patient may not recognize a relative, but upon hearing their “own” song, their face lights up with a smile, anxiety decreases, and rare signs of liveliness appear.

Meanwhile, our investigation continues.

Classical music has long ceased to belong only to concert halls. Its motifs and melodies live in the most unexpected places—for example, in arrangements of modern hits. Careful investigation reveals that modern pop, rock, and even metal tracks often have a genetic code rooted in the works of great composers. Here are a few clues:

This proves that classical music is not outdated. It has become a kind of “source code” for modern music, which each new artist uses and reinterprets in their own way.  

Cover versions and experiments with folk music are further evidence: old music becomes a new language. Italians Maneskin burst onto the global stage with a cover of The Four Seasons’ song “Beggin’,” and Dolly Parton’s hit “I Will Always Love You” has achieved immortality through Whitney Houston’s rendition. Sometimes, a fresh interpretation recharges the track, making it a voice of a new generation.  

Some musicians reinterpret past compositions not by simply covering them, but by rethinking them—for example, Lorina McKennitt, who weaves Celtic and Central European melodies into modern arrangements. Her work acts as a bridge across centuries, proving that folk melodies can sound contemporary without losing their soul.  

But why does this resonate particularly today? Partly, because in the digital age, any form of protest instantly becomes mainstream: algorithms turn it into a meme or trend. Amid this noise, music from the past becomes a quiet territory of freedom, because it’s not imposed by social media feeds and doesn’t have to conform to fleeting fashion. Such music offers what the younger generation lacks so much: a sense of secret knowledge, the chance to step away from the rush and find a sound that belongs only to you.  

This is not nostalgia. It is a conscious choice in a world where everything has already been calculated and manipulated.

During the investigation of a suspect in the form of music, irrefutable evidence was found that works of the past indeed hold great power over the younger generation, despite progress and the passage of time. Music from previous eras is a neurophysiological refuge for a generation raised in digital noise. The brain, poisoned by algorithmic fast food, finds three detox components in ancestral heritage:

“Music inspires the whole world, provides the soul with wings, and facilitates the flight of imagination; music gives life and joy to everything that exists… It can be called the embodiment of all that is beautiful and exalted”

Plato