The Wonders Of A New Instrument

I bought a new instrument -

I'd first used one of these on a Lifemusic workshop in Chichester and had unashamedly coveted it since that time. My latest round of investment in my business included a plan to buy one of these instruments - a metallophone from Ghana in West Africa. It was made by a craftsman called Christopher Doozie   and sold by Ghana Goods in Bristol.










(The box it came in proved a popular acquisition, too. Ahem.)

I went to see my client J yesterday and took the new metallophone with me. J is occasionally an excitable, boisterous fellow and can put instruments through their paces, so I bear that in mind when deciding what to take with me. I want him to have the physical freedom to really beat the drums etc if that is what he wants and needs. He can also be incredibly gentle - for example when playing a cymbal with some jazz brushes. Many of my African instruments are especially hardy - being made to be played in a hearty way rather than a delicate way.

The other thing with J is that he is often wary of new instruments. He likes me to put them somewhere in plain sight - but out of his way - for two or three sessions while he gets used to them.

Not so the metallophone.

Although J didn't play it himself, he indicated in his way that he wanted me to play it instead and we had a long improvisation back-and-forth between me on the metallophone and J on a pair of bongoes and a conga. He played a phrase, I played one back. He laughed and smiled. So did I for that matter, because it was ten minutes of real musical communication between the to of us - a conversation. J sometimes has a very short attention span which can preclude he possibility of making longer improvisations with him but, as I said, this one went on for a good ten minutes.

Now. What instruments shall I buy next?? *rubs hands gleefully*

Books that Inform My Practice

What's on your list?

A Tapestry of Music

I'm setting up instruments whilst my client ("G") vocalises enthusiastically and with great flexibility. He uses all the registers of his voice, as well as laughing a great deal. One by one I set out drums, a tambourine, a small squeeze-box, some boomwhackers and a 1/3-sized guitar. I put them with as much space as possible in a sort of crescent moon around G's chair, so that if he looks at a specific instrument, I should be able to identify which one has caught his attention.

The moment he begins to pound on the large adapted djembe by his side, I "meet him in the middle", rhythmically speaking, playing a djembe of my own, leg bells and a tambourine with my foot. He stops after a moment but keeps eye contact, so I continue, improvising quietly on the syllables of his name.

He laughs. I laugh too. I keep playing whilst he vocalises. He looks at my recording device and suddenly vocalises in a way that is delicious. I cook with it, turn it into ... something. Singing it back to him, like a song by Moloko.

I pull up the sleeve over G's atrophied right hand so that he can clap against the back of it, then start on another rhythm. G vocalises, and laughs. Together we weave sounds into a Persian rug. He scratches the webbing straps on his sling and I scratch the drum skin. As he is so vocal, I offer him an echo-mic, which he throws gleefully over his shoulder.

The tapestry of sound is interrupted frequently by silences.

When G looks crestfallen - as he does quite often, suffering from internal pain - I play quietly, steadily for him. Almost without warning his head will jerk upwards, he will smile and laugh and rock madly in his chair, eliciting a cacophony of squeaks from chair's components that were surely never designed to be put through such stresses.

I ask him if he'd like his guitar and he smiles. I tune it for him. He strums and sings. I do the same, tapping on a drum. He rocks and crams his hand into his mouth, then makes more sounds before smacking the guitar with his fist and then clapping. My singing invites him to play more. G bangs his drum with the back of the guitar.  I start to strum it more for him, playing a sequence of chords, and he sings short punchy phrases.

I switch to my guitar. It sounds like the beginning to "Brimful of Asha", so I try and remember the words. It is surely one of the most un-inspiring songs of the early 2000s, so I stop pretty quickly. G makes some wild-sounding noises. So do I. That's what we do. It's all music.

(from a Wednesday morning session late in November 2011)

Views From A Work Experience Student.

GUEST POST BY MY DAUGHTER, WHO HAD TWO WEEKS' WORKING WITH ME.

