Piano — where it appears
Named by 14 essays across 5 fields — each of them below, with the objects they name alongside it.
The hammer that is heavier than its string
Three earlier essays varied where the hammer lands, how long it stays and how wide it is, and the third named the fourth variable: the exciter's own mass. It inverts across one instrument — the hammer is lighter than the wire it hits at the bottom of a piano and thirteen times heavier at the top — and it turns the contact time into a quantity the string decides rather than the felt.
The pulse that was assumed
Every figure until now low-passes the string's excitation with the spectrum of a half-sine, which is what a hammer would deliver against a rigid wall. An earlier essay said so and declined to do better. Doing better takes forty lines and refuses the prediction that came with it: the corner's round trips govern the spectrum as expected, and the contact time is governed by something else entirely — the mass ratio discovered one essay earlier.
The corner does not come back a corner
Stepping a hammer forward against the string's own returning wave showed that the coupling matters most in the bass. It assumed the wave that came back was the shape that left. On a stiff string it is not: partials travel at different speeds, and by the top octave of a piano the sixth partial is the first to arrive out of place. But a periodic wave can only see phase modulo a cycle, and counted that way twenty-one of forty-eight partials are still in step — which is why the returning wave is degraded rather than destroyed.
A low note cannot start on time
Three earlier essays have held the pitch at one value. A note cannot establish an amplitude in less than a few of its own cycles, so the attack has a floor that rises as the pitch falls — 146 milliseconds at the bottom of a piano and three at the top. On an instrument whose action takes eight milliseconds everywhere, that is a forty-three millisecond spread across the keyboard from the period alone, and no player can do anything about it.
It was never the strings that stopped the climb
Every figure so far holds the instrument still and moves the standard. History did the opposite — instruments were rebuilt to suit the pitch, string by string. Hold the tension instead and each string's gauge is forced: the diameter goes as one over the frequency and the stress as its square. Gut breaks at A = 525 hertz and steel at 604, and the climb stopped at 466. The ceiling was somewhere else entirely.
The crossing belongs to the felt
On a piano the strike point decides the top of the spectrum below E3 and the hammer's contact decides it above. The merger's own bookkeeping asked whether that crossing is a fact about pianos or about hammers. A plectrum never crosses at all and a hard beater crosses two octaves higher, and the boundary is a contact time of about an eighth of a millisecond — ten times shorter than felt.
Three exciters and three wires
Every column drawn so far has run a plectrum and a beater on a piano's string, because a piano's was the only scaling to hand. A harpsichord's wire is an order of magnitude less stiff, for a reason that turns out to be the tensile strength of iron — and with all nine combinations computed, the crossing found before stays exactly where it was, on every wire.
A beat is never one beat
Every beat counted until now has come from one pair of partials. A real spectrum has many, so a mistuned octave produces eight beats at once — and on a perfectly flexible string those eight are an exact harmonic series of the slowest. On a real piano string they are a cubic, half of them are not beats at all, and no single width of octave silences more than one. That is where the tuner's five octaves come from.
Three beats at most, and only in the middle of the keyboard
A mistuned octave on a real piano makes eight beats at once, and a listener attending to one of them is doing something that has a threshold. Two thresholds, in fact — a rate and a place — and once both are applied the eight become four at A3, one at A1 and one at A5. Every interval a tuner sets goes to zero at both ends of the compass and peaks at eight countable beats in the octave the bearing is laid in.
The collapse belongs to the bass
Every envelope drawn until now has no pitch in it: the decay model counts partials rather than measuring them in hertz. Put a fundamental in and the collapse it describes shrinks monotonically up the keyboard, from 25.2 semitones of colour drain at A0 to 6.6 at C8, because a partial has to fit under twenty kilohertz to exist and the top note has four of them. Above C6 a struck note has fewer partials than the ear could have resolved, and there is nothing left for a collapse to take away.
Every member of a beat family is the same depth
A mistuned octave's beats have been counted on their rate and their place, with the depth recorded as the thing left out and a prediction that the shallow upper members would take the count from four to two. The depth turns out not to fall at all: on any power-law spectrum every member of a family has exactly the modulation index its interval's own ratio gives, at every register, on every wire. The count does fall to two, and the thing that takes it there is the criterion that essay was already using.
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.
A firm touch buys beats until the aftersound sinks with it
A piano string decays twice, and a mistuned octave's countable beats were found to rise with how hard the note is struck — on the assumption that the aftersound always starts twenty decibels below the strike. It need not. The moment the count shuts is set by the level the aftersound starts at and nothing else, so a harder strike buys beats only if its aftersound does not sink with it. If the drop deepens by more than 0.85 decibels for each decibel of strike, the firm touch costs beats instead.
Named alongside it
The objects these essays reach for when they reach for this one.
HammerInharmonicityPartialSpectral centroidBeatingDecayTuning by earBrightnessContact timeEnvelopeExcitation pointRegister