John Cage Obit

Mushroom-hunter/ composer John Cage died just shy of his 80th birthday on August 12th [1992]. His influence as a composer was felt more by the ideas involved in his compositions than by the sound of the works themselves.

Cage's compositions often provoked anger and amusement, which is something you can't say about many composers. For instance he created one piece for a roomful of radios. Other pieces required pianos ``prepared'' with nuts and bolts stuck in the strings. He even created a piece which involved chopping vegetables, putting them into a blender, and drinking the product.

I once went to a concert of his work at Northwestern University. Thinking that only a few aficionados would care enough to attend, I arrived just a few minutes before the performance was to begin. To my chagrin, the small chapel where the concert was scheduled was filled to capacity. People outside were pressing their faces against the stained glass windows trying to see through the feet of saints. Luckily I noticed, off in the distance, a group of eight saxophonists proceeding single-file toward the chapel.

I was reminded of a trick a friend had shown me for sneaking into rock concerts: The day before the show, he would go to a music store and rent, with an option to buy, their finest guitar -- the sort of axe that would make any guitarist drool. Taking the guitar, he would go early to the concert, waiting outside the stage entrance until he saw the band approaching for the sound check. He would fall into line behind them as they went through the backstage door. Usually he got through the outer door before the security guard grabbed him. He would then flip open the guitar case and say something like: ``1964 Stratocaster Elite, one of only 200 made that year.''

The band's guitarist would turn, drool appreciatively, and give my friend a stage pass. If my friend was lucky he would also sell the guitar. So he got a free concert ticket and sometimes a couple hundred dollars profit from the sale of the fancy guitar.

So, as the saxophonists made their way toward the chapel, I quietly followed. I had no instrument case, but for a Cage concert, that wasn't necessarily important. Fortunately, security is much more lax at a contemporary music concert than at a rock concert. I slipped inside with the musicians and hid behind some curtains.

I got to see the whole concert from back stage. Every once in a while I had to look busy when the real stage hands gazed in my direction.

About half way through the concert, the eight saxophonists with whom I had entered climbed onto the stage to perform a 1952 Cage composition. The musicians and their eight baritone saxes lined up side by side. Some of them licked their lips, others twisted their mouthpieces. A balding conductor stood before them with a wry smile and raised his baton (which appeared to be pocked by teeth marks). He looked briefly at Cage, who was in the audience, and then at his wristwatch.

On the downbeat all eight saxophonists remained quiet. The piece, 4'33'' -- which is four minutes and 33 seconds of silence, had begun.