Take note--
[SMOOTH ROCK MUSIC]
--of Dr. Suzanne Hanser.
She is a founder of the Music Therapy Department at Berklee College of Music.
She is now the chair emeritus of that department
and a full time professor at Berklee.
Next winter, she'll begin teaching the course she authored for Berklee Online,
Music For Wellness-- an Integrative Approach.
But it all started for Suzanne Hanser when she was very, very young.
Let's let her set the scene.
It was a long time ago.
My cousin had a grand piano in her home.
And I must've been about 3 or so, because I actually
couldn't reach or see the keys.
But I somehow got on my tippy-toes and took my fingers,
and I could make out little melodies--
nothing special at age 3-- but it just seemed the most magical thing.
And this massive, beautiful ebony machine was creating these the sounds,
and I was creating them.
And so I always wanted a piano.
And I was very ill as a child.
And I guess I was about 6 years old, and I was in the hospital.
And my parents were driving me home.
And they wanted to buy me something.
They felt sorry for me.
And they thought-- but if they asked me what I wanted,
I would say a toy, a doll, a game, or something like that.
They didn't know what they were in for.
They asked me, what can I buy you?
And I said, a piano.
And they couldn't afford one.
But somehow, one appeared in my bedroom, yeah.
Because there wasn't room in the house for it.
[CHUCKLING]
So I had this little upright piano.
And I just loved it.
It was my best friend.
And as I said, I was ill.
And I was actually home from school for almost a year.
What was it?
Well, I had some congenital deformities.
And so I had a lot of diagnostic tests.
They couldn't figure out what was going on.
And finally, I had some surgeries that cured it.
But I needed to be very careful.
So I stayed home post-surgery.
And I was living in New York City.
And the public school system sent a tutor to my home.
So I was just in my room all the time.
My tutor came, I didn't see other kids, I didn't go out and play.
But I had my piano.
And I could say anything I wanted to say on that piano.
I just played out my frustration, my anger.
I played out my disappointment.
I played out my joy.
And somehow, the piano didn't answer back, didn't talk back to me,
which was great.
I could just say anything I wanted on the piano.
And so you were saying things that were all your own,
rather than getting sheet music of the day, or anything like that?
I was really on my own until I did get piano lessons.
And that opened up just an enormous, enormous world.
And I think I have some natural ability, because my parents took me
to Juilliard Preparatory Division.
They had a Saturday class.
Actually, it was a whole series, a whole day of classes.
And they took me there to see if I could pass the audition.
And I did.
And I studied piano, and I studied violin, and dance.
So how old were you at this point?
About 7 by then-- yes, 7 years old.
And I just couldn't get enough of the music and the arts.
And I remember a really terrible class, where it
was called sight reading at the piano.
And they put a board over the keys.
And they would put some music up.
And I had to play it without looking at my hands.
And it was actually a very valuable class.
But it was hard.
And so that was my unfavorite class.
But I took modern dance classes, and harmony, history, all sorts of things.
And I did pretty well.
I won a piano composition contest and played my piece at town hall
in New York City.
And I played at Carnegie Recital Hall--
the small hall, not the big one.
Are there any recordings anywhere of these performances?
Not of those as a child.
I mean, my parents couldn't afford a recorder at that time.
But I have some old tape to tape things of early performances.
That's great.
And were you an only child?
I was an only child.
So I was particularly lonely.
And then, in high school, I knew that while I had a lot of interests--
I was very good at math and science, actually,
and I was very interested in psychology.
But I had no idea what that was.
It sounded like, oh, the study of the brain, and thinking.
But what is a psychologist?
And what does one do?
So I really didn't know what that was.
How could I go into a field that I didn't
have a picture of what it was like?
So I thought about all these subjects.
And then I said, you know, does that mean
I'm not going to be able to play the piano every day,
I'm not going to have music in my life as a regular thing?
And so I knew I had to do something with music.
And I heard about this thing called music therapy.
Right.
