Silence

I can't stop thinking about silence. My first post was about it and I can't get it out of my head.

Lately, I have been obsessing about the importance of silence in music. As a musician, I have been taught that the silences are just--if not more--important than the sounds. It is the silence that gives meaning to the sound.

The big silences in music can be quite subtle. An instrument may stop playing. Without its music and timbre, we experience a different auditory and emotional sensation. Think of jazz music when the soloist begins her riff. Where is your concentration? What do you experience when the rest of the musicians join in? If you think of classical music, there is the silence between the movements of a large scale piece like a symphony. That silence cleanses the ear and prepares us for something new.

The medium silences are the rests within a musical line. If a musician doesn't  play her rests correctly, she may not return to playing the sounds with the rest of the musicians. If she holds her sound before the rests into the time she is supposed to be quiet, she basically has a solo. I know many musicians that do not respect the rest, and I think they are more detrimental than the un-practiced musicians.

The small silences are those that happen between each-and-every-note. They are there, believe me. They are influenced by the way the musician attacks and ends the note. Those are the ones your private music instructor--if she is good--spends most of her attention on: staccato, legato, tenuto, accent! An hour-long lesson spent on eight measures. UGGHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I never have complete silence: not big, medium, or small. I have tinnitus and experience constant ringing and buzzing in my head. Relief comes with noise, the television during the day, and the fan at night. If there is no background noise, I tend to hear "phantom sounds" as well that no one else seems to hear. Sounds like things being dropped, slammed, or moved. So, unless I want to sink into mental illness or believe in ghosts, I keep the television and fan on.

I have experienced deafening silence in only two situations of my life: during hearing tests, and growing up with my mom. The hearing tests were excruciating. They put you in a sound proof booth and put you in headphones. You are then to identify if you hear a beep and if so, in which ear. The experience was awful. Not only were the sounds in my head more pure and amplified, the atmosphere of the booth was pressing in on me. The prognosis: my hearing was fine and I'll have to learn to deal with it.

My mom was very adept at the silent treatment, a very excruciating treatment. This was how I knew I did something wrong. At the first signs of The Treatment, I would avoid her,the only sounds being her sighs, and the banging of cupboard doors. Next, I would try anything to make her happy. I like to think this was quite brave of me. I would go into the kitchen and try to anticipate her needs. When this didn't work, I would begin my pleading: what did I do?; why are you mad at me?; please, please, please, tell me!. She would never tell me. The prognosis: silence of a loved one, anyone, equals me having done something wrong; and I'll have to learn to deal with it.

Silence can be golden, sweet, musical, virtuous, wise, profound, eloquent, and peaceful. It can also be dreadful, oppressive, scornful, cruel, tortuous, and ignorant. For me, silence is unattainable, painful, and scary.

Maybe those phantom sounds of things being dropped or moved is my mom still letting me know I haven't figured it our yet, and I'll have to learn to deal with it.