If your life had a closing track, what would it be?
It’s a gentle question, less about dying and more about the music of a life. The songs woven through long drives, weddings, heartbreaks and ordinary afternoons. A melody drifting from the radio on a summer evening. A hymn remembered from childhood. A chorus shouted with mates at a festival decades ago.
Increasingly, families are beginning end-of-life conversations in just this way: not with paperwork or clinical language, but with music.
Funeral playlists are becoming more personal. Traditional hymns now sit beside folk ballads, rock classics, cultural songs and quiet instrumentals. The shift reflects something simple: people want to be remembered as themselves. A song can express humour, faith, is a way of honouring a life rather than dwelling on loss. Planning music does not feel like planning a funeral. It feels like remembering.
Where music meets care
Music is far more than background sound in palliative care settings. Music therapy is widely used in end-of-life care to promote comfort, emotional wellbeing and dignity. Familiar songs can slow breathing, ease anxiety and soften the perception of pain. Even when communication becomes difficult, people often continue to respond to music.
Tony Brennan, Regional Director of Mission at Calvary Tasmania, believes the response to music lives deeper than language: “I’m listening to Bach today played by Yo Yo Ma on cello. Heavenly. Nothing more needs to be said.”
At Calvary’s Gibson Ward, a specialist palliative care unit in Hobart, a tertiary-qualified music therapist works alongside clinical teams to support patients and families. Referred by pastoral and spiritual care staff or nurses, she may play quietly in a room, allowing the music to do what conversation sometimes cannot. “She might simply play quietly in the corner and tears roll down the patient’s face or they finally fall asleep.” While at other times, a familiar song opens a door to memory.
“She may draw them out into a conversation of why the songs of Nat King Cole mean so much to them.” Music therapy in this setting extends beyond listening. “She has written songs that summarise life’s meaning with patients and devised playlists or songs to be played at funerals or the distribution of ashes.”
Brennan believes the depth of this work is often overlooked. “Music seems to be such a light and even silly contribution to the seriousness of the moment of dying and yet the Music Therapist is doing extraordinary heavy lifting with every note and conversation.”
Music, in this setting, is more than background sound. It reaches into something ancient and deeply human, offering comfort, recognition and care.
A lifelong musician, Brennan also brings his guitar into wards and aged care settings. He has watched music breathe space for emotional honesty in the room when words fail to arrive. “Songs, instruments, and the human voice especially are healing, cathartic. The hard-wiring in our ears, blood, bone and brains goes right back through our species evolution. When someone sings, the human heart leans in to listen to hear what is resonating, chiming and in rhythm with their own living.”
Families notice the shift. A familiar melody softens the mood. A loved one’s face relaxes and the room feels less clinical. He recalls a moment when music became part of a family’s final goodbye.
“They heard me singing Cohen’s Hallelujah and asked me to come and play it for their mother.” He stayed as the family gathered at the bedside. “The daughters sat around the mother as she was actively dying and so I kept playing James Taylor and Cat Stevens songs.”
The music did not change the outcome. But it allowed conversation to continue in a moment that might otherwise have felt overwhelming.
Music can remain part of care even after death. At the Gibson Ward, when a person is taken into the care of funeral directors, families are offered the opportunity to have a song played while staff pause and form a guard of honour. “It might be O Danny Boy, Louis Armstrong’s What a Wonderful World, something from Mozart, Spandau Ballet or even Led Zeppelin.”
For Brennan, the guiding principle is simple: “I think the only consideration of families should be… to play a piece of music their loved one asked to be played at their funeral or a piece they associate with their loved one.”
Songs that tell a life
Scroll through enough funeral playlists and certain songs surface again and again. One widely cited analysis by insurance group Legal & General examined more than 300,000 Spotify playlists in the UK, with titles such as “funeral songs” and “mum’s funeral,” offering a glimpse into how remembrance is evolving in the streaming age. Tracks like Cigarette Daydreams by Cage the Elephant, Wiz Khalifa’s See You Again and Ed Sheeran’s Supermarket Flowers appear frequently, alongside enduring favourites such as Hallelujah and Spirit in the Sky.
These lists reflect contemporary listening habits as much as mourning traditions. They tend to lean toward English-language popular music and the tastes of digitally engaged listeners, often representing the choices of children or grandchildren planning a farewell.
In Australia, services tell a similar but more grounded story. Research by McCrindle Research, commissioned by the Australian Funeral Directors Association, suggests the most common thread is sentimental reflection. Songs such as I’ll Be Seeing You, Somewhere Over the Rainbow, Time to Say Goodbye, What a Wonderful World and You’ll Never Walk Alone offer comfort through familiarity and emotional resonance. Close behind are religious or spiritual selections, with Amazing Grace the hymn most often requested.
A third category leans in the opposite direction, expressing defiance in the face of death. Music that asserts individuality and resilience. Frank Sinatra’s My Way stands as the defining example, while AC/DC’s Highway to Hell is sometimes chosen with humour and irreverence.
National Pastoral Care Educator Susanne Schmidt encourages families to look more deeply and listen closely to lyrics when making their selections. Songs that sound spiritual or reflective can carry meanings that do not align with what families intend to express. My Way, for instance, is often heard as an anthem of independence, yet its emphasis on self-reliance and personal triumph can sit uneasily in a setting intended to honour relationships, shared life and community. Schmidt suggests choosing music that reflects gratitude and the bonds that formed a person’s life.
Other services lean toward the unexpected. Quirky selections such as Billie Thorpe’s Most People I Know, Monty Python’s Always Look on the Bright Side of Life, football club theme songs and beloved television tunes speak to identity and belonging. Classical works, celebratory songs like Pharrell Williams’ Happy, and ABBA’s Dancing Queen also appear, transforming farewell into remembrance and even joy.
The breadth of choices reflects how personal farewells have become, keen to blend solemnity with warmth, humour and affection. And, as Brennan observes, these familiar sounds allow people to recognise themselves and one another in the moment, even when words are no longer enough. “A legacy playlist is a beautiful modern idea, the family gathering around talking about meaningful songs would be a beautifully cathartic and healing process, full of memories and life dreams.”
Where lyrics speak for us
Many families find comfort in sharing meaningful songs and the stories behind them, a simple way to honour memory and begin deeper conversations. Some choose to create a shared playlist using Spotify or a similar service, with one person starting the list and inviting others to add songs from wherever they are. In this way, memories and meaning gather in one place. A free account is enough to contribute, while those who prefer not to sign up can still listen when the playlist is shared. Keeping the playlist private and sharing the link only with invited family and friends helps ensure it remains a personal and respectful space.
Brennan has seen how music continues to speak even when a person no longer can. He describes playlists playing softly in the room long after someone appears unresponsive, while nurses continue to speak gently as they care for them. In this way, the music accompanies both the person and those who remain.
He also encourages families to think about music before it is urgently needed. Preparing songs in advance can ease decision making at an already difficult time and help ensure a farewell reflects the person’s wishes. “Use music, because the best music can lead us into soulful conversation.”
Choosing music for the end of life is not about anticipating loss. As Brennan suggests, it is an act of care for those who remain. A personal soundtrack can offer comfort at the bedside and continue to hold meaning in the years that follow, helping families revisit shared memories and feel close again.
In the end, when words run out, it is often a song that remains, carrying memory, love and the unmistakable sound of a life lived.