Music is Always Directive
Reflections on inter-subjectivity, inner healer intelligence, influencing and music in the context of psychedelic therapy
Please note that this article is divided into five parts, which are published sequentially and are ideally read in chronological order:
Part 1
Psychotherapy is never non-directive | Reflections on inter-subjectivity
Part 2
Music is always directive | Reflections on the therapeutic function of music
Part 3
Psychedelic therapy is highly directive | Reflections on the use of music in psychedelic therapy
Part 4
The use of music is not necessary | Reflections on the use of silence
Part 5 (PENDING PUBLICATION)
Healing often requires direction | Reflections on Inner Healer Intelligence
Part 2 | Music is always directive
Reflections on the therapeutic function of music
In the previous section, I argued that psychotherapy, due to its inherently intersubjective nature, can already by itself never be non-directive to begin with.
My perspectives on this topic have been significantly shaped by my research into the role of music in psychedelic therapies. From my academic work to my projects at Wavepaths, this continues to evolve and diversify. Therefore, in this 2nd part, I will integrate a selection of key insights on the therapeutic mechanisms of music in psychedelic therapy.
What is music ? How do you define it?
For having a fruitful exploration on the role of music in psychedelic therapy, we must first establish some basic definitions. Our relationship with music as care-providers is one crucial starting point, as this directly informs our ways of working with music in clinical practice.
I often emphasise that music can be defined in many different ways. Most useful for understanding its therapeutic potential is to define music as a “non-verbal language”. This article is not the place to elaborate on this point, but I must emphasise it is a compelling and inspiring body of work that supports this view.
The very ancient evolutionary and ontological roots of musicality, makes music so contagious. When you hear certain musical qualities (for example a particular melodic structure or a change in tone colour) it is virtually impossible for you not to feel something in response.
Music is a human invention that capitalises on these innate traits. Music is a technology, a transformative technology one can argue in fact: because not at all unlike the mastery fire or the introduction of the internet, the invention of music too has fundamentally reshaped the very fabric of both our society and our biology.
Some of the oldest archaeological artefacts discovered are sophisticated musical instruments. Music-making was one of the earliest forms of specialisation in human communities. Attributed with great significance, this role of music making was most likely only relegated to the healer or shaman of the tribe.
At the core of our universal yet diverse relationship with music is its profound ability to alter subjective experience. Music can evoke powerful emotions, generate vivid mental imagery, and radically alter consciousness.
Music will per definition and always suggest a change in experience. There is simply no such thing as neutral or non-directive music. This is a self-contradicting term. In the same way that there is no such thing as non-moving wind or neutral laughter.
Music is thus per definition directive. In fact, I came to recognise that it is exactly this property that makes music so useful in the context of psychedelic therapy.
Out of the vast spectrum of possible experiences that open up in therapy sessions, music helps to narrow these down to a few. The particular music that is played will move the listener in one specific direction of experiences, excluding others.
Hereby, music can be viewed and used as a tool that helps to direct the awareness of the client to where inner resources can most effectively be revived, experienced and integrated.
Yet there is another characteristic that makes music especially potent for therapeutic work: The non-verbal language of music never communicates about concrete objects or concepts. At least when instrumental and free of lyrics. Music only conveys abstractions of subjective processes.
For example, a piece of music might communicate a process of grief. This music will not be about grief for a specific person or event. The music will remain entirely confined to conveying the dynamics of the grieving process. Not the content of the grieving. It will remain to the listener to project into these sonic abstractions their own personal content.
Listening to music is therefore a highly creative act. It encourages an ongoing flux of meaning-making. It facilitates a dance of personal associations, patterned in time. Music can thereby invite the listener to stay connected with the more personally significant dimensions of the experience.
Music may not exert its direction through verbal instructions, but it does so via its non-verbal nature. While it may not suggest listeners to perform actions or behaviours in an explicit manner, it does provide suggestions for subjective experiences in an implicit manner.
Music’s strong directive nature together with its non-verbal, abstract and experiential qualities: These are the qualities that charge music with unique therapeutic opportunities. And these are also the qualities that require to be recognised by care-providers working with music, for the impact music-selection can have on care-seekers is huge.
“Who are you to decide what your client should feel?” I sometimes provocatively ask workshop participants. With similar intentions I sometimes also ask “Why would you play music in your therapy sessions at all?”
I pose questions like these to invite constructive exploration and reflection, helping to ensure that the use of music is increasingly grounded in safety and ethics.
Because if one thing has become crystal clear, yet potentially not so widely recognised as such: As much as music can facilitate healing, it also has the potential to distract, confuse and even harm patients.
In Part 1, I began by arguing that any psychotherapy, due to its inherently intersubjective foundation, cannot ever possibly be entirely non-directive. Here in part 2 I made the point that the introduction of music increases the directive nature of the therapeutic approach further.
In the next chapter, I will explore how these concepts apply to psychedelic therapies and introduce new ways of framing the therapeutic use of music.
Learning to appreciate how elusively amorphous the answer to the question of "what is music?" is was a very humbling experience for me. In terms of music + psychedelic therapy, there's a part of me that wonders if the efforts to elucidate this particular definition of "music" in fact necessitates the birth of an entirely new lens through which to understand it. Physics, philosophy, psychology, biology....all seem to be in and of themselves insufficient. Is an entirely new field of study required to illuminate the depths of impact that music has in the psychedelic state?
The potential for music to be experienced as harmful within psychedelic-assisted therapy is something I've been wondering about as part of my doctoral studies in music therapy. I'm glad to see you've also thought about this, and I'd love to learn more.