Temperament — where it appears
Named by 19 essays across 5 fields — each of them below, with the objects they name alongside it.
Twelve fifths and seven octaves, which are not the same thing
Stack twelve perfect fifths and the note that arrives should be the one seven octaves up. It is sharp by about a quarter of a semitone, and the whole history of tuning is a set of decisions about what to do with that.
Where to hide the comma, which is the only real question
Four tuning systems, four different places to put an error that cannot be removed. Each one is coherent, each was standard somewhere, and the choice between them decided what music could be written.
Nineteen, thirty-one and fifty-three
Divide the octave into a different number of equal parts and different problems disappear. Which ones vanish is not a matter of taste — it can be computed from the prime factors of the intervals, and each division makes a different decision.
A tuner counts beats, and that is the whole method
Laying a temperament sounds like the most subjective job in music, and it is arithmetic. Every interval in the bearing octave has a target rate in beats per second, the rate follows from the ratio and the register, and a tuner who hits the numbers has produced equal temperament without ever thinking about a cent.
The pitch nobody agreed on, for four hundred years
A440 is a committee decision from 1955. Before it, the same written note was played anywhere between about 392 and 465 hertz depending on the town, the building and the decade — a spread of very nearly a minor third, and every piece of theory here is untouched by it.
The chord is still major, and that is why temperament works
A major third can be seventeen cents wrong and still be a major third. That tolerance is not a failure of hearing — it is the reason the whole subject of tuning is a discussion rather than a catastrophe. Every temperament ever proposed moves intervals around inside their categories, and the one thing none of them may do is push one across a boundary.
A guitar cannot be in tune
Three errors land on the same instrument — equal temperament's own thirds, the sharpening that comes from pressing a string down to a fret, and the fact that the only correction available is one length per string. Searching over every setting a luthier could choose leaves a worst-case error of about fifteen cents, and most of what is left is the temperament, which no saddle can reach.
A fraction of a comma
The tuning systems of three centuries are usually presented as rival schemes with names and dates. They are points on a line. Narrow every fifth by the same fraction of a comma and both errors that matter are linear in that fraction — and the system named as the break with the tradition turns out to be a member of it, at one part in eleven.
What a temperament cannot do
Add up the twelve major thirds of any keyboard tuning whose chain of fifths closes and the answer is 4,800 cents. Every time, in every system, before a single fifth has been chosen. So no temperament has ever made the average third less wrong than any other one, and four hundred years of argument were about a distribution rather than about accuracy.
Somebody has to pay the comma
A choir has no frets and no keys, so it can tune every chord exactly — and a common progression sung that way arrives a comma flat, every circuit. The freedom a keyboard lacks turns out to be a freedom about where the error goes rather than whether there is one, and the two costs always add to the same number.
A comma under the threshold
Eight pure fifths taken downwards arrive at a major third 1.95 cents flat of a perfect 5:4. That gap has a name and a history, and it is the only one in the subject nobody has ever had to hide — it is under the smallest difference a listener can detect, which makes a chain of untempered fifths a source of almost-just thirds and makes one eighteenth-century tuning nearly free.
Where the chain was never closed
Eleven earlier essays treat the comma as a fact about music. It is a fact about three requirements — that the scale is built from fifths, that the octave stays pure, and that the chain closes so any degree can be a tonic — and most of the world's tuning traditions decline at least one of them. What they pay instead is computable, and it is paid somewhere else entirely.
A note that is never at its pitch
Eleven essays in this field argue about differences of one to twenty-four cents. An ordinary operatic vibrato is a hundred and forty cents wide and completes six excursions a second, so every one of those distinctions fits inside a single sung note several times over — and the beat rate a tuner would null passes through zero eleven times a second.
A wind instrument is a thermometer
Pitch goes as the square root of absolute temperature, so a warming clarinet sharpens by about three cents a degree and passes a Pythagorean comma after eight. The strings beside it go flat as they warm. Nobody chose either number, no temperament addresses either of them, and together they are twice the size of the discrepancy this whole field is named after.
Sixteen sweeps against sixteen
Every intonation figure about the voice treats a singer as a frequency. A singer is a frequency being swept a hundred cents wide six times a second, and two sections singing an interval are two hundred and fifty-six pairs of sweeps. The beat rate between the partials the interval brings together stops being a number and becomes a function of time — and the pair spends four fifths of its time above the rate at which beating is beating at all.
A beat has a depth, and six essays held it at one
Every beat figure so far adds two tones of equal amplitude, which is the single ratio at which the trough of a beat is a true null — and a null is what a tuner is actually listening for. Vary the ratio and the picture changes: at two to one the dip is nine and a half decibels, at ten to one it is under two, and the interval that gives the shallowest null of all is the octave.
The beat a tuner can actually use
There is a modulation index for every interval on every timbre, and the published threshold for detecting a fluctuation is a function of exactly that and its rate. Running one against the other turns a table of decibels into a window in cents — and reverses the ordering, because the interval with the shallowest dip has the widest window.
The instrument that cannot be moved
A string is regauged and a woodwind is scaled. An organ's pitch is the length of its pipes, and metal can be cut off and cannot be put back — so an organ is a ratchet that only goes sharp. The mechanical answer was to shift the keyboard against the pipes, and its cost is not the transposition. It is that the temperament's key colours rotate out from under the notation, by an amount measured in fifths rather than in semitones.
A standard is a point, and a performance is a band
Nine earlier essays draw every pitch standard as a single number, because none of them has a temperature in it. An air column sharpens as the room warms and a steel string flattens, at 2.95 and 2.49 cents a degree; add the 13.8 cents of spread inside one wind instrument's own register and eight degrees makes an orchestra 57 cents wide. Five of the six steps in four hundred years of pitch standards are narrower than that.
Named alongside it
The objects these essays reach for when they reach for this one.
CentsBeatingIntonationTuning by earJust intonationPartialSyntonic commaChain of fifthsEnd correctionEqual divisionEqual temperamentKey colour