So what year is this?
So this was-- well, actually, because I was home tutored and accomplished
so much, and a whole other series of accidents,
I finished high school at age barely 15.
Wow.
Yeah.
I started college, I was just 15.
Wow.
My goodness.
Yeah.
Where did you go for college?
So for college, I went to Boston University.
As a 15-year-old?
As a 15-year-old, they accepted me.
I had lived on Baystate Road with some wonderful roommates.
I think I took better care of them than they took of me, but that was OK.
Because I kind of liked that.
I kind of liked being with others.
And your parents were OK with this?
Yeah.
That's amazing.
I know.
15.
I know.
Maybe they wanted to get rid of me.
Maybe I played too much piano around the house.
There was an air, or any sort of like, oh, please Suzanne, keep it down.
No.
My mother was really a stage mom.
She would take me all around.
And I had tremendous performance anxiety.
I could tell you that I actually got sick in front of every major concert
hall in New York.
I was terribly, terribly nervous.
I think it came from my very, very, very first piano recital.
That first year, I was playing a little piece from Mozart.
And it was my teacher's recital.
She went to the hall and we all played something.
And I had a memory slip right in the middle.
And I didn't know what to do.
And I ran off the stage crying.
Oh, man.
And you're probably, what--
6 at this point?
Yeah, yeah, barely 7.
Oh, boy.
Yeah.
And so she pushed me back onto the stage.
And I did play the piece and finish it.
And of course, everybody applauded.
And I got an award.
But that stayed with me.
And I really have tremendous performance anxiety.
Still to this day?
Yes.
Wow.
Yes, I do.
It has gotten much better.
And yet, I think because I'm a music therapist,
I have somehow gotten over the identity as a performer,
that I have to be performing for an audience of people.
Because when I work with people as a music therapist,
when I work with clients, and patients, and students, I'm not nervous.
I'm bringing their music out.
And we create music together.
And if I am performing for them, it's purely
to induce a change in their mood, to relax them, or to get them energized.
And so I have that intention in mind.
And it takes away all of the performance kinds of skill.
And it just reframes the whole situation for me.
I'm not nervous when I am playing my many instruments.
And it's probably because also not all eyes on you.
It's just one set of ears, and set of eyes.
So you're helping.
Yeah.
I do work with groups, and even large groups.
But somehow, it's just very different.
And so, back-- we're in Boston, you're 15.
And did you go there thinking that you would be incorporating music
into your education in any way?
Well, I was a music composition major.
And I really wanted to study psychology, which I did.
I took a general psychology class my freshman year.
But I should back up, because what happened in high school
was that, yes, I decided I've got to do something in music.
And I had a long talk with my piano teacher.
And she said, you know, there's this thing called music therapy.
But it's very depressing.
You wouldn't want to do this.
So that's when I applied to Boston University.
Because I wanted a liberal arts education.
I didn't want to go to a conservatory.
And I was classically trained.
So frankly, Berklee wasn't in my radar, really.
And because I wanted a good liberal arts education,
I decided that BU was the place.
Fortunately, they accepted me, even at my tender age.
So what year is this, also, so we a feel of--
Oh, my goodness.
No, I'm not trying to suss out how old you are.
I'm just trying to figure out where Berklee was at that point.
Yeah.
Well, I just had a big birthday, Patrick.
Well, happy birthday.
Thank you very much.
Yes, I really did.
So this was 1967, a momentous year.
Yeah.
Monterey Pop just happened.
Oh, yes, and a lot else in the world.
Did you get caught up in the culture at all?
I got absolutely caught up in the culture.
Because 1967 in Boston was a year of not only the Vietnam War protests here--
and right down the street from my dorm was the Dow Chemical Company,
so there were always protests right outside my window.
And I actually participated in many of those.
And then, the assassination of Martin Luther King.
We had massive, massive rallies at MIT, at Harvard, and in Boston.
And you couldn't ignore that there was a lot going on in the world that
was really important.
