The Power of Music: A celebration of how music connects us all, from the internationally-renowned young musician

by Sheku Kanneh-Mason

Music is what makes us alive, mindful and connected to each other. Music is what makes us human. This is the power of music.

Cellist Sheku Kanneh-Mason knows and feels the transformative power of music as much as any musician alive. From winning the prestigious BBC Young Musician Award to performing at Harry and Meghan’s wedding; from Bach’s solo suites to Bob Marley’s reggae; his ferocious passion shines through in every single performance, whether in a packed-out concert hall or on record.

But how was it that someone like him – a person of colour, from a state school in Nottingham – rose to the upper echelons of the classical music world? What were the obstacles that he had to overcome, what did he learn along the way, and how could a young person follow in his footsteps today?

In The Power of Music, Sheku explores the experiences and values that led him here, from a childhood of football practice and family music sessions, to his work today in the world’s finest concert halls and in the less privileged communities that surround them. As his star continues to rise, he shows us the darker side of an industry ruled by exclusivity and stubborn adherence to tradition.

With its power to transform our mental and physical health, to effect social change, and to make a house a home, Sheku shows us that classical music is for everyone, not just an elite few. The Power of Music is a celebration of music of all sorts and those who make it, and a rallying call to change.

Genres: Memoir, Nonfiction, Music

240 pages, Hardcover

Published May 1, 2025

Reviews

[Trish · Rating 4 out of 5]

I've met Sheku Kanneh-Mason last December when he gave a concert in Freiburg. Truth be told, I only bought a ticket because I was fascinated by his cello, a Matteo Gofriller from 1700. Both can be seen in the picture above.
After his solo (Elgar's cello concerto), I had the opportunity to meet him in person and liked how down-to-earth he was. It was uncomplicated talking to him, just like having him play felt like sitting in his living room and him playing just for me. Unassuming but excellent.

I don't know if many classical musicians are as arrogant as they appear or if some use it as a sort of shield, but I'm not a fan. Equally, I don't like how classical music is construed as this exclusive art form that is reserved for a select few.

The reason why I only started taking cello lessons aged 37 was that my parents could neither afford the instrument (any instrument, in fact), nor the classes when I was a kid. We had no contact into the musical world either (which could have helped with borrowing instruments). At least music was and still is a subject in German schools (apparently, that's better than what many other countries can claim). However, I had to "choose" art (painting/sketching etc.) instead on account of not having been proficient in playing an instrument at one point. *doh*

My cello teacher also keeps me in the loop when it comes to developments in the classical music world. Such as the funding to her orchestra being cut AGAIN. Uncertain times indeed, always justified by a supposed lack of interest and thus revenue. However, Sheku makes an excellent point in this book when he says that people don't even know (can't know) if they like symphonies when they are never explosed to them. Like, barely any TV program features classical music anymore. And if you wanna go to a concert, the prices (at least in Germany) are abominable in most cases!

Thus, a very important theme of this book was Who gets to consume, dictate, and define the arts.

Equally important, IMO, was to examine if classical music in and of itself is elitist. Sheku and I both think it is not. Not least because the word "elite" doesn't mean what so many make it out to be. Think of athletes (ballerinas, Olympic athletes etc): they need to always be at the top of their game, train for hours every day. They are elite. Nobody considers that arrogant.
Sure, there are parents that absolutely take this too far or in the wrong direction. Hence my mentioning David Garrett's childhood (I read his biography only recently). But in general, you just try to be the best at something and that isn't wrong.

As you can see, lots of important ways of looking at music that come together in this book via the 6 chapters

- Influence and Inspiration
- The Power of Chamber Music
- Education and Opportunity
- Equality or Quality?
- Relevance and Power
- Music and Identity

I'd like to highlight one passage from the last chapter at this point because I've come across the notion behind it many times (albeit about female composers and not black ones but the principle is the same):

But does that mean that only black musicians should play black classical music? I am always asked, when on concert tour, why I don't have more music by Black composers in my repertoire. Isata (his sister) is always asked why she doesn't have whole programmes of women composers, or Black women composers. If we want to make black and women composers central to the classical repertoire, it can't only be Black or women musicians who play their work. I play music that I love, that I engage with, that speaks to me, that I want to play. If we, as Black and/or women musicians, are pushed into a restrictive identity politics with the kind of music we are permitted to play, then White and male musicians get to play ... everything else? And that "everything else" is then, still, seen as outside any identity restrictions, just "good", just "classical", just "the real thing". And nothing changes. I want to play music by women composers, Russian, Jewish, German, French, Brazilian, Spanish composers, without having to "be" any of them. Music transcends nationality, race and gender ...

