Listening to a recent ethnographic recording of Anatolian fiddling, one marvels not so much at the music, wonderful as it is in its unbridled exuberance and technical innocence, but at the surrounding silence that transforms it into music divine. One can imagine that weeks, months, perhaps even years would separate such musical experiences in the windswept plains of Anatolia. One can imagine the divine silence of these interludes. It is not the music that is vanishing from this world, including Anatolian fiddling; rather, it is the silence that is vanishing, and without silence even the best of music becomes so much novelty, so much diversion, so much background noise.