"Imagine living a life in isolation, unable to communicate conventionally with those around you. Now, imagine how powerful it feels, to finally experience that connection." Heather from ACE Music Therapy talks about her work as a school Music Therapist Defining "Music Therapy" is a well-known challenge. Not least because of the ubiquity of music in all societal domains. There are so many ways that music can be applied therapeutically, including the different angles taken by other Music Practitioners, which are equally valid and important. So, I thought I'd spend some time talking about my personal experience of being a Music Therapist. Of course, I can't speak for others, but I am sure I'll express some familiar sentiments. I'll start with my personal perception of Music Therapy... (if you want an academic and incredibly thorough perspective, check out Kenneth Bruscia's "Defining Music Therapy"- it offers just that!) For me, "the use of music as a communicative device" is probably my favourite summation; this encapsulates the nature of the music in the session, as being an expressive tool, an entry point for interaction or an activity around which to build a therapeutic environment. My approach is quasi-improvisatory (not an official term!) and though I may plan sessions, my work is much more "in the moment". My music is responsive and reflective- it might be that a client is using a drum or the piano, making their music and "expressing their inner world" (like we do when we speak; we are sharing our experience of the world around us). By reflecting the client's music back to them, I become a responder and this can lead to a dialogue through sound. So, if a client has some difficulty around language or other means of communication, music can provide a way of connecting with people or the physical world around them. Imagine how powerful this could be, for someone who might often feel isolated? Equally, those with verbal capabilities may still find it challenging to discuss their feelings; our emotions are not always easy to define! Here, music can be a helpful tool and we might suggest that our clients make music to describe how they feel or find a piece of music or song that hits the right emotional note. This is an example of how music can provide an entry point into our mental world, encouraging our self-exploration and understanding. Now, the actual work may be quite spontaneous, but a great deal of therapeutic consideration can be found in the reflection. When thinking about a session, I will be wondering about a few things; what was the music like and what might this indicate about the current state of the client, in terms of their emotions, social understanding or volition? What else was being communicated, verbally or non-verbally? How could this translate into their wider life and what might we be able to focus on in future sessions to encourage positive change? Whilst exploring the above ideas, I often reflect on my role as the "music maker", one that has been found in all eras of history and linked with health. This warrants its own blog post (watch this space!) but is an interesting line of inquiry; clearly we've always understood music to have more than just a recreational role. It's somewhat of a trope to cite the "power of music", but imagine living a life in isolation, unable to communicate conventionally with those around you. Now, imagine how powerful it feels, to finally experience that connection. I frequently observe non-verbal clients in Music Therapy come to the realisation that they are part of an interaction; they widen their eyes, smile, vocalise or laugh. For them, the session removes confusion around language, or pressure to conform to the "normal" societal methods of communication; they are able to use music to reach another person and experience the feeling of connection with the world around them. As neuro-typical individuals, we may take this for granted, because we constantly interact with those around us. But, consider how validating it can be, when you find someone who really "gets you". As an individual with communicative challenges, music can facilitate this experience; through expressing themselves musically, they might be able to feel that same validity and sense of being understood. It is such an honour to be a Music Therapist and to utilise this method of communication, which is so accessible and inclusive. Through its use, clients can celebrate their identity and express their authentic selves. As social beings, we want to be heard and Music Therapy can make this possible, amplifying the voices of those who deserve their equal place in the social sphere. And this is just one of the many ways that Music Therapy can be applied!
