Saturday, 21 March 2009

Sounds of Silence

The substance of art is built around contrast; reflecting between presence and absence. Where there is music, there is silence to give it definition and both need one another to work effectively. This modern world, with its consistant bleeps, honks and screams of mobiles and cars and trains; your next door neighbour's stereo, the alarms, the advertising, the talk talk talk of busy busy TV debate and the endless blibber blabber of irritating bloggers (yep) - we wade through a warzone for the second sense. You could argue that occasional silence, in its empty, medative poise is even now more of a relief than it ever was. I have a lot of sympathy for those Guantamano Bay detainees subjected to a three day assult of Eminem at full volume. There is sanity in silence. It's food for our subconscious.

Silence can be revolutionary, as history has shown. Joseph Haydn, one of the 'big three' of classical music is considered influential in his use of it. His symphonies, particulary The Suprise Symphony, initiates well placed rests before key climax's. They serve as musical jokes, as well as craftingly playing with expectations. Perhaps it was all he could do to keep his over-fed, over-partied upperclass patrons from falling asleep. Beethoven, doubtlessly impressed by Haydn's exciting orchestration, also became well known for taking Haydn's class war techniques further with dramatic use of volume contrasts. His 5th Symphony would have scared the shit out mediocrity, all due to a few bars of rythmically positioned silence in the opening exposition. The space between the chords is just as important. It makes the loud strokes that little bit louder. The audience probably wandered in drunk under the impression they were going to enjoy some quiet afternoon entertainment. The poor fools didn't see it coming.

John Cage's 4'33 (Four mintues and thirty three seconds of silence) is another similar revolutionary moment for music - the day the music died. You know the one; where the performer sits at a piano and does absolutely nothing while the audience slowly realises they've been burned. At first it seems completely daft, maybe even sensationalist, but after learning more about his compositional intentions, the purpose of the work becomes much clearer. Acording to Cage, there is no such thing as complete or perfect silence. Even in an enclosed space a human heart beats, blood flows around the respiretory system, the sounds of mortality follow us everywhere. It is these natural sounds continually around us that he was inviting us to listen to. Was this Cage's way of stripping music down to its finest sediment? Was it a way of giving existential realisation a soundtrack? Or was it only so he could put his ownership to silence and mock the very notion of experimentalism? God knows, the man turned into a mushroom farmer for Christs sake.

Interpretation aside, since its debut performance in 1952, the work has challenged the way we think about music and led a great many musicians to take their own trips into sonic possibilites (Takemitsu and Sonic Youth, for example, have cited him as an influence). The pause is also a big gun in the Punk Rock arsenal. Fugazi's Waiting Room from their album 13 Songs contains a cool, whole bar halt, appearing like the album had to restart, before kicking off again. Would Sigur Ros' Takk have the same poigniancy if the long silences were left out? Would Loveless by My Bloody Valentine be all too much without its breathing space? One of my favourites is how Boards of Canada end their album Geogaddi with a silent track titled Magic Window. Once the swelling synths roll back, you're left with a touching moment to recall the journey.

They say there's no music when you die. Silence can be inhuman and unnerving, but like a lot of things, you appreciate its value when it's not around. Equally, hearing music after a long break is a luxury. A website suggesting that one day of the year (mysteriously they chose the 21st of November) be dedicated to being music free. The subtitle reads "No music day exists for various reasons, you may have one". I can barely kick cigarettes on no-smoking day let alone go a whole 24 hours without my ipod. And maybe that's the problem. Silence is more than just a compositional tool or a way of organising sound. It represents a white canvas in which composers can drag their brush. From nothing, something can be created. It can, in the right circumstance, provoke a powerful and meaningful response. Shhh... listen...

(© Copyright 2009 Brendan Morgan)

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About his Shoddy Trampness

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Brendan Morgan writes ocassionally for Bearded Magazine, plays cello and guitar, composes and records his own music and has a Rock band on the go.