Making Music for Everyone: Building Inclusive and Community-Driven Music Spaces
“I am tired. I want to go home.” I’d just finished explaining the music task to the group, attempted some DJ moves and faded in music from a “chill vibes for a Monday night” playlist. I began to step back from the circle as the young members of the group started to descend on the instruments, paper and pens. My eyes glanced around, a newer member was completely glued to his chair. His eyes darted downwards, and his learning support worker was murmuring the task details again. It was hard not to feel disheartened and take this all very personally. As a facilitator, you put so much time into planning and preparing sessions, developing work and watching young people flourish – but this isn’t about me. After reminding myself of this, I began recalling earlier weeks with this member and I knew this was a cover for how he was really feeling. Then it dawned on me: he didn’t know how to access the task. Then another realisation: I didn’t know how to help him access the task. After a moment of thought, I decided to lean into the few things I knew about him – to chat, and go from there. Before I knew it, he had reached for an instrument and we were creating a composing system whereby each note on his glockenspiel corresponded with coloured squares that I had hurriedly scribbled down and ripped up. He was organising them into an order and playing the notes as he wrote them. Safe to say, it was a real ‘ah-ha!’ moment, for us both. He had created his own melody, and so began my dedication to making my own and other music spaces more accessible and adaptive.
Truly inclusive music spaces are not just about access – they're about authenticity, risk-taking, and community. In these spaces, music becomes a way to unlearn societal constraints and connect more deeply. Music is often a gate-kept world – privileging formal training, tradition and neurotypical ways of communicating. So many people feel locked out: disabled people, neurodivergent folks, those from working-class or global majority backgrounds, queer and trans artists. Inclusive music spaces disrupt this pattern by inviting everyone to create and be heard. Accessible instruments, no auditions, pay-what-you-can-models, community-led, non-hierarchal spaces with a focus on participation over perfection.
In 2022, I was diagnosed with ADHD. It was a long time coming, and I spent the first few months afterwards in a daze, finally piecing my whole life together. Part of my condition means that I am often easily distracted, forgetful, I interrupt people, talk/sing excessively and become hyper focused on specific topics. The phrase ‘she has so much potential to do better, but...’ had been a regular comment stuck on to me by various teachers over the years. By the time I got to university (a couple of detours later), I was completely shut down to working with others in a musical way. I just didn’t know how to communicate my ideas and the pressure of having to be ‘cool’ whilst I figured all of this out was overwhelming, so I just avoided people and did things by myself. My neurodivergence has been an aid and a barrier to me in terms of my professional career. People like my ‘quirks’, enthusiasm, creativity and confidence – but often become frustrated with my lack of understanding in carrying out ‘simple’ tasks, instructions and processing verbal information. But through my work as an inclusive facilitator, often in mostly SEND spaces, I have come to understand that it was never me that was the problem, it was a system set up to make sure that only one way of doing things succeeded. I’m mentioning this because hopefully it provides a bit more context as to how I got to where I have and why I prefer to work in inclusive spaces – it's good for my brain and how it naturally functions and creates.
The music shows I produce with groups, mainly those with SEND, combine and allow different modes of communication – verbal, visual, movement-based. It really depends on the members and what they want to express. I am there to provide the space, equipment, activities to spark ideas and arrangements, and plan an overall ‘end goal’ for the project. Flexibility in rehearsal structures and leadership roles within the group and space have been key to unlocking a relaxed and open music-making process for all involved. Volunteers will often join to gain experience working in these environments and develop their own personal goals. Some end up bonding with the group to such a degree that they remain with us for years. These are just some of the people that help shape the musical direction, truly a shared authorship. Others sometimes feel out of their depth because the approach is so far removed from the ingrained traditional music education and cultures they know. It requires you to completely let go of everything you’ve ever learned about music: the making, processing, communicating and performing of it.
One of the most transformative aspects of running an inclusive community music space is learning to embrace imperfection-not just as something to be tolerated, but as something vital and freeing. As a facilitator, I’ve made plenty of mistakes (and continue to do so!): missed cues, awkward transitions, ideas that didn’t land. But over time, I’ve realised those “mistakes” are often the most important teaching moments – not just for me, but for everyone in the room. When I get something wrong and respond with openness or humour, it sends a message: this is a space where failure is safe and where trying counts more than getting it right.
One participant I work with struggles furiously with nerves around stepping into the singing space every single week. She often tries to pull back, keep her eyes to the ground, cries and refuses to engage in most activities. During a performance, things were going wrong on my end – I had totally missed an important cue in the song we were singing, plus I had managed to lose my printout of the set list (thanks ADHD!). But I decided to lean into it and demonstrate that this stuff happens all the time on performance days, it’s about how you deal with it, especially as a neurodiverse person. I made silly faces every time I forgot the words, hummed and danced along to the instrumental confidently, as if there were NO mistakes! This young woman burst out laughing and then burst into dance. She smiled and chatted with me throughout the show, and to my surprise, asked me if she could get up and sing a song. I accompanied her on piano and she sang beautifully. Aside from the pride as a facilitator, I was just so proud of her personally. What a wonderful moment to witness and be a part of – all her fears and negative beliefs that she had about herself and her capabilities were put on pause for two minutes and we all got to experience this amazing person.
This kind of vulnerability from leaders breaks down invisible walls. It gives others permission to explore without fear of being judged. This is essential because for many people, especially for those who are neurodiverse, disabled, or marginalised in other ways, the outside world demands constant performance. People spend entire days masking, trying to appear ‘normal’ in workplaces, schools and social situations. By the time they arrive to a music space, they will be carrying layers of tension and self-protection.
In sessions, I try to flip that dynamic entirely. Here, people can stim if they need to. They can speak up, call out or sit silently. They can say what they really think, and we as a group can respond to and explore those thoughts and ideas – and sometimes even decide as a collective to create music and movement to those things, too. The music isn’t the goal – it's the means. Through making sound together, people get to explore their own creative power and it is often incredibly moving for others in the room. It’s not always tidy, but it’s always real.
That kind of creative problem solving is only possible in an environment where awareness, openness to change and improvisation is welcomed. That freedom opens the door not just to musical growth, but to broader skills- collaboration, communication, confidence. In inclusive music spaces, we don’t aim for perfection. We aim for connection. Through this, people often end up making the most honest, original and powerful music of their lives.
If you are interested in leading or supporting inclusive music: challenge rigid curricula and incorporate member-led improvisation. You’ll be amazed at what it does for your personal well-being, sense of self and your own creative practice. I promise. Welcome mistakes, feedback is a two-way process and it allows us to constantly grow with and flourish in these spaces. Inclusive music-making is about human connection, not technical achievement. Listen differently. Lead imperfectly. Make room. The music that comes from that will surprise you.
Written by Yanna Avlianos
Yanna Avlianos is an inclusive music facilitator, choir lead, mama and writer based in London, UK. When she’s not singing or chatting, Yanna loves to read, eat shortbread and think about ghosts. You can find her on Instagram @sleepingandopen
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