“Mole,” “Rollin’,” and the Joy of Music Therapy Translation

One of my music therapy clients is an autistic adult who attends sessions with me via telehealth. He is extremely verbal, highly expressive, and genuinely seems to love our sessions together. We spend a lot of time singing, choosing songs, laughing, and trying to communicate through a mixture of music, enthusiasm, technology… and occasionally confusion.

There is one small challenge: I speak absolutely no Spanish, and my client communicates using a blend of English, Spanish, song lyrics, and occasionally what I can only describe as “musical shorthand.” Add telehealth audio quality on top of that, and sometimes our sessions feel part music therapy and part detective work.

For the longest time, he kept requesting what sounded to me like “mole.” As in the food.

I would hear:
“Mole! Mole!”

And I would internally think:
“Why are we discussing Mexican sauce in the middle of Proud Mary?”

Today, after ages of confusion, I finally realized he was singing:
“Rollin’… rollin’… rollin’ on the river…”

“Mole” was “Rollin’.”

I laughed so hard once I figured it out.

This same client also loves “Day-O (The Banana Boat Song)” and requests it often. But before I understood his pronunciation of “Day-O,” he used to request a mysterious song that sounded like “A Dee A” or “Madea” without the M. To this day, I still have no idea what song he means. Somewhere out there is a song title floating in the universe waiting to be decoded.

And honestly? I love that.

Because moments like these are part of what makes music therapy so meaningful.

Music therapy is not about perfection. It is not about polished performances or perfect communication. It is about connection. Sometimes connection happens through words, sometimes through rhythm, sometimes through shared laughter, and sometimes through spending months trying to figure out that “mole” actually meant “rollin’.”

One of the beautiful things about music is that people do not always have to communicate conventionally to communicate successfully. A favorite song can become a bridge. A repeated lyric can become a request. A rhythm can become participation. Even imperfect understanding can still create genuine human connection.

And sometimes, somewhere in the middle of all that, both therapist and client end up laughing together over Creedence Clearwater Revival and imaginary Mexican food.

Honestly, that feels like success to me.