Dawn Ellis • November 20, 2025

When a Room Becomes a Choir: Recording a Song Together at the Music Care Conference

There are conferences that inform, inspire, and educate, and then there are conferences that change how we imagine what care can feel like. The Music Care Conference: The Power of a Song in Dementia Care, held at Metalworks Institute in Mississauga, was one of those rare experiences. Positioned as a national gathering that brings together people engaged in music in care across clinical, community, and educational settings, the purpose of the day became clear right from the beginning. This was not a passive event; it was an active space for co-creation and genuine connection. From the moment participants arrived, the atmosphere felt more like the start of something being built together.


One of the most profound moments came during a workshop led by Bev Foster, where attendees from diverse backgrounds were to record a song together. There was no expectation of musical training or polished performance. The invitation was simply to contribute a voice and be part of the process. The piece we created was titled ‘Without a Song,’ written by Canadian singer songwriter Murray McLauchlan, and in that moment it became a shared expression of care and connection. What began as a room full of strangers gradually shifted into a connected musical space. People leaned in, listened closely, and began to sing together with growing confidence. It felt less like watching music happen and more like becoming part of something shared.


In that moment, the workshop no longer felt like a breakout session. It became a living example of care expressed through music. This experience carried particular meaning in the context of dementia care. When language shifts or memory becomes harder to access, music offers a different pathway to connection, one grounded in presence. Creating music together invites participation rather than observation and can restore a sense of agency for people whose autonomy is often limited by care environments. It also strengthens relationships between caregivers and the people they support. Music does not sit on the edges of care as an added activity. It can function as care itself.


The conference also highlighted that the role of music in dementia care is part of a broader shift in how the sector is evolving. With growing momentum around Bill 121, the Improving Dementia Care in Ontario Act, and increased attention from the Ministry of Long-Term Care, music is beginning to be recognized as a meaningful part of care. This commitment was reflected in a heartfelt address from Minister of Long-Term Care, Natalia Kusendova-Bashta, whose remarks affirmed the importance of dignity and compassion in dementia support. At one point she held her son at the podium and led the room in a playful rendition of ‘Baby Shark’, a moment that demonstrated how music creates connection across generations and circumstances. Policy can outline goals, but experiences like this help us imagine what care feels like when creativity and connection guide the approach. Throughout the day, research and lived practice came together through presentations from experts such as Dr. Lee Bartel, Dr. Alison Sekuler and Taylor Kurta, and through examples from organizations already integrating music-based programs in long-term care and community settings.


Although the collaborative songwriting session stood out, it was one part of a day filled with meaningful experiences. The Raising Voices Dementia Choir demonstrated how music can help people living with dementia stay connected to their identity and to the people who support them. Later, the closing performance by Jill Barber brought a different dimension to the day, weaving artistry, memory, and personal storytelling into a musical experience that resonated deeply with the audience. The day also highlighted new models of community engagement such as the ‘Memories to Music’ songwriting project between the Alzheimer Society of Peel and students from Mentor College. Led by music teacher Ian Hoare and music therapist Ruth Watkiss, this initiative brings young people and persons living with dementia together to create original music, demonstrating how intergenerational collaboration can strengthen understanding and relationships across care settings.


As I left the conference, I kept returning to the responsibility that comes with making music together in a care context. The song we created did not end when the session wrapped up; it became a reminder of what can happen when care is grounded in creativity and shared voice. If a group of people with no prior relationship can come together and create a shared musical experience in such a short time, then there is potential to bring this same approach into long-term care homes, community programs, hospitals, and family caregiving settings. These environments are already spaces of deep commitment and compassion, and with the right intention and support, music can help deepen relationships and strengthen the culture of care.


The power of music in care is not found in adding it as a program feature; it comes from recognizing it as a way of relating to people with dignity and presence. When music becomes a shared experience, people living with dementia are included and understood rather than defined by their diagnosis. This work continues through collaborations with partners such as Acclaim Health, the Alzheimer Society of Peel, ArtsCare Mississauga, and Metalworks Institute, who help create environments where music supports meaningful connection.


The music eventually came to an end, yet the song stayed with me as more than a moment from the day. It became a reminder of what can happen when care is grounded in creativity and shared voice. I left the conference with a clearer sense of how music can shape the way we support one another in real and meaningful ways. As we look ahead to the next Music Care Conference in Halifax in 2026, we carry this momentum forward, knowing that none of it happens ‘without a song’ to bring us together.
 

