“Nothing is accomplished by writing a piece of music
“ “ “ “ hearing “ “ “ “
“ “ “ “ playing “ “ “ “” -John Cage
Does music really accomplish nothing? John Cage would seem to suggest this in his above statement, but I disagree. Music accomplishes many things. John Cage was wrong! (for once).
Music is often used to accomplish many tasks. The most prevalent one is entertainment. There are people that find composing music entertaining, many more find playing music entertaining, and most people are entertained when listening to music. It accomplishes the task of being a medium for which people use to keep themselves from being bored. In my opinion, that’s an admirable feat.
Writing and playing music can also be used for purposes that hearing music cannot. They can be used as a source of income. People can sell their songs or their services in order to acquire the revenue necessary to provide for their families. Anyone who says that getting a job is not an important thing to accomplish has got to be crazy, and, if you’re good at it, composing or playing music can be your job.
Playing music can also evoke certain emotions, and for movies, plays, etc. that is exactly what you want to do. We’re all familiar with the “Jaws’” theme music. Music like that makes us feel a certain way even though we may not know why we should feel that way yet. In other words, playing music can help to set the scene in a movie. Playing music can also be used in a way that is often overlooked. It is often used as a form of worship. Most modern religions regularly use music in their common religious gatherings (ex: Sunday mass) and for major holidays (ex: Christmas). One may argue that God doesn’t exist and therefore this example is null, but, even if God didn’t exist (because that person would obviously be wrong), we’d still use music to accomplish the task of worshiping; we’d simply be worshiping nothing.
Listening to music can be used as a source of inspiration. Whenever I experience writer’s block or any sort of creativity block for that matter, listening to music helps me to overcome it. What might seem odd is that I can never seem to relate my new idea to the music I listened to in any way. I guess listening or viewing creative works of art can simply inspire creativity.
Playing and listening to music can also serve another purpose. It is a form of communication. It can be used to convey emotions and other abstract ideas. Music that we find happy, sad, or frightening would, usually, affect an isolated tribe in Africa, that has had no contact with our culture before, in much the same way as it affects us. Basically speaking, music tends to be universal; its affects have only minute and insignificant variations from person to person. All sound is music and often times half of what we say is communicated from the tone of and inflections in our voice. Even if we can’t understand someone due to language barriers, we can usually get a basic understanding of what they’re saying from the tone. Even according to John Cage himself, because all noise is music, we use music to communicate everyday. And he said that music accomplished nothing.
Wednesday, September 3, 2008
Cage Criticism
Since last Wednesday, we really haven’t done much more in class, given that we had core testing and all. The only really memorable things were performances of two of John Cage’s most memorable works—4:33 and (whatever that piece we listened to today was; unfortunately, I forgot. Not good). Here are some of my thoughts on these pieces.
Before starting, I should mention that I’m not a total unsophisticated philistine who wouldn’t recognize fine art if he saw it. I do occasionally listen to classical music (Pavarotti is amazing), and I sometimes read poetry and plays and stuff. I even like some experimental stuff—Cormac McCarthy is more known as a pessimistic nihilist, but given that he doesn’t really use capitalization or punctuation, his writing style might qualify as experimental. I also like some experimental music—I thought Kraftwerk’s Telephone Song was pretty good. So I’m not necessarily opposed to all forms of art that are different from regular stuff.
That being said, I think that 4:33 is simply pretentious, unoriginal nonsense. Cage seems to think that he invented silence. He didn’t, or even come close. There were at least two artists who performed 4:33 (or at least had the same idea—I guess if it wasn’t four and half minutes long it wasn’t quite the same thing) well before Cage, although Cage was probably unaware of their work. So 4:33 isn’t exactly original.
Neither is the idea of silence. Thoreau (and if you’re wondering, I don’t much like Thoreau either) wrote in the nineteenth century that
Silence is the universal refuge, the sequel to all dull discourses and all foolish acts, a balm to our every chagrin, as welcome after satiety as after disappointment; that background which the painter may not daub, be he master or bungler, and which, however awkward a figure we may have made in the foreground, remains ever our inviolable asylum, where no indignity can assail, no personality disturb us.
So it isn’t as if John Cage was one of the first to discover the sound of silence (which happens to be to be the title of one of Thoreau’s books). He was simply the first to give us a musical piece in which a guy in a suit sits at a piano with a stopwatch.
As for the piece we listened to today (I really wish I could remember what it’s called; Wikipedia isn’t helping), I didn’t think much of it either. As I write this, I have a fan going, which means that I am basically listening to Cage’s piece. It may be possible to make an interesting piece of music with fans and blenders and stuff—but just turning them on and off at random doesn’t work for me. (Although Cage’s response to his burning pants was brilliant—there’s no denying it).
