Healing Through Sound
How music shapes a life, as told to Matthew Gutierrez by Will Adams
Will Adams is a good friend and our former neighbor in Brooklyn. He’s a talented musician, licensed music therapist, and a Brown University alum, originally from Arkansas. We recently discussed his work, the emotional power of music, and how creativity plays a role in healing.
This piece is told in Will’s own words, edited for clarity and flow.
I didn’t always know I’d become a music therapist. Growing up, I loved sports and thought I might become a play-by-play announcer or journalist. But both of my parents worked in helping professions. My dad’s a pastor and my mom’s an occupational therapist, and that shaped me more than I realized at the time. My dad’s sermons were all about humility and service. My mom worked in schools, helping kids with disabilities. I spent time in her office and saw how meaningful that work could be.
Music was always there, too. My dad is a huge Springsteen fan, and we’d listen to his records all the time. One of my earliest memories is recording myself on a tape player singing along to Bruce and Steve Earle. When I was 10, my parents gave me the choice between piano and guitar lessons, and I picked guitar. I’ve loved playing ever since.
What Music Therapy Really Is
People sometimes ask what music therapy is. The short answer is that it’s a professional, licensed field that uses music to support people’s health and emotional well-being. But the heart of it is the relationship between the therapist and the client. It’s not just about singing or playing an instrument. It’s about using rhythm, melody, structure, and sound to help someone express themselves, connect with others, and grow.
Right now, I work in New York City schools with students who have developmental delays, mostly kids on the Autism spectrum. I lead both individual and group sessions. There’s a structure to each one. We always start with a hello song and end with a goodbye song. That predictability is important. In between, we do movement songs, play percussion instruments, use scarves for sensory work, or sometimes just improvise based on what the kids bring that day.
It’s not about doing things perfectly. It’s not about playing the “right” note or copying my movements exactly. The goal is to help students connect with the music, with each other, and with themselves.
Moments That Keep Me Going
One of the most rewarding parts of the job is when I see a student who has been withdrawn suddenly start to engage. That might mean their eyes light up and they look around to me and their peers, joining a movement, or smiling in response to the music. Sometimes it takes months. Their processing time can be slower, so I repeat a lot of the same songs every week.
And then one day, something clicks. They join in, they light up. The teachers notice, too. I’ve heard things like, “I’ve never seen them participate like that before.” That kind of breakthrough, where a child feels joy, connection, and a sense of belonging, that’s what keeps me doing this work.
Bringing Music into My Own Life
Outside of therapy, music is still a huge part of my life. I play in two bands right now in Brooklyn. One of them is made up entirely of music therapists, and we mostly play covers. We’ve done Halloween, Christmas, and Valentine’s Day shows. The other band writes original songs, and I play bass. It’s been a great way to stay creative and connected with other musicians.
Writing songs has always been something I enjoy. Sometimes I’ll start with a melody or a single phrase and build the song around that. I might write while sitting in the park, walking around the neighborhood, or just messing around on the guitar at home. It doesn’t always come easily, but I love the process.
Playing music helps me reset. It gives me energy and perspective, especially after a long or emotionally heavy day. I can get lost in it for hours, and when I come out of it, I feel more grounded.
The Emotional Power of Music
There’s something about music that can reach people in a way that words can’t. It changes the atmosphere. It softens the room. In a session, it can invite someone in who otherwise struggles to connect. Even outside the therapy space, you feel it. A coffee shop playing the right song creates an entirely different vibe than one that’s totally silent.
I’ve also started listening to a much wider range of music in the past few years: more jazz in the mornings, more rock or punk when I need energy to work with kids. I’ve learned more music theory, too, which helps me understand how certain tones or shifts in rhythm affect people emotionally. That’s been a big part of my growth as a therapist.
Creativity and Structure, Together
A lot of music therapy is about finding the balance between structure and spontaneity. You need enough predictability to support the client, especially with younger kids. But you also have to leave room for creativity. Sometimes a student will play something unexpected or show emotion in a way that opens a door. If you follow that path, you can end up in a really meaningful place together.
That’s something I’ve had to learn over time, and I’m still learning. Creativity isn’t separate from the clinical process. It’s part of it. It allows me to respond authentically and stay connected to the moment.
What Music Gives Me, and What It Offers Others
Music has helped me process my own emotions countless times. It brings things up I didn’t even know were there. A single lyric or a sound can open up a memory or a feeling I hadn’t named yet. That’s part of the mystery and beauty of it.
The same is true for the kids I work with. Maybe they don’t have the language to verbally explain what they’re feeling, but they can bang a drum, move to a beat, or hum a melody, and in that, there’s release. There’s expression, there’s healing.
That’s what keeps me coming back to the work. And when I play outside of work—at home, on stage, with friends—it reminds me that this thing I love is something I get to share every day. That’s a gift I don’t take lightly.