The Importance of Silence in Music

(A reflection from presence, improvisation, and groove)
Every note and every action we take has a deep meaning in our expression and interpretation.
Silence, far from being empty, creates protagonism, emphasis, and anticipation.
This is especially true in contexts of improvisation, musical proposition, or when we play a supporting role. There are several motivations that can lead us to play too many notes all the time, such as:
Wanting to put everything everywhere.

Feeling like I must play something virtuosic so people know I'm good.

When we learn a new chord, a lick, a concept, a groove… we want to explore it and apply it everywhere. And that’s not necessarily wrong. A cumbia can borrow a salsa phrase and still sound great.
But music has a structure, and within that structure lives the soul of the song.
Miles Davis said:
“It’s not the notes you play, it’s the notes you don’t play.”
Playing is not about dumping notes.
It’s about choosing your words in a conversation.

On the other hand, there’s this idea that if we’re not playing something flashy every four bars, people won’t think we’re good musicians.
But the real groove lies in doing what needs to be done.
Beyond rhythm or harmony, your movements, your breath, your presence communicate your devotion and love for the art.

There’s also an idea that pianist Cecil Taylor explored—shared with me by Juancho Valencia, when I played with Elnikoarias at BIME in Bogotá.
Juancho talked about tension.
He said: if we strip away all the elements of the European functional system—harmonic functions, modes, tonic (I), dominant (V)—what remains is the duration of the sound.
This idea is backed by psychoacoustics too.
If you hear keys fall, the impact creates a higher decibel peak than a crying baby.
But the baby’s cry has a higher RMS, which makes it feel louder over time. The sustained sound is what makes it unbearable.
Time creates tension.

This leads us to a powerful realization:
Silence is not emptiness. Emptiness is also space.
And in that space, the magic happens.
When we play from this awareness, using all of our musical tools, not to show off but to connect, something deeper happens than a flashy solo:
A real conversation.