Masking — where it appears
Named by 25 essays across 7 fields — each of them below, with the objects they name alongside it.
One sound hides another, and it hides upward
A tone can be made completely inaudible by a second tone that is nowhere near it in frequency, and the region it disappears into is lopsided. Masking spreads up the spectrum and barely down it, and the reach grows with the masker's level — so which line in an arrangement vanishes is a prediction, not a matter of taste.
The room chooses the harmonic rhythm
A chord in a cathedral is still sounding, seven decibels down, when the next one arrives — and the one after that, and the one after that. Reverberation is linear in decibels, so the number of chords audible at once is one number divided by another, and it puts a hard ceiling on how fast a composer writing for that building can change harmony. The ceiling is computable, and the music written for those rooms sits under it.
The bass a small loudspeaker does not make
A three-inch cone at its excursion limit produces sixty-six decibels at forty hertz, which the ear converts to seventeen phons — barely above nothing. The note is heard anyway, because its harmonics are radiated and its fundamental is supplied by the listener. Computing what arrives turns the residue from a curiosity into a design decision, and finds that the fundamental of a low note is not the loudest part of it on any system a listener is likely to own.
One voice over ninety players
A soloist heard over a full orchestra is not louder than it and could not be. What the trained voice does instead is put a peak of energy at three kilohertz, which is where the orchestra's spectrum has already fallen away and where the ear's own threshold happens to be lowest. Nineteen decibels of advantage, in a place nobody is competing for.
The chord that is not played at once
Every chord until now starts its notes at the same instant, and no figure ever set the asynchrony to anything else. A spread chord is not a defective simultaneity: at forty milliseconds a triad of half-second notes is still eighty-seven per cent simultaneous, so it carries almost all its roughness, and it stops being a chord at all only when the last note arrives after the first has finished. What none of this can explain is the one thing every keyboard player knows — that a chord is rolled upward. The masking asymmetry that ought to explain it is 2.4 decibels at a close voicing, which is not enough.
A chord is not as loud as its notes
The first essay on loudness said what a tone's loudness is and recorded that it had said nothing about a chord's. Here is the missing rule, and it has a musical consequence nobody would predict from it: the same three notes, at the same power, are twice as loud in the treble as in the bass — because the critical band that makes a low triad five times rougher also makes it one sound instead of three.
The dynamics are in the score already
Count the parts in each bar, realise them in their ranges, put every partial in its critical band, sum the loudnesses and run the result through the two smoothers built earlier. What comes out is a dynamic curve for a piece with no performance in it anywhere — and it says that doubling the number of parts inside a fixed register adds three decibels of power and about one of loudness, because the extra parts land in bands that were already occupied. Let the register widen with the parts and the same arithmetic gives eight phon, which is what a tutti actually is.
A loud chord is a smaller chord
Two earlier essays hold the level fixed, and the level decides how much of a chord a listener is given. At thirty decibels twenty of a triad's twenty-four partials stand above what the rest of it masks; at a hundred, nine do. Every roughness figure until now counts partials that are in the score, and a partial the chord masks is not a partial the listener has.
An equal note cannot be masked
Three earlier essays are about one instant, and forward masking lasts two hundred milliseconds — longer than a note at any brisk tempo. So a fast line should be a sequence of events hiding each other, and it is not: a note masks itself ten decibels harder than its predecessor can, at any speed. What does hide a line is dynamic contrast, and the boundary is fifteen decibels.
The listener is given the top voice, and the bass as a sine
Four earlier essays put the masker and the probe in the same voice. Put them in different voices — a four-part texture at one level — and the soprano arrives with all eight of its partials, the alto with five, the tenor with two and the bass with one. Balancing the loudness, which is the constraint a scoring is solved under, changes none of that: equal loudness is not equal spectrum and cannot be made so.
A low chord stops being rough by stopping being a chord
Every count of audible partials until now is of a chord at middle C, and the three registers it did compare span C3 to C5 — a third of the range a chord is written in. Move the same triad down and the count collapses: 79 per cent of its partials arrive at E3 and 4 per cent at C1. So the roughest chord on the page is the lowest one and the roughest chord a listener receives is at G2, and where that maximum sits moves nearly two octaves with the dynamic.
A soft chord has to fade in
Forward masking sits between the two integration times already in play — two hundred milliseconds against a thirty-seven millisecond roughness window and a two-second loudness release — and it was owed as the term that might eat the dissonance contrast. It does not. It widens it, by three per cent at a chorale's pace and fifty-nine at four chords a second, because it can only ever remove partials and it can only reach the chord a dynamic has already made quiet. What it does instead is stranger: one chord in the passage is entirely inaudible for its first twelve milliseconds and takes a quarter of a second to arrive whole.
The partial that gets louder as it goes sharp
Eleven earlier essays sweep a set of partials and hold their amplitudes still, and a real tract does not move with the fundamental. Put the formant account and the sweeping account together and every partial acquires an amplitude modulation at the vibrato rate: 0.07 decibels on the fundamental and 8.6 on the twelfth partial of the same note. They are in phase below a formant and anti-phase above one — not ninety degrees apart — and the whole note swings 0.82 decibels, because they cancel.
