One of the prime examples of the paradoxical impulse in Cage's works: an exactingly notated, "chance" composition. It's also a quite extraordinary, even classic, recording.

Written in 1951 by virtue of the tossing of I Ching sticks which, when matched against the corresponding hexagrams, determined each aspect of note placement, dynamics, duration, etc. "Music of Change" was then strictly notated for subsequent performances. The curious thing is how it's differentiated from roughly contemporaneous pieces in the severe serialist vein by Boulez, Carter and others. To na�ve ears, it may sound quite akin: seemingly randomized clusters of notes, fairly spare in their arrangement and seemingly disconnected from one another, with little apparent sense of relatedness. But several factors elevate this music from the aridity that infected much of 50s atonality. One is the subtle, underlying lyricism to be found, very much in keeping with Cage's character. For all its rigor and precision, one can't help but discern the occasional flicker of a sly grin and an overriding sense of benevolence. The other is simply the superb and razor-sharp rendition by David Tudor in this 1956 recording. His level on concentration, his sense of dynamics and note placement is virtually unparalleled, only approached in Cagean interpretation by John Tilbury from an entirely different direction. He probes and slices with severe exactitude though, again, with more than a hint of childlike joy at the discovery of these notes that unravel unpredictably in myriad directions. It's the antithesis of the insularity of many of the more academically oriented work from that time, resolutely modernist and incredibly expansive and inclusive at the same time, showering the listener with idea after door-opening idea.

A must-have for any 20th century collection.