Identification — where it appears
Named by 12 essays across 4 fields — each of them below, with the objects they name alongside it.
The boundary that barely moves
Every identification figure here has fixed category centres, and the essay before this one ended by admitting that real boundaries are supposed to move with context. Three mechanisms could move one, and their predictions are an order of magnitude apart and in two different directions. Expectation on its own — a listener who thinks one interval twenty times more likely than the other — is worth three and a half cents.
The listener the model was never run for
Five earlier essays rest on one number — how finely a listener resolves a pitch — and every one of them used a trained listener's eleven cents. The model's dependence on it is not gentle: the capacity goes as its reciprocal and the expectation shift as its square, so an untrained listener at thirty-five cents has two nameable categories per octave rather than six, and a foreign tuning system is not mis-transcribed by them but absorbed.
The number every claim here has been quoting
Sigma is the internal noise a listener's pitch judgements carry, it is measured in a laboratory on isolated intervals, and music never presents an isolated interval. Every resolution claim here rests on the laboratory value. Sweep it and the headline finding moves: at eleven cents the ear has about six nameable categories per octave, and at six it has twelve — which is the chromatic scale, and turns 'the ear has fewer boxes than the notation' into 'it has exactly as many'.
A boundary costs the same wherever it is put
Every capacity figure drawn until now cuts the octave into equal categories, and no scale in the world is equal. Putting the real step patterns through the same model returns exactly the same accuracy to four decimal places — because naming is lost at boundaries, an n-degree scale has n of them wherever they are, and each costs the mean absolute value of the noise. That turns the most-quoted result about hearing from a search into one line: 1504 times one minus the criterion, over sigma.
The middle nobody could have guessed
A struck note has no steady state, only a slide from one spectrum to another — so the question is what the middle carries that the ends do not. The answer is exact rather than statistical: every loss law in the family leaves the strike with the same spectrum and ends in the same silence, so both endpoints carry precisely nothing about which of them it is. The whole difference is 41.3 decibels, and it peaks 0.38 seconds in, seven per cent of the way through the note.
A twenty-five is a nine until its last unit
Every account of long additive metres says they are heard as groups of shorter ones, and the metre-induction model had never been pointed at the claim. Pointed at it, the model does not prefer the group — it prefers the long bar outright, and would go on preferring it more the longer anybody listened. What it cannot do is start: the evidence that separates a bar of twenty-five from a bar of nine does not exist until the whole bar has been heard, and at the tempo an unequal metre is best played at the psychological present holds sixteen units.
Knowing every metre is slower than knowing none
A long aksak bar cannot be told from its shorter cuts by induction before one step into its last beat, and no accent carried by the notes moves that floor. The obvious escape is a listener who knows the repertoire and recognises the metre instead. Recognition among all 1,820 arrangements of twos and threes never beats the floor, is never quicker than induction, and is slower for half the metres: a nine induced in 9 steps is recognised in 27. What breaks the floor is a small repertoire that leaves out the metre's own longest cut — with the cut known, no repertoire of any size does.
A dancer who comes in late needs the downbeat marked
Every window for recognising an aksak metre so far started at its written downbeat. A dancer joining a dance already going has not heard the downbeat, and the arithmetic of that is blunt: a metre entered part-way is, onset for onset, each of its own rotations heard from their downbeats, and the rotations are metres too — 2+2+3 and 3+2+2 are counted differently. So on onsets, and with the long beats accented, no metre is ever told from its rotations. Only an accented downbeat tells them apart, and with it a listener who knows thirty metres recognises 54 per cent of them inside the present from a random entry, against 1 per cent without.
A bow holds the number a blow hides
Two struck notes with different loss laws are identical at the strike and identical at the end, which is why separating them at all meant looking in the middle. Drive the same two strings continuously and the loss law stops being a rate and becomes a slope: each partial settles at its drive over its own loss, so the exponent adds to the source's roll-off and sits in the spectrum for as long as the bow moves. It is 18.7 decibels of separation available from the first instant, against 41.3 that a blow delivers after four tenths of a second and then takes away.
The room is the slower of the two
A reverberant field is the source convolved with the room, so a partial's tail falls at the slower of the two rates rather than at their sum — and the room is slower for exactly the partials the string is losing fastest. Half a note's colour is gone in 0.163 seconds in no room at all, 0.313 in a concert hall and 1.441 in a stone church. The destination is identical in all three, because a room cannot hold a partial up above the fundamental it is also holding. What a hall takes away is the rate, and the rate was the whole of the identity cue.
A damper changes the clock, not the colour
A damper is an extra loss on the string rather than a second decay, so it adds the same number of nepers a second to every partial — and adding a constant to every rate leaves every difference between rates exactly where it was. The damped spectrum at any instant is the ringing spectrum at that instant shifted bodily down, to machine precision. The colour goes on draining at its own rate; the note simply runs out of seconds, and how many it gets is written on the page as a note value and a tempo.
A damper cannot reach into the room
The essay before this one proposed the arithmetic for a damped note in a hall: take the slower of the string's rate and the room's, then add the damper's to whichever won. The composition is wrong, and it is wrong in the one place that decides the answer. A damper is a loss on the string, so it belongs inside the minimum where a room can overrule it — and past about three seconds of reverberation it is overruled on every partial, so the damper removes no audible seconds of note at all.
Named alongside it
The objects these essays reach for when they reach for this one.
BrightnessDecayEnvelopeSpectral centroidCategorical perceptionAdditive metreAksakCategory boundaryDampingInferenceMetreMicrotonality