Reading about so many venues he's been to (despite his young age) having closed due to the pandemic and Brexit made me very sad. Knowing it's a worldwide problem didn't really comfort me. Not least because it's the funding being cut over and over with the excuse that nobody "wants" to see classical pieces anymore (when the restrictions during the pandemic made staying home a necessity).
Look at my cello teacher's orchestra where people stood in line for their tickets for FIVE HOURS last week (though they could have come back another day) - not interested my ass!
It's so frustrating that they blatantly lie because they are actively trying to kill the arts for whatever reason!
Last but not least, I hope we can generally stop thinking that the arts need to bring in enough money in order to be worth anything; I hope we will appreciate them for what they are again and incorporate them more in our lives (yes, even if that means humanity needing to get a longer attention span again).

In the meantime, I'll hug my cellow tightly and go see/listen to as many performances as I can.

As for this book, the writing style was really nice, as were the chosen topics Sheku talked about and the way he sees them (though I did not always agree 100%). I recommend it to any music lover.

[Matt · Rating 5 out of 5]

I picked this book based on two reasons: supportive parenting and reading about the journey of the author. I am a massive fan of the family and everyone’s success. It’s shown me how nurturing young minds in a challenging elitist field of music for black musicians is hard! I’ve also been awoken to other composers and pieces of music to think more critically on - like to Last Night of the Proms. I particularly enjoyed the counter argument for social media prudence during the pandemic and going forward.

[Simon · Rating 5 out of 5]

One of the things I enjoy about living in the digital age (and heaven help me, there are so many that I’d rather be without) is the ability to summon up almost any piece of music and have it playing through my Bose speaker within seconds. I often like to have music playing as I read (or write). Not always. Sometimes it can distract, but often, the right pieces can serve to focus my mind and sharpen my concentration. Sometimes its just pleasant to have a softening effect on the mood; for the same reason I like to read by the fireside, or in the garden in summer, or even to light a candle or two.

With this book I not only had a soundtrack of almost every piece he discusses in the book (and what a sensational soundtrack it is) but I also had to stop every chapter or so to look up a piece of film on Youtube. Sheku knows his biscuits when it comes to music, and, though our ages differ by some 40 years, we seem to have been turned on by much of the same as children. He talks of a film of Schubert’s piano quintet (The Trout) with Daniel Barenboim, Itzhak Perlman, Pinchas Zuckerman, Zubin Mehta (on double bass!) and Jacqueline du Pre. Well, I put the book down and watched this right through every bit as wrapt in the playing as the author while having the distinct memory of having watched it with the same awe and attention as a 10 year old in 1969. I too loved Jacqueline du Pre. I’ve never attempted to play the cello but I was touched as if by magic by her appearances on television.

It wasn’t the only piece of film I watched from end to end while reading this inspiring book. We were luckier in the 1960s and early 70s as there was a much wider selection of music on the television, and often played in full rather than soundbites or “greatest hits” of today. And this is a point well made in the book.

The personal story of finding love, purpose, power, inspiration and fun in music and, among a family equally inspired, making the journey from making chords on the piano to the concert platform is one heck of a story. One could claim that a state educated black lad from Nottingham making it to the very top shows a healthy society where you only have to persist and you’ll make it. Society can take some credit. Trinity School can take a good deal of credit (I visited twice as a performing arts examiner a few years before Sheku and his siblings attended and there was a genuine buzz of the creative arts and a valuing of art drama and music from the whole school), but the real credit goes to himself, his siblings, his remarkable parents and his teachers. They all contributed to create the conditions where talent can grow. Sadly those conditions are not available to many, and, if Sheku had been born ten years later, would probably not have been available to him. We have made several serious retrograde steps in state education since 2010 and it will take a great deal more imagination than any minister has shown themselves capable of to reverse these. Sheku deals with this extremely well, and bravely well, as he does about the problems of high culture confusing itself politically with white culture. Re-writing history isn’t new.

And I absolutely agree with him on the sadness and pity of having to have that absurd, jingoistic nationalism at the end of the last night of the proms. Even as a little boy I delighted at Colin Davis exuberantly getting the orchestra to reprise the dazzling sea shanties and folk tunes that make up part of our cultural heritage, but the sight and sound of brainwashed hooray Henry’s belting out Rule Britannia was unsettling for this little white boy. To have received online bile for merely stating that it made him and his family uncomfortable and sad shows that there is a real problem than needs to be addressed. Despite the obstacles put in our way, we are a successful multi-cultural society and the Kanneh-Mason family are national treasures in my book.

I look forward to many hours of listening to the beauty of their playing and have just bought my ticket to watch them in the near future.

There is a lot to be inspired by in this book, a certain amount to feel depressed by, but the balance is in favour or beauty, truth and the power of music.

[Sophie Saunders · Rating 4 out of 5]

Picked it up expecting to learn about the power of music (and of course I did) but I came away with a new view on the power of truly supportive parenting.

[Mark · Rating 5 out of 5]

Very thought-provoking. Sad, if predictable content.

[Rebecca Sloane · Rating 2 out of 5]

The most interesting part of this book is the story of the cellist's early life. The least interesting are the many pages of platitudes about the 'power of music' which were ponderous.