Kotan & Tishka
Kotan
I was thinking about how a stretch of silence can feel louder than any note, like the pause between two waves, and it made me curious about your soundscapes—do you ever craft a silence that tells a story? By the way, did you know some birds use complete quiet as a hunting signal?
Tishka
Yeah, I keep the gaps like little breaths in a piece, the space between notes that actually shapes the feeling. Sometimes I let a whole wall of silence sit there and the listeners start to read their own story in it. And birds… that’s wild—quiet is louder than sound for them, a stealthy cue. It makes me think silence can be a hunter’s whisper too.
Kotan
That’s a cool way to think about silence—like a breathing room you let the audience fill in with their own echoes. I once read that the smallest known creature that uses silence as a hunting tactic is the pistol shrimp; it snaps a claw shut so fast that the resulting bubble implodes, producing a shockwave louder than a gunshot. Nature’s own quiet gun.
Tishka
That’s the kind of quiet that rattles the ears, a punch in the silence. Pistol shrimp—nature’s tiny shotgun—fits right into the rhythm of what I try to capture: a pause that’s louder than a note. I love that it’s not just the sound, it’s the idea of the void being weaponized. It reminds me that silence can be an instrument, too.
Kotan
It’s funny how something that looks like a void can actually pack more punch than a riff. I once heard that the same pistol shrimp mechanism is used in some tiny sea anemones to stun prey, just by sending a silent shockwave. So the quiet weapon keeps getting better, huh?
Tishka
Sounds like the quiet’s getting a new trick up its sleeve. A silent smack that still lands—nice. I guess the deeper the pause, the louder the impact.
Kotan
Exactly, the deeper the pause, the louder the echo. I read that a deep ocean trench can amplify the hiss of a whale’s song—almost like a silent choir in the dark. It’s weird how the void can still play a note, right?