Expectation — where it appears
Named by 37 essays across 5 fields — each of them below, with the objects they name alongside it.
Counting produced the hierarchy
Ask listeners how well each of the twelve notes fits after a passage in C major and the answers are not a smooth gradient. They fall into four groups with no overlap at all: the tonic, then the rest of the tonic triad, then the rest of the scale, then everything else — categories the subject had names for centuries before anybody ran the experiment.
One of these eight-bar phrases accelerates
The sentence and the period both occupy eight bars, both end with a cadence, and both are recognised by ear rather than counted. What separates them is arithmetic. One halves its unit halfway through and the other does not, and the difference comes out as a single ratio — 0.67 against 1.00 — computed from nothing but the lengths of the parts.
What makes an ending an ending
Cadences are ranked. The authentic one is strong, the plagal weaker, the deceptive weaker still — and the solver here measured the quantity that ranking is usually explained by and found it says something else entirely. What survives is not a weaker version of the ranking but a different kind of object, with five components and no total.
An ending that exists so a bigger one can
Half of the cadences in tonal music are built to fail. A phrase that stopped convincingly at bar four would be a piece four bars long, so the ending at bar four is engineered to arrive and not to settle — and the components it withholds are exactly the ones its partner at bar eight supplies. Closure is nested, and the nesting is what turns two phrases into one thing.
The chord that did not come
A deceptive cadence is described as a surprise, and the explanation offered is that the wrong chord arrived. Measured against the tonal hierarchy already in use, the wrong chord is the second best-fitting triad in the key — and two of its three voices do exactly what they would have done in the right one. The surprise is not statistical. It is one voice, and it is the bass.
The form a first hearing cannot have
Every figure so far was computed with the whole piece in hand. Run the same methods over only the bars already heard and one of the two methods survives intact — the boundary operator turns out to be causal at a fixed delay of a few bars — while the other collapses. The period of a piece is not knowable until the piece is nearly over, and in two of the six schemes here not until its last bar.
A return has to be remembered
A stripe four bars off the diagonal and a stripe twenty-four bars off it are the same ink and are not the same experience. Convert the lag axis to seconds, discount every comparison by how long ago it was, and the ranking of these six schemes by how repetitive they are changes — and the decay constant and the tempo turn out to enter the arithmetic as one number rather than two.
Where a repeat is changed
Cut every scheme into its own repeat unit, compare each unit with every other, and ask where a repeat stops agreeing with what it repeats. The answer is that it stops at the end, in every case the corpus contains — and the number of cases the corpus contains depends entirely on where the threshold for "a repeat" is put. Moving it by nothing at all takes the count from two to twenty and the finding with it.
The beat that is never sounded
A listener who has heard four bars of a groove and then hears two bars with the downbeats taken out does not move the downbeat. This site's rule set does, every time, on every pattern tried — and the direction it moves in says exactly what kind of model would be needed instead.
A metre has to be able to change its mind
Replace the scoring function with a phase-corrected oscillator and the two failures reported earlier separate. The beat now survives two silent bars, drifting 23 milliseconds of a 560-millisecond beat. But it does not lose a moving tempo so much as lag behind it, by the rate over the correction gain — and a cadential ritardando that halves the tempo in eight beats is faster than the model can follow.
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.
How much evidence a modulation needs
Run a key-finder bar by bar over a progression that moves to the dominant at bar six. With four bars of history the answer becomes the new key at bar seven and holds. With three bars it never gets there at all, and reports E minor and B minor on the way. The window decides the lag as much as the music does.
An ending that can be heard coming
Two measurements are both called hearing an ending coming and they point in opposite directions. By the halfway mark of an ordinary form almost nothing new arrives — and the cost of coding each bar has not fallen at all. Neither statistic says anything is about to stop, because no statistic over content can: predicting the next event well is not predicting that there will not be one.
A final chord is not made loud by adding to it
An earlier essay on closure said the loudest cue an ending has needs a corpus rather than an arithmetic. The arithmetic was built one essay ago, so it does not. Run four ending textures through it and two things come out backwards: a final chord three parts thicker than the rest arrives *quieter* against the running impression than the passage it ends, and a texture that drops a part a bar does not get quieter at all until the bar where there is one part left.
The notes in between
Every figure until now is about two notes with nothing between them, and a melody is notes with other notes between them. Two published accounts of what the intervening material does predict opposite signs — one says the key is restated and the shared reference is refreshed, the other says each note competes for the same memory and it decays. By eight notes they differ by four and a half cents, which is nearly half the limen the interval would have with no anchor at all.