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As a life-long musicophile and having always surrounded myself with those who identify as such, my relationship with music stretches way beyond the therapy session. It reaches every corner of my life and soundtracks the earliest of my memories. But, I have recently been exploring ideas around creativity and "creation" and wondering why "my music" has never gained a concrete form. My husband (a very talented composer, performer and music&health practitioner) and I enjoy watching documentaries about musicians. Often, these contain passionate reference about musical inspirations, obsessions over predecessors; John Lennon, Bryan Wilson, Dylan, Hendrix, Bowie, whoever. Whilst watching, I experience something akin to jealousy or a lamentation of a missed opportunity. Indeed, we can't all go live in 60's Haight-Ashbury, co-habit with a bunch of creatives and discover our sound (well, it's probably for the best, if you intend to live past 27), but still I kick myself; my passion for music is unrelenting, so where is my music? Preventing me from falling into a self-deprecation spiral, is the awareness that as practitioners, who use music in health and therapy contexts, the honing of our craft is not necessarily linked to the mastery of our instrument or the ability to write beautiful songs, but is relational, communicative and sensitive. But my question remains, where is our music? We still have influences and inspirations, though whether my childhood obsession with Led Zeppelin has found its way into my clinical work, remains to be seen. Like many, music has been a transcendent force throughout my life and the flame of my passion was ignited, by listening to a diverse library of genres. In a similar manner to how a composer, song writer or instrumentalist finds their inspiration, I think as Music Practitioners we are still guided by the way we engage with music. For me, having never really settled on one particular band, genre or style, it has always been clear to me that the underlying (or over-arching) emotive content of music is paramount. That's why I can have the same chills, or soaring elation from listening to Shostakovich as I do with Janis Joplin, Pink Floyd, Dilla or Bon Iver. So, I am starting to acknowledge that my music is present in my work, in a more holistic sense. My choice of chords or silence, the cadence of my voice or the extent to which I mirror the sounds of my clients; these are constant musical opportunities. Though less direct and a little obscure, I think this is where my music and my creativity is found, not in what I play, but when, how and why. (I have an idea for some research. But, before getting too ahead of myself, I need to lay it out in simple terms. I've a tendency to run away with ideas, become grandiose in my thinking and get distracted easily, before returning to the task at hand, bewildered and confused as to what my initial aim was.)
As a Music Therapist working in an SEN school, I had the intriguing experience of "being OFSTED-ed" in my first few weeks in the role. Being interviewed by OFSTED having only just started my clinical work, in my very first Music Therapy job warrants a whole other article. However, I was mostly struck by how little knowledge there seems to be around our intervention. This was further illuminated by a line of questioning I felt was irrelevant, despite my attempt to give accurate reflections of the work. Ultimately, this led to me being appraised in the OFSTED report in a less than accurate manner; credited for helping young people with their "rhythm"... This experience had me reflecting on the general understanding of Music Therapy in schools and having spoken with a friend and fellow school-based Music Therapist, the suspicion that we are still an unknown entity is creeping forth. So, I was inspired to explore OFSTED's relationship with Music Therapy and I discovered that they cite the intervention as pertaining to "good practice" (this is also referenced by BAMT on their website). After the initial wave of gratitude had passed, I suddenly realised that this did not make sense to me. If OFSTED consider Music Therapy to be of benefit, why do they seem to have a skewed impression of its role? Armed with this question in mind, which I framed in a slightly more tactful manner, I emailed OFSTED. I wanted to know how they came to the conclusion that Music Therapy is of benefit. To this, they responded that they were not qualified to comment and suggested I contact the Department for Education, which I did. Though the DfE gave a slightly more detailed response, they too expressed an inability to comment on the intervention. Instead, they offered a link to their SEND gateway, which contains two references to Music Therapy. However, these are anecdotal and specific, qualitative pieces of work. Perhaps I am expecting too much, but considering our profession has a growing body of Cochrane Reviews (the "gold standard" of research) under our collective belt, surely we have a stronger case to make for the efficacy of our intervention? I feel there is a research gap and I wonder if this could be partly to blame for the misunderstanding of our role in educative settings, which seems to be par for the course? I would like to combat this, by creating a body of work that can support the use of Music Therapy in schools, using language that is easily understood by educators. I think OFSTED could be an effective frame of reference to use, considering its supreme influence in education. To have a discussion around Music Therapy's relevance to schools, in terms of their OFSTED report, would be useful for setting up new work and helping other professionals to accurately understand our intervention. Watch this space. I had a sense that attending the conference organised by our collective body, would reinvigorate my feelings around my practice. Yet, I was struck by how deep my reconnection was, to both my peers and the speakers, who so inspired us (notably, many of us are now enamoured with Tia DeNora!). It was an unprecedented opportunity for us to engage in a celebration and a critique of our profession. As such, I would like to echo the sentiments expressed by those, much wiser than myself and reflect on my personal experience of the conference. (Bear in mind, I couldn’t engage in all available content.)
