From Bernstein to the Beatles, music has been used to convey messages of peace and love, writes Hugh Philpott.

Leonard Bernstein’s iconic Chichester Psalms, composed for the 1965 Southern Cathedrals Festival, was commissioned by Dean Walter Hussey of Chichester Cathedral. At a time of Cold War tension, nuclear anxiety and profound social change, Hussey’s conviction that contemporary art had something important to say seems remarkably prescient. Bernstein’s choral masterpiece repaid that faith magnificently, offering not protest or polemic, but a compelling vision of peace, reconciliation and common humanity.

Chichester Psalms exemplified Bernstein’s ability to turn inner conflict into music whose message was not simply that darkness can be defeated, but that humanity can answer it with compassion, understanding and hope.

Others did the same as the decade progressed. There was no escaping the ominous threat of Mutually Assured Destruction that developed during the Cold War, but many artists sought to express peace through their work. On 25 June 1967 there was a rather special television event. Our World became the first live global satellite television broadcast, inviting participating nations to celebrate human creativity rather than political power. The BBC was there and commissioned the Beatles to represent the UK. The result was a song capable of conveying a simple message across borders and languages. You might know it. It was called All You Need Is Love.

Like much of the work that emerged from the collaboration between John Lennon, Paul McCartney and producer Sir George Martin, the song contains far more than first appears. Most people in both East and West are familiar with it even now, but how closely have they listened?

The opening bars quote La Marseillaise, a recognisable signal that this was intended as an international message rather than a purely British one, while the fade-out incorporates a remarkably diverse musical collage. Listen carefully and you’ll hear Greensleeves, In the Mood, She Loves You and even a brief quotation from Yesterday. Most curious of all is an arrangement of Bach’s Two-Part Invention No. 8 on two piccolo trumpets, heard faintly at the very end. The intertwining lines of those youthful-sounding instruments somehow reinforce the song’s simple yet universal message.

Sir Paul is famously from Liverpool, but for much of his creative life Sussex has been home. It was home during the Wings years and throughout much of what followed. Accusations of naivety and simplicity are often levelled at work from this period. In my opinion this is unfair and overlooks the very quality which gives songs such as Ebony and Ivory and Pipes of Peace their enduring value. McCartney had something to say, and he wanted to make sure everyone would understand it.

His use of a simpler lyric and musical language avoids music wrapped in layers of intellectual theory, obscure symbolism or hidden meaning. It appeals directly to our better nature. With Ebony and Ivory he argues for racial harmony through one of the simplest metaphors imaginable, while in Pipes of Peace he puts us in the trenches of the First World War, where enemies set aside their differences for a moment in recognition of a common humanity. We can debate the subtlety, but there is no question of his sincerity. McCartney’s gift to us is to express profound hopes in language that almost anyone can grasp, reminding us that sometimes the most important truths are also the simplest.

Not every message carried by music is optimistic. Some serve as warnings. For this we can look to the world of seventies prog rock. David Gilmour, long associated with Brighton & Hove, and his colleagues in the legendary rock band Pink Floyd always had something to say through their music. There is much in the canon, but I have chosen The Wall, arguably one of the most influential albums of the 20th century.

Here lyricist and lead composer Roger Waters explored a darker message than those we have listened to so far. Every hurt, disappointment and betrayal becomes another brick in an emotional barrier separating us from other people. The wall itself promises protection but ultimately delivers a suffocating isolation. But this album is not entirely bleak. The message is that the barriers we construct around ourselves must eventually come down if we are to rediscover our common humanity. In my view, nearly half a century after its release, The Wall remains one of the most compelling musical explorations of loneliness, alienation and redemption ever recorded.

Not every message in music seeks to challenge society or comment on world events. Some are quieter and more personal. They remind us who we are, where we belong and the places that continue to shape us long after we have left them.

I often drop in on the Sovereign Light Café on Bexhill seafront. It is one of my regular coffee stops and a good place to sit and stare out to sea. The lighthouse from which it takes its name once stood offshore, guiding vessels through the Channel. This tower has long since disappeared, although the platform on which it stood remains out at sea, a faint reminder of what was once there. But it’s the café itself which was the inspiration on this occasion.

Keane, from Battle, referenced local landmarks to talk about belonging. The lyrics of the 2012 song Sovereign Light Café capture the feeling that a sense of place is not something we outgrow, but something we carry with us wherever we go. Their earlier hit Somewhere Only We Know also has a sense of place but they used it to say something a bit different. Here Keane tell us that human beings need places of belonging and connection to help them navigate an uncertain and unfamiliar world.

I have in the past turned to music myself to say something that words alone, or at least spoken words, could not fully convey. On 8 March 2018, while working as Ambassador to Tajikistan, I released my own version of the Tajik love song Muhabbat by Ziyodullo Shahidi. The experience eventually led to me becoming known as the Singing Ambassador. I was happy with that if it encouraged people to listen. My purpose was not simply to convey a message of love to the women of Tajikistan and the wider Persian-speaking world. I had consciously taken something loved and precious within another culture and made it part of my own story in order that I might belong. It was a high-risk strategy. Done badly, it could have appeared patronising or even insulting; done with sincerity and respect, it became something else. I demonstrated my willingness to step into another world and create a space in which understanding and mutual respect might grow.

Finally, I come back to Leonard Bernstein. Nearly a quarter of a century after composing Chichester Psalms, Bernstein found himself delivering another musical message at a moment when Europe seemed to be experiencing its own resurrection. It was Christmas Day 1989, just weeks after the fall of the Berlin Wall, and he was conducting Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony in the reunited German capital. Musicians from East and West Germany, together with players from the United States, Britain, France and the Soviet Union, joined in a performance celebrating the end of one of the most defining divisions of the 20th century.

Once again Bernstein chose to make a change. It was just one word, but enough for him to say something. The composer replaced Schiller’s Freude (joy) with Freiheit (freedom), turning Beethoven’s celebration of joy into an explicit celebration of political liberation. The smallest of alterations, yet intensely packed with beauty and devotion.

Music is not always simply there to be heard or to sit in the background. More often than we realise, it is telling us something deeper. The message is not always found in the text or the notes alone. Sometimes it lies in the place, the moment, or simply the person choosing to perform it. The ways messages are conveyed in these examples vary, but the underlying principles remain remarkably consistent, as I too discovered when I needed to reach a different audience.

Listen to the Ode to Freedom playlist on Spotify via the QR code.

1. Leonard Bernstein, Chichester Psalms: Psalm 23, Malakai Bayoh, London Symphony Chorus, London Symphony Orchestra, Yannick Nézet-Séguin
2. The Beatles, All You Need is Love
3. Paul McCartney, Pipes of Peace
4. Pink Floyd, Another Brick in the Wall, Pt 2
5. Keane, Somewhere Only We Know
6. Keane, Sovereign Light Café
7. The Singing Ambassador, Muhabbat – Myxaббaт
8. Ludwig van Beethoven, Symphony No 9 in D Minor, Op 125 ‘Choral’: IVc-j. Presto (‘O Freunde, nicht diese Töne’ – Prestissimo), Leonard Bernstein, Vienna Philharmonic, Vienna State Opera Chorus, Gwyneth Jones, Hanna Schwarz, René Kollo, Kurt Moll