Surprise is a number
The chord that did not come was described rather than measured. Its measure is the information content of what did arrive, and a model of the probability has been to hand since the key-finding essays — eight root-motion weights, ordinal and stipulated. Reading them as a distribution prices a deceptive cadence at 2.71 bits against a perfect one's 1.85, and turns up the fact that the largest of the eight had never been read by anything.
A chord, given a key and a predecessor
A chord's improbability has been priced from its root motion alone, which left one multiplication unmade: a chord is also improbable because its notes do not fit the key, and that number has been available since the probe-tone profile. Multiplied and renormalised, the two give a conditional distribution — and a distribution has an entropy, which is the quantity a surprise has to be read against and which a list of preferences cannot supply.
Expectation is a curve, not a list
Every quantity so far is attached to a chord change: a list of surprises, one per event. A listener's expectation is continuous, sharpening through a bar and collapsing when the change arrives — and the two ingredients for it were already here, in two other accounts. What comes out is a second surprise, for when a chord arrives rather than for which one it is.
How much of the reading arrives late
Every margin reported earlier is two-sided: the best path through a key at a bar is the score into it plus the score onward from it, and the second half uses bars a listener has not heard. Dropping that term is one line. On a thirty-two-bar song it removes more than half the certainty, and on a passage built to be ambiguous it changes the key named at nine bars out of eleven.
Two surprises and one event
A chord change is surprising twice over — in which chord it is, and in when it comes — and a listener meets one event. Adding two surprises needs to know how much they share, which is a fact about a repertoire nobody has. Sweeping it instead: the total moves by half, the ordering does not move at all, and the most surprising moment in a passage is the same one whatever the answer turns out to be.
A reader does not read notes
Eleven earlier essays count notes, and the page cannot tell one line of eight quavers from another. A reader can: a scale of eight is one object where eight leaps are eight. Measured against the melodic interval distribution, the same eight notes are four times as much to read — and the eye–hand span, the best-measured quantity in the reading literature, is four notes of a tune and one of a leaping line.
The surprise of nothing happening
A hazard charges a listener twice — once when the chord changes and once, quietly, at every beat it does not. The second term was expected to dominate, because there are more beats than changes. It is a third of the bill at one chord a bar and never reaches a half at any rate a metre survives, because the cost of a beat where nothing happens is second-order small.
Where the chord actually lands
Every timing surprise so far is evaluated on a downbeat: the curve spans a factor of 6.7 and every number is read at its peak. Charge the waiting as well as the arrival and the costs over a bar become a proper distribution, the spread between the best and worst beat rises to a factor of 19.5, and a third of the probability sits on a bar in which nothing changes at all.
A short note is heard more in tune than it is
Four earlier essays treat a key as something that reduces the noise in a pitch judgement. Treat it instead as a prior and the prediction changes kind: not a smaller error but a systematic bias, pulling a short note toward the nearest scale degree by an amount the Fourier bound sets. Thirty cents out of tune on an eighth-of-a-second note is heard as eight. And the part the debt got wrong is the part that matters — the bias does not vanish on a long note. It stops at 17 per cent at A4 and at 48 per cent at A2, because the likelihood's width has a floor that no duration removes.
Eighty-one chords, one number
A dominant seventh has eighty-one arrangements inside three octaves and their roughness spans a factor of five and a half. The tonal-expectation model gives every one of them the same 3.51 bits, because its states are scale degrees and there is no register anywhere in them. Conditioning the surprise on the voicing costs no corpus — and the arithmetic says the conditioning belongs beside the probability rather than inside it, for three reasons that can each be computed.
A rough arrival is rough because of its spacing
The pair the expectation essays report for every chord — how surprising it was, how rough its voicing is — has no level in it. Putting level back in answers the question it left open, and not the way it was framed. At one written dynamic the arrivals keep their order from 40 to 90 dB at three registers of four, and the bass stays 8.6 times rougher than the treble. Made equally loud, the bass has to be played 12.8 dB harder, and it is 343 times rougher: level does not explain the register's roughness away, it multiplies it.
A bass chord low enough to balance has already hidden its tenor
Played as loud as the written register, a progression two octaves down is 343 times rougher than the same progression an octave up — if every partial on the page is counted. Count only the partials that stand above what the rest of the chord masks and that register is the smoothest of the four, with nothing left that beats. The balance is not what does it: the extra thirteen decibels move no voice by more than two partials. The register had already buried the tenor at the written dynamic.
The habit worth bringing is to distrust the tune
A listener who arrives with a style's habits — the bass's motion and the melody's long notes credited at a coin toss — hears a syncopated tune against the bar from its first bar. But a listener does not know the style in advance. Give it two sets of habits, one for tunes that mark the bar and one for tunes that syncopate, and let it weigh them by how well each predicts what it hears: it does better than a listener with no habits and far worse than one who simply knows, and it becomes sure of the style in fewer than one passage in ten. The reason is that the evidence runs one way. A tune that marks the bar never testifies against the habit of distrusting tunes, so the habit that serves every style is the syncopating one, kept always.
