Duration — where it appears
Named by 26 essays across 6 fields — each of them below, with the objects they name alongside it.
What a tonic costs in seconds
The standard key-finding algorithm cannot be run on a pitch-class set at all — a flat histogram has no variance and the correlation is undefined. Give it durations and it answers with the parent key for all seven modes identically, and it takes between 15.8 and 30.0 per cent of the total time spent on one note before it names that note instead.
An ending is a deceleration
Every performance slows down at the end and the slowing has a shape. Tempo read against score position is the velocity of a body stopping — a square root rather than a straight line — and the three candidate curves agree at both ends by construction, so the whole audible difference is in the middle, where they part by fifteen per cent of the passage's length.
The note that has a length
Every melodic figure so far reads a table where each note is a pair — a pitch and a duration — and throws the second number away. A step between two minims and a step between two quavers have been one event in every histogram it has drawn. Weighting the same statistics by time moves the step distribution by up to seven points, changes forty-four of a hundred and one contour signs, and turns up an off-by-one in the one figure that did use the durations: it took the length of the note arrived at where the time between two onsets is the length of the note left.
What the onsets left out
Eight essays induce a metre from a list of ones and zeros, and every failure they recorded was argued about as a failure of the rules. Two of the three are not. Note length is already in that list and the scoring throws it away: put it back and the son clave's two-way tie resolves to the notated downbeat. But the groove with its beat removed cannot be repaired by any cue at any strength, and the reason is arithmetic rather than empirical — the true phase has no onset on any of its strong positions, so there is no credit for a cue to multiply and its line is exactly flat.
How long a note has to be
Every difference limen quoted so far is for a tone that lasts as long as the listener needs, and no note in music does. A tone of duration T occupies a band about 1/2T wide whatever the ear does with it, so at 440 hertz the quoted five-cent limen is the right number only for notes longer than 486 milliseconds. A tenth of a second gives 19.6 cents, which does not clear the syntonic comma. Most of the tuning arguments in this collection are about a quantity that only exists in long notes, and the essays that made them said so about the listener and not about the note.
The short note is sitting on the floor
Swing is modelled here as a short note of constant absolute length, which was measured from drummers and left as a fitted parameter. The tempo window's fast edge — the shortest interval a series of events can be a beat at — was measured from listeners tapping. Both are a hundred milliseconds, and if that is not a coincidence then the swing ratio has no free parameter in it at all: the short note is not held constant, it is resting on the floor.
The axis that is not a time axis
Eight earlier essays have measured the staff's vertical axis to a position. Its horizontal one has never been asked about, and the answer is that it is proportional to nothing: measured off the typesetter used here, a note gets 58 points before its duration is considered at all and 15 points a crotchet after — so the constant is 93 per cent of what the shortest note gets, and a note four times as long is not four times as wide.
A staccato is a dynamic mark
Every loudness figure in this collection is of a sound that has been going on long enough, and no note in music has. Run the running-loudness model on notes with lengths in them and an articulation turns out to command 1.5 phons at a slow tempo and 8.1 at a fast one — more than the 1.8 decibels a whole texture commands, on the same page, written down in the same ink, and counted by nobody.
The long note and the strong note
The segmentation that produces every object connected here has carried a free parameter since the day it was written: whether a note counts for its metrical weight or for how long it is held. Only the first has ever been drawn. The two name different chords on sixteen per cent of passages where the cues agree about the notes and forty-three per cent where they do not — and where they disagree most sharply a mixture of them picks a third chord neither one asks for.
A fourth decision, and two that were never made
The joint search resolves key, metre and segmentation together and holds the segmentation's cue mixture at zero. Adding the mixture is one loop, and reading the search in order to add it turns up something worse than a missing axis: on the passages it is drawn on, the key it reads is the same key at all forty-eight of its hypotheses and the metre scores every barline identically. The fourth axis then cannot be ranked at all until each reading is measured against its own null, because a mixture changes the ruler and not only the answer.