"At first I was very nervous about starting work with my mum; I knew she worked with adults who have learning disabilities and that was so 'foreign' that I was rather scared of the idea. My attitude changed 5 minutes into the first session I had, which was on Monday morning. We had arranged to work at a care home with two clients for half an hour each. I had a weird feeling as we pulled up into the drive and my face wasn't exactly the happiest, but as soon as we'd gotten all the instruments in and the music making started, my frown of confusion soon turned into a smile that has stayed with me ever since.

I was fascinated by the way mum interacted with her clients. If they were to make any movement or noise she would reflect it back or even make it into a piece of music. I learnt new ways to use my voice and use the range of instruments that mum has. Later on that day my mum had a client who had quite severe behavioural problems, so I stayed at home and watched a playlist of videos about some of the other jobs my mum does (she has a variety of different clients.)

I watched videos about a local senior living facility and a video on a Lifemusic session. I enjoyed the Lifemusic session the most because I realised you can use your voice for so much more than just singing. You can make noises of all different kinds and when put together with other people's versions it can actually make music. The second day of the work experience consisted of starting with a Psychology A-Level class, of all things! Mum and I both agreed that her taking part in a Psychology class has influenced her work and helped her greatly with her job. So as a paired decision we arrived nice and early to the class. The class lasted about 2 hours and within that time period I learnt a lot of interesting and useful things such as conformity and what factors effecting conformity are, why people conform etc.

On a Tuesday afternoon my mum works with a music group in Pokesdown. The group consists of about 10 people plus 2 or 3 support workers and the whole idea of it is improvising with many different types of instruments and sound makers to make their own music. Music that belongs to them. The group employs a skills chart and every time there is an achievement it is noted down; then certificates are awarded 3 times a year to everybody in the group. By the end of all the crazy music making my cheeks hurt from the amount of smiling I had been doing, every single person in the group was extremely friendly and cheery, I felt so content that I didn't really want to go home and try and suppress the sadness that came with the thought of possibly not returning! Tuesday was also the day I learnt a lot about phone calls and how it is a big role in my mum's job. She receives potential clients through telephone calls as well as enquires about what her job is, costs and who she works with.

Bright and early Wednesday morning and we were already in the car again on the way to another client. This session I joined in more because the previous two sessions I had only been observing what my mum does. Maybe you haven't had the privilege to bash a drum or shake a shaker but I can tell you now it puts a broad smile on my face. Music-making really can just make you feel good inside. The best part is you create the music yourself and it belongs to you. The two clients we had on Wednesday were rather contrasting, for the first one was lively and rather noisy where as the second client prefers peaceful singing. This again shows that each client has their own choice to what type of music is produced. It isn't always loud and riveting, sometimes it's quiet and peaceful and sometimes it's a bit of both!

For the afternoon of the Wednesday we worked on how my mum uses her blog to keep track of things that happen in her work. So, i.e; blog posting. She posts mainly about events that happen in the hour long sessions she has, sometimes excellent improvement on something and other times talking about how to work around a problem that may pop up in the future or even a problem that has already happened.

Thursday morning we visited another house with two fellows that are both in wheelchairs, the nervous feeling of not knowing what to expect had returned but I kept a smile on my face as we unloaded the car and stepped inside the warm house. To my surprise (and by now I don't even know why it was such a surprise to me!) the environment was more than friendly, I was greeted with friendly smiles and hellos as my mum introduced me as her 'work experience student'. We settled down and in this session I really got to join in with the fun of improvisational music making. I also admiringly watched as I saw my mum work with a man who isn't able to move his body a lot; she used what's well known as the 'iPad' and had an application on there that produced all sorts of weird noises when you dragged your fingers along the touch screen. It fascinated me how easily you can find solutions to things such as a client who is unable to move a lot (enough to play a drum) and a client who doesn't always open his eyes so isn't really aware of their surroundings.

We then went and worked with a man who has down syndrome and the session went very fluently; I practised more with the flute and me and mum did an excellent improvisation composition. Towards the end of this I was invited to play the keyboard with the clients, it was a lovely moment although it didn't last for long and afterwards I was told by mum that he wouldn't often do that with anyone else; which, if I'm honest, made me feel quite privileged.

