Coming to the drummer's rescue

Let's say the project is called Partial Recall.  It isn't of course, that would be cruel; but if I told you its real name it would be traceable on Google.

Anyhow, it's one of Fantastic Fred's brainchildren and has been an outstanding success.  On the last Friday of every month a group of people with dementia and their carers turn up for a couple of hours to be waited on in a makeshift cafe environment.  They get tea, coffee, thoroughly evil cream cakes and nibbles, a chance to socialise, share stories, pick up information: and entertainment.  A small group of us, including me and one regular service user plus carer, as well as healthcare professionals, plan the programme and make sure there are enough helpers to see that things run smoothly.  I'm usually the MC, having a loud voice and no sense of shame.  A good time is had by nearly all and we get steady throughput of customers, whom we have to let go as they move from moderate to severe dementia and into care homes.

Entertainment has ranged from crooners to bellringers, magicians to monologue reciters, and if anyone backs out there's always me as backstop, singing at the keyboard.  Today's entertainer was a guy whose thing is African drums and it sounded like a good idea to bring him along to Partial Recall so that customers could have a merry bash along together.

Nice chap, lots of big drums.  He told us a little about them and got us tapping out some rhythms, joining him, repeating after him, echoing him.  Then he started to look nonplussed; what happens next, I wondered.  He didn't seem too sure, hadn't worked with a dementia group before.  I said you drum, I'll sing, and next thing I new I was making up a song about the cafe and what a lovely day it was, while everyone else bashed along.

I didn't want to hog the limelight, really and truly and I didn't, but the drummer guy seemed happy to let me, so from then on we were an impromptu double act.  I got him to fix the tempo, then led a singalong, prancing round the room, getting people engaged.  Old MacDonald had a farm.  If you're happy and you know it. Yellow Submarine, for which I forgot half the words but no-one cared.  Most of them know me, we're all friends at Partial Recall.  Then someone got agitated so we slipped into something quieter.  Eidelweiss, and an unusually sedate rendition of Che Sera Sera.  One or two customers felt inclined to dance at this point and helpers were there to partner them. None of this was planned, but it seemed to rescue an entertaiment session that might otherwise have stalled.  And maybe I'm a rotten show-off.

But I also realised something: I've been in the business of making music with pwd's for a few years now and must have learned a few skills by now.  It is and it is not like "doing a sing-song with the old folks", and there was one time I had a conversation with the professional singer whom I sometimes support on another project which made me reflect on the difference between providing entertainment and therapeutic activity.  It's not so much performing, more enabling people to take pleasure in their own response to music and sometimes to join in.  But even when I find that I'm enjoying myself a little too much, the fact is I am at so ease with groups like this that I've forgotten how other entertainers might find them daunting and difficult to programme for.  To such people I'd say this: projects like Partial Recall draw people together who expect to enjoy whatever is provided for them.  It's not that they are "easy to please" in the sense that quality doesn't matter, but that they are predisposed to like you and will be immensely appreciative if they know you've been to some trouble on their behalf.  Pwd's may not get out much, but this is one environment to which carers can bring them knowing that their loved ones will be safe and their behaviour understood.

At least I resisted the temptation, in thanking our entertainer for coming and doing his best, to ask our customers what you call a man who hangs out with musicians.  The answer of course is: a drummer.  So unfair.