At the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra, in the early 1990s, Judith Webster devised one of the first and most extensive orchestral training programmes to prepare players for education and community work. She discusses the questions this raised, and the outcomes it produced; in particular, she brings to the book the insights of a trained music therapist. The chapter begins with a description of a series of therapy sessions she led with a three-year old boy with multiple disabilities.

Prologue

I was sitting at the piano in a largely empty room, waiting for the curled up, anxious, but beautiful, three-year-old boy to be wheeled to my side. He had no sight or speech, and the only voluntary movements he was able to make were with his head. His arms and legs often jerked or twitched in response to a sound or unexpected stimulus, or just because he was not able to control them. His name was Colin. He wasn’t able to support himself, and the straps in his buggy helped him stay upright.

He was brought very close to the piano, where I played and vocalised quietly. Looking for clues about the person he was communicating, I created a sense of space, of waiting, of listening to him. After a while, he began to make short falling vocal sounds, like crying or tearless moaning. I mirrored the pitches with my own voice, and started giving his sounds a musical context on the piano. I sang his name in the rhythm of his crying. There were silences – and they were important; they invited him to fill them. Gradually, his sounds became more conscious, changing to focused pitches within the tonality of my improvisation. He became aware that we were having a musical conversation. Sometimes, he would be quiet and noticeably still, listening when I sang. He knew that the music was giving him a voice.

Through improvising with him, and literally playing back on the piano what he was communicating through his body position, his facial expression, the rhythm of his movements, his vocal sounds, I was acknowledging him as a person, helping him to be more aware of his own identity. Once the dialogue was established, I began to offer more of myself in the music. I provided musical alternatives and contrasts to ‘his music’.