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)

Electronica and the Destruction of Image

The sound of the future has been with us for longer than you might realise. Since the experimentalism of German Engineers, such as Stockhausen of the 1950's, and the French composers around the same era recording surrounding everyday sounds, electronic artists have been posing new frontiers and seemingly endless possibilities for us. Earlier still, at the end of the 19th century, Eric Satie wrote a series of background pieces called furniture music designed to let the listener fall into mood and sink into the subconscious. Although Satie never got to use the incoming advancements of music technology, it changed the way music would be used and considered over the next century. Our relationship with the computer has grown since then. It's a frightening prospect for many people. Some listeners find it tough to enjoy. The harsh and manufactured sounds can leave them feeling cold and empty, as though no human empathy exists at all in the music. Another conflict for them is absence of the human voice. It might appear to them, particularly from such alien sounds as Autechre or the hypnotic ambiance of Brian Eno, that technology dominates. I often imagine a distant future where machines, so intelligent in design and thought, compose their own unique music in their logical and inhuman view of the world. In fact, it's quite possible the computer is the instrument of our age. Where once the guitar provided an individual, everyman approach, the computer currently supplies an upgraded version of exactly this. Inspired by the mathematical cut n' paste style electronics pose, some go so far as to turn it on its head, to use the guitar as you would a generated synth. Math Rock is a direct descendant of this and the eltro/rock group Battles employ the technique brilliantly. The classic riff that was so key to traditional Rock is broken down and particalised. They sound, at least to my ears, like the army marches of a billion extra-terrestrials. The computer gives artists of broad calibers a lot of freedom. Its variety and customisation pinpoint a voice for many artists who yearn to express the so-far-unexpressed and, like the guitar, it is also universally easy to pick up and make your own.

But what I really want to look at is the way that electronic music throws out image as part of its whole presentation. Modern Indie, as one example, relies heavily on it's visual appeal: The Band Picture, The Supporting Fashion Scene and NME coverage, The Guitar Solo. Indie's not the worst offender in this department. A lot of Hip Hop would be pretty bland without it's larger-than-life look. Electronic music, on the other hand, is faceless. Any sympathy or preconceived opinion is gathered through the music, and the music alone. It must be the only genre that lets the music speak for itself in uncorrupted tone. The genre has a dedicated following but this lack of visual reference is a tricky element for the average listener to comprehend. Perhaps it's a subconscious human need to see what you hear, to be able to make eye contact or to be able to try and understand the personality behind the communication. The power of impression, of suggestion and of social politics is difficult to break away from.

Aphex Twin, originating from Cornwall, is an acid crazed sonic genius (if I can call Richard E. James that) and one of the titans of the Warp Records Label based in London. He has been responsible for creating some of the most twisted and unnerving electronic music of the last decade or so. Stacks of artists spanning many different genres of music cite him as an influence. His music is almost indescribable and is offset by strange videos and dark sights. The recognisable Aphex Twin symbol that accompanies his releases (see above picture) is a singular but ambiguous metaphor. His insane, demented smile that reoccurs over and over, on his album covers and music videos throws off the audience and mocks and destroys any accessible visual attachment or understanding. We can know nothing about him from these images. It serves only to displace himself from his music and subvert our love of images, the resulting obsession of MTV culture.

Many other Electronic artists also hide behind their work, either by choice or because they are by nature reclusive people. This separation of image from sound and severing of visual restriction forces us to focus in on their music, perhaps the only thing that matters. We are entreated to give up caring about the source and the intentions of the creator. This is their gift to us. We, the audience, are free to explore our own psyche, attach our own memories, to let flow the beautiful landscapes of our mind while listening to their music as a soundtrack. The images are of our own conjuring. It lays out a blank canvas inviting us to think for ourselves, to make the music our own.