As long as human beings are still human beings they are going to want entertainment. Even if they are living on the third planet of Tau Ceti. For the other 23 hours and 55 minutes of a standard day, music is quite popular. So popular in fact that it is often enjoyed simultaneously with other entertainment.
From the primitive hunter-gatherers singing around the tribal fire, to traveling bards/minstrels/jongleur, to symphonies and operas, to player pianos, to Thomas Edison's wax cylinders, to Berliner Gramophone, to jazz and rock-n-roll, to vinyl 45 hit-singles and LP records, to portable transistor radios, to boom-boxes, to Sony Walkman, to Portable CD players, to Apple iPods, to the many ways of streaming music from the internet. Not to mention the many digital audio file formats.
After all, in the science fiction movie Guardians of the Galaxy Peter Quill's most prized possession is his antique Sony Walkman with the Awesome Mix vol. 1 compact cassette tape. Though he did later upgrade to a barely better Microsoft Zune.
Music is here to stay. In science fiction all of the above forms way occur, depending upon the tech level of the locale. And drinking songs in spaceport bars is a pastime that is never going to go out of style.
In Poul Anderson's immortal novel After Doomsday the human protagonists have a big problem. They come home from a prolonged trip in their starship the Benjamin Franklin only to discover that the Terra has been nuked into a radioactive cinder by one of the alien races in the neighborhood, and they may be the only humans left alive. Which would be catastrophic because it is an all male crew, spelling the end of the human race. But maybe not, there were other expeditions out and some of them had women.
However they cannot stick around Terra to see if any other Terran ships show up because the entire solar system is swarming with deadly robot homing missiles made on Kandemir (not that is proof that the Kandemirians are guilty, they sell those missiles to everybody). Neither can they leave a radio beacon with a message, the missiles will target that as well. So how do they contact the other Terran ships?
Galactic regions are set up as Civilization Clusters. Small groups of stars colonized by various aliens are surrounded by hundreds of light years of empty wilderness. There is no faster-than-light radio, and no widespread contact between clusters. Getting the word out seems hopeless.
But a Terran has a brilliant idea. He wrote a ballad.
There is a sort of common language called Uru, that everybody in this civilization cluster can more or less speak, and is known in the adjacent clusters.
What there isn't is any poetry or ballads composed in Uru. The aliens didn't see the point.
All they had to do was spread it around a bit at the spaceport bars of a few planets, and it would spread everywhere at the speed of rumor. "Hey, Xaxoz, you gotta hear this ballad! It's our new drinking song!". The ballad would go viral. As in "contagious and exponentially self-replicating".
And eventually other surviving Terra starship crew would hear the ballad and know where to go in order to be reunited.
The humans had made a scientific discovery that gave them a few exotic space weapons none of the other aliens had. They made an alliance with a few of the races to attack the nomad aliens of Kandemir. The battle and the outcome was the subject of the ballad.
Bards and Minstrels are medieval traveling singers and sources of news. The old warning is: "Do not anger a bard, for thy name is silly, and scans to Greensleeves". In legend bards could even topple kings from their thrones by spreading anti-royalist propaganda disguised as merry tunes. The TV Trope is called Wandering Minstrel
They are not generally useful in a modern society with high-speed internet, television, and radio (except perhaps as spin-doctors, advertisement jingle-writers, and creators of propaganda for political reelection campaigns). However, in a science fictional future which has faster-than-light travel but no faster-than-light communication, such people might become useful again. Currently the only known phenomenon which is superluminal is a rumor.
This is why many science fiction stories has the protagonists getting fresh news at the starport bar, after a starship arrives.
Ad campaigns and spin doctoring which wants to go viral across interstellar distances might resort to encoding the propaganda in the form of a song. It worked in medieval times, and it might work in science fiction.
From the time of the ancient Greeks comes the myth of Orpheus. He could use his music to charm all living things, and even a few non-living ones. He almost managed to free his dead fiancé from Hades except the idiot couldn't follow instructions.
The Orpheus myth is so compelling that science fiction writer cannot resist using transposing it into an SF key: