by Gregory L. Johnson
Sound as a Shared Civic Experience
In cities across the world, we find ourselves surrounded by art in unexpected places—murals on freeway underpasses, dance in parks, poetry on sidewalks. Yet often overlooked in conversations about public art is the profound role of music as a shared, social, and public practice. Music is not only a cultural expression but also a form of public art – a way communities voice identity, reclaim and amplify space, and make human connectivity, unity in real time.
Beyond Concert Halls and Nightclubs
When we think of music, we often imagine confined venues: the stage, the club, the concert hall. and believe you me, I’m here for all of it! But music transcends these boundaries. It spills into subways, farmers markets, street corners, protest marches, and faith gatherings. Whether it’s a soul or jazz artists at a summer festival in the park, or a gospel choir on the courthouse steps, music in public space acts as both performance and provocation.
In these moments, music becomes site-specific and community-embedded—inviting engagement from passersby who may not have come to “see a show,” but are drawn in through rhythm, memory, or cultural resonance. The music is the star! This accessibility distinguishes public music-making from the commercial music industry: it’s art given freely, performed in spaces of daily life, and shaped by the community it serves.
A Tool of Belonging and Resistance
Throughout history, Black, Indigenous, and working-class communities have used music to claim space and visibility in urban environments that often marginalize them. From the spirituals sung by enslaved Africans in the fields to the West African drum circles of Leimert Park, music has functioned as a living archive of resistance and affirmation.
In this way, music-as-public-art becomes a form of cultural memory—a way to tell stories, honor ancestors, and declare presence in the face of displacement. A block party is more than a good time; it’s a social contract. A music festival in a park or along the Shoreline is more than a show, its a platform for the expression of unbridaled celebration of arts and cultural relevance. A jazz funeral in New Orleans is not only a mourning ritual, but a celebration of life that transforms grief into public healing.
Contemplating Creative Placekeeping
In an era where public space is increasingly privatized, public music performance encourages people to linger, gather, and connect with one another. It fosters what sociologist Ray Oldenburg called “third places”—spaces beyond home and work where community life flourishes.
City planners and arts advocates have begun to recognize this. Municipal programs like “Street Sounds” in Philadelphia, “Music Under New York,” or LA’s “Grand Performances” bring highly skilled, professional musicians into civic space with purpose—not as background noise, but as legitimate contributors to the cultural landscape.
But public music doesn’t have to be sanctioned to be valid. The local rapper freestyling on a corner, the elder strumming guitar on her porch, or the kids banging buckets in sync—all of them participate in an urban sound ecology that expresses neighborhood identity, struggle, and joy.
A Call for Cultural Equity
To embrace music as public art also means confronting the inequities around who gets funded, who is licensed to perform, and whose noise is deemed “acceptable.” .
True cultural equity demands that we recognize and resource community-rooted musical practices. This includes compensating artists, preserving public performance spaces, and advocating for sound policies that support—not silence—grassroots expression.
Music Belongs to the People
At its best, music as public art builds bridges arts and culture, turns ordinary places into sacred ground, and affirms that art belongs not just to institutions and concert promoters, but to the people. It reminds us that the city is not just a place to live, but a place to listen—to one another, and to the culture unfolding in real time around us.
As we shape the future of public art in our communities, let us make space for music—not only as entertainment, but as dialogue, ritual, resistance, and above all love.