Of course, these are just my opinions, and maybe I’m wrong. Maybe I’ll take another course later that will open my eyes and I will realize what I’ve been missing. But now, I just can’t get excited about John Cage—his music seems to me boring and supremely pointless.
Before starting, I should mention that I’m not a total unsophisticated philistine who wouldn’t recognize fine art if he saw it. I do occasionally listen to classical music (Pavarotti is amazing), and I sometimes read poetry and plays and stuff. I even like some experimental stuff—Cormac McCarthy is more known as a pessimistic nihilist, but given that he doesn’t really use capitalization or punctuation, his writing style might qualify as experimental. I also like some experimental music—I thought Kraftwerk’s Telephone Song was pretty good. So I’m not necessarily opposed to all forms of art that are different from regular stuff.
That being said, I think that 4:33 is simply pretentious, unoriginal nonsense. Cage seems to think that he invented silence. He didn’t, or even come close. There were at least two artists who performed 4:33 (or at least had the same idea—I guess if it wasn’t four and half minutes long it wasn’t quite the same thing) well before Cage, although Cage was probably unaware of their work. So 4:33 isn’t exactly original.
Neither is the idea of silence. Thoreau (and if you’re wondering, I don’t much like Thoreau either) wrote in the nineteenth century that
Silence is the universal refuge, the sequel to all dull discourses and all foolish acts, a balm to our every chagrin, as welcome after satiety as after disappointment; that background which the painter may not daub, be he master or bungler, and which, however awkward a figure we may have made in the foreground, remains ever our inviolable asylum, where no indignity can assail, no personality disturb us.
So it isn’t as if John Cage was one of the first to discover the sound of silence (which happens to be to be the title of one of Thoreau’s books). He was simply the first to give us a musical piece in which a guy in a suit sits at a piano with a stopwatch.
As for the piece we listened to today (I really wish I could remember what it’s called; Wikipedia isn’t helping), I didn’t think much of it either. As I write this, I have a fan going, which means that I am basically listening to Cage’s piece. It may be possible to make an interesting piece of music with fans and blenders and stuff—but just turning them on and off at random doesn’t work for me. (Although Cage’s response to his burning pants was brilliant—there’s no denying it).
Of course, these are just my opinions, and maybe I’m wrong. Maybe I’ll take another course later that will open my eyes and I will realize what I’ve been missing. But now, I just can’t get excited about John Cage—his music seems to me boring and supremely pointless.
Listening to Variations VII today, there was a moment when I couldn't figure out exactly what was going on. I was hearing static and a pulsing sound--or static OR pulsing. I didn't know if I was hearing both or only one. One second I could hear one and not the other, and the next the other was the dominant noise. This could have been part of the piece, but I really thought my mind was playing tricks on me. I'm going to assume that the piece was designed that way--so that, if you concentrated on one sound, you would hear one 'melody', as far as a melody can get in such a piece. If you shift your focus to one of the many other sounds, you hear something completely different.
The only way I can really think to explain this the way I'm thinking is visual. There is a moving optical illusion I saw a while back. A shadow of a girl has one foot pointed out and is slowly revolving in a circle. Depending on the mindset of the person watching it, and how that person views the picture, the girl could be rotating clockwise or counterclockwise. If you find just the right way to shift your focus, she suddenly stops and begins turning the other way. I started thinking of this when listening to Variations VII.
There were so many sounds at one time, and just to 'cope' with it I automatically picked out one sound to concentrate on. Listening to that sound--static, or a fan--makes you start hearing a pattern to a sound you would normally try and block out. Taking in one sound made all the others fall into a pattern behind it. Suddenly switching to concentrate on another sound produces something completely different and the piece takes on something completely apart from what it had sounded like before. I don't know if it was just me, but I think if thirty different people heard this piece, they would all pick out thirty different noises that seemed to be the predominant sound in the piece for them.
The only way I can really think to explain this the way I'm thinking is visual. There is a moving optical illusion I saw a while back. A shadow of a girl has one foot pointed out and is slowly revolving in a circle. Depending on the mindset of the person watching it, and how that person views the picture, the girl could be rotating clockwise or counterclockwise. If you find just the right way to shift your focus, she suddenly stops and begins turning the other way. I started thinking of this when listening to Variations VII.
There were so many sounds at one time, and just to 'cope' with it I automatically picked out one sound to concentrate on. Listening to that sound--static, or a fan--makes you start hearing a pattern to a sound you would normally try and block out. Taking in one sound made all the others fall into a pattern behind it. Suddenly switching to concentrate on another sound produces something completely different and the piece takes on something completely apart from what it had sounded like before. I don't know if it was just me, but I think if thirty different people heard this piece, they would all pick out thirty different noises that seemed to be the predominant sound in the piece for them.
