The (Surprising) Value of Music Through Zoom

A significant component of the preprofessional training of a music therapist is clinical training, which describes practicing elements of the music therapy process (i.e., referrals and assessments, followed by treatment planning, implementation, and evaluation) with actual human beings. Music therapy degree programs like mine place students out in the community each semester, partnering them with professional music therapists to learn and practice the ins and outs of service delivery.

The COVID-19 pandemic forced a shift in our traditional training plans. Now, student music therapists across the country have pivoted to telepractice. (I’ll be using the term “telepractice” in this post to describe the delivery, and in many cases the synchronous delivery, of therapeutic services through a telecommunications system such as Zoom.)

There were, of course, valid concerns about how effective telepractice music therapy could be. Much of music therapy work is, after all, a live, interactive experience between therapist and client. With music-based telepractice specifically there are the potential issues with the integrity of the musical sound signal through a digital, streaming interface (which is highly dependent on, for starters, the strength of the Wifi signal) and the difficulty in making music together when there is an audible delay in the sound signal between locations. Plus there are the challenges associated with the lack of physical connection with people—being able to read their nonverbal cues, for example, and having some sort of physical contact like a handshake or fist bumps.

I’ve had the opportunity to observe my students in their practicum sessions multiple times this semester in various types of facilities—group homes, assisted living facilities, individual sessions, groups sessions, and more. And after my first observation my “valid concerns” evaporated. What struck me instead was the level of human connection and relatedness that DID occur and that WAS possible.

Now, there were certain strategies my students utilized to help make this happen. They had external mics to enhance the quality of the music they provided. They “looked” at the client by making direct eye contact at the camera. They allowed sufficient time for clients to respond to questions, prompts, and directions. And they made a point to interact with clients more regularly through their words (since that is harder to do nonverbally and musically in this medium).

Ultimately, though, I think another major factor that contributed to the success of these sessions was in fact something I originally thought might be a hindrance—the music experience itself.

I recently (and finally) started reading Christopher Small’s seminal 1998 book Musicking: The meanings of performing and listening in which he outlines his theory of…well, musicking. He defines this concept as the activity of music, arguing that music is not a “thing” like musical work is, but rather something humans actively do. When we listen to or play music, whether we do this alone or with others, there’s an act involved in the process, an engagement, a way of connecting to and relating with ourselves and other people through organized sound.

So perhaps this helps explain the vibrancy I observed during my students’ music therapy sessions. Perhaps connecting through music helped bridge the gap left by the void of not being physically present with each other. Perhaps being in and part of music together helped these individuals remember what it’s like to relate to others and re-experience being the social creatures we are.

Now there are likely other factors at play in what I observed. For example, we have innate emotional, cognitive, and motor responses to music. These serve to motivate us, focus our attention, and elicit physical reactions to a musical experience. And I saw all of these in the clients I observed—they danced to the music, sang along, played shakers, and smiled to their favorite songs.

But for now, I’ll hold on to the warmth and giddiness I felt not just from seeing these individual responses to music, but from the connections, laughter, and interactions I observed between one human and another as they shared in music through a computer screen.