When Silence Speaks Louder: Rethinking Connection in Music Therapy
In music therapy, songs are often our go-to tools—but what if silence is what a client truly needs? I reflect on how stepping back and creating space can foster deeper connection and engagement in a therapeutic space.
5/9/20252 min read
As music therapists, we often enter sessions equipped with songs and musical discussions—tools that feel as natural to us as breathing. We rely on music to communicate, and we instinctively use it to create connection. But what if the most effective tool we have isn’t a song or a melody, but something quieter—silence?
During a recent intake with a new client, I caught myself constantly speaking or singing to fill the space. Whenever the client didn’t respond, I jumped in with more music, more words. At the time, I couldn’t quite figure out why the session felt off. But upon reflection, it became clear: I was trying too hard. The client may have felt overwhelmed by the steady stream of interaction, and I was unintentionally crowding the space with sound in an effort to force a connection.
Even though we’re trained to leave our personal emotions at the door, we’re still human. We seek common ground, often based on our own preferences or communication styles. But clients don’t always mirror us—they might need something entirely different. In this case, I realized I was overcompensating for what I perceived as disengagement by increasing musical and verbal input, when what the client may have needed was space.
For our next session, I shifted my approach. I initiated interaction only briefly to set a tone, then stepped back. I minimized verbal communication and relied more on gestures and body language to guide the session. Something shifted. The client became more curious, more open—exploring instruments, initiating play, and engaging at their own pace. Their mother even remarked how excited her son seemed to be for “music” before the session—a response we hadn’t seen before.
This experience was a reminder of what it means to be a reflective clinician. Music therapy isn’t about always getting it right the first time; it’s about being attuned to the client, reading the room, and having the willingness to adapt. Silence can feel uncomfortable, especially for those of us who see music as our primary language. But in that silence, our clients sometimes find the safety and space they need to reach out.
Our job as music therapists is to meet clients where they are, even when it takes time or multiple attempts. We don’t always need to fill the room with sound. Sometimes, silence speaks loudest—and it’s in those quiet moments that true connection begins.