The collection

Every essay — page 23

Page 23 of 27, continuing through the fields in the same order.

Pitch and tuning Intervals and chords Scales and modes Harmony and voice leading Rhythm and metre Timbre and acoustics Perception and the listener Instruments and their design Form and structure Series Objects Sounds Search

Instruments and their design

Where the sound came from before any of the above. A stopped tube has only odd partials, a hammer at one seventh silences the seventh, and a bass string is wound because a plain one would be longer than the room.

Two clocks on one contact, and which of them runs out first. Two times that could end a hammer's contact with a string, across the compass. The flat line is the felt's own recoil, which this site models as a fixed 1.6 milliseconds at a stated force and which does not know what note is being played. The falling line is the string's: a mass m driving a string of impedance Z loses its momentum in m/2Z, which is 11.9 milliseconds at the bottom of the keyboard and 0.76 at the top. They cross at G3. Below the crossing the felt lets go first and above it the string gets there first, and over six octaves the two are within a factor of two of each other — so the contact time is a coupled quantity and not a property of the felt.

The hammer that is heavier than its string

Three earlier essays varied where the hammer lands, how long it stays and how wide it is, and the third named the fourth variable: the exciter's own mass. It inverts across one instrument — the hammer is lighter than the wire it hits at the bottom of a piano and thirteen times heavier at the top — and it turns the contact time into a quantity the string decides rather than the felt.

The bow's window across a compass, with the bridge in it. Schelleng's window — the ratio of the largest usable bow force to the smallest — at a bow position of 0.09 of the length, across 196 to 1568 hertz, with the minimum scaled by the body's own admittance at each note. The window is widest between resonances and narrowest on them: it falls from 25 to 1.7 at B♭4. The notes a player finds hard to start are the local minima, and they sit on the body's resonances by construction — C♯4, B♭4, C♯5 for this body. At this bow position it never closes; move the bow toward the bridge and it does.

The note the body will not let start

Every figure until now treats the string as though it ended at a rigid point, and an earlier essay admitted it: the body feeds back on the string hard enough to make some notes difficult on one instrument and easy on another. Put the body's own admittance into Schelleng's minimum bow force and the window narrows by fifteen to one at the corpus resonances — and near the bridge it closes.

Which ensembles have this problem and which do not. The width of the heard-moment spread built into 7 standard instrumentations, before any player does anything. An ensemble drawn from one attack family has a spread of zero — every note is heard the same distance after it is started, so a common onset is a common heard moment, and this is true of a string quartet and of a gamelan for the same reason and in the same amount. A mixed ensemble carries between 11 and 33 milliseconds of it.

The players who have to be early

Ensembles have been measured for fifty years and found to be about forty milliseconds out of alignment, which has always been reported as the limit of human precision. Part of it is not: an ensemble that mixes attack families carries a heard-moment spread of ten to thirty-three milliseconds before anybody plays a note, and an ensemble drawn from one family carries none at all — which is true of a string quartet and of a gamelan for the same reason.

The window is a different width on each string. The width of Schelleng's bow-force window across each string's own playable range, with both terms in it: the body's admittance, which was added earlier, and the string's own characteristic impedance, which every figure had held at one value. The four curves are the same shape displaced vertically, because the impedance is a constant per string — the G string's is 1.81 times the E string's, and the window is one over that. Where the ranges overlap, the same pitch sits on two or three curves at once.

The same note is a different width

Schelleng's two bounds both carry the string's characteristic impedance and they carry it to different powers — the maximum force as Zc and the minimum as Zc squared — so the window a player has to stay inside goes as one over Zc. A violin has four strings whose impedances differ by a factor of 1.81, the same written pitch is available on two or three of them, and the tolerance is nearly twice as wide on one as on another. The two lightest strings turn out to have almost identical impedance, which nobody chose by accident.

4 bores of one length, and the series each supports. cylinder, cone, exponential horn, Bessel horn — every one of them 148 cm long, 5.5 mm at the throat and 62 mm at the mouth, so the only thing that differs is the shape between the two. Beside each is the series of resonances Webster's equation gives it, and the number is how far that series is from evenly spaced, in cents. cylinder: 0.0 cents, with each mode sitting at minus 0.50 of a spacing off a whole multiple; cone: 9.6 cents, with each mode sitting at minus 0.12 of a spacing off a whole multiple; exponential horn: 22.8 cents, with each mode sitting at minus 0.16 of a spacing off a whole multiple; Bessel horn: 3.7 cents, with each mode sitting at minus 0.11 of a spacing off a whole multiple.

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.

The bow's window along each string, with the bow held still. Schelleng's window — the ratio of the greatest bow force a note tolerates to the least — for every written pitch on every string that can play it, with the bow 35 mm from the bridge and staying there. The window widens up each string because β is the bow's distance over the SOUNDING length and the sounding length is shortening, and it steps down at each new string because a heavier string carries a narrower one. The dashed lines are what was drawn earlier, which held β at 0.09 for every note on every string. The widest disagreement between two strings at one pitch is 1.48 to one, at A♭5.

Two dials the player turns together

Schelleng's window is a ratio of two bow forces, and an earlier essay found that the string's own impedance is in it twice. What it held still was the bowing point — as though a player kept β constant while moving up the fingerboard, which is the opposite of what a bow does. Let the bow stay where a bow stays and the window widens up every string, the spread between two strings at one pitch goes from 1.4 to 1.5 the other way round, and the string that is easiest changes.

The cutoff computed from the shape, and the cutoff read off the measurement. Two numbers for the same boundary. The hollow point is Webster's local cutoff — the largest value of (c/2π)√Γ along the bore, which is geometry alone. The filled point is where the impedance peaks stop, which is what a maker measures with a loudspeaker and a microphone. cone: no geometric cutoff at all, and peaks stopping at 4731; exponential horn: 89 hertz from the geometry, and peaks stopping at 2614, a factor of 29.26; catenoidal horn: 115 hertz from the geometry, and peaks stopping at 2499, a factor of 21.76; Bessel horn: 1154 hertz from the geometry, and peaks stopping at 1593, a factor of 1.38; cylinder and Bessel flare: 2945 hertz from the geometry, and peaks stopping at 4417, a factor of 1.50. The published figure for a trumpet is about 1500 hertz, marked. The two agree within about half for a bore whose flare is concentrated at the end and disagree by more than an order of magnitude for one whose flare is spread along it, which says what the local formula is and is not a measurement of.

The cutoff a maker can actually measure

A trumpet's bell cutoff computed from the geometry alone comes to 1,150 hertz against a published 1,500, and the calibration was the first thing that left owing. Measuring the model the way a maker measures the instrument — sweep a loudspeaker in, find where the impedance peaks stop — gives 1,593. The discrepancy was almost entirely in the formula, and on a bore whose flare is spread rather than concentrated the same