The following reflections are inspired by an excerpt from Wonderland: How Play Made the Modern World by Steven Johnson (2016), which explores one of the most intriguing questions in human history: why did our ancestors make music?
Roughly 43,000 years ago, a young cave bear died in what is now modern-day Slovenia. Thousands of miles away and centuries later, mammoths, vultures, and swans died near what is now southern Germany. We know almost nothing about how these animals met their deaths. They may have been hunted by Neanderthals or early modern humans, fallen to predators, or died of natural causes. Like much of the Paleolithic world, their stories are lost to time. Yet these creatures shared a remarkable posthumous fate. After their flesh had returned to the earth, bones from their skeletons were carefully shaped by human hands into flutes.
These bone flutes are among the oldest known musical instruments and represent some of the earliest evidence of human artistic and technological ingenuity. Many were discovered in caves that also contain drawings of animals and human forms, suggesting the evocative possibility that early humans gathered in fire-lit caverns to watch flickering images on stone walls, accompanied by music.
Some Paleolithic bone flutes are intact enough to be played today. Researchers have discovered that their finger holes are positioned to produce musical intervals known as perfect fourths and fifths — the same intervals that underpin much of modern music. An octave reflects a 2:1 frequency ratio. A perfect fifth reflects a 3:2 ratio. These relationships create consonance because sound waves align in simple, repeating patterns. Though early humans had no knowledge of waveforms or mathematics, they intuitively created instruments that embodied these precise harmonic ratios. These ratios were later formalised by Pythagoras, whose work on musical harmony laid the foundation for Western music and influenced scientific thought for centuries. His insights into sound inspired the ancient idea of the “music of the spheres”, linking musical harmony with cosmic order.
None of the physics of sound, waveforms, overtones, or harmonic ratios, were known to our Paleolithic ancestors. And yet, they went to great lengths to craft instruments capable of producing these exact relationships. Imagine standing in a cave forty thousand years ago. You have mastered fire, hunting tools, and clothing. An entire future of invention lies ahead. Why would you choose to create a tool that produces mathematically ordered vibrations in air?
And yet, that is precisely what our ancestors did.
Musical technology may be far older than the Paleolithic record suggests. Bone instruments survived because of their durability, but many early cultures likely made flutes from reeds and drums from animal skins — materials that would not survive tens of thousands of years. Archaeologists believe that humans may have been building drums for over 100,000 years, making music almost as ancient as tools for hunting or warmth. This presents a profound puzzle: why did humans prioritise music so early in their development?
Before agriculture, writing, or architecture, our ancestors were already creating tools for making sound. This seems especially strange because music is the most abstract of the arts. Paintings depict animals and landscapes. Stories mirror human events. Architecture provides shelter. But music does not directly represent the visible world. We are drawn to music not because it imitates nature, but because it creates ordered patterns from sound.
The existence of bone flutes suggests that music is not a cultural luxury, but a fundamental human impulse — one that connects us to rhythm, pattern, emotion, and meaning. Long before we built cities or wrote language, we were shaping sound, perhaps to regulate emotion, connect socially, or experience altered states of consciousness. Music may have been one of humanity’s earliest ways of understanding itself and the universe.