Bore — where it appears
Named by 37 essays across 4 fields — each of them below, with the objects they name alongside it.
A tube that skips every other partial
Stop one end of a cylinder and half its modes vanish. That single fact about where the pressure has to be decides that a clarinet sounds hollow, that it plays an octave below its length suggests, and that it must cover nineteen semitones with fingers before it can overblow — while every other woodwind covers twelve.
A cone is not a cylinder
A saxophone has a reed at a closed end, exactly as a clarinet does, and it overblows at the octave rather than the twelfth. If the previous essay's argument were about reeds that would refute it. It is about geometry, and a cone closed at its apex has the complete harmonic series for a reason that takes one line of algebra and is genuinely surprising.
The tube ends after it ends
A wave does not turn round at the opening. It carries on into the room for about six-tenths of the bore radius and reflects there, so every tube is acoustically longer than it is. The correction is a fixed number of millimetres against a wavelength that halves every octave — a rounding error at the bottom of an instrument's range and most of a semitone at the top.
Above a certain note the holes stop working
A row of open tone holes reflects the wave and makes the tube shorter — up to a frequency. Above it the wave runs straight past the whole lattice and leaves from the bell, so the top of every note's spectrum radiates from the same place whichever note is fingered. That cutoff is computable, it differs by family, and it is most of what makes an oboe sound like an oboe.
One hole doing a dozen jobs
A register key works by forcing a pressure node where the second mode already has one, which kills the fundamental and leaves the mode above. The node sits a fixed fraction along the sounding length — and the sounding length changes with every fingering, while the hole stays where it was drilled. The leftover error is computable, and it is why the throat notes are the ones players complain about.
Two pipes for a note neither makes
The resultant stop sounds a sixteen-foot pipe and a ten-and-two-thirds-foot pipe and asks the listener for a thirty-two-foot note. It is the missing fundamental built on purpose from the fewest partials that can imply anything — and counting how many fundamentals two partials actually imply is the arithmetic behind three centuries of builders disagreeing about whether it works.
The reed is a valve, not a vibrator
Three essays here have said that a clarinet's reed does not choose the note, and none of them said what it does instead. It chops a steady stream of air, and past a third of the pressure that closes it the flow falls as the player blows harder — a resistance with the wrong sign, which is the only thing in the instrument capable of putting energy into an oscillation that is otherwise losing it.
A wind instrument is a thermometer
Pitch goes as the square root of absolute temperature, so a warming clarinet sharpens by about three cents a degree and passes a Pythagorean comma after eight. The strings beside it go flat as they warm. Nobody chose either number, no temperament addresses either of them, and together they are twice the size of the discrepancy this whole field is named after.
The bell decides what gets out
A tube resonates because the wave turns round at the open end, and it is audible because some of the wave does not. Those are the same number with opposite signs. One quantity — the size of the opening against a wavelength — decides how loud an instrument is, how bright it is and how directional it is, and a bell moves the boundary rather than removing it.
The register where the series becomes a scale
A melody needs steps, and a natural trumpet has only the harmonic series. The gap between one partial and the next falls as the series rises — an octave, a fifth, a fourth, a third — and does not reach a whole tone until the eighth. That single arithmetic fact decides what two centuries of brass writing could be: fanfares below, and melody only in a band one octave wide with nine notes in it, three of them badly out of tune and every one of them lipped into place by a player who had no valve to press.
The hole that spoils a note
A tone hole shortens the tube. A register hole does the opposite job: it is small enough to shorten nothing and is placed where it will wreck the fundamental's resonance and leave the third harmonic's alone, so the note jumps a twelfth instead of retuning. The place that does both is a pressure node of the harmonic being kept — a third of the way along whatever length is sounding — and the length changes with every fingering while the key does not. One key is at the right place for exactly one note, and the note it is worst for is in the throat of the instrument, which is where players say the instrument is worst.
Blowing harder is playing sharper
Every frequency computed so far for an air column is a resonance of the tube, and no wind instrument plays at its bore's resonance. It plays between the bore and whatever is driving it, weighted by how sharply each is tuned — and a flute's driver is an air jet whose own preferred frequency goes as the square root of the blowing pressure. Across a tenfold pressure range the jet's preference rises by a factor of 3.16 and the bore holds it to 112 cents of that. A wind player's dynamics and their intonation are one control, and the size of the coupling between them is the valve's Q.
The hand that changes the bore
A conjecture refuted here left a question with a number on it: the natural trumpet's eleventh partial is 48.7 cents flat, the lips can move it 23.1, and 25.6 cents are owed by something that is not an embouchure. There is exactly one thing a player can change about the bore while playing, and putting the hand in the bell buys those 25.6 cents at a cost of 3.8 decibels — because the aperture that tunes the instrument is the aperture that radiates it.