A note lasts until the next one starts
Pricing where a note is against which note it is left duration as the term it had not, with a prediction that it would be small. Measured on the three tunes these readings are built on, it is exactly zero — and it is zero by construction, because those tunes are stored as pitches and lengths with no rests in them, so every duration is its own inter-onset interval. The prediction cannot be tested on the corpus that produced it. Priced directly, a rest costs 0.67 bits a note where a tenth of the notes have one, which is not well under half a bit.
The notehead that is not a note
Every quantity so far is charged per notehead, and a tie is the one mark on the staff that puts a notehead on the page carrying no event. Its cost is not the decision that identifies it — that is half a bit where a tenth of the noteheads are continuations. It is the decision plus the whole reading of a notehead that turns out to have been unnecessary, which is 1.05 bits, twice the decision and a fifth of what a note of music costs. Set beside a dot and a longer note value, the tie is five times the price of either and is the only one of the three that can cross a barline.
A proportion is only as fine as its two durations
Analyses of form measure proportions in bars and report them to three figures — a climax at 0.618, a section in the ratio 3 : 2. A listener has each part only as an estimate of how long it lasted, and a ratio of two estimates is blurred by both. Timed as well as anyone times a single second, eleven proportions fit between 1 : 1 and 3 : 1; timed from memory over minutes, two do. The golden section is told from 3 : 2 only below a Weber fraction of 5.4 per cent.
A return is shorter than its first hearing
A rondo's refrain takes three fifths of the clock and a verse-and-chorus song is balanced to the bar. Count instead the bars a listener could not have predicted when they arrived, and the returns shrink to between a tenth and a quarter of what is kept — so a song equal by the clock is between three and seven times heavier in its first half. A coder that learns repeats one bar at a time says the halves are equal, and the two memories disagree by more than any proportion a listener could confuse.
A count is not an estimate
Both established routes to a proportion are estimates — a duration timed, blurred by a Weber fraction, and a duration stored, biased by what was new. A listener who has induced a hypermetre has a third, and it is exact until it fails. It fails two ways that pull opposite: a slip miscounts one unit and its relative cost falls as the section lengthens, while a lapse loses the count entirely and its chance compounds. The mixture has a floor at about four units, where counting is 3.7 times finer than timing, and it is worth almost nothing past a hundred.
A form is sharp at the bottom and vague at the top
A movement is divided into sections, each into phrases, each into bars, and every level is a ratio of two estimates. Timed, the hierarchy is almost uniformly blunt — 2.1 distinguishable proportions at the top and 5.2 at the bottom, because a Weber fraction is a step function of duration and six of a piece's seven levels fall in one step of it. Counted, the same hierarchy runs from 2.2 to 12.2 and sharpens monotonically downward. At no level of either does timing separate 3 : 2 from the golden section.
A golden section is a coin toss with six coins
An analysis that reports a climax at 0.618 of a piece has not tested one prediction; it has looked at a piece with several defensible boundaries and reported whichever landed nearest. The rate at which that happens under no hypothesis is one line of arithmetic, and the tolerance it needs is not a number chosen on the page — it is the blur a listener's own timing puts on the judgement. Over a stretch of minutes that blur covers everything from 0.492 to 0.730 of the piece, which contains the halfway point, and six candidate boundaries produce a hit eighty per cent of the time.
The ceiling everybody names is the loose one
Ask why phrases are the length they are and the answer given is the breath. It is arithmetic — usable lung volume over the air a note costs per second — and it comes out between fifteen and twenty-three seconds at a comfortable dynamic and between seven and twelve at a loud one. The ceiling the present moment imposes, the two-to-eight seconds inside which a stretch is heard as one thing rather than as a series, is two to three times tighter at almost every note and dynamic. A singer in an adagio is not running out of breath at the phrase end. They are running out of present.
An expectation cannot rescue a cycle too slow to time
A listener who knows a piece arrives with an expectation of where in the cycle they are, and the size of that expectation was the number the last essay said nobody had. It can be given one: a listener who has been timing the cycle carries a spread of their Weber fraction times the cycle, which is the same number of steps at any tempo. Timed to ten per cent, a forty-second cycle would be placed better than a newcomer places a two-second one. But forty seconds is judged in the band where the Weber fraction is nearer forty per cent, and there the expectation is worth a tenth of a bit.