Friday morning we were scheduled to go and visit and old people's home and work with a group of people who suffer from dementia. The whole idea was called 'Singing With The Brain'. I wasn't enjoying the experience to start off with;  many of the people weren't very friendly but I guess that was to be understood. When the music started the whole atmosphere changed; for the better of course, but it really did feel like everyone in the room had suddenly had their moods changed and that music really was the thing bringing them together and keeping them happy. I was surprised at how many of the songs I knew and were able to sing along happily to! If you ask me it was a lovely way to end my first week of work experience.

 After a lovely weekend it was back to work bright and early on Monday morning. Just like last week we started off by seeing two clients who live in a care home. It was lovely to see familiar faces again; although the pouring of the rain seemed to be putting a damper on everyone's moods. It didn't surprise me this time that the experience was completely different YET AGAIN. When we arrived home we had a quick visit from my form teacher to see how I was getting on. I was finally able to boast to someone else about how much I was enjoying work experience with my mum. On Tuesday it was my second (but last!) psychology A level class. The thought of this saddened me a lot because I find the lesson so utterly fascinating, I'm really hoping to take it in A Level; even if it doesn't crop up as something I need to apply for a job. I'll take it just because I love it!

We got our lunches and went to the day centre in which we were to work with the same group of people as last Tuesday afternoon; I was excited to see the familiar happy faces from last week. I even met new people! There was lots of progression in the session and we did more singing and more improvisation. By the end of the day my throat hurt from all the singing and talking I had been doing and my cheeks ached from the amount of smiling. I think working with the music group was probably my favourite thing of the two weeks... but the rest weren't far off! Wednesday was spent at home because some of mum's clients are only seen every other week so we decided it'd be best if we got some office work out of the way. I also phoned the Lighthouse to thank the lady there for allowing me to stay with mum for the whole two weeks. I hate calling unknown people but with after a bit of persuasion I got over my so-called fear and dialled the number. Unexpectedly the phone call was short and simple and very very easy. I don't see why I'd made such a fuss about it in the first place. In the afternoon of the Wednesday, me and mum set out to work on what's called 'music maintenance' where we check over all the instruments to see that they're still in good shape. We also cleared out the music room and re-arranged it all so it was more accessible.

Thursday morning we visited the same two men that we did the last Thursday morning. At first there was a bit of a kerfuffle with whether or not one of the men actually wanted to play music that day. My mum's policy is it is ALWAYS up to the client whether or not they want to make music that day, if they're not feeling up to it or are just not in the mood then she can definitely understand. After a lot of discussion it turned out we all wanted eagerly to play music. Even the workers at the home wanted to join in.

 That afternoon was a scheduled 'trial session' at two potential new clients' home. Last week we had popped by to say hello and talk about whether or not the service my mum provides was right for the two men. Mum and I were both nervous about what was going to happen because neither of us had any idea! To our surprise the session went positively fantastic, well I thought it did. I wrote down which instruments and techniques worked with which client whilst mum scooted around following one of the men with her guitar. It was relaxing to listen to and watch and it put a broad smile on my face. It was a reassuring end to the day.



Unfortunately, Friday had come and it was the end of my work experience with mum. I don't think she realised how much I had enjoyed working with her. I really do enjoy seeing how she interacts with people and how amazing she is at doing that. It's made me proud to say that I worked with her for work experience. I still haven't stopped telling stories of what happened over my two weeks away from school; I haven't stopped telling people how much it opened my eyes to the wonders of music and how there isn't just a few ways of communication but hundreds of ways. Whether it's through singing with a guitar to a steady beat on a drum; music really does help people through problems they may have. I can't really explain how much I enjoyed seeing smiling faces of clients that had made their own music. Those two weeks will stay with me forever and they'll always be my first insight to the wonders of the world."

