Acoustics & Music Theory
why it sounds like that
Concept

Temporal integration — where it appears

The ear's averaging of a quantity over a window of some tens or hundreds of milliseconds before reporting it. It decides how long a dissonance has to last to register and how fast a loudness can fall, and it removes movement without touching a mean.

Named by 7 essays across 3 fields — each of them below, with the objects they name alongside it.

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 A ritardando does not spend the diminuendo. The arrival reading under a deceleration into the ending, from no ritardando at all to a final tempo 30 per cent of the starting one — which stretches the closing bars from 12.0 seconds to 20.2. The expectation was that it would matter: a ritardando lengthens exactly the bars the gesture is happening in, so a diminuendo that would have been absorbed at a steady tempo gets more of the smoother's own time to be absorbed in. It moves the reading by 0.00 per cent. Every line here is flat to within the thickness of the line, which is the second time a tempo parameter has been swept here and found to do nothing.

The reading was a step response

Sweeping the tempo found it did not decide the answer. This one sweeps the deceleration across a factor of three and finds a null to five figures, and then sweeps the length of the closing gesture across a factor of forty-eight and finds it moves the reading by eight per cent — but not as a function of seconds. Sorted by seconds the twelve runs scatter; sorted by how many bars the instruction covers they fall into three tight groups. One sentence explains the null and the not-null together.

form · Closure A written dynamic is an instruction to the listener's impression. Every earlier scoring holds one chord still. A passage is a succession, and the running impression of loudness carries a chord into the one after it, so what a marking asks for and what playing the marking produces are different things. Here is a five-chord passage with a written shape. Playing each chord at its own written loudness gives the running impression 2.4, 3.0, 4.2, 5.6, 4.0 sones against the 2.4, 3.0, 4.2, 5.6, 2.0 that were asked for — right until the last chord, where it misses by 2.0. Solving for levels that make the impression arrive at the marking does not fix it: the last chord's target is I, two parts, and it is unreachable — the correction runs to silence and the impression still sits 1.1 sones above. A subito piano after a full chord is not a level a player can produce. It is a rate of change, and the smoother's two-second release is what refuses it.

A subito piano is a rate, not a level

All three earlier essays score one chord held still. An orchestration is a succession, and the running impression carries a chord into the one after it — so a written dynamic is an instruction to the listener's impression rather than to the instantaneous sound, and there are markings that cannot be produced at all. The correction runs to silence and the impression still sits above the target.

form · Orchestration Articulation is worth 2.6 phons, and nobody counts it. A passage of notes at 80 decibels, 2 to the beat, at 7 tempi and 3 articulations, scored against the same level held continuously. The variable is the fraction of each inter-onset interval that is sounding — 0.95 is a legato, 0.4 a staccato — and the vertical axis is what that costs the passage's running loudness in phons. Nothing here is anybody playing harder or softer. At 40 to the beat the span from legato to staccato is 1.47 phons; at 200 it is 2.61, because a staccato note there lasts 60 milliseconds and no longer reaches its own loudness either.

A staccato is a dynamic mark

Every loudness figure in this collection is of a sound that has been going on long enough, and no note in music has. Run the running-loudness model on notes with lengths in them and an articulation turns out to command 1.5 phons at a slow tempo and 8.1 at a fast one — more than the 1.8 decibels a whole texture commands, on the same page, written down in the same ink, and counted by nobody.

perception · Loudness A 20-decibel crescendo is 27 phons on a bass note and 20 on a high one. The same change of level, from 60 to 80 decibels, converted to loudness at each register through ISO 226's equal-loudness contours rather than at one kilohertz. The heavy curve gives each note a string spectrum, so its partials are converted in their own bands and summed; the pale one is the fundamental alone. On the spectrum-aware curve the crescendo is worth 27.3 phons at C1 and 20.3 at C7. On the fundamental alone it is 77 at C1, which is not a finding but an artefact: a 60-decibel tone at 33 hertz sits 1.8 decibels above the threshold of hearing and is very nearly nothing. The honest correction is the smaller one, and it is still a difference of 7.1 phons across the compass for a mark written in the same ink.

A subito piano is four seconds longer in the bass

Every loudness figure with time in it converts level to loudness at one kilohertz, and the equal-loudness contours say that no other frequency works that way. Joining the two sorts the published numbers into those that were about the treble and those that were not. Three move a great deal — a twenty-decibel crescendo is worth 27 phons on a bass note and 20 on a high one, and the seven seconds a subito piano takes becomes eleven and a third. Three do not move at all, and the reason they do not is the same reason in every case.

perception · Loudness A final chord stands above the impression for a fraction of a second. How far a final chord at the tutti's own level stands above the listener's running impression at the instant it is released, against how long it lasts, for four ways of arriving at it. Straight out of the tutti it stands above nothing at any length; after 1.2 s of silence the impression is 8.1 dB down, and the chord stands highest, 5.14 dB, when it lasts 54 ms; after 3.5 s of silence the impression is 23.7 dB down, and the chord stands highest, 14.42 dB, when it lasts 28 ms; after a 6 dB diminuendo the impression is 5.0 dB down, and the chord stands highest, 3.18 dB, when it lasts 42 ms. Every curve is level again by half a second, because the impression's attack of 99 ms catches the note's attack of 22 ms, so a held chord is released at the impression's level whatever preceded it.

A final chord stands out for a twentieth of a second

A general pause drives a listener's running impression down, and the final chord that follows is supposed to cash the fall in. It cashes in at most two thirds of it. The note's own loudness rises with a 22-millisecond constant and the impression with a 99-millisecond one, so after a bar of silence the chord stands furthest above the impression 54 milliseconds in, by 5.1 of the 8.1 decibels the silence bought, and after 206 milliseconds the two are within a phon of each other. A short stamp spends most of its life standing out; a chord held a second and a half spends a seventh of it.

form · Closure A louder final chord stands higher and still stands for a fraction of a second. How far a final chord stands above the listener's running impression at the instant it is released, against how long it lasts. The chord is a struck six-note tonic; "a step louder" is the hammer velocity doubled, which raises its loudness 7.12 phons above the tutti's. At the tutti's level, after 1.2 s of silence, the impression is 8.09 dB below the chord and the chord stands highest, 5.14 dB, at 54 ms; a step louder, straight out of the tutti, the impression is 7.12 dB below the chord and the chord stands highest, 4.51 dB, at 36 ms; a step louder, after 1.2 s of silence, the impression is 15.21 dB below the chord and the chord stands highest, 9.46 dB, at 38 ms. Every curve returns to zero by half a second: the impression climbs to whatever level the chord is played at, so a louder mark is not a stand that lasts but a deeper fall to climb out of, and a silence and a mark add as depths.

A louder final chord is a deeper silence and a brighter sound

A final chord marked a step louder than the passage was supposed to stand above a listener's running impression for as long as it sounded, since the impression can climb no higher than the chord. It climbs exactly that high, and the stand closes in half a second as it always did. What a louder mark actually buys is depth — about seven phons, the same depth a second of silence buys — and a spectrum whose balance point sits most of a whole tone higher, which, unlike the stand, lasts for the whole chord.

form · Closure

Named alongside it

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

DynamicsLoudnessClosureIntegration windowNotationCadenceCritical bandwidthSilenceTempoBalanceBrightnessConsonance

All concepts