Cage Surprises Again
Cage caught me off guard when I watched the movie of his performance in class, shocker huh? I was part expecting part hoping that he would be preforming something that sounded like techno music because the work was done with electronic instruments. After I realized it wasn't anything of the techno sort :( I tried to listen to all the sounds in the piece. I liked how some sounds would start out as more dominate than others but then they would fade into the background and replaced with a new dominate sound. It was almost like the ambient background music had background music to itself. After awhile though it became hard to focus on the movie because the sound lost my attention and I just sat there thinking with Cage's performance as a soundtrack to my thoughts. Every now and then a new interesting sound would pop up and catch my attention for a few minutes. I enjoyed when they showed the audience because it showed how different people reacted to the performance. Some people were sleeping, others looked confused and perplexed by what they heard, and others were smiling and enjoying the music as if the were at a rock concert.
I enjoy reading about Cage's ideas in his book. I thought the silent room was neat because Cage still heard the sounds of his body working. I really wonder how Cage would react if the room was actually completely void of sound. Would he just sit there and take it in or would he get up and say, "Well this is boring" and then proceeded to make as many random sounds as possible with whatever he could use? With Cage it could go either way, or a bit of both. True silence may never be possible but I think that might be a good thing.
I enjoy reading about Cage's ideas in his book. I thought the silent room was neat because Cage still heard the sounds of his body working. I really wonder how Cage would react if the room was actually completely void of sound. Would he just sit there and take it in or would he get up and say, "Well this is boring" and then proceeded to make as many random sounds as possible with whatever he could use? With Cage it could go either way, or a bit of both. True silence may never be possible but I think that might be a good thing.
Anechoic Chamber
"It was at Harvard not quite forty years ago that I went into an anechoic [totally silent] chamber not expecting in that silent room to hear two sounds: one high, my nervous system in operation, one low, my blood in circulation. The reason I did not expect to hear those two sounds was that they were set into vibration without any intention on my part. That experience gave my life direction, the exploration of nonintention. No one else was doing that. I would do it for us. I did not know immediately what I was doing, nor, after all these years, have I found out much. I compose music. Yes, but how? I gave up making choices. In their place I put the asking of questions. The answers come from the mechanism, not the wisdom of the I Ching, ." --John Cage, 1990
When I was reading about this in the book, I started thinking about the fact that it truely is never completely silent. It does not matter whethere there was any intention of being sounds made or not, there would always be something. Or at least if those few sounds coming from ourselves cease to exist, then consequently so would we. Hopefully there will always be the sounds of breathing, blood flow, and the nervous system. So with this in mind, that makes you think well if that is true then that in a way implies that sound was always supposed to exist in some way, shape, or form. I mean what would the world be or what would exist on it if there was no longer any kind of sound what so ever? There would be no living thing on Earth, and so even if there was something else making noise, would it be heard? It is kind of like if a tree falls in the woods and no one is around, does it make a sound? It all depends on the perspective.
When I was reading about this in the book, I started thinking about the fact that it truely is never completely silent. It does not matter whethere there was any intention of being sounds made or not, there would always be something. Or at least if those few sounds coming from ourselves cease to exist, then consequently so would we. Hopefully there will always be the sounds of breathing, blood flow, and the nervous system. So with this in mind, that makes you think well if that is true then that in a way implies that sound was always supposed to exist in some way, shape, or form. I mean what would the world be or what would exist on it if there was no longer any kind of sound what so ever? There would be no living thing on Earth, and so even if there was something else making noise, would it be heard? It is kind of like if a tree falls in the woods and no one is around, does it make a sound? It all depends on the perspective.
Music Lies in the Ears of the Beholder
After class today, Jenna and I were talking in the hallway about the video of John Cage’s performance. I really didn’t understand anything about the avant-garde performance. I could see how he was taking random sounds and piecing them together to create music, but I wondered what kind of music he was after. In our conversation, we had commented about how it could be a sort of strange background music, but the more I thought about it, I began to question whether or not that performance could fall into that category.
His performance could be background music in the sense that the music is entirely composed of background noises. I found it interesting that Cage just chose random places to broadcast via telephone; although, really I should have expected this decision. The places Cage chose to broadcast ranged from Cunningham’s dance studio to the container in which Riley’s pet turtles were kept in. These were background noises, but not really background music.