The fourth top is the maker's
The series has three tops and all three are the ear's: where consecutive partials stop being resolved, where their spacing falls below a semitone, and where it falls below what the ear can hear at all. The fourth is how far up a player can go, and it is the only one somebody chose. Every modern brass bell puts the boundary at about the ninth partial across a family whose tubes differ by a factor of four — and the baroque natural trumpet, whose bell is small, puts it at the seventeenth, which is exactly the top of the clarino register.
Only two shapes make a series
A tube's length sets where its modes are and its shape sets whether they are a series at all — and of every shape a maker could choose, exactly two give evenly spaced modes. Neither of them is the shape of a trumpet. Webster's equation says how far the others miss by, and the answer is a quarter of a semitone for the obvious ones and four cents for the family brass bells actually belong to.
What the mouthpiece is actually for
A cup and a throat look like a comfort fitting and are a component. Put a real one on the front of a real bore in the horn equation and the whole mode series slides sideways by about a seventh of its own spacing — which is exactly the distance between a series whose second resonance is 1.85 times the spacing and one whose second resonance is the second harmonic. The flare decides whether the modes are evenly spaced; the mouthpiece decides which harmonic each one is.
A horn has one length per partial
Every tube until now has had an acoustic length: its physical length plus a correction for the wave carrying on past the opening. A flaring bore does not have one. Its second mode behaves as though the tube were 164 centimetres long and its eighth as though it were 154, and the ten centimetres between them are the same physical fact — a fixed correction against a shrinking wavelength — arriving as a hundred cents.
The hand goes in, and the note jumps
A horn player's hand closes the bell and the pitch falls — 19 cents, then 55, then 132, then four hundred, accelerating the whole way. Then, in the last half per cent of closure, it stops falling and lands a semitone above where it started. An earlier essay guessed the mechanism was the boundary condition changing kind and the series going odd-only. It is not. The series never changes at all.
A resonance has a strength as well as a frequency
What eleven earlier essays drew is a row of frequencies, because the solver behind it has no losses and a lossless resonance has no width. Put the losses in and every one of them acquires a height and a Q — and the hand closing a horn's bell turns out to take away nine and a half per cent of the instrument's total support before giving all of it back, in a window a few per cent wide where the horn is genuinely hard to play.
The cutoff a maker can actually measure
A trumpet's bell cutoff computed from the geometry alone comes to 1,150 hertz against a published 1,500, and the calibration was the first thing that left owing. Measuring the model the way a maker measures the instrument — sweep a loudspeaker in, find where the impedance peaks stop — gives 1,593. The discrepancy was almost entirely in the formula, and on a bore whose flare is spread rather than concentrated the same formula is out by a factor of twenty-nine.
The higher note speaks sooner and takes longer
Up a brass instrument the settling time in milliseconds falls by a factor of seven and the settling time in periods rises by a factor of three. Both curves are read off the same impedance sweep, both are monotone over most of the compass, and they point in opposite directions — so the slowest note of the instrument depends entirely on which clock is used to time it.
A family resemblance in the heights
Trumpet, horn and trombone differ in length by a factor of two and a half, so their frequency series cannot be laid over one another. Their impedance peaks agree to three decibels in height and to thirty per cent in Q, peak for peak, and the agreement improves with peak number. An earlier essay inferred that a family has one voice because it has one filter; the solver can now be asked directly.
The vent a cone cannot place
A clarinet's register key has to spoil a fundamental and leave a twelfth. A saxophone's has to spoil a fundamental and leave an octave, whose pressure node sits at half the sounding length from the virtual apex — and the apex is a fixed point while the bell end is not. Over one register the ideal position moves by a factor of two, and one hole is right for one note.
The flare that makes a series harmonic
Every figure until now treats a partial as n times a fundamental, and the whole of brass instrument design is the business of making that true. A plain cylinder is 127 cents from a harmonic series and a plain cone is 21; the best flare found by sweeping is 4.6, and only two per cent of the swept surface comes within five cents of it. The shape is forced rather than chosen.
A woodwind cannot be pulled to a new standard
Every earlier essay computes strings, because a string has a closed-form scaling law. A wind instrument does not. Pulling out at the joint lengthens every fingering's sounding tube by the same number of millimetres, which is a fixed length against a shrinking one — so the tuning note lands and the compass spreads by 142 cents. The strings could be regauged in an afternoon; the winds had to be rebuilt.
What a cup does to the support
The mouthpiece's job was settled four essays ago and settled in cents: it decides which harmonic each mode is. Measured instead in the currency a player buys one in — how hard the note pushes back, and how narrowly it holds its pitch — the cup does something else entirely. It multiplies the support in the written register by about five, and it puts a ceiling on the instrument that the bell had not put there.
