History as Storytelling: How Music Makes History Meaningful
- Alexander L. Shaneyfelt
- 5 days ago
- 5 min read
There’s a strange disconnect in the way we remember history.
We can recall the events—wars, revolutions, the rise and fall of nations. We can place them in time, name the figures, trace the outcomes.
And yet, for all of that, it rarely feels close to us.
It feels distant. Completed. Resolved.
As though history were something that happened—but was never truly lived.
And I’ve begun to wonder if that distance is not inherent to history itself, but a result of how we choose to teach it.
And feel free to call me biased, but like most things I tend to write about, I think music is the answer.
What is History?
For most of us, history has been presented in a very particular way. We learn:
timelines
memorize dates
identify key figures
trace sequences of events.
Or more simply, we are taught:
what happened,
when it happened
why it happened
who was involved.
And while this information is undeniably important, I’ve come to believe that it is only part of the picture—and perhaps not even the most meaningful part.
Knowing that a war occurred, that a revolution took place, or that a nation was founded gives us information. But it does not give us insight into:
how people felt about those events
how they processed them
how their worldview changed as a result
how they expressed those changes
Because history, at its core, is not just a sequence of events.
It is a record of human experience.
And one of the most powerful ways that experience is preserved is through art.
History and Art Were Never Separate
One of the fundamental problems in how we think about education is that we treat history and art as if they are two distinct subjects. History is presented as fact, and art is presented as expression—as though one is objective and the other is optional.
But this separation is artificial.
Historically, art is how people engaged with their world. It is how they processed events, how they communicated ideas, how they made sense of change. If you remove art from history, what you are left with is a skeleton—structure without life.
Before history was formalized into textbooks and classrooms, it existed through:
song
storytelling
visual imagery
These were not embellishments. They were the primary means through which people understood themselves and their place in the world.
The Renaissance and the Reformation
Take the Renaissance.
You can describe it in terms of dates, cities, and figures. You can talk about trade, politics, and intellectual developments. But none of that fully captures what changed.
Look instead at the art.
The human figure becomes central. Religious subjects are no longer distant and symbolic—they are embodied, emotional, human. Artists like Michelangelo and Raphael don’t just depict theology—they reinterpret humanity’s relationship to it.
That shift is the Renaissance.
Now take the Protestant Reformation.
On paper, it’s a theological and political break. You learn about Martin Luther, the 95 Theses, and the fragmentation of the Church.
But listen to what happens in the music.
Sacred music prior to this moment often becomes increasingly complex, written in Latin, performed by trained musicians—beautiful, but distant.
Then, as a result of the protestant reformation, you have the rise of congregational singing, vernacular language, and the emergence of traditions like Lutheran chorales.
That’s not just a musical change.
That’s a shift in how people relate to faith, authority, and community.
Obviously the reformation stretches beyond just music, but it applies the same ideology and philosophy in a way that we can genuinely connect with.
And you don't have to just read about it.
You can hear it.
The Classical and Romantic Periods: A Change in Thinking
The same idea applies to musical periods.
The Classical period—associated with figures like Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart and Joseph Haydn—is often described in terms of balance, clarity, and form.
But those qualities don’t exist in a vacuum.
They reflect a cultural movement toward order, reason, and refinement. In the aftermath of political instability and in the context of Enlightenment thought, there is a push toward structure—making sense of the world through clarity and proportion.
Then something shifts.
By the time we reach the Romantic period, the music expands. It becomes more dramatic, more personal, more emotionally charged. Composers like Frédéric Chopin and Franz Liszt are no longer simply working within established forms—they are stretching them, bending them, sometimes abandoning them altogether.
Why?
Because the culture is changing.
The 19th century is a time of revolution, nationalism, and philosophical upheaval. The individual becomes central. Emotion becomes something to explore rather than restrain.
And again, you don’t just learn this—you experience it through the music.
Art and Culture
Across all of these examples, the pattern is the same:
An event or shift occurs
People respond to it
That response is expressed through art
When we study art, we are not stepping away from history—we are stepping directly into the way it was experienced.
It is where ideas take shape.
It is where emotion becomes visible.
It is where abstract change becomes tangible.
Art turns abstract historical concepts into tangible human experiences.
Why This Matters for Education
If the goal of studying history is simply to retain information, then the current model works well enough.
But if the goal is to:
understand people
develop empathy
recognize patterns in human thought
connect with the past in a meaningful way
then the current model falls short.
Because memorizing that something happened is not the same as understanding what it meant. Meaning is not found in dates and statistics — it is found in human connection
And meaning is what stays with us.
Re-centering Art
What I’m arguing for is not the removal of traditional history. Events matter. Structure matters. Context matters. But they are incomplete on their own.
Art should not be treated as:
- an elective
- a supplement
- an optional enrichment
It should be treated as a central component of how we understand history at all. Because it gives us access to something that facts alone cannot provide:
What it was actually like to be there.
A Living Connection to the Past
When you engage with a piece of music, a painting, or a poem, you are not just observing history.
You are reliving it.
You are engaging with the way someone, at some point in time, tried to make sense of their world. And in doing so, you begin to make sense of it as well.
That connection is what makes history feel relevant.
Not because it happened, but because it was lived.
And it continues to live as you experience it in the moment.
Conclusion
We tend to treat history as something confined to the classroom—something to be studied, tested on, and eventually left behind.
And for many people, that’s exactly what happens.
They learn the timelines, memorize the dates, pass the exams—and then history quietly disappears from their lives.
But that only happens because of how it’s taught.
Because when history is reduced to information, it has an endpoint. Once you no longer need the information, you no longer need the subject.
Art doesn’t work that way.
People continue to listen to music. They continue to engage with films, paintings, and literature.
They continue to seek out expression—not because they have to, but because they want to. And if history is understood through those forms, then it doesn’t disappear after school.
It stays with them.
Not as something distant and completed—but as something ongoing, something lived, something we continue to encounter throughout our lives.
For myself as a pianist and a music educator, I believe I have a personal responsibility in spreading and cultivating an understanding and appreciation for these art forms.
Because history is not just what happened.
It’s the people who experienced it, and preserved their stories.
And as long as we appreciate that, their voices never die.
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