Timeline — where it appears
Named by 18 essays across one field — each of them below, with the objects they name alongside it.
The rotation the necklace cannot see
Ask Bjorklund's algorithm for the world's timelines and the usual answer is that it produces them. Search every rotation of each Euclidean pattern for a match and the answer is more interesting: the tresillo is E(3,8) exactly, the bossa-nova and the standard bell pattern are rotations of theirs, and the son and rumba claves — the two best-known timelines in the world — are not Euclidean at any rotation whatever. Where the match does hold it holds up to a starting position, and a starting position is the one thing a timeline is.
What the clave buys with its unevenness
The essay before this one found that the two best-known timelines in the world are not Euclidean at any rotation, and asked whether they maximise something else. They do: how quickly a fragment of the cycle says where in the cycle it is. The son clave locates itself in nine of its sixteen steps where the even pattern needs fifteen — and of two hundred and seventy-three patterns, twenty-two are on the frontier between the two objectives and the son clave is one of them.
The frontier and the ruler
A Pareto frontier is a claim about two quantities and only one of them was measured. The locating cost is exact; the unevenness it was traded against was one choice among several. Under four different rulers the son clave stays on the frontier and the frontier shrinks from twenty-two of 273 patterns to seven, so its membership means more rather than less — but the bembe stops being dominated, the two claves stop being equally uneven, and one plausible measure destroys the result entirely.
The longest silence is not a third axis
The frontier between evenness and locatability was drawn twice and both times against two quantities, with the third job a timeline does left uncomputed. Computed, neither candidate for it is a third quantity: the longest silence ranks the whole census with the spread of the gaps at 0.94, and syncopation is not a property of a cycle at all — every one of the 273 patterns changes its count when the bar line moves. What the request was actually asking for is a cap rather than an axis, and under the tightest one the census admits thirteen patterns and every named timeline is among them.
The other censuses keep evenness, not locating
Five onsets in sixteen suggested two rules: a named timeline's longest gap is the shortest its census allows, and its syncopation totalled over every rotation is the largest. Nine of ten named timelines across five censuses meet both — but so does the evenly spaced pattern, in all twenty-one censuses from two onsets in eight to eight in sixteen, and in four of those five censuses the named timeline is the evenly spaced pattern. What the rules describe is evenness. The quantity the frontier was built on points the other way: the evenly spaced pattern is the slowest of its census to locate in nineteen of twenty-one, the standard bell pattern is the slowest of all sixty-six patterns of seven in twelve, and among the orders of its own gaps a named timeline is usually both the most even and the slowest to locate. The son clave, whose most even order is also the fastest, is the exception the locating story was told about.
The bell pattern is slowest only to a perfect memory
Among the orders of its own gaps, a named timeline is usually both the most even and the slowest to locate — for a listener who never forgets. Give the listener a memory that halves and the result comes apart. Of six timelines slowest among their orders with perfect memory, only the fume-fume stays slowest for every forgetting listener, and the standard bell pattern, which is the fume-fume with onsets and rests exchanged and settles at exactly the same floors, is second of its three orders for every memory of half its cycle or less. The census ranking survives better, and in fourteen of twenty-one censuses it was the arithmetic of a pattern that repeats.
Against a pulse the bell pattern is the easiest to place
Heard alone, the standard bell pattern is not the quickest order of its own gaps to place in its cycle, for a listener with any memory. Heard against a pulse every three steps or every four — which is how anyone hears it — it is the quickest, at every memory and at every alignment of pulse and bell, and by a wide margin: at a memory of a quarter of the cycle, 0.56 bits unplaced over the first cycle against 0.73 for either rival against a pulse in threes. Six of eight named timelines do the same. A timeline's order of gaps looks chosen for how it sits against the beat, not for how it sounds alone.
An expectation cannot rescue a cycle too slow to time
A listener who knows a piece arrives with an expectation of where in the cycle they are, and the size of that expectation was the number the last essay said nobody had. It can be given one: a listener who has been timing the cycle carries a spread of their Weber fraction times the cycle, which is the same number of steps at any tempo. Timed to ten per cent, a forty-second cycle would be placed better than a newcomer places a two-second one. But forty seconds is judged in the band where the Weber fraction is nearer forty per cent, and there the expectation is worth a tenth of a bit.
The strokes between the gongs are a clock
An experienced listener arriving in a forty-second gong cycle was expected to be no better placed than a newcomer, because a whole cycle is timed in the band where a Weber fraction is near forty per cent. But nobody times a gong cycle as one interval. A listener who resets at the last gong, the last kempul and the last kenong times three short intervals instead of one long one, and arrives knowing their position to a tenth of a bit — better than a listener timing the whole cycle to ten per cent. A single timeline, whose strokes are all one instrument, offers nothing to reset on.
The best gong cycle halves at every level
A colotomic cycle is a clock whose layers are its hands, and a clock can be built many ways from the same number of strokes. Searched over every nesting of a sixteen-step cycle, the one that places a slow listener best is, at every budget of strokes, the one in which each layer is exactly twice as fast as the layer above it. A gong with one other layer does best at a ratio of four, and three halving layers with the same four strokes beat it by a factor of three and a half. A layer finer than the one whose interval is already timed to half a step adds almost nothing.
Against both feels, the bell pattern's order stops mattering
Against a pulse in threes, or a pulse in fours, the standard bell pattern is placed a sixth or a tenth of a bit sooner than either other order of its own gaps. A twelve-step cycle in the ensembles that play it is heard against both feels at once, and the two pulses together are a position code of their own: they coincide once a cycle and place a listener within three steps. Heard against both, the three orders are within a seventieth of a bit of one another and the bell's lead is gone — the advantage its order was shaped for lives only where one feel is dropped.
A feel heard half the time gives the bell half its lead
Against one feel the standard bell pattern is the quickest order of its gaps to place; against both feels at once its lead is gone. An ensemble's texture is neither: each feel is heard some of the time. Given a listener who knows how often a pulse's strokes are lost, the lead comes back in proportion to the loss — half the strokes missing restores half of it, at every memory from a step and a half to a whole cycle. There is no threshold at either end, and a listener who treats every silence as proof comes out more certain and worse placed.
An elaboration is a clock hand where the skeleton has none
A colotomic cycle is a clock whose hands are its punctuating layers, and the finest hand a slow cycle can use runs out as the cycle slows. The elaborating parts that fill the cycle were predicted to supply that finer hand. They can, and a two-step figure recognised at every boundary is a kethuk exactly. But the figure that does most is not a fine one. It is a long one with a single recognisable point in the middle of the cycle, where no skeleton stroke falls: at eighty seconds a cycle it leaves a listener a fifth as uncertain as the skeleton alone, where a kethuk takes off a tenth — and it still does more than a kethuk when a listener catches that point one time in ten.
Two landmarks in a cycle help only if they can be told apart
One recognisable point inside a slow gong cycle, placed where the skeleton has no stroke, did more for a listener than a whole layer of kethuk strokes. A second point does as much again, a third nearly as much again — provided the listener can tell which point they have just heard. If the points sound alike, a second one is worth a fraction of that, seventy of the hundred and five ways of placing it leave the listener worse off than one point would, and two alike points half a cycle apart undo most of what the first one gave. Whether the listener keeps one timer or several turns out not to matter at all.
The bell pattern's order is for arriving
Against a feel that comes and goes, the standard bell pattern is the quickest order of its gaps to place, and the lead grows the less a listener knows about the drummer. Followed past the first cycle, the lead is gone, whether or not the listener ever learns how often strokes are lost. And when both feels thin, a different order keeps a listener placed better than the bell does, because its two short gaps make one figure where the bell's make two that look alike.
A varied bell can be a landmark or a false start
In a thin texture the standard bell pattern keeps a listener placed five times worse than another order of its gaps, because its two short gaps look alike. A lead drummer's variation — one stroke moved, once every few cycles — was predicted to give the bell back what it loses. The best single displacement every other cycle recovers seventy per cent of the gap; every third cycle, a third; every sixth, a seventh. Every variation makes the bell slower to arrive by. And the displacements that turn the varied cycle into the bell begun somewhere else make keeping one's place three times worse, because they sound exactly like having lost it.
A newcomer learns a cycle's landmarks in four hearings
Two recognisable points in a slow gong cycle help a listener only if they can be told apart, and a newcomer at first cannot: two marks that differ only by where they fall in the cycle sound alike until the listener has heard enough cycles to notice. Timed from the gong, the best pair of points is learned by nine listeners in ten after about four cycles — the same four at any slow tempo, so ten minutes at 160 seconds a cycle. The pairs learned fastest sit right after the gong and are poor clocks once learned; for the first four cycles a newcomer is best served not by the best clock but by a pair whose confusion costs less while it lasts.
A bell can mark a cycle without moving a stroke
A lead drummer's varied cycle helps a listener or misleads one, according to which stroke it moves, because a moved stroke can make the bell look as if it had started somewhere else. Give the varied cycle a different sound as well and the distinction goes. Heard nine times in ten and a misleading variation is no longer one; heard always, it no longer matters which stroke moved, or whether any did. A mark heard seven times in ten does almost nothing, and the arithmetic of that threshold is the same as a coin's.
Named alongside it
The objects these essays reach for when they reach for this one.
Memory decayEuclidean rhythmInformationRotationBell patternCycleMaximal evennessWeber fractionClaveDurationEntropySyncopation