When you think of background music what comes to mind? Music that is soft, not overpowering, pleasant to the ear, soothing and tranquil, yet still entertaining. When musicians perform during a party or meal, the guests chatter over them and at pauses in the conversation they engage themselves in the music of the live entertainment. To me I believe the music makes the party, but if you were to ask Cage his opinion he would probably say the party makes the music. He would most likely consider the clanking of dishes, table talk, and the random crescendos of coughs and sneezes more musical than the composed music itself. This is because Cage feels that music must be free and detached from emotions so that the person can fully enjoy every natural sound. I don’t consider his performance background music, but I guess music lies in the ears of the beholder.
His performance could be background music in the sense that the music is entirely composed of background noises. I found it interesting that Cage just chose random places to broadcast via telephone; although, really I should have expected this decision. The places Cage chose to broadcast ranged from Cunningham’s dance studio to the container in which Riley’s pet turtles were kept in. These were background noises, but not really background music.
When you think of background music what comes to mind? Music that is soft, not overpowering, pleasant to the ear, soothing and tranquil, yet still entertaining. When musicians perform during a party or meal, the guests chatter over them and at pauses in the conversation they engage themselves in the music of the live entertainment. To me I believe the music makes the party, but if you were to ask Cage his opinion he would probably say the party makes the music. He would most likely consider the clanking of dishes, table talk, and the random crescendos of coughs and sneezes more musical than the composed music itself. This is because Cage feels that music must be free and detached from emotions so that the person can fully enjoy every natural sound. I don’t consider his performance background music, but I guess music lies in the ears of the beholder.
Radio by Chance Operations
Okay, so everyone's going to think I'm the biggest dork in the world, but I've started my own little John Cage ritual. So, I clipped out the radio station listing from the newspaper and use it to determine which radio station I listen to on my ride to and from school each day. I've assigned each station a die configuration and just roll a pair of dice the night before to see what I'll get to listen to. So far, it's been pretty interesting... I've listened to country, hard rock, heavy metal, contemporary christian, not-so-contemporary christian, classical, alternative, some talk radio, and Latino music. To add some more unpredictability to the equation, some stations get better reception than others, especially coming over from Cincinnati to Crestview Hills. This morning, actually, I experienced a bit of a phenomenon while parking. Depending on how far I pulled up into the space, the music I was listening to changed (and, okay, I'll admit it, I played around for a while backing up and pulling in while my radio vacillated between alternative and oldies. The people at soccer practice probably saw my and think I have issues.) Oh, and the varying amounts of static also affect the entire experience.
I also assigned a die configuration to silence, meaning I don't turn on my radio -but as we all know, there's no such thing as silence, especially on the highway. I thought it was very interesting the way Cage talked about the impossibility of silence in his book. He's in the anechoic chamber, the construction of which is supposed to absorb any noise and is as close to silence on Earth as one can get. Cage hears two sounds, one low and one higher pitch, and is told that they're his central nervous system and his pulse. So, he concludes that, so long as there's life,. there can never be silence. It seems, the closer we get to silence, the more, we realize, there is to hear. If the radio is on, I don't notice the humm of my engine, the sounds of the other cars, the clicking of my turn signal -but that doesn't mean they're not there. It's only when I attempt to hear the silence and turn off the radio that I hear all the sounds there really are, rumbling under my consciousness. It's just like when people go to a concert to hear music. They filter out all of the sounds around them because there's music to be heard. I think this is something Cage was pointing out with his piece, 4:33.
I wonder if we could really function in a world that had silence. Surely we would notice its presence, living in a world where there's noise all around us 24/7. Sounds kind of scary to me.
P.S. I can't listen to the red CD in my car anymore. There are moments when I just can't tell if there's something wrong with my engine, or if it's the CD.
I also assigned a die configuration to silence, meaning I don't turn on my radio -but as we all know, there's no such thing as silence, especially on the highway. I thought it was very interesting the way Cage talked about the impossibility of silence in his book. He's in the anechoic chamber, the construction of which is supposed to absorb any noise and is as close to silence on Earth as one can get. Cage hears two sounds, one low and one higher pitch, and is told that they're his central nervous system and his pulse. So, he concludes that, so long as there's life,. there can never be silence. It seems, the closer we get to silence, the more, we realize, there is to hear. If the radio is on, I don't notice the humm of my engine, the sounds of the other cars, the clicking of my turn signal -but that doesn't mean they're not there. It's only when I attempt to hear the silence and turn off the radio that I hear all the sounds there really are, rumbling under my consciousness. It's just like when people go to a concert to hear music. They filter out all of the sounds around them because there's music to be heard. I think this is something Cage was pointing out with his piece, 4:33.
I wonder if we could really function in a world that had silence. Surely we would notice its presence, living in a world where there's noise all around us 24/7. Sounds kind of scary to me.
P.S. I can't listen to the red CD in my car anymore. There are moments when I just can't tell if there's something wrong with my engine, or if it's the CD.
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