As a general term, cacophony (ka-KAW-fuh-nee) refers to a riot of discordant sound. As a literary term, cacophony refers to clashing or jarring consonant sounds being placed together in speech or writing.
A tried-and-true way to understand general cacophony is to imagine walking through a busy city: cars honking, people chatting, dogs barking, music playing, construction, a bank clock playing the Big Ben theme. None of these sounds go together, and they’re all going on at the same time.
The word cacophony comes from the Ancient Greek kakophōnía, which means “bad sound.”
Cacophony is most often associated with plosive consonants like k, p, and t.
Take this sentence: “Plaster nor spackle nor paste nor tacky wax will patch this rift.” As you may hear, though the sounds are sharp, they’re not altogether unpleasant to the ear. Things start to get a bit more cacophonous when the plosive consonants are abutting: “That kid had better stop taking cake pops.” The addition of b, d, and g—three more plosive consonants—and the direct juxtaposition of these harsher sounds (especially in “That kid” and “taking cake”) help the reader imagine the speaker speaking through gritted teeth.
To take cacophony even further, a writer or speaker can mix softer consonant sounds with these plosives at irregular intervals: “The murmuring baby was shocked to find themself alone. Was this existence an illusion? Pondering this they shushed themself back to sleep.” Setting up then subverting sound expectations can take the aural discomfort of cacophony even further.
As mentioned above, plosives are the consonants with the hardest or harshest sounds—thus, they’re important components in cacophony. Plosive consonants are marked by airflow being stopped or cut at the throat, teeth, or lips. The voiceless plosives, k, p, and t make the sharpest sounds, while the voiced plosives b, d, and g have a slightly softer impact.
A soft consonant sound is one in which air passes through the teeth with the mouth open. The hissing effect caused by using an abundance of soft consonants is called sibilance. S is the most prominent soft consonant. F, x, z, and soft c are generally agreed upon as soft consonants, and ch, sh, and th are sibilant consonant blends.
Harmonious consonants have a soft, almost melodic impact. These are l, m, n, and r.
Cacophony vs. Euphony
Euphony, which comes from the ancient Greek for “good sound,” is the opposite of cacophony. It's a combination of sounds that are pleasant and soothing to the ear. Where cacophony is associated with plosive consonants, euphony is associated with sibilance, long vowel sounds, and harmonious consonants.
Cacophony vs. Consonance
Consonance is simply the repetition of consonant sounds in close succession. Therefore, cacophony is a type of consonance.
Cacophony vs. Onomatopoeia
Onomatopoeia is a sound device where the words used mean to emulate specific sounds. Examples of this are crash, boom, and splash. Onomatopoeia can have a cacophonous effect.
Alliteration
Alliteration is another type of sound repetition, specifically at the beginning of a word or a stressed syllable. Alliteration can be the repetition of consonant or vowel sounds.
Because cacophony is inherently unpleasant, some assume that it occurs by accident and should be edited away. This isn’t the case, of course; sometimes a writer wants to jar their reader or make them feel uncomfortable.
Some sources cite tongue twisters as examples of cacophony, assuming that “difficult to pronounce” is a qualifier for cacophony. As evidenced by “She Sells Sea Shells,” this isn’t true. This tongue twister is built upon sibilance, which is generally considered to be soothing. The trickiness makes tongue twisters fun, and they’re often based around sounds that are pleasant to speak and hear.
There are several instances in which cacophony can enhance a description or a mood. Think about an industrial landscape or a battle scene. Imagine being overwhelmed by a loud, incessant sound, like a car alarm. Consider the state of mind of someone who is feeling angry, guilty, or out of control.
Free jazz, a genre served up by Ornette Coleman in late 1960, forgoes predetermined chord changes and time signatures. Jazz has always been improvisatory, but, up to this point, these two anchors had served as the point of departure. The original packaging for Free Jazz even incorporated a Jackson Pollock painting, “White Light,” which could be considered a kind of visual cacophony to gaze upon.
John Coltrane, who had already garnered a reputation for composing and producing fairly conventional jazz, recorded Ascension a few years after Coleman recorded Free Jazz. Even less structure can be recognized in this piece. The average person listening to Ascension for the first time would likely ask why it’s taking the musicians so long to tune up. A few minutes in, though, it’s cathartic, and there’s something satisfying about recognizing moments where different musicians are connecting.
Three years later, in 1969, art rock band the Velvet Underground put out their eponymous third album, which features an interesting piece called “The Murder Mystery.” The song is particularly cacophonous through its excessive cymbal clashing, an uneven tempo, off-key lilting, and overlapping vocals.
1. Sylvia Plath, “Daddy”
Plath had a real talent for making her pain and trauma accessible to the point of intense discomfort. To read these lines from this poem about her father is to taste her tears of rage:
There’s a stake in your fat black heart
And the villagers never liked you.
They are dancing and stamping on you.
They always knew it was you.
Daddy, daddy, you bastard, I’m through.
The cacophony here is complemented by a convulsive rhythm that makes these words read louder.
2. William Shakespeare, Macbeth
In these famous lines from Act V, Scene 1 of Macbeth, Lady Macbeth’s guilt over her role in a murder has manifested as a hallucination of a spot of blood on her hand that will not wash off:
Out, damned spot! out, I say!--One: two: why,
then, 'tis time to do't.--Hell is murky!--Fie, my
lord, fie! a soldier, and afeard? What need we
fear who knows it, when none can call our power to
account?--Yet who would have thought the old man
to have had so much blood in him.
The cacophony here helps the audience understand the instability of her mental state.
3. Kurt Vonnegut, Slaughterhouse Five
Vonnegut lived through the firebombing of Dresden and often wrote about his experiences in war with a sardonic sense of disapproval:
It is so short and jumbled and jangled, Sam, because there is nothing intelligent to say about a massacre. Everybody is supposed to be dead, to never say anything or want anything ever again. Everything is supposed to be very quiet after a massacre, and it always is, except for the birds. And what do the birds say? All there is to say about a massacre, things like “Poo-tee-weet?”
Cacophony is often used in works describing wartime, and Vonnegut uses it to good effect here, conveying his absolute bewilderment.
4. Samuel Beckett, Waiting for Godot
Beckett’s existential dark comedy features a manservant ironically named Lucky who famously speaks a single line, which is three pages long and contains no punctuation:
Given the existence as uttered forth in the public works of Puncher and Wattmann of a personal God quaquaquaqua with white beard quaquaquaqua outside time without extension who from the heights of divine apathia divine athambia divine aphasia loves us dearly with some exceptions for reasons unknown but time will tell [...]
The cacophony here, along with the repeated quas, makes the nonsense of the string of words pop as Beckett takes a poke at the futility and meaninglessness of lecture-based academia.
If you’re looking for tips on incorporating euphony and cacophony into your writing, Robert Wood’s What Can Euphony and Cacophony Do for Your Writing is a quick and insightful read.
This piece from KQED discusses the cathartic quality of cacophony.