The bell is tuned for the cup
Sweeping a brass bell's two flare parameters found a shape that makes the resonance series harmonic to four and a half cents. Bolt the mouthpiece that instrument is actually played with onto it and the series is twenty-five cents out — worse than a plain cone. The flare and the cup are not two independent choices, and the best bell for a maker to build is one that is deliberately wrong.
A hole is a short tube
Four earlier essays have treated an open tone hole as a point where the pressure is released. It is not: the air in a hole has mass, and a hole with mass does not end the bore, it loads it. Seven holes drilled at seven stations all sound the same G — and their twelfths are spread over a fourth. Cross-fingering falls out of the same arithmetic, and it is not made of what everybody says it is.
The resonator at the far end
A cup at the throat owns the top of a brass instrument and puts a ceiling on it. A straight mute is a second closure at the other end of the same air column, and the prediction written down before it was computed was that it would push that ceiling further down. It does the opposite: the ceiling goes from C6 to E♭6, and it goes there by reviving exactly the resonances the cup had killed.
The mouth that decides nothing
Twelve figures across six earlier essays draw a trumpet with a 124-millimetre bell, and not one of them draws any other. Opened from 32 millimetres across to 280, the bell's own boundary moves by a factor of eighteen and almost nothing else moves at all: the instrument's registration, the sharpness of its notes in the written register, and where it runs out are all within a semitone of themselves. The reason is that the resonances are held by the walls, and a bell cannot reach them.
The cutoff that is a list
Five earlier essays have quoted one number for a woodwind's cutoff — 1,824 hertz for a clarinet — from a formula written for an infinite lattice of identical holes. Solve a whole twelve-hole chart instead and the number is eleven different numbers, running from 2,193 hertz down to 1,574, which is 574 cents. The lowest fingering has no cutoff at all, and which way the list runs turns out to be a design decision rather than a fact about woodwinds.
The partials the tube makes itself
Eleven earlier essays compute a passive linear resonator, and none of them ever says so. At a real fortissimo the air in a brass instrument is not linear: a compression outruns a rarefaction, the wave leans forward as it travels, and the fourth partial of a loud trumpet note is seventy decibels louder than a scaled-up quiet one — generated in the tube rather than at the lips. How much of it happens is an integral over the bore, and it is why a flugelhorn cannot be blown into being a trumpet.
One cup and seven lengths
A trumpet is seven tubes with one mouthpiece serving all of them, and the harmonicity of its resonance series is a different number in every position — 19.5 cents open, 24.8 with all three valves down. The bare bore is flat across the same seven lengths to within eight-tenths of a cent, so none of it is a length problem. It is the cup, standing still while the series walks past it, and pressing all three valves does to the series exactly what fitting a mouthpiece 56 per cent of the catalogue depth would do.
A standard is a point, and a performance is a band
Nine earlier essays draw every pitch standard as a single number, because none of them has a temperature in it. An air column sharpens as the room warms and a steel string flattens, at 2.95 and 2.49 cents a degree; add the 13.8 cents of spread inside one wind instrument's own register and eight degrees makes an orchestra 57 cents wide. Five of the six steps in four hundred years of pitch standards are narrower than that.
Which notes go brassy first
Wave steepening manufactures partials at exact integer multiples of the note being played. A brass instrument's resonances are not at integer multiples of anything, and twelve earlier essays have measured how far off they are without ever putting the two on one axis. Put them there and a manufactured partial never lands on a peak — never once, at any note, by a miss that is the same number of hertz every time. So the alignment cannot be what decides which notes blare, and the thing that does turns out to be the bell.
The throat that decides both
Eight earlier essays draw a tube eleven millimetres across and none of them draws another. Opened from six millimetres to twenty-two, it does exactly what was predicted to the loss in the walls — and it moves the radiation loss three times further, in the opposite direction, and monotonically, which the bell does not. So the two ends of a brass instrument do not divide the two losses between them. One end owns one loss and both ends own the other.
Where a woodwind actually sounds from
Every number so far is read at the mouthpiece, and the corner's whole musical meaning is at the other end. Run the same solver forwards and it gives the flow leaving every hole — from which a clarinet's radiating aperture turns out to be a function of fingering and of frequency, but not the way it was predicted to: the fingering sets how far the aperture opens, almost exactly to the number of open holes, and barely moves the frequency at which it does.
Named alongside it
The objects these essays reach for when they reach for this one.
ResonanceBrassCutoffImpedanceEnd correctionStanding waveBoundary conditionHarmonic seriesIntonationRegisterTone holeHorn equation