A clarinet keeps what a string loses
Every masker, probe, chord, line and texture until now is eight partials falling as 1/n, and it was not even an option a placement could pass. Sweeping the six spectra to hand says the clarinet is the worst of them — 54 per cent of itself at best against a string's 79 — and that answer is an artefact of the score. Counted against what each note keeps on its own, the clarinet keeps 100 per cent where the string keeps 79, because its components stand a twelfth apart rather than an octave. The missing parameter was the spectrum; the second missing parameter was the denominator.
An orchestrator doubles a line, not a chord
Three earlier essays made the objective a functional over a passage and a later one went back to holding one chord still. Put the doubling back into time and the retreat turns out to have been cheap: one arrangement held down a five-chord phrase is that phrase's own best answer at four of its five chords and costs 2.4 per cent of the range the choice spans — while the forward mask named earlier as the third temporal constant reaches for twenty milliseconds rather than two hundred, and cannot change the answer at any pace at all.
An entrance is a change of colour
Eight essays on orchestration move the assignment and hold the ensemble still, and a score does the opposite: it brings players in and takes them out. Loudness is a sum over parts and roughness is a sum over pairs, so the player who joins adds one term to the first and one to the second for everybody already there. What the entrance is worth in phons falls by a factor of forty-eight across the range an ensemble spans and crosses the difference limen at five players; what it is worth in roughness rises by twelve, and by a further factor of ten for every ten decibels the passage is played at.
A part that leaves is not a part that arrives
The same player, the same note, the same level, and the only difference is which way round it happens. A listener's loudness reading takes 1.43 seconds to receive half of a departure and 90 milliseconds to receive half of an arrival — a factor of sixteen with nothing asymmetric in the sound at all, since both readings integrate the same two states in the same order. The colour reading receives the two identically, because a window has no direction, so a departure is a change whose grain arrives at once and whose level takes most of two seconds.
The chord that has room for an entrance
Three essays have made the ensemble something a score can change and none of them has asked when. The ensemble already sounding puts a masked threshold over whatever register an entering part takes, and that threshold is set by the voicing rather than by the dynamic — so the five chords of one passage differ by 8.7 decibels in how much of an entering oboe survives them, and the quietest chord of the five is the worst place in the passage to bring somebody in. Swept over the entrant's own pitch, the choice of moment is worth as much as the choice of register.
How hard the note was struck
The auditory filter is not a fixed shape: its lower skirt shallows by about 38 per cent of its reference value every ten decibels, so a loud note is analysed through a wider filter than a quiet one. Every share computed so far was quoted at a moderate level, and a tuner does not strike moderately. Recomputed, the mean share of a mistuned octave's filter falls from 0.55 at forty decibels to 0.07 at seventy, and the count of separable beats goes from two to none — which is a prediction too strong to be right, and the way it fails is the useful part.
Room is used up by whoever enters first
The chord with the most room for a part entering alone is a fact about that chord. It stops being a fact the moment two parts want it, because each part that comes in raises the mask over everybody after it. Given six parts waiting to enter a five-chord passage, choosing each part's moment the way one part's moment is chosen puts three of them into the same chord and lands in the bottom fifth of all 15,625 schedules. Placing them one at a time does no better. The schedule under which the least audible entrance is heard best is unique, and it brings the low and middle parts in while the texture is thin and holds the three highest back for the last three chords — because a high part keeps its room over a full texture and a middle part does not.
A combination-tone bass needs a forte
A scale in just thirds draws a diatonic bass line through its difference tones, and in sixths the cubic product draws one. Given the two published level laws, with their constants swept, the thirds' bass is not heard at all below primaries of about 66 dB and is heard whole only from 71 to 81. The cubic products are a different kind of object: the primaries mask them decibel for decibel as they rise, so no dynamic changes whether they are heard. Most of the thirds' inner line never is, and the sixths' bass needs a forte and a gentle law.
Three harmonics of the bass arrive before the bass
Every product priced until now was between two pure tones, and nothing that plays thirds is pure. Give each note a spectrum and the ear receives every pair of partials — and for a just interval p:q every one of their products is an exact multiple of the same absent fundamental. That crowd lands where the threshold of hearing is tens of decibels cheaper, so it names the bass at 71 decibels where the component at the bass's own frequency needs 74, and at 75 against 85 an octave lower. Tempered, the crowd still forms and names a note seventy cents flat.
An exit is worth nothing until the tutti is given up
Six parts entering a five-chord passage have a best schedule when each enters once and stays, and letting parts leave and come back was supposed to improve it. Searched over every set of sounding parts at every chord, it improves it by exactly nothing, with or without the chord before still masking — as long as all six must be playing at the end. Let one part be missing from the final chord and the weakest entrance gains 1.4 decibels; let two be missing and it gains 1.9, by a relay in which the parts with least room come in, are heard for one chord, and give way.
The arch belongs to hearing, not to the series
A chord delivers most of its partials in the middle of the compass and loses them in the bass and the treble, and every spectrum that showed that arch was built on whole multiples of a fundamental. Give the same amplitudes to a bell's eight modes and to a stiff string's stretched partials and the arch is still there, peaking within a major third of where the harmonic series peaks. What the spacing changes is the detail: a bell crowds its tierce and quint into a quarter of a critical band in the bass and loses them, and a stiff string's stretch buys the bass back.
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.
Named alongside it
The objects these essays reach for when they reach for this one.
Critical bandwidthOrchestrationPartialRoughnessRegisterLoudnessVoicingSpectrumDynamicsForward maskingSpreading functionEnumeration