Concept

Singing — where it appears

The voice used as an instrument, which is a reed valve with a variable tract above it. It is the one instrument every listener has heard more of than any other, and the one whose vibrato is wide enough to change the roughness of the intervals it sings.

Named by 4 essays across 2 fields — each of them below, with the objects they name alongside it.

A vibrato flattens the dissonance curve. Each interval twice: hollow is its roughness computed at the two notes' nominal frequencies, filled is the average of its roughness over a vibrato cycle of 50 cents at 6 hertz. They are not the same number, because roughness is a curved function of the frequency difference and the average of a curve is not the curve of the average. The largest effect is at octave, where the moving average is 19.3 times the still value — an interval sitting in a deep narrow minimum is smeared out of it. The smallest is at major seventh, where it is 0.95: an interval near a maximum is smeared out of that too. Vibrato pushes every interval toward the middle, and what it takes away from the consonances is much more than what it takes away from the dissonances.

A roughness with a rate of its own

Every roughness figure so far computes one number for a steady spectrum. Evaluate the same sum at every instant of a vibrato and there are three numbers instead — a mean, a depth and a rate — and the mean is not the roughness of the mean frequency. On an octave it is nineteen times it, because an octave sits in a deep narrow minimum and a vibrato smears it out of one.

intervals · The voice
The same roughness, before and after the window it has to be heard through. The instantaneous roughness of an interval under a vibrato, and the same quantity after a running average of 59 milliseconds — the time a dissonance has to last to be heard as one, which is 4 cycles of this interval's own 68-hertz fluctuation rather than a number chosen for the figure. The mean is identical to every digit, 0.1487 against 0.1487, because a running average cannot change an average — so the earlier Jensen factor of 1.0 survives the window untouched and its prediction that the window would shrink it is wrong. What the window destroys is the depth: 0.30 of the mean becomes 0.23, which is 77 per cent. The roughness a vibrato adds is heard; the fact that it is moving is mostly not.

The mean survives the window

A roughness that moves has a mean, a depth and a rate — all three of which a listener could only have through a temporal window. Applying the window already to hand settles which of the three survives, and the answer refutes the guess: a running average cannot change an average, so the octave's factor of nineteen stands and the movement is what goes.

intervals · The voice
The breath is the looser ceiling nearly everywhere. How long a trained singer can hold a phrase on one breath, across a compass and at four dynamics, against the 8-second ceiling the psychological present puts on the same phrase. The flow through the folds rises with pitch and with loudness, so the breath ceiling falls both ways: at 60 decibels it runs 32.6 seconds at the bottom of the compass to 21.2 at the top; at 70 decibels it runs 23.1 seconds at the bottom of the compass to 15.0 at the top; at 80 decibels it runs 16.4 seconds at the bottom of the compass to 10.6 at the top; at 90 decibels it runs 11.6 seconds at the bottom of the compass to 7.5 at the top. The shaded line is the listener's ceiling and it does not move. The breath binds only where the two lines cross — 1 of the 40 cells drawn, all of them loud and high. So the constraint everybody names when asked why a phrase is the length it is, is almost never the constraint that decides it.

The ceiling everybody names is the loose one

Ask why phrases are the length they are and the answer given is the breath. It is arithmetic — usable lung volume over the air a note costs per second — and it comes out between fifteen and twenty-three seconds at a comfortable dynamic and between seven and twelve at a loud one. The ceiling the present moment imposes, the two-to-eight seconds inside which a stretch is heard as one thing rather than as a series, is two to three times tighter at almost every note and dynamic. A singer in an adagio is not running out of breath at the phrase end. They are running out of present.

form · Phrase
A loud, slow tune spends a singer's whole breath before each phrase ends, and the extra breaths have to go inside the phrases. Ode to Joy from D4 at crotchet 40 and 90 dB, sung by a trained singer with 2.8 litres of usable air and a flow set by each note's pitch and level. The line is the air left. The plan is the cheapest that reaches the end, with breaths at notated phrase ends costing nothing: 6 breaths, 4 of them inside a phrase. The tune lasts 48 s.

A singer needs a quarter of the breaths the page offers

A breath in a sung phrase looks like evidence of a boundary, and also like a physical necessity, and it cannot be both at once. Solved exactly over three tunes, a trained singer is forced to breathe inside a phrase on 8 settings of 147, all of them slow and loud; at a comfortable level the air asks for about a quarter of the phrase ends a tune offers. So nearly every breath is a choice, which is what makes it a cue. Where the air does force one, it lands on a listener's boundary no more often than chance.

form · Phrase

Named alongside it

The objects these essays reach for when they reach for this one.

Critical bandwidthPerceptual presentPhraseRoughnessVibratoBeatingConsonanceDurationDynamicsIntonationLbdmModulation

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