William Congreve said it most eloquently, back in the early 18th century. Music hath charms to soothe the savage breast. And he was only echoing an intuition dating back at least as far as the Ancient Greek myth of Orpheus charming the gatekeepers of Hades with his lute — that music has special properties that can carry it into regions where words cannot go. But only now are neurologists, therapists and musicians starting to evaluate just how potent music can be, particularly in the lives of people who are traumatised or suffering from severe physical and mental illnesses.

In his brilliant recent book, Musicophilia, Oliver Sacks lists many of the ways in which music is now used as an extraordinarily effective therapy — somehow making a connection with patients whose brains otherwise appear to have shut down. He looks, for example, at how the simple act of singing can transform the brain’s right hemisphere into an efficient linguistic organ when the left has been knocked out by a stroke; how rhythmic music can unlock the body movements of Parkinson’s sufferers by imposing an external beat on their frozen inner clocks; and how songs with autobiographical associations can revive submerged memories and a sense of self in dementia sufferers.

But there’s an ethical dimension, as well as a medical benefit, behind the growing efforts to bring music into the lives of people who are very old or severely disabled. Music is one of the greatest joys known to humanity. Why should people who are confined to care homes, hospitals or hospices by virtue of their age or infirmity be deprived of that joy when they have already been robbed of so much else? I’ve talked over the years to several top-class singers and instrumentalists who have become involved in charities, such as Lost Chord and Live Music Now, specialising in bringing music into such places. All, without exception, regard this work not as a chore, or something to fill the diary between “proper” concerts, but as the most essential, life-affirming and rewarding work that they do.

Two such charities have launched fascinating new projects in the past fortnight. Fifteen years ago Jessie George, the nine-year-old daughter of two highly respected professional musicians, died of an inoperable brain tumour. In her memory her parents established Jessie’s Fund with the aim of helping other very ill children by utilising the creative and therapeutic power of music. At that time no children’s hospice had used music as a therapy. Now, thanks to the fund, all 42 of them do.

On a relatively tiny budget (about £200,000 a year), the fund trains staff to make music with children who have short life expectancies, places instruments in hospices and initiates full-time music therapist jobs (28 at last count). But it has also diversified into special schools, with a project called Soundtracks. That has produced remarkable results, especially with children previously unresponsive to any stimulus at all. So last week the fund announced a project that would expand enormously its music-making with children who have special needs. It’s a fairly breathtaking ambition, since there are more than 1,000 special schools in Britain.

The fund needs to raise £360,000 to do this. But its staff are dedicated and determined, and their work is imaginative and heart-warming. So I really hope that generous people will rally round.

Another charity about to start an important new chapter is involved not with the very young, but the very old. Music for Life was founded in the 1990s to bring music to dementia sufferers.

But for the past three years the Wigmore Hall, London’s world-renowned chamber music venue, has been taking an increasing role in its activities, and on Thursday the Wigmore management announced that it would shoulder complete responsibility for running, financing and developing it.

For a concert hall to get involved in music therapy on this scale is unique, as far as I know. One stated mission of the Wigmore’s visionary director, John Gilhooly, is to set an example, and a standard, that many other performing organisations and venues could and should follow. Why should the music business use its manifold talents only to entertain able-bodied audiences who are lucky enough to possess all their faculties, when music can produce such positive responses in people who have otherwise been closed to the world by the onset of dementia?

Music for Life trains professional singers and players not just to go into care homes and lead improvisation sessions, but also to evaluate and discuss the results with the full-time staff — so there is a continuous two-way learning process about the benefits of music therapy. It’s a fine scheme, and much needed as Britain’s population grows older. In 20 years, it is estimated, a million of us will have dementia. That could include me or you.

“The good things in life, such as music, shouldn’t be just for the healthy,” Gilhooly says. “We are primarily a concert venue, of course. But we have a moral obligation to reach out beyond our walls.”

I think we all have that obligation. How inspiring that some of the country’s most gifted musicians are showing the way.

www.jessiesfund.org.uk www.wigmore-hall.org.uk

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