Why Making A Plan Is Crucial For Me

I have a new gig to look forward to on Tuesday, working with a group of residents in a private senior living facility here in Bournemouth. Any new work makes me feel a certain degree of anxiety, and to assuage my feelings, I have come up with (drum roll, fanfare) A Plan!

Normally a plan is scribbled on some scrap paper, mulled over, typed out, thown away, fished out of the bin, edited, saved, edited again, printed out, thought over, re-written entirely from scratch, taken with me to the gig, and forgotten all about.

The important thing for me is to DO it, though. Even if I subsequently do not follow my plan, or circumstances cause me to wad it up and chuck it across the room, the exercise is still valid. A great deal of training and subsequent experience has gone into shaping this work I do, and so it's important for me to acknowledge (and in some cases, remember!) all that work so I can bring the best of myself to the job at hand, and provide the most interesting and useful creative experience possible for my new clients.

No pressure, then.

Here's my plan for Tuesday morning:

Introduction: Introduce myself.

Explanation: This is a music-making activity where the idea is not to try and emulate or reproduce other pieces of music that we know, but to start from the beginning and make our own pieces of music.

There'll be no performance or recording, so there's no pressure to re-create what we do: We do it, we enjoy it, and then it's gone.

Compare it to gardening in a new garden – stepping back to see what is already growing there, listening, observing, feeling.

Compare it to cooking without a recipe book – look at the ingredients, see what ideas they trigger.

The point, as Rod Paton says, is not accuracy, but invention.

(That's got to be enough talking, don't you think?)

Games: Pat-Yer-Lap – a 1-2-1-2-1-2-1-2 patting game that shows me immediately what kind of manual strength people have in the gentlest and least intrusive manner.. This game is also the best way to introduce the element of control over the group that each individual person can and does have – to stop the patting, raise both palms. To begin again, clap them together. Anyone can do either. Or both. Or not at all.

Egg-Shaker Pass – This normally gets everyone laughing and introduces the idea that “mistakes” are not any kind of a problem. If you drop an egg, it doesn't matter – keep shaking and passing anyway! Mistakes should be re-named and re-framed as 'new ideas'.

Introduce other instruments. The plan for this part of the activity is necessarily loose, as you never really know how this part will pan out. I normally talk to people about any possible safety issues (hand drummers wearing rings, use of beaters etc.,) and explain that I'm not a teacher, but a facilitator – a word that can be translated as “person who shows how simply it can be done”.

Games to play at this point in the proceedings might help people with observation, listening, relaxation of pre-conceived ideals, or turn-taking. After that, it's all about playing – the recognition of what's happening, with breaks to discuss how people are doing. I need to be conscious of my demographic here – I've no way of knowing how well these people really know each other, or what their relationships are, or how comfortable individuals might be speaking up in a group. I will be careful. I need to be at my most sensitive – reading body-language and tone of voice, both of which convey far more of a person's message than the actual words they use. Plus, listening to the music people make – which is a combination of body language AND tone.

Part of making a plan for me is about remembering that I'm capable enough to be able to “trust the process”; that whilst a plan is always a good thing to have, in practice once people 'get' the idea behind this kind of music-making activity, it more or less runs itself, with only minimal intervention from me, normally to suggest an alternative way of doing something, or to provide practical assistance with instruments. Probably the greatest tool I have in my kit is my enthusiasm – it can be infectious, it can put people at their ease, it can persuade people to have a crack at something they might otherwise not have thought to attempt.

This is not so much facilitation as empowerment. That's when the real magic starts to happen.

Make your own drum brushes

Gratuitous picture of our lovely puppy.

Drums can be expensive. I've found a fair few cheapies on eBay over the years but I haven't bought any new drums for 12 months now.

Some of my clients have been with me a long time, and have played each of my drums several times. It's important to keep our music-making fresh, and I find that managing to extricate new sounds from old instruments is one of the best ways to do this.

And one of the easiest ways to do this with a drum, is to change what you are beatin' it with.

