Inference — where it appears
Named by 20 essays across 4 fields — each of them below, with the objects they name alongside it.
Three decisions that constrain each other
Every model here decides one thing at a time — the key from the pitch classes, the metre from the onsets, the chords from the metre — and an earlier essay ended by saying a listener does all three at once. Resolving them jointly costs a hundred and fifty-seven times the search and changes the reading of two passages in five. It never once changes the key, and the reason it cannot is the reason the whole account is built the way it is.
A key-finder that keeps the order
Every key-finding model until now begins by throwing order away — a histogram over a window, correlated against twenty-four profiles — and the thing that most obviously declares a key is an ordered pair of chords. A model that keeps the order costs 84 states and 7,056 transitions against 24 hypotheses and none, and what it buys is the one test a histogram was said not to pass: two keys in turn and two keys at once have histograms 98 per cent alike, and are two different sequences.
The cadence as evidence
Every model so far infers a key from a bag of notes, and the thing that most obviously declares a key is a cadence — an ordered pair of chords in which the order is the whole content. The essays on closure built a five-component cadence vector long before this and nobody has used it for this. Two passages differing in one note, one cadencing in C and one in G, get opposite answers from the ordered pairs and the same answer from the profile.
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.
The listener who forgets
Setting an analyst's reading of a key against a listener's measures what arrives late. Both passes assume perfect recall of their own half — which is as wrong going forward as knowing the future is going back. Put a decay on the forward pass and a listener with a memory of a few bars keeps a quarter of the confidence and nine tenths of the answers.
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.
The passage that separates two players
An ensemble that has learnt where the asynchronies are applies them; one that is listening discovers them. In steady state the two are identical, which is why nobody has separated them. Change the scoring mid-phrase and they are not: one ensemble is wrong by twelve milliseconds for three beats and the other is not wrong at all — and twelve milliseconds is under what a listener notices and far above what a microphone resolves.
The bars a key is made of
A discount that treats every bar alike is the wrong shape for a memory, so take each bar away in turn and see what it was worth. The bars an analysis points at carry seven times as much of the answer as the ordinary ones and slightly less of the certainty — and a memory built only of them reads the passage worse than a memory with no structure in it at all.
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.
An attack time is not an attack
Eight earlier essays read a heard moment off an envelope, and every one of them used the same envelope shape without saying so: the source table records one curve for all nine of its families, and the map's own arithmetic does not carry the parameter at all. A published attack time fixes a ten-to-ninety time and nothing else. Under the two other shapes the same measurement admits, every millisecond computed so far doubles — and the constructed passage called inaudible earlier becomes three times a listener's threshold.
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.
Two cues meet in a corner
The profile finds a key's tonic and the bass finds a chord's degree, and until now each was swept with the other held at nothing. Swept together across 42 settings, the plane they make is not the ridge that was predicted. The tonic is a step in one direction, at a profile share of 0.55, and the bass cannot move it; the degree is a slope in the other, rising to 89 per cent as the bass is weighted, and the profile barely touches it. Every question is answered only in a corner of the plane — and the one place the two cues overlap is the one piece of music both can rescue.
A bass line is not a list of roots
Every bass note the key-finder has been given was its chord's root, and under that line a bass cue reads 89 per cent of scheme bars on the right degree. Give the same chords an economical bass that moves to the nearest chord tone, as a keyboard reduction would, and nearly half of them are inverted. The cue that rewards the triad rooted on the bass then reads 68 per cent at best and worse as it is trusted more; the cue that rewards any triad containing the bass cannot be fooled and stops at 61. The same inverted line does one thing the roots never did: it puts the leading note of each new key at the bottom, and finds the rondo's modulations.
The chords never move the barline
Every hypothesis the joint search had drawn was one bar long, and on one bar with a note in every slot the metre cannot choose a barline at all. Four bars with rests in them make the barline a decision the metre and the chords both have an opinion about, and the prediction was that the chords would move the barline more often than the barline moves the chords. It is the other way round, completely: whenever the two prefer different barlines the search takes the metre's, on up to 72 per cent of passages, and in fifteen hundred passages the chords never once move it. What the chords decide is the one thing the metre cannot see — whether the bar starts on the downbeat or half a bar later — and they decide it right a little over two times in three at best.
The accent buys two units, however loud it is
A twenty-five cannot be told from a group of shorter bars on its onsets until more steps have gone by than a listener's present holds, and the obvious objection is that nobody plays an aksak bar as bare onsets: the long beat is louder, and the bar's first beat is marked. So how loud does an accent have to be? The question has a surprising answer. Loudness is not the variable. The existing accent cue changes nothing, and delays the answer where it changes anything. An accent that a reading has to predict works at any strength at all, and at no strength does more than a fixed amount: on the long beat it buys the two steps of a short beat, and on the downbeat it takes every arrangement to one floor — the bar less its last beat — which no cue carried by the notes can break. The longest bar that can be heard as one moves from sixteen units to eighteen.
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.
The bass errs fast where the content errs slow
Asked how often the chords change, a reading built on pitch-class content names a slower multiple and never a faster rate. Give the passage a bass that states each new root and moves between chord tones inside a chord, and a reading built on the bass's moves errs the other way: it names a faster grid and never a slower one. At two chords a bar the bass is right every time; at a chord every two bars it is never right. Six ways of combining the two readings each trade one end of the range for the other.
A late dancer needs the landmarks, not the rhythm
A listener who joins an additive-metre dance part-way recognises it far more reliably with the downbeat accented. Strip the stream down to its landmarks — the onsets that begin a bar or a long beat, with every other onset removed — and the listener does as well or better: knowing a hundred metres, 23 per cent are recognised within the present against 14 with every onset. Unmarked, the landmarks still beat every onset with the long beats accented. Neither half does it alone; what identifies a metre from a late entry is where its long beats sit relative to its bar.
A bass that holds through a change marks the barline
At two chords a bar the chords change on the barline and on the half-bar alike, so a reading of where they change is at chance, and the metre ties the two. The bass has one more piece of evidence: a change inside the bar can be voiced over the note already sounding, and a change on the barline is voiced over its root. Hold the bass through one mid-bar change in six and the metre and bass together place the barline in 85 per cent of eight-bar passages; one in three, 97. The convention cannot be stronger than that, and the chord changes, asked first, only get in the way.
Named alongside it
The objects these essays reach for when they reach for this one.
MetreKey-findingAdditive metreAksakHarmonic rhythmPerceptual presentEvidenceModulationCadenceDownbeatExpectationIdentification