Each of us has an image of John Cage’s silent piece, an idea—or many ideas—of what he created, why he created it, and what it means. This series will be my story of Cage’s silent piece—or silent pieces, since there are four of them.
My first piano teacher was Ann D. Gainey. This is the story of how we met, how she introduced me to music, and how she became a part of our family. Nearly a half a century ago, in 1967, I was in second grade at Rock Springs Elementary School in Atlanta. My older brother went to …
Triadic memories, like all late Feldman, is a series of repeated patterns, musical images that are extended in time by repetition. In some pieces these repetitions are of larger chunks of music, with a system, set of systems, or even pages of music reappearing, often with permutations. I’ve always thought of these larger-scale repetitions in terms of the whole pattern: pitch and rhythm together. Playing through Triadic memories, I’ve become aware of them rhythmically, repeating even as the pitches are moved around.
There is a figure that appears about a third of the way into Triadic memories. It catches my attention, wakes me up: it is a signal that something is changing. Where are we going now? And haven’t I heard this before somewhere?
For me, there is a more personal history of the Radio Happenings: the story of how they came to light and were preserved. It all happened because of procrastination and the pre-Internet digital social world of Bulletin Board Services in New York City. It was a rare musicological adventure.
The history of how the Cage/Feldman “Radio Happenings” came to be recorded at WBAI, under the direction of Ann McMillan
Introducing a series of posts telling the missing story of the Cage/Feldman “Radio Happenings” of 1966-67, a series of broadcasts that has been getting more and more attention on the web.
The manuscript score and early performances reveal an alternative interpretation of a persistent rhythm in Triadic Memories