Musician: Nat Keen (guitar)

Today was punctuated by a particularly unexpected and moving moment with a resident who I’d occasionally played for in the last year. When visiting a care home, musicians are never fully sure of a person’s often shifting cognitive capacity or their awareness and appreciation of the music that we are providing. There is a wide range of communicative ability and comprehension among the residents and today I was reminded that music is often moving people deeply, even if/especially if they’re unable to tell you so.

I spent the first part of the session playing for residents in communal areas on the upper floors of Bridgeside Lodge. On the first floor, I began to ramble the corridors with my guitar, a wandering minstrel on the hunt for welcome ears. I like to spontaneously explore in this way. I find that there are often unplanned happenings that can benefit from some musical input and I can also keep my eyes and ears open for residents who seem keen to listen whilst filling the corridors with (hopefully) inviting sounds. On this occasion though, it was much less romantic; ‘go in there!’ said one of the carers, enthusiastically pointing towards SR’s door….ok, i’ll go in there.

I’ve played songs for Resident SR many times before and when asked she will often pick out Bob Marley songs for me to sing. These occasions have all been in communal areas with plenty of other people milling around (the dining room or garden for example) and our interactions have been warm but very brief, no more than one, or perhaps two words exchanged. Nevertheless, despite her apparent struggle to find words, I was aware that she enjoyed listening to music.

I knocked on SR’s door, ‘Good afternoon, would you like to listen to some music?’

I was welcomed in to her room and began to play some songs….

After the first song had finished, SR said softly ‘It’s a miracle that you’re here’ to which I fumbled some slightly uncomfortable reply, suggesting that it was wasn’t a miracle but that I was very happy to be there, but then she reiterated; ‘well, for me it’s a miracle that you are here, music means so much to me’.

As our conversation continued to flow, I began to feel a sense of disbelief, this wasn’t one or two words, but full sentences! I began to play Joni Mitchell’s classic song ‘Both Sides Now’:

I’ve looked at clouds from both sides now

From up and down and still somehow

It’s cloud illusions I recall

I really don’t know clouds at all

At the end of each chorus, SR would join me with the words ‘at all’. This song was clearly moving for her to hear and as she cried, she began to share with me some of the difficult things that she was experiencing and feeling lately. I was humbled and moved by the trust she was exhibiting and I thanked her. As she went on to describe how she doesn’t really like to talk around other people, I was again drawn to, and amazed by the fluency in which she could express herself with words and wondered how many other residents were in a similar position. I assured SR that I would visit her in her room for music from now on and played one last song. When I finished, I offered to turn her TV back on:

I don’t want to watch the tv anymore, I want to hear your music, please come back to visit, music is so important to me’