Silence is the unpublicized

     Silence is the unpublicized “ingredient” that makes music possible in the same way that the empty space around a sculpture makes the sculpture possible, or the judicious use of wall space can make or break an art exhibit. Just imagine twenty-five original Van Gogh’s crammed together: “Where is Starry Night? Oh, there it is. I almost missed it. Funny, but somehow it’s just not as exciting as I thought it would be”

Music is the shaped sound between silences.

     When you fast-forward a music tape, you accelerate the speed, resulting in ludicrous sounds, definitely unmusical, but not just because the tones are not being played at the proper cadence: The acceleration has erased the silences, which are as significant as the tones themselves.  Music is different from random noise, because intervals of silence, no matter how short they are, give musical tones their shape.

Heard melodies are sweet, but those unheard/are sweeter.

     To deepen an appreciation of music, it is necessary to hear and enjoy silence. Silence has been as integral part of work by traditional and contemporary composers. The pauses in the second movement, the “Funeral March,” of Beethoven’s Third Symphony are as famous as the themes that precede and follow them. They make possible the dramatic effect when the mine theme of the movement returns for the last time. There is silence, then part of the theme, then more silence, then more of the theme.  The effect reminds the listener of someone trying valiantly to hold back tears.

     One theory is that Beethoven, who had originally dedicated the symphony to Napoleon, changed his mind when he heard that the French commander had made himself Emperor, and that the composer expressed his sadness about this in the music.

    Think of the last time you were in the presence of someone struggling for self-control while obviously overcome by a powerful surge of emotion. We’re not the silences full of meaning? Great composers handle silences in the same way those great artists since Leonardo da Vinci have known how to handle shadows. Great stage actors owe something of their greatness to the mastery they have achieved over the words in a play that they do not speak and to the silences before and after the words they do speak.

   A famous solo them for French horn occurs soon after the opening of the fourth movement of Brahms’s First symphony. The moment is heralded by a tympani roll, which is followed by the introduction of the French horn. Some conductors, recognizing the musical benefits of silence, make the orchestra pause for several measures before the theme is heard. This silence dramatically intensifies the significance of what follows. The French horn enters like an actor making at long last an appearance for which the audience has been eagerly waiting.

   Perhaps the best-know moment in all of theater history comes when Hamlet, believing himself to be alone on stage, begins his celebrated soliloquy. It has become traditional for the performer to pause, not to launch at once into “To be or not to be…..” or else to allow a longer pause between phrases: “TO be…. Or not to be”

      What ultimately distinguishes one aspiring musician from another in a music conservatory is not the ability to play the notes as written and at the proper tempo, but the musical intuition that manifests it self. One way in which the professional ear can detect the presence of this intuition (or this “felling for the music,” as it is sometimes called) is to listen to how the performer manipulates the silences that surround the tones. Three world-class pianists might record Beethoven’s Pathetique Sonata, and though each plays exactly the same note, giving proper attention to the pace and the mood indicated by the composer, the interpretation by each will have subtle touches unique to that musician. In almost every instance the telling factor is the handing of silence. Here a pause is elongated, there, foreshortened. As with the space surrounding a sculpture, silence in the music helps to define, to single out, to create individuality.

The pauses in the second movement of Beethoven’s 3^rd Symphony are as famous as the themes that precede and follow them.

In any group, the person who interests us, who seems to demand our careful attention, is the person with silences. Who is likely to warrant a second look? The one who calmly sits there with a faint smile, saying nothing? Or the one who comes bursting into the room, breathlessly reeling off a torrent of words? Of course, the impression made by the silent person will be greater on a silent observer. People with silences appreciate each other