We sat down with Dr. Thomas Moors; founder and choir director of Shout at Cancer, to talk about the story behind the choir, and the impact of it. Shout at Cancer is a charity dedicated to the implementation of music in speech rehabilitation and choral singing after laryngectomy.

Congratulations on 10 years of Shout at Cancer! How does it feel to reach this milestone?

Reaching ten years feels surreal. When we started, I could never have imagined the richness, the laughter, the courage, the music, and the community that would grow from those early sessions.

This milestone isn’t just an organisational achievement — it’s a decade of shared breath, shared stories, shared setbacks, and remarkable breakthroughs. It feels like witnessing ten years of humanity at its strongest and I am humble and grateful to have been part of it and at the heart of it.

Can you share the story behind founding Shout at Cancer? What inspired you to start this unique choir?

From a very young age — around nine — music became my doorway to the world. Touring internationally opened my eyes to something profound: music dissolves barriers. It connects people who don’t share a language, a background, or even the same beliefs. I saw how rhythm, breath, and shared creativity could build trust, confidence, and community. So when I later began working with people who had lost their natural voice after laryngectomy, something clicked. I knew from my own love of music that voice is far more than a larynx. It’s emotion, intention, rhythm, identity. It’s the way we reach out to others — and how we feel heard.

The choir grew out naturally from the workshops we initially started around singing and breathing techniques to improve voice control and pitch range. What surprised me most wasn’t the sound. It was the confidence, humour, joy, and pride that emerged in the process. People who had been dismissed or misunderstood were suddenly standing tall, creating art, and supporting one another in a way that felt transformative. That’s when I realised this wasn’t just a project — it was a purpose.

Shout at Cancer became a space where people could rebuild their voice in every sense of the word: physically, emotionally, socially. I also saw how powerful it could be as a bridge between communities, researchers, and the medical world. Through performances, storytelling, and shared creativity, the choir helps raise awareness about the layered psychosocial impact of losing one’s voice — something often overlooked in clinical settings.

Ultimately, I founded Shout at Cancer because I believe music can unite people across differences, spark motivation, and restore something deeply human: the ability to connect and to be understood. And every rehearsal, every performance, every new breath from our singers continues to prove just that.

What role do you think music plays in rehabilitation and emotional well-being after a laryngectomy?

I think that music rebuilds the invisible cuts and scars of surgery: the sense of one self. Physically, it supports breathing, pacing, articulation, and coordination — but the emotional impact is even greater. Music allows people to express what they can’t always put into words: frustration, hope, anger, love, humour, grief, relief. Singing together reminds them: “I still belong. I still have something to say. They are listening”. For many, I think it is a space where they feel understood without having to explain themselves to other group members.

How have you seen participants transform through singing and community engagement?

The transformations are profound. People walk in feeling small — unsure of their new voice, worried about how the world will react. Slowly, and often quite quietly at first, they start to expand. They laugh more. They experiment with sound. They initiate conversations. Then one day they say something like, “I sang in front of my grandchildren,” or “I wasn’t afraid to speak in the shop,” or “I feel like myself again.” The change isn’t just vocal; it’s social, emotional, and deeply human. They reclaim confidence, and they inspire everyone around them.

What do you think is the most misunderstood aspect of living after a laryngectomy?

I think that one of the most misunderstood aspects of life after a laryngectomy is the assumption that everything becomes smaller. People often imagine that losing the voice means losing expression or connection, when in fact patients adapt in extraordinary ways. The real challenge is the mindset shift — isolation can easily creep in if the world keeps misunderstanding you. That’s why the choir, laryngectomy buddies, and support clubs are so important: they rebuild confidence, identity, and a sense of belonging.

What surprises many of our members is how people react to them in everyday life; some speak very slowly, or shout, or even write back on a note as if the person were deaf, when in reality they can hear perfectly and only the mechanics of sound have changed. A laryngectomy doesn’t diminish intelligence, humour, or presence — it simply changes how voice is produced. What people need most is not pity, but understanding, and the belief that their story doesn’t end with surgery. It evolves.

As a conductor, what has been the most rewarding moment for you?

As a conductor, the most rewarding moments aren’t only the musical ones — they’re the human ones. There’s a point in almost every rehearsal when someone produces a sound they thought they’d never make again, and the whole room lights up. But the moments that stay with me are when our members step onto a stage — walking through the artist entrance of the Opera House with pride, taking selfies beside their own portraits, standing tall in a voice they rebuilt from silence. I’ve seen people so overwhelmed by the surge of positive energy at the end of a concert that they trembled, unable to hold back tears of joy, and we had to gently guide them off stage. Working alongside world-class artists who show such humility and admiration for our choir — telling us “keep going, keep doing what you’re doing, this is incredible” — has been the most affirming experience for everyone really. My role is to bring people together, keep them together and have fun together. Witnessing the transformation that music makes possible… that is the deepest reward of this work.

What are your hopes for the next decade of Shout at Cancer?

I hope Shout at Cancer continues to grow as a place where people can rebuild confidence, identity, and connection and that space to expand internationally. We’re ready for bigger projects, bigger partners, bigger stages, and a bigger story. We will keep up the challenge to keep blending art, rehabilitation, research, and technology in ways that open new possibilities for people who have lost their voice. I want us to forge new collaborations across the world and make sure that anyone going through this journey knows they are not alone. Ultimately, I hope we keep raising this beacon of hope higher and higher — turning silence into possibility, and carrying this torch of inspiration as far as it can go.

Are there upcoming projects you’re excited about?

Yes, many [laughs] — but one that feels deeply special is our Louder Than Before anniversary performance at King’s Place. It combines music, science, survivor stories, and the premiere of our 3D-printed Vocal Tract Organ. We are also expanding projects with the survivor trees of Hiroshima and Nagasaki, immersive technologies, and cross-cultural collaborations.

Each project is rooted in the same idea: healing through connection, creativity, and shared humanity.

How can healthcare professionals and companies like Atos Medical better support people beyond the clinical setting?

The most powerful support for people after a laryngectomy goes far beyond devices and medicine. Patients need emotional safety, community, and opportunities to rediscover their identity. Companies like Atos play a crucial role — not only by providing high-quality clinical products, but by supporting the ecosystem around the patient: charities, workshops, peer networks, artistic spaces, and organisations that help rebuild confidence and connection. When industry partners invest in people as whole human beings, not just as clinical cases, the impact is transformative. Atos has been supportive from day one, understanding their responsibility and embracing the opportunity to help set wheels in motion, keep them spinning, and invest in the community they serve. Together, we can ensure that no one faces this journey alone.

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