A late root is believed because the record is kept by the reading
The habit worth bringing to a tune turned out to be trusting the bass's root and doubting everything else. A bass that anticipates the next chord does not break that habit — the root is still tied across the barline, and it is the bass's motion that lies. A bass that puts the root at the half-bar does break it, and nothing a listener learns can repair it, because each witness is judged by whether it agrees with the reading, and the reading was made by the liar.
Two honest bars convict a lying root
A bass that states its root late defeats every listener who learns from agreement, because the reading forms before any honest witness speaks. Give the passage a drum on its first downbeats and the same record that ratified the liar convicts it — but only a listener holding a habit that doubts the root can act on the verdict. Two strokes are enough for that listener, for as long as the tune lasts. One is not, and no amount of drum is enough for a listener that credits the root and the drum alike.
An honest drum has to come first
Two strokes of an honest drum at the very start of a passage protect a listener from a bass whose root arrives late in every bar. The same two strokes a bar later do nothing at all, and neither does a drum that then plays every downbeat to the end. A listener that keeps a record of its witnesses scores the late drum against the reading the root has already made, and convicts it within two bars. Every bar the lie is believed first multiplies the trust the drum would need, and by the seventh bar no trust short of certainty is enough.
A break rescues a late drum only by ending the reading
A drum that enters after a late root has made the reading needs odds in the hundreds to undo it. Bring it in after a break in the texture, and the obvious guess is that the break helps by making the listener forget whom it trusted. It barely does. What rescues the drum is the listener forgetting what it heard: with the old reading gone, a drum on bar 9 needs odds of nine to one, and with the record gone too it needs less than the three to one it has always had. A break that leaves even a hundredth of the old reading behind rescues nothing at all.
A silent break has to outlast the reading's lead
A listener waiting through a break goes on expecting downbeats at the reading it holds, and each one that fails to come can be charged against that reading. Charged at a witness's vote apiece, the silence ends the reading only after as many bars as the reading has votes in hand: three bars after two bars of tune, eight after four, twenty-one after eight. A one-bar break would need a missing downbeat to cost twenty votes. And a silence that does end the reading leaves the record standing, which convicts the drum anyway.
An announced plan pays the cycle and punishes the blocks
A slow introduction, a title or a programme note can tell a first-time listener the plan of a piece before the first lapse — and be wrong. Trusted as far as it deserves, an announcement gives back half of what being told the plan is worth to four cycled functions only once it is right nine times in ten. But how far to trust it depends on the piece: a cycle rewards believing even a coin-toss announcement completely, while functions in blocks of two are made worse by an announcement right half the time, and a confident wrong one can cost a listener forty points of the first minute.
A fill cannot end a reading, but it can win the next one
A drum fill in the break before a late drum is a witness that speaks while the old reading still stands, so every stroke it plays is scored as disagreeing, and its credit falls to a coin toss within two or three strokes: at three to one it can cast 1.37 votes in all, against a lead of twenty by the middle of a tune. A fill cannot end a reading. But once a silence has ended it, the same fill sets the next one, and the record that convicted the drum through every length of silence starts convicting the bass instead: after twelve bars of silence before bar 5 the drum goes from 7 per cent of passages to all of them.
A cadence has to empty the reading, not weaken it
A drum fill after a long enough silence wins the next section for an honest drum, because it speaks into a reading that is empty. A cadence might do the silence's work in a bar. It does, but only on one condition: before bar 9, a cadence that removes ninety-eight per cent of the listener's conviction leaves a two-stroke fill winning one passage in a hundred, and one that removes all of it lets the fill win every one. The fill turns the reading either way. What the last sliver decides is whether the fill's first stroke is recorded as a disagreement — and that record is what the late root then uses to win the reading back.
A cadence that votes must not vote as the drum
A cadence lands on a downbeat, so it could cast a vote for the barline at the moment it loosens the listener's grip. Whether that vote helps depends on whose it is taken to be. Heard as the tune's long note, it speaks with credit the tune spent long ago and is worth almost nothing. Heard as the drum, it is exactly one more stroke of fill, and is convicted as the fill's first stroke was. Heard as a witness of its own, it carries a third of a vote and no record to lose — and that moves the line from an emptied reading to a fiftieth of one.
Named alongside it
The objects these essays reach for when they reach for this one.
MetreInferencePriorCadenceHarmonic rhythmInformationTonal hierarchyClosureSurpriseSyncopationKey-findingProbe-tone