Standing wave — where it appears
Named by 20 essays across 3 fields — each of them below, with the objects they name alongside it.
A string does everything at once
A plucked string does not vibrate at one frequency. It vibrates at all the whole-number multiples of one frequency simultaneously, and nearly everything in music theory is downstream of that fact.
The room is part of the instrument
A room has frequencies it supports and frequencies it will not. In a small one those frequencies are far apart, so some bass notes are loud in one corner and absent in another — and no equipment fixes it.
A tube that skips every other partial
Stop one end of a cylinder and half its modes vanish. That single fact about where the pressure has to be decides that a clarinet sounds hollow, that it plays an octave below its length suggests, and that it must cover nineteen semitones with fingers before it can overblow — while every other woodwind covers twelve.
The tube ends after it ends
A wave does not turn round at the opening. It carries on into the room for about six-tenths of the bore radius and reflects there, so every tube is acoustically longer than it is. The correction is a fixed number of millimetres against a wavelength that halves every octave — a rounding error at the bottom of an instrument's range and most of a semitone at the top.
Above a certain note the holes stop working
A row of open tone holes reflects the wave and makes the tube shorter — up to a frequency. Above it the wave runs straight past the whole lattice and leaves from the bell, so the top of every note's spectrum radiates from the same place whichever note is fingered. That cutoff is computable, it differs by family, and it is most of what makes an oboe sound like an oboe.
One hole doing a dozen jobs
A register key works by forcing a pressure node where the second mode already has one, which kills the fundamental and leaves the mode above. The node sits a fixed fraction along the sounding length — and the sounding length changes with every fingering, while the hole stays where it was drilled. The leftover error is computable, and it is why the throat notes are the ones players complain about.
Where the hammer lands
Strike a string at exactly one over n and the nth partial is silent, because the hammer has landed on that mode's node and cannot move it. A piano's hammers strike between a seventh and a ninth of the way along, which puts the seventh partial — the most dissonant member of the series — at or near a null. That is a design decision made in wood, and it takes one line of trigonometry.
The bow makes a corner
A bowed string is not a string swinging. It is two straight lines meeting at a single sharp corner that travels round the string once per period, triggering the slip that keeps it going. The force on the bridge is therefore a sawtooth, and a sawtooth is every harmonic at exactly one over n — which is why a bowed string is the most nearly perfect harmonic series in the orchestra.
What a drum is doing instead
An ideal membrane's modes are zeros of Bessel functions — 1, 1.59, 2.14, 2.30 — which support no common fundamental, so a drum rings without a note. A timpani is that problem solved — the kettle's air and the radiation load drag four modes onto 1, 1.5, 2, 2.5, and the pitch a timpanist tunes is the fundamental those four imply and none of them is.
The body is the filter
A violin string radiates almost nothing. What reaches a room is the string's sawtooth multiplied by the body's response, and that response is a comb of measured resonances that stays put while the note moves. It is the same arithmetic that identifies a vowel, on wood instead of a mouth — which is why an instrument has a voice rather than a tone.
The other wolf
A cellist's wolf note is a string mode landing on a body resonance, at which point the two stop being separable and start exchanging energy — the mode splits in two and the note warbles at the difference. It is a coupled oscillator. The tuning system's wolf is twelve fifths failing to close by 23.5 cents. They share a word and nothing else.
Where a room stops being a room
A small room has frequencies it supports and frequencies it will not, and a hall has a reverberation time. Those are two separate accounts and they are descriptions of the same building at different frequencies. The crossover is one formula, and in a bedroom it lands at about two hundred hertz — in the middle of the bass register, and above nothing at all in a concert hall.
The reed is a valve, not a vibrator
Three essays here have said that a clarinet's reed does not choose the note, and none of them said what it does instead. It chops a steady stream of air, and past a third of the pressure that closes it the flow falls as the player blows harder — a resistance with the wrong sign, which is the only thing in the instrument capable of putting energy into an oscillation that is otherwise losing it.
The bell decides what gets out
A tube resonates because the wave turns round at the open end, and it is audible because some of the wave does not. Those are the same number with opposite signs. One quantity — the size of the opening against a wavelength — decides how loud an instrument is, how bright it is and how directional it is, and a bell moves the boundary rather than removing it.
The hole that spoils a note
A tone hole shortens the tube. A register hole does the opposite job: it is small enough to shorten nothing and is placed where it will wreck the fundamental's resonance and leave the third harmonic's alone, so the note jumps a twelfth instead of retuning. The place that does both is a pressure node of the harmonic being kept — a third of the way along whatever length is sounding — and the length changes with every fingering while the key does not. One key is at the right place for exactly one note, and the note it is worst for is in the throat of the instrument, which is where players say the instrument is worst.
The hammer is not a point either
The comb of missing partials is computed throughout for a contact of no width, and a piano hammer is sixteen millimetres of felt on a string of six hundred. Integrating the mode shape across the felt turns out not to fill the null in: a mode is odd about its own node, so a symmetric contact centred on it gives an exact zero however wide it is. What destroys the null is being in the wrong place, and the tolerance is 2.8 millimetres for twenty decibels of suppression and 0.89 for thirty. The design decision found at the outset is a manufacturing tolerance.
Blowing harder is playing sharper
Every frequency computed so far for an air column is a resonance of the tube, and no wind instrument plays at its bore's resonance. It plays between the bore and whatever is driving it, weighted by how sharply each is tuned — and a flute's driver is an air jet whose own preferred frequency goes as the square root of the blowing pressure. Across a tenfold pressure range the jet's preference rises by a factor of 3.16 and the bore holds it to 112 cents of that. A wind player's dynamics and their intonation are one control, and the size of the coupling between them is the valve's Q.
Only two shapes make a series
A tube's length sets where its modes are and its shape sets whether they are a series at all — and of every shape a maker could choose, exactly two give evenly spaced modes. Neither of them is the shape of a trumpet. Webster's equation says how far the others miss by, and the answer is a quarter of a semitone for the obvious ones and four cents for the family brass bells actually belong to.
A horn has one length per partial
Every tube until now has had an acoustic length: its physical length plus a correction for the wave carrying on past the opening. A flaring bore does not have one. Its second mode behaves as though the tube were 164 centimetres long and its eighth as though it were 154, and the ten centimetres between them are the same physical fact — a fixed correction against a shrinking wavelength — arriving as a hundred cents.
A resonance has a strength as well as a frequency
What eleven earlier essays drew is a row of frequencies, because the solver behind it has no losses and a lossless resonance has no width. Put the losses in and every one of them acquires a height and a Q — and the hand closing a horn's bell turns out to take away nine and a half per cent of the instrument's total support before giving all of it back, in a window a few per cent wide where the horn is genuinely hard to play.
Named alongside it
The objects these essays reach for when they reach for this one.
BoreBoundary conditionPartialHarmonic seriesResonanceOverblowingSpectrumExcitation pointInharmonicityIntonationRegisterTimbre