The strokes between the gongs are a clock
An experienced listener arriving in a forty-second gong cycle was expected to be no better placed than a newcomer, because a whole cycle is timed in the band where a Weber fraction is near forty per cent. But nobody times a gong cycle as one interval. A listener who resets at the last gong, the last kempul and the last kenong times three short intervals instead of one long one, and arrives knowing their position to a tenth of a bit — better than a listener timing the whole cycle to ten per cent. A single timeline, whose strokes are all one instrument, offers nothing to reset on.
The best gong cycle halves at every level
A colotomic cycle is a clock whose layers are its hands, and a clock can be built many ways from the same number of strokes. Searched over every nesting of a sixteen-step cycle, the one that places a slow listener best is, at every budget of strokes, the one in which each layer is exactly twice as fast as the layer above it. A gong with one other layer does best at a ratio of four, and three halving layers with the same four strokes beat it by a factor of three and a half. A layer finer than the one whose interval is already timed to half a step adds almost nothing.
A ghost bass an octave lower needs notes twice as long
A scale played in just thirds has a bass underneath it that nobody plays — the difference tones of its thirds spell a diatonic line. Every essay on that bass has held its intervals still. A moving passage gives the bass a new pitch every note, and a low pitch is not there until it has run a few of its own cycles. With four cycles, a passage in thirds from C4 keeps its bass for 83 per cent of each note at three notes a second and loses it completely below 73 milliseconds a note. An octave down, every number doubles: the passage from C3 has no bass at all in its lowest note at semiquavers, and it is the scale's one Pythagorean third that sets the limit.
The notes name the ghost bass before it has a cycle
A ghost bass that had to wait for four of its own cycles needed 61 milliseconds under a third from C4, and so vanished from fast passages. A pitch mechanism fitting the whole object — both notes' partials, which run their cycles many times faster, and the products — names the same bass in five. Seven of the eight thirds of a just scale have their bass for most of every note at any tempo a player reaches. The eighth, the scale's Pythagorean D–F, never has its own: the object hears it as a 6 : 5 and supplies the bass a D a comma lower would give, a semitone above the difference tone, until the difference tone arrives and breaks the fit.
A melody marks the barline by where it lingers
At two chords a bar over a walking bass, every harmonic witness stands at the metre's coin toss about where the bar begins. Give the passage a melody with a habit — long notes that prefer the downbeat — and the barline comes back: with a long note in half the bars and four in five of them on the downbeat, in 91 per cent of passages. The count of long notes barely matters; the preference is everything, and at even odds no number of long notes helps. A phrase end held through its bar is the strongest single cue. And a listener who adds the bass's readings to the melody's does worse than one who ignores the bass.
An elaboration is a clock hand where the skeleton has none
A colotomic cycle is a clock whose hands are its punctuating layers, and the finest hand a slow cycle can use runs out as the cycle slows. The elaborating parts that fill the cycle were predicted to supply that finer hand. They can, and a two-step figure recognised at every boundary is a kethuk exactly. But the figure that does most is not a fine one. It is a long one with a single recognisable point in the middle of the cycle, where no skeleton stroke falls: at eighty seconds a cycle it leaves a listener a fifth as uncertain as the skeleton alone, where a kethuk takes off a tenth — and it still does more than a kethuk when a listener catches that point one time in ten.
Two landmarks in a cycle help only if they can be told apart
One recognisable point inside a slow gong cycle, placed where the skeleton has no stroke, did more for a listener than a whole layer of kethuk strokes. A second point does as much again, a third nearly as much again — provided the listener can tell which point they have just heard. If the points sound alike, a second one is worth a fraction of that, seventy of the hundred and five ways of placing it leave the listener worse off than one point would, and two alike points half a cycle apart undo most of what the first one gave. Whether the listener keeps one timer or several turns out not to matter at all.
Named alongside it
The objects these essays reach for when they reach for this one.
Weber fractionInformationMemory decayMusical formPhraseCycleNotationProportionTimelinePerceptual presentTempoHypermetre