Hands and fingers are the best, but that's not always right for some people. Beaters of all shapes and sizes are great, but for a real change in the timbre of your drum, why not try a pair of brushes? And by that I DON'T mean the 20-quid-a-pop wire "jazz" brushes. Lovely though they are.

I saw this video featuring the wonderful French percussionist, Steve Shehan:



I was so intrigued by Shehan's use of household (?) brushes with which to play his Remo djembe that I decided to have a go at making some of my own. I live on a part of the South Coast of the United Kingdom that's unusually balmy, and we can grow palm trees here. Those palm trees provided the raw materials I needed.

Other equipment: One pair of wire cutters; some garden wire; one pair of kitchen shears; one pair of pliers; one mischievous puppy to battle for possession of the palm fronds.

Palm fronds - about ten, gripped in the middle and then folded over.

Cut away the parts you don't need.

Bind the folded-over bit with plastic coated garden wire (though I might also use hefty plastic cable ties in the future. I LOVE hefty plastic cable ties.) Tuck the end of the knotted part into the bundle.

Get a cup of tea before you start the next bit. It can be a little tedious.

Fray the ends of the cut palm fronds. They come apart pretty easily with a bit of persuasion. The further down towards the tie you separate them, the more flexible they are. The thinner the frays, the softer the brush feels (and sounds). I hold the brush between my knees for this bit, to leave both hands free.

Once suitably frayed (my nerves and the fronds), I beat the living crap out of the new brush on the side of our stone table. This is a taster of what it might be subjected to in the future, and it also helps soften the fibres. If any bits of palm want to break away, then this is their opportunity to escape from the rest of the brush. I do not mourn their passing. They distract the puppy.

I give the new brush a bit of a short-back-and-sides with the kitchen shears, hoping no one wants to use said scissors to joint a chicken that evening. Eeeek.

 Then I wrap the lower part of the brush with duck tape - called gaffer tape in some professions - to form a handle. Et voila.

What's your favourite home-made instrument story?

Music In A Vacuum

One of the lynch-pins of what I do, is "following" the musical lead my client sets, and using his or her movements and/or noises - whether voluntary or not - as the basis for making patterns out of rhythm and melody. For a more detailed explanation, see here and here.

So, imagine my confusion the other day when my client Eddie abruptly announced - in his own highly individualised form of Makaton - that he was now going to vacuum the bungalow!

I remembered my decision to "stay with him" in whatever it was Eddie was doing or going through at that time, trying to reinforce in him the notion that I just want to be there with him for that one hour every two weeks, and that his company alone is desirable and motivating for me. Apart from the occasional visit with his family, Eddie doesn't have very much of this kind of relationship anywhere else in his life.

So, I tried to find a way to musically accompany his hoovering activities. We knelt on the floor  and scooted around the public areas of his bungalow*.  I opted for a light-weight frame drum, played with a big ol' brush I made myself from the fallen leaves of a palm tree in our garden (yes, we have palm trees growing here on the South Coast of the UK), and my voice.

My initial mis-givings disappeared fairly swiftly after we had finished outside the kitchen, I am happy to say, and had vanished altogether by the time we finished the hallway all the way along to the utility room. We paused for a moment to see if the load in the tumble dryer was dry - it was, so we put it in the washing basket - and finished just in time for my timer chime to go off. I never quite know how Eddie does it but he can tell, without any kind of reference to a clock as far as I can see, when exactly 59 minutes has elapsed. How does he do that?!

He's a remarkable man, Eddie. And a great home-maker. I love how he keeps me absolutely on my toes the whole time, exercising my musical muscles by creating more and more extraordinary situations for me to improvise with and around. This is quite a turn around for me, as a few months ago, I was beginning to despair of ever 'reaching' him musically.




*N.B. To cover myself, I also asked Eddie's key-worker to note that I had expressed some degree of concern over his getting real value-for-money out of me at times like this. She reassured me that whenever he was questioned on the subject, Eddie affirmed that he did want to see me. The choice is ALWAYS his.

You can read more about my adventures with "Eddie" here.