I’d like to comment on the themes I picked up on, which ran through the weekend, namely “diversity”. I felt this had a strong recurrence in the proceedings (not least because it was contained within the conference title!) and its reference throughout the event was numerous. I experienced many an epiphanic moment (as I am one to do), but this was most notable whilst I was listening to Tia De Nora. Contained in her keynote speech was the suggestion of “control vs collaboration”, a dichotomy (if seen as such), which can be interpreted in a multitude of ways. I immediately wondered if “collaboration” was linked to “diversity” and I promptly transposed this concept to many domains. Are we too controlling as a profession, in terms of defining our practice? Are we holding ourselves back from developing, because we don’t collaborate enough? (Bear in mind, I am VERY new to the profession) I began to discuss this with anyone who would listen, hoping to gain some insight from those around me. As such, at the “question time” evening, I posited: to collaborate (and ultimately diversify), do we need to loosen control? It was a purposefully broad question and it was met with equally broad reception. One such response came from a guest on the “question time” panel who, as a previous music therapy client, addressed this with personal insight. He eluded that music therapy had offered him the opportunity to be himself and to be heard. He perceived that other professionals (with whom he had felt like a “subject”) had worked on as opposed to with him. Perhaps it is the concept of “working with” that relates to collaboration, whereas to work “on” something is more controlling. A subsequent response came from a panel member, who queried whether the term “collaboration” could refer to interprofessional work. Indeed, this was more akin to my initial thinking. It was then stated, that an aim of the conference was to challenge our profession on the collaboration front, hopefully contributing to the understanding and development of music therapy in the wider community. So, I was left contemplating; how can we effectively collaborate, (in whatever form this may be) and must we relinquish some control to achieve progression? I’d like to refer to Gary Ansdell here, who highlighted a concern that I tend to agree with: that music therapy (in a similar way to psychotherapy) sometimes risks fencing itself off with clinical terminology. Can this be a barrier to collaboration? As an antidote to this, both Gary and Tia have written books about using a sociological lens to inform their clinical work. Though I don’t have a deep understanding of this, they both referenced giving value to the knowledge and expertise of “the other” (whether this is a client or another practitioner). It seems they adopted a broad and accepting attitude to varied approaches and discovered more dimensions to their practice, by exercising an open mind. Perhaps to facilitate learning in this way, collaboration must take precedence, whilst control takes a back seat, in terms of our methodologies and language. Indeed, if our aim is to bring a more public awareness to our work, perhaps a more “down to earth” approach is required. On the other hand, though I resonate with those who seem highly in favour of collaboration, I wonder whether some fear resides around our professional identity, when such ideas are posed. Balance is ALWAYS something that I return to, when pondering dichotomies or divergent ideas; I very much traverse the “grey-areas”. Exploring the poles, if we exercise too much control, we become inflexible and unmovable: a closed off profession only accessed by those who share our methodologies. Conversely, if we allow ourselves to collaborate to the point of dilution, we could put our protected title, that was historically fought for, in jeopardy. (As a side note, I encountered little conversation around our HCPC status, which is allegedly under scrutiny.) At the end of the weekend, I was left feeling that we mustn’t allow our belief in our profession to be perceived as a hierarchical attitude, which was partly inspired by my witness to statements such as: “well, their work is fine, but it’s not music therapy”. This attitude could fence us in and enclose us within an echo-chamber. Preferable to me, is a sensitive and open-minded approach, which could help us gain more dimensions to our practice, like Gary and Tia found. To me, diversity means engaging other professionals with the sensitive ear of the therapist and approaching new situations with a willingness to learn. I believe we can and must function alongside music practitioners, MDTs and the wider community, seeking and benefitting from the wisdom that can be gained from collaboration. In promoting such an approach, our profession will hopefully continue to blossom and move forward in symbiosis with those around us. |
AuthorHeather Roberts. Writing the occasional blog when the feeling takes me. Archives
September 2018
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