A guitar , cowboy hat , cowboy boots and hay are on a wooden table.
By Shelley Neal April 2, 2025
I undertook the MUSIC CARE Certification program when I had journeyed through caring for my mother with Alzheimer’s. It was during my training, I learned how music works in terms of timbre, melody and rhythm and beat, music care domains and music care strategies. It helped me to support mom as the disease progressed. I continued to certify through Music Care and then I had the joy of teaching others the level 1 program Fundamentals of Music Care Theory and Context . I have loved coming alongside others in Long Term Care and using music to support giving voice of what is within one’s life, preventing isolation and loneliness, creating community. I enjoyed all it all. Then, I found myself once again in the Emergency Room with Tim, (my family member) as we were helping him home in his palliative journey. My “outside life” took a back seat and my inside hospital life began. Tim’s was failing and he was no longer able to open his mouth and swallow to obtain nutrient’s due to Parkinson’s . We tried various types of foods, textures and flavours, however, opening his mouth and swallowing remained inaccessible. Tim loved Glen Campbell and Rhinestone Cowboy . When he was a young man, he would repeated play this song until the LP was worn through. He was given a new Glen Campbell CD at Christmas and the song was welcomed back into our lives. There I was ,in my new environment on the tenth floor of the hospital, playing Rhinestone Cowboy. Tim sang along. He actually sang along! He moved his mouth, swallowed and sang along. We were able to get pureed food into his body. Later, the disease continued to ravage his body and Rhinestone Cowboy helped us connected with other such as the speech language pathologist, doctors, cleaning staff and nurses. We sang and danced together with the music and Tim smiled. He knew he was part of a community who loved him. As we knew the end was coming, I played music with a simple melody, 60 beats per minute and soft timbre on my harp to support Tim as he fell into sleep. Near the end, I used tonal music in simple phrases to support calmness matching his breath. Tim passed peacefully and gentle. Today, at his funeral our last song “Rhinestone Cowboy”. After hearing the importance of this song, all the people present joined in singing to honour the village of Tim that so lovingly cared for him. Music Care training has become a natural rhythm in my life to use with aging and sick family members, supporting young children’s learning and providing self-care when I was tired after intense caregiving.
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I initially trained with MUSIC CARE to work with Seniors in Long Term Care who were experiencing dementia and Alzheimer’s Disease. This is the path I travelled with my mom. My training with Music Care and Room 217 supported capacity building in selecting music that was played on my harp or chosen recorded music. The music centered on the care of the individual and their specific needs. My job was to determine the individual’s specific and select music to address these needs. The music selected helped to build community, support sleep, talk about life experiences, create a background landscape of sound, support connection to decrease isolation and loneliness, as well as coming alongside people dying. My training with Music Care helped me understand how to support people “where they were” physically, emotionally, and spiritually. Through using beat, tempo, melody, and timbre, I could cater the music and desired support required for individuals or small groups. My profession is teaching. I am a special education teacher and use music in my primary teaching as a method for learning, practicing language skills, transmitting information about science studies or math equations, as well as having fun and creating our own songs. My teacher toolkit married exceptionally well with the knowledge and skills provided by the Music Care Certification training. Recently, my work with students has involved individual programming for the medically fragile children and the palliative children. I use music (repeating the chorus several times) to engage and connect with the kiddos. We use music to "talk" about feelings (our communication is through eye gaze, eye blinks, and squeezing hands), and content material. I use music to enjoy our relationship of being together. At times, due to medication for seizures, my little ones can be very sleepy. I increase the tempo, engaging in tapping the beat on her hands and using silly action songs. The giggles and wiggles make it magical. I also use music to tell stories (my students have CVI, cortical vision impairment, so visual perception is difficult). This helps the child to engage in the story arch and adventures. Music is my conduit for reaching out and being with the students. Recently, I had the sacred journey of visiting one of my children in ICU at Sick Kids. I was invited to come to say "goodbye". A dear friend who was an ICU nurse in a different department told me (AKA, insisted) that I bring my harp with me. I wasn't sure if this would be appropriate for the family. However, with the permission of the mom, I bravely packed my harp up and took it to the Unit. It was a beautiful evening of talking with their mom and dad about how special their child was in my life. I played the kiddo's favorite songs and then ended with "The More We Get Together". The little one opened their eyes and stared at me. We hugged, and I left. They passed the next morning. I consider this time to be a sacred gift. Music Care Certification has given me the confidence and toolset to work alongside people and to journey together. It is a time a beautiful, difficult, or sacred time that I have been honoured to participate in.  Thank You
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This article was written by Julia Cara, and is part of a series provided by upper year Health Sciences students at McMaster University.
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