Response Paper 1: John Cage's “4'33"

 Response Paper 1: John Cage's “4'33””

When John Cage first presented his most recognisable piece of work in 1952, the audience was probably just as surprised and astounded as modern audiences when they have never witnessed something of that kind. The audience in 1952 was probably more astonished precisely because this was an absolutely new way to perform in a place where classic music is usually performed, with an orchestra at hand. Hearing it for the first time, I was expecting, of course, some sort of classical music. Or rather a version of music that played with typical ideas and notions of classical sheet music (just as Charles Ives did). No production of sound was, therefore, a big surprise. And yet, there is sound. It is not silence what we hear. So it is not a silent piece. The background noises become the focus of attention.
        Cage builds up his piece exactly like a piece of classical sheet music that is to be performed at a concert venue. The orchestra is there, the audience is there, the location is that befitting a classical concert. There is anticipation of what is to come. The musicians are poised to begin their individual performances (holding their instruments at the ready, and so on). Yet, there is no sound played in an intentional way. There is sound but almost all of it is unintentional. The piece consists of three movements (as deduced from the turning of the sheets of paper in the video). The second movement is “tecet” (and it can be assumed that both the other movements are also called “tecet”), a musical term denoting silence. Silence for that particular performer and instrument. At least usually. Here, though, it is the silence of all the instruments at hand. Instead, we hear the audience in a way we would not normally hear them because during an ordinary performance the music would drown out the sounds people in the audience make: moving around slightly in their chairs, coughing, whispering to their neighbour, and so on. Also, the sound that the turning of the sheet music makes. The absence of intentional sound, as Cage would call it, makes one aware of the sound that an entire orchestra produces when turning the pages of their sheet music. It is loud in a way that is astounding. I had never thought about it before when watching a classical concert. Yes, there is sound when the musicians turn their sheets of paper but usually the cellist turns the sheet at a slightly different time than the bass tuba player, and so on. All musicians doing it at the same time generates a sound that is unheard of during a typical performance. Add to that the sound that is usually drowned by the music, namely the sound produced by the audience, it is a performance in itself. One that is never repeated because no two performances of this piece can be identical. I can well imagine that in winter the performance has more people in the audience coughing than in the summer, simply because of more people nursing a cold at the time.
        What is interesting is Cage's focus on the absence of silence. At first glance it is a silent piece but we know that is is anything but silent because everyone in that venue at that specific time produces sounds, and is therefore part of the performance. We live in a world in which we are surrounded by sound. Sound that is mainly there because human beings produce it. The sound of hammering at a construction site, the rattling and squeaking of a passing train, the sound of cars on a busy road – these are all sounds that are produced by humans and which we think of immediately when we think of sounds that are not music. As Cage says, though, there is never any kind of complete absence of sound. Humans produce sound just by being humans – typing on the computer, opening the zip of their bag, breathing. A few years ago Microsoft built a chamber that is almost absolutely free of sound. Apparently, the room feels eerie, so people cannot stay there for long at a time. People who have experienced the silence of that chamber do say that they hear sound – it is their heartbeat and the blood running through their veins as it turns out. This points to two things. First, as long as a person lives, there is sound, and second the fact that humans are so accustomed to sound of some sort that its almost total absence makes them feel uncomfortable.
        I can well imagine that when it was first performed, it became an instant controversial piece, and it is not surprising that it has become Cage's most recognisable piece of composition. It is a revelation in itself. People went to the very first performance expecting some sort of music, however avant-garde it might have been. To then experience the absence of some sort of sound that they expected is probably as eerie as getting into that sound chamber Microsoft has created. The audience is left to deal with what they presume is silence (and therefore a possible mockery of their intention to come across as cultured) but which turns out to be anything but silence. It is the absence of intentional sounds in favour of sounds made naturally by most people.