And I felt like, while I loved my studies at Boston University,
and my piano playing was really improving.
I played on WGBH radio.
And I played at some other concerts.
And I was doing really well.
But I was locked in a practice room.
And the world needed more.
And how could I be so selfish as to just make myself
a better pianist, or a better musician?
I had to do something else.
So Christmas vacation of that freshman year,
I thought, you know, I'm going to look into this music therapy.
I think that might meet my needs to really be engaged in society,
do something for humanity.
And through my music, maybe this is it.
And there weren't very many programs in music therapy at that time.
There was nothing in New England--
nothing at all, nowhere you could study music therapy.
And one of the places on the eastern seaboard that had a graduate program--
and so I felt that it would be a solid program-- was Florida State University.
So I sadly transferred my sophomore year to Tallahassee, Florida,
just to study music therapy.
Wow.
So now, also, while you're locked in these practice rooms,
and you're absorbing the culture of the baby boomers, the '60s.
And also, is the music of the day getting into you?
The music of the day.
I mean, the music we chanted and marched to, powerful--
powerful.
We couldn't have done that without music.
We couldn't have stood all those hours and rallied without the music.
It was that music--
the anthems of the day were really important.
And, of course, the Beatles were coming into the foreground.
And so many great groups that defined popular music of the day.
So I was born at that momentous time.
And my career was born at even more passionate time on both sides--
being passionate about the new music coming out, and rock musicians,
and the crazes that they stirred up all around the world.
And then, of course, the civil rights movement and the political situations,
and the assassinations that were happening.
I mean, just a world crushed, devastated.
And music really kept me going.
Yeah.
So you make the change.
I imagine that's a huge culture shock.
Oh my goodness.
You know, Tallahassee, Florida is really in the deep south.
So it was a great sacrifice to leave Boston.
And I got a wonderful education in music therapy.
And very, very quickly, I knew that it was the field for me,
because I could use my time to really help others, support others.
As I said earlier, bring out their music.
And that was such a gift to be able to find a person who said,
oh, I could never sing.
Oh, but I love whatever it is--
John Coltrane.
And I could bring out not only their own innate talent that they just
hadn't tapped or hadn't discovered, but I also could help them
create their own music, compose songs.
What was your first epiphany?
My first epiphany was at Milledgeville State Hospital in southern Georgia--
not far from Tallahassee, Florida.
And we had a field trip there.
And I couldn't believe what I was seeing.
The conditions of this mental hospital, as it was called at that time--
with the patients being really kept in cells--
I couldn't say anything more positive about that.
They were literally locked up in cells.
And then, I saw the music therapist bring a whole group of people--
who seemed barely aware of the environment--
into a group.
And they sang together.
And they sang with passion.
And they sang with all they had.
And there was their humanity.
And I said, whoa.
If this can be done in a dungeon, where else in the world can I offer my talent
and somehow make it better one person at a time?
Just one person at a time, can we bring back humanity in people who have--
for whatever reason--
been challenged or again, been hidden so that they're not able
to use their natural resources, or even identify what's possible for them--
their potential.
And so you're 17--
16, 17 at this time.
Yeah, I was 18 when I did a music therapy
internship after I finished my course work at Milwaukee County Mental Health
Center.
Oh, wow.
That's another huge leap across the country.
Another huge place.
And a place I'd never been.
And I thought, hmm, the Midwest.
I should discover this.
And they taught me about gospel music, and country western music--
which, frankly, I hated at the time.
But they taught me about--
I remember Tammy Wynette, "D-I-V-O-R-C-E",
and this woman singing that song, and saying, that's the way I feel.
That's what happened to me.
She can relate to that song.
So I learned to love country western music,
because it told the life stories of so many other songwriters and singers.
And it was magical, what it did for people.
These people at Milwaukee County Mental Health Center were in talk therapy.
All day long, they had group therapy, and individual therapy,
and therapy with their social worker, and therapy with their psychologists,
and therapy with their psychiatrists.
And I sat in some of those groups.
And they were often very quiet.
And it was difficult to identify, what are you feeling?
What are the emotions that underlie what's going on in your life?
And these therapists were really--
they didn't have the resources that I did as a music therapist.
And these same people came into my session,
chose a song that expressed how they felt, and wow.
It all came out.
It came flooding out.
And I had to go invite the psychiatrists, and the psychologists,
and the social worker to sit in on my groups.
Because it was all happening there.
And then they could go off and work on their own particular issues
with their other mental health professionals.
So at this point, it's still a relatively new field of study.
And were you the first person who had ever come to that hospital
and done that?
No, no.
I did an internship.
There was a whole team of music therapists.
The field started as a profession, as a formal profession in 1950
when the National Association for Music Therapy began.
And there were standardized curriculum that we
follow to this day that engage people in a solid foundation of music.
The music has to come naturally.
You can't be thinking about, oh, which finger
do I use on that string on the guitar?
You have to be right there with the person.
And you're communicating through music with this person.
It's a very intimate connection.
You remember the first song or work that you
felt like you had to break through with a patient?
Oh, yes.
I've been so fortunate to have so many, so many.
I think that you hear a lot today about people
with Alzheimer's, because there are so many people who
are suffering from dementia--
the Alzheimer's type-- and other forms of dementia.
But as you said, the baby boomers are getting up there.
And so we see more and more cases.
The prevalence and incidence of Alzheimer's disease is frightening.
And it's growth is expected to be enormous.
I don't want to quote the figures off the top of my head.
But it's quite devastating to think about this.
And I remember working with someone who had Alzheimer's who hadn't spoken
in years, years-- maybe five years.
And I remember this gentleman's wife would come in.
She would dress him, and she would feed him, and she would be with him.
And she was just withering away because she watched her dear husband--
her beloved husband of, I don't know how many years, maybe 50 years--
just deteriorate and not recognize her, and not be able to connect in any way.
It's one of the saddest things.
And then, I put an autoharp on his lap.
Do you remember those old things?
The Carter family-- you press the D major seven instrument.
That's exactly it.
It's very simple to play, because you can just push the bar
and out comes a chord when you strum the strings.
But the vibrations are wonderful under that.
So I was strumming, and I was singing "Oh Johnny",
because his wife said he loved that.
His name was John.
And we're singing, oh, Johnny, oh, Johnny.
And suddenly, he starts singing.
Wow.
And he's starts singing, oh, Johnny, oh, Johnny.
And his legs are kicking up in the beat.
And the autoharp almost went flying.
And I almost went flying because I couldn't believe it.
And she is absolutely shocked.
And her mouth is wide open.
And she's standing up.
And the tears start coming.
And suddenly, there's a connection.
So there's something called receptive language versus expressive language.
And even if you can't express yourself and say words, and talk, and actually
communicate, you still might be receiving what other people are saying.
And clearly, he was receiving a lot.
And what is kind of magical about music is
that it's so well-practiced, that music is retained in the long-term memory.
And that part of the brain remains relatively intact.
And so you can call up these long-term memories
with people whose short-term memory is hardly existent.
They can't-- moment-to-moment-- remember what they just said or saw.
The short-term memory is destroyed very quickly in a degenerative disease like
Alzheimer's.
The long-term memory remains.
And we hear these incredible stories of preserved musical ability.
And it's been documented in the literature.
In fact, I was just speaking about that at the neurosciences and music
conference that we hosted here in Boston at Harvard Medical School.
Yeah.
I went to see Glen Campbell play a few years ago.
And he wasn't remembering all the words, but he
could play like he was still a studio musician in the '60s.
Absolutely, absolutely.
And indeed, if you were to talk with him, it would be very confusing.
But yes, those abilities are preserved.
So any young people out there listening, keep up those skills.
They will stay with you for a long time.
Yeah, I imagine treating patients, it must be a very different experience
when you're treating a patient who does have a musical background, as opposed
to somebody who just knows those songs from part of their upbringing.
How is it different?
In many ways.
Of course, it depends on what the goal is--
the clinical goal, and the intention, and the treatment plan.
So we could be talking about someone with a physical challenge,
or a medical illness, or a psychiatric issue.
So it's very interesting.
The ability is preserved, as I've said--
let's say, if they have dementia of some type
and it's a neurodegenerative issue.
So they will be able to play that instrument
that they've played for a long time.
But people who don't have formal training
have an emotional response to music.
And most people have listened to music and have favorites.
And so they are every bit as much retaining the musical skills
that they have.
And so they are able to sing along to music--
often, the music of their early youth and teenage days,
when music becomes so important.
So that's all preserved as well.
And if I'm working with a musician, it's interesting.
Often, let's say, in the medical center, the staff will refer patients
because they say, oh, he's a guitarist.
Here, come have music therapy.
But actually, in that case, if a person is
ailing and no longer able to play the guitar as well--
and maybe has a traumatic brain injury or something,
some terrible accident that's caused him not
to be able to play as well or anymore--
music therapy may be in a sense, contraindicated.
Because it brings back the loss of functioning.
And of course, when that person is ready,
we can use adaptive kinds of techniques to enable them to play again,
or to perhaps learn a new instrument, or use their musical skills.
But often, it's contraindicated because the loss is just too large
and looms in an obvious way.
So until the person is ready to approach music again, it may not be the way in.
So you're in the Midwest for your internship.
How long?
Do you stay out there afterwards?
I did not.
Where did I go after?
I guess I went back to New York City.
And I worked in several different places.
I worked for the New York Association for Brain Injured Children.
And I wanted more experience with young-ins.
I worked with adults.
And I've been very fortunate in my career
to work in many different settings.
I imagine with younger children, like you said,
the adults, they are drawing from their teenage years.
So what do you find the younger patients are drawing from?
Well, children are natural musicians.
They love to dance, and to sing, and music
that they know from what parents have sung to them, or just
musical games and things.
It naturalizes an environment if a child is hospitalized.
And so being able to bring in music for the family, for their siblings
and bring out their music so that they're not patients anymore,
they're little musicians.
And they're songwriters.
And they're creating music.
And they're learning new instruments that they never got to play.
So we really create a creative environment,
where they can be themselves and they can really establish and master
new musical skills.
So they thought they were in the hospital
to be treated for their illness, or their medical condition.
And, of course, they are.
But what they know is that they're not just sitting in a hospital room
and worrying about the next treatment, or the next ordeal
that they may be put through.
But they're waiting for the music therapist
to come and teach them piano and enable them to sing along
with their friends and siblings.
Wow.
So how long did you work with children?
Just a couple of years.
And I worked while I was getting my doctorate at Columbia University.
And after I got my doctorate, I became the educational director
for MEND, which was Massive Economic Neighborhood Development
in Spanish Harlem in New York City.
And I was directing both vocational opportunities center and an education
center for young adults who had developmental delays.
And because I was director of education, I got to design the curriculum.
And guess what it was centered around?
So everybody learned functional skills, like how to manage money.
And actually, some of the participants were quite limited in their education.
And so they didn't know what a quarter was, as opposed to a dime and a nickel.
So we sang about money.
And we'd set up little jingles to remind them
about (SINGING) a quarter, a quarter a quarter is $0.25.
And so, I'd lift up a quarter, and they'd say, a quarter is $0.25.
And they just remember these little jingles very easily.
We would have them finish a scale.
(SINGING) A nickel is $0.05.
And we'd see how low they could go.
But they're holding up a nickel, they remembered $0.05.
They remembered it.
If somebody would hold up a nickel, everybody would go, $0.05.
It was fun.
Learning was fun.
Learning was creative.
Learning was new, it was different, and everybody had the best time learning.
And these are people with developmental delays.
So learning is hard.
Learning is challenging, learning something
they've learned they can't do.
But in this setting, we were having the greatest time.
And I actually got a grant because there were large state institutions that
were housing some of them from birth--
developmentally delayed people who were seriously developmentally delayed.
So it was a grant to deinstitutionalize Willowbrook State Hospital.
And we bussed into our center at Spanish Harlem
these adults who had hardly been out of the institution.
And we put them on an assembly line, and we had them singing.
And they earned money to do some very simple tasks.
And at our education center, we taught them functional skills.
And we took them out in the neighborhood.
We took them to concerts.
We took them to the circus.
I remember going on the subway with a group of six.
And one of the gentlemen, he was actually 30 years old,
and he'd never been on a subway.
And he was so afraid, he was screaming and yelling.
And the police came over, and they were about to arrest him.
And I said, no, no, no, no, no, no, no.
I'm in charge of him.
He's fine, he's OK.
But he's just afraid.
So I had some very interesting experiences,
but felt that this was an enormous boon to people who had never been outside.
Can you imagine?
Never been outside of a large state institution.
And now, they could--
through music-- learn how to engage and feel safe and happy,
and have a good time with others, and learn about others,
and learn about the world.
So that was one of the more fulfilling--
That's interesting that you say the word, safe.
And it's perfect.
Because that is what music does.
If you're in some time of strife, you go back
and it makes you feel safer, calmer.
So let's fast forward to Berklee, because want to talk about Berklee.
I've been at Berklee for 22 years now.
And I had the honor of starting the music therapy department.
And it's opened up a whole new world.
That's--
'95.
'95.
So you start the department.
And was it difficult to convince people here
that it was a viable study, a viable pursuit?
I wouldn't say it was.
It was challenging, but it wasn't difficult. I mean, it wasn't easy.
It wasn't easy, but Lee Berk had a vision for building careers at Berklee.
And he had heard about this music therapy
and thought it was kind of the next best thing.
But he also knew that if Berklee started a music therapy program,
it had to be the best in the world.
And it had to be state-of-the-art.
And so he actually called me when I was president of the National Association
for Music Therapy several years before, saying, you know,
we're thinking about music therapy here.
But we need to know what resources would we need.
And is it feasible for us to do this?
Because it's different than other careers that we offer.
And so I actually-- at the time--
got him a consultant to do a needs assessment
and really study and write a long document about the library
needs, and the clinical needs, and just everything
that would be necessary for a world class music therapy department.
And what do you know?
He put those resources to work.
And when I came and interviewed several years later,
I really didn't see myself coming to Boston.
I was very happy in California-- northern California.
I had been at University of the Pacific as chair of their music therapy
department.
And then, I was program director for the Alzheimer's Association.
So my career took many different twists and turns.
And I also was very fortunate to get a post-doctoral fellowship at Stanford
Medical Center--
and actually, at the medical school.
And I had a National Research Service Award from the National Institutes
of Health to teach me about biomedical research, to train me,
and also to do research.
And I did some seminal works about depressed older adults
and how music therapy could help them, and also
about people with Alzheimer's who were at the VA hospital in Palo
Alto in Menlo Park in California.
So I took some twists and turns, but always, music therapy
was central to what I did.
And I always found that even though I got my doctorate in psychology
and I was program director for this large agency, the San Francisco Bay
Area Alzheimer's Association, music therapy
was always the key to unlock something that others had never thought of.
Music therapy was something that they just didn't--
well, maybe they took music for granted.
We have it playing all the time.
But that's not what music therapy is.
Music therapy is a very systematic approach
to meet individual goals and objectives.
And using not only a prescribed and evidence-based set of strategies,
but also forming the relationship between music therapist and client,
or patient, or student.
And really working together to bring out the resources that every person has.
Now, was it a conscious choice in your career?
It seems very fortunate that you were able to work
with almost every single age group throughout your career.
I did that by choice.
I sought out new opportunities.
And you know what?
Every time I worked with a different group of people,
I said, this is my favorite group of people.
Oh, really?
Yes, yes, really.
Because I was just enthralled with how music could affect people.
And I thought, gee, I've worked with adults in psychiatric settings.
And I've worked with adults in medical settings.
I've worked with kids who were emotionally disturbed.
And I worked with learning challenges.
And I've work with young infants.
Who else can benefit from music?
And then, you land upon-- for probably the longest period of your career--
the college students.
Well, yes.
I have always--
I say that teaching at Berklee keeps me young.
The energy, the vitality, the talent, the passion,
the thrill of working with people.
And I tell our graduating students every year
that while their parents may have birthed them, we birth their careers.
And there's nothing more exciting than seeing a new music therapist
able to transform people's lives--
literally transform people's lives, give them
another way of looking at the beauty within them,
the creativity that they own, the natural resources that they have,
the mastery they're capable of.
I can go on and on, you can tell.
But truly, there has been nothing more fulfilling for me
than working with future music therapists
who are going to make such impact in the world with their talent,
with their abilities, with their relationships
that they're establishing with the people they work with.
During my interview, I said, I've come to fulfill my destiny.
I loved being a student in Boston many years before.
And I really hadn't made it back to Boston
for any considerable amount of time.
But I loved it here.
And I had a wonderful experience here.
And I hated leaving.
So now, if I can teach music therapy here and give students an opportunity
to study music therapy, it's like fulfilling my destiny,
coming back to Boston.
So it's an important personal step to come here again and begin this program
and hire the finest faculty.
And we have almost uniquely individual instruments.
We have French horn player, a bari sax player,
and a pianist, a singer, and a guitarist, and a trumpet player.
I mean, we've got not all instruments, but we've
got instruments represented amongst our faculty.
We have different philosophies of music therapy.
We have experience with different clinical populations.
We have research abilities.
We have it all.
And it's quite amazing to bring a team together
that's so diverse, but so committed to this field and so knowledgeable
about the impact of music on people.
Yeah.
Describe for me, if you could, what the different instrumentation,
how that factors into music therapy.
Well, we have to be so versatile, that we require of our students--
not only really solid ability on their own principal instruments--
but they're required to meet competencies on voice, piano, guitar,
and percussion.
And they have to be able to pick up a guitar
and accompany a song that happens to be someone's favorite song.
And they have to be so flexible that songs they don't know,
the patients or clients can teach them and they can pick it up.
And they have the ear so that they can run over to the piano,
and pick out the tune, and harmonize it--
and create a supportive background, so that clients who say, oh,
I could never sing, or I love that song, but I don't know all the words--
or whatever it is--
they can support them.
And they can bring that music to them.
And again, the person in a hospital, for instance, becomes the musician
and is focused on their own mastery and creativity, rather than their disease.
And do you still work with patients as well?
I do.
I've done a lot of clinical research.
I'm very committed to research because we all know intuitively
that music has impact on us.
It affects our moods.
It can help us to get through a hard day, it can relax us, it can excite us.
There, again, is this ability that all of us perceive in some way,
but we may not think about what precisely can it do for a person.
And in order for music therapy to be accepted--
and you were asking me about that earlier--
we have to have some evidence.
And not just evidence that it affects our moods,
but it can actually help people reduce their stress
so that they are healthier.
Or that it can actually reduce their pain.
Or that it has impact on their learning, if they're
a child with intellectual issues and have difficulty, or a learning
challenge.
So we have to offer the documentation of what really works,
and not just its effect, but also its mechanism.
How is it that music is able to help someone feel so much better about who
they are, and transform their self-esteem, or their self-identity,
or their stress, or their pain.
So the research that I've done has been very clinically oriented.
So I was able to work at Dana-Farber Cancer Institute
and offer music therapy individualized to women with metastatic breast
cancer who were undergoing therapy.
And while they were being infused with chemotherapy,
I would meet with them individually in the first session,
just having them listen to some live music.
And I brought every instrument I could carry.
I would have a Native American flute, I have a small harp called a lyre.
I have hand chimes.
I have the guitar, of course, all sorts of instruments.
I have a little dulcimer that they can actually play when I tune it for them.
And so we create this sound environment.
And I just sort of play off it and improvise on what
I'm perceiving their needs are--
either to relax them, or if they're really agitated, to match their mood
and to acknowledge that that agitation, that frustration, that anger,
that worry.
And then, slowly change the music.
Tone it down, make it slower, softer.
Make it flow more smoothly, and thereby change that mood.
And then, in the second session, I invite them to play with me
and we improvise on percussion instruments,
and as we said, the dulcimer that's tuned and whatever else
they're interested in learning.
And we improvise together and create this environment of learning,
of discovery, of creativity.
And in the third session, we write a song together about the experience.
And they can write a song to a loved one.
Often, when you have a disease like cancer--
a very serious or terminal illness--
it's hard to talk about.
And it's hard to know what to say to your relatives,
and loved ones, and friends.
And so I help them write songs that said something
that they never had the chance to say.
And it was very poignant, as you can imagine,
to present this song-- to sing it, to record it, to accompany it,
and to give it as a gift to that person.
And I'm also pursuing more research.
I've just completed a research protocol at Boston Medical Center in the family
medicine unit, working with patients who are
chronically ill, very seriously ill.
And we looked at music therapy, versus massage therapy, versus usual care
in a randomized controlled trial.
So look for that article.
We've submitted it to some journals and hope that it will be published soon.
Is there a song that has been a through line for your career?
I mean, I know a lot of these songs are original compositions that happen when
you're collaborating with these people.
But is there one song that you can look back up on and say,
that wow, I've always reached for this song.
Or this song has always kind of come about.
It's kind of a joke within the music therapy department
when a student learns "You Are My Sunshine".
It's a very simple song.
And it's an old song.
And it happens to be a favorite of a lot of people who often--
when we say, what would you like to hear?
Especially amongst the geriatric set.
Oh, do you know "You Are My Sunshine"?
So we sort of laugh about it, because it's so popular, so familiar,
and kind of so silly.
However, I went to one of my patient's homes.
Unfortunately, he was terminally ill.
He had a brain tumor and they were no longer able to treat it.
And so he was home with hospice.
And his parents were with him much of the day.
And I was very fortunate to be asked to make a home visit
and to be with them very close to the end of his life.
And I brought my lyre to the bedside.
And the father was there.
And I said, are there some songs that you both know, or that you sang to him?
Or something that you might like to hear?
And he said, "You Are My Sunshine".
And so I thought, you know what?
I can play that on the lyre, because other than (SINGING) dee, dee, dee--
that little chromatic there--
I can play that all my lyre.
We can sing that.
So we sang, (SINGING) you are my sunshine, my only sunshine.
You make me happy, when skies are gray.
You'll never know, dear, how much I love you.
Please don't take my sunshine away.
Oh, it's heartbreaking.
It is heartbreaking.
I had never in all those years of kind of making
fun of "You Are My Sunshine" listened myself to the words.
And those were just the words that the father wanted to say to the son.
[MUSIC PLAYING]
Dr. Suzanne Hanser, using music to find just the words that people need to say.
Once again, her Berklee Online course, Music for Wellness--
an Integrative Approach-- starts in the winter of 2018.
Visit us at online.berklee.edu for more info.
And for more info on what we're up to on our Take Notes site,
visit us online.berklee.edu/takenote.
And lastly, be sure to check out our new Berklee Online live songwriter
series, kicking off on August 7, at 1:00 PM with special guest, George Clinton.
Yes, a video interview with Dr. Funkenstein himself.
You can log on and ask questions.
For more Info, online.berklee.edu/takenote/live,
or just subscribe to the Berklee Online YouTube channel.
Thank you very much for listening.
Talk to you soon.
[MUSIC PLAYING]
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