How Music Can Heal Our Divides

Introducing the Come Together Music Project

I spend a lot of time writing and speaking about education law and policy. But today’s topics are more universal: music and civil discourse. Music¹ is one of the last truly nonpartisan forces left in America. It’s a bridge—sometimes the only one left standing—between people who might otherwise never meet halfway.

That idea is the heartbeat of the Come Together Music Project, an organization I founded to rebuild our capacity for empathy—through the simple act of listening to songs together.

A Driveway and a Playlist

Like many things born in recent years, this project began during the height of the COVID-19 pandemic, in a driveway.

When the world shut down, I, like so many others, felt the loss of human connection. There was an absence of ordinary community—lingering after church for casual conversations, meeting a friend at a coffee shop after dropping the kids off at school, even things as banal as standing in line and talking about the weather. So much was lost.

That’s when some friends and I began what we called Song Swap. We’d gather outside, socially distanced, with a playlist built from everyone’s song submissions. The categories were simple and disarming: a song you hate (Montell Jordan’s “This is How We Do It”), a favorite Whitney Houston song (“The Greatest Love of All”), a guilty pleasure (this one revealed a number of closeted Swifties among my middle-aged male friends).

Over time, I realized that something more than swapping songs was happening. Beneath the laughter, there was listening—not just to music, but to one another.

When one friend chose a song about sending his daughter to college, we learned something about love and loss. When another shared a song involving a favorite instrument we learned about his connection to his father. Song by song, the soundtrack of our lives became the setting for real conversation. Amidst the pandemic’s loneliness, we’d found a way to deepen our relationships through music.

That’s when I began to wonder: Could this be scaled? Could a simple act of listening be replicated for greater impact?

Deepening Division

At the same time, polarization in the United States was an all-time high.

In 2023, the Georgetown Institute of Politics and Public Service’s Battleground Civility Poll, found that 72% of voters feel their personal values are under attack. And when asked to rate the level of political division on a 0–100 scale (0 being no division, 100 being “on the edge of civil war”), the average response was 72.9.

And the breakdown hasn’t just been across political lines. According to recent surveys, one-third of Gen Z say they avoid spending holidays with family because conversations have become too contentious. Think about that. We’ve gone from arguing at the dinner table to skipping dinner altogether.

It’s not just politics. It’s a breakdown of trust. Of curiosity. Of the willingness to humanize the person behind the opinion.

At the same time, the Reagan Foundation Center on Civility & Democracy recently found that roughly 72 % of Americans say they want to play a part in restoring civility in our country—but they also overwhelmingly believe civility is in trouble.

The question, therefore, is how can we break out of our siloes and play an active part in restoring community and civility?

The Come Together Music Project shows people that connection is still possible (maybe even likely) when approached in the right manner. Our goal isn’t to erase differences—it’s to create harmony in tension. Like a meandering series of jazz solos, dissonance can resolve into something surprisingly beautiful if you stay long enough to listen.

We design podcasts, interviews, and live events that bring guests together. Sometimes there are lifelong friends and at other times, total strangers—and we ask them to match common experiences with musical selections. For instance, one guest was asked for a song about her Senior year of high school. She chose the Mariah Carey song, “Honey,” which was not only extremely popular at the time but gave the guest the occasion to tell us about the seminal moments she faced that final year of high school. Each song becomes an entry point into a story. Each story becomes a step toward understanding. And we always hear something that surprises us and causes us to rethink our assumptions about other people.

During a recent session at the Arizona State University Sandra Day O’Connor College of Law our guests were AZ Supreme Court Justice Clint Bolick and AZ Court of Appeals Judge Andrew Becke. These two jurists are of different generations, have different legal philosophies, and came to the law in very different ways. But by asking each to share a song that reminded him of where he grew up, we learned that they both had humble beginnings where a career as a judge was the farthest thing from their minds. In the absence of information, it’s easy to craft someone else’s narrative such that they fit neatly into being either a hero or villain. But offering someone the opportunity to sit with a stranger, swap life stories, and dismantle strawmen seems unrealistic. Music, on the other hand, facilitates vulnerable connection while being disarming and enjoyable.

Why Music Works

Every civilization in history has had music. Every faith tradition uses song. There’s a reason for that—music binds.

It’s both intimate and universal. It’s the only language that doesn’t require translation to move you. Neuroscientists will tell you that when people sing together, their heart rates synchronize. I’d add that when people listen together, their hearts soften.

In a world where outrage travels faster than understanding, music slows us down and reminds us that our identities are complex, our stories layered, our humanity shared.

There are many organizations committed bridging divides and restoring civil discourse². I applaud this work and believe that when it comes to tackling the division and vitriol that persists in the U.S., we should let a thousand flowers bloom. However, I believe many organizations and conversations start too far downstream. The best of intentions notwithstanding, it’s extremely difficult to ask strangers to jump right into an honest and vulnerable discussion of, say, the 2^nd Amendment and school safety, or the personal and economic effects of immigration. When these, and countless other topics surface, people tend to dig into their “side’s” positions or retreat from the dialogue altogether.

But when people greet one another through the medium of music, they make the conscious choice to stay in the room.

Music opens emotional doors before intellectual defenses go up. When you listen to a song about where someone grew up or their family member, you don’t just get a sample of their taste—you hear their story. You hear where they’ve been and what they’ve carried.

Empathy grows in that space. And empathy—not argument—is the starting point for civil discourse. That’s why our sessions are part storytelling and part listening party.

By the end, people who might have started as opponents are humming along to the same tune. Folks who already knew each other have an even deeper appreciation for the other’s journey. All the while they are modeling how audience members can, in just an hour or so, achieve a deep level of engagement with another person. My hope is that these exercises prime the pump for the important work of other “bridging” organizations. How much more would that conversation about gun rights or immigration be if participants already had an enjoyable, shared musical experience?

From a Driveway to a Movement

I’m proud to say that earlier this year The Come Together Music Project became a registered 501(c)(3) nonprofit. That means this idea—this experiment in musical empathy—is ready to travel from my friend’s driveway across the country.

We’re building partnerships with universities, businesses, nonprofit organizations, and civic groups who want to host their own sessions. The goal is to use music as a tool for reviving civil discourse in a divided age. At the same time, we know that it can deepen existing relationships and help create new ones.

If you’ve ever left a concert feeling like everyone in the crowd was united, you know what I mean. There’s something transcendent about singing together, even off-key. That’s the kind of civic renewal we’re after: not consensus, but connection.

Stay tuned for a Nashville-based, in-person series that will launch in 2026.

The Come Together Music Project is still small, but our potential is grand.

If you, your organization, or your community would benefit from deeper connectivity, here’s my invitation to you: host a session. Gather your neighbors, your colleagues, your students. Bring a playlist and an open mind. Let the songs do the talking for a while.

If you’d like to follow our work, find us on Spotify, iTunes, YouTube, Instagram, or wherever you get your podcasts. Or reach out directly—I’d love to help you host an event. And of course, I’d be honored if you consider making a tax-deductible contribution so that this work continues to grow.

Our country doesn’t need another hot take.

We need a different playlist altogether.

I’m inviting you to join me, and come together, right now.

1. “Music” in general, not any specific song, artist, or genre.

2. This doesn’t even count the thousands of faith-based institutions that are (or should be) calling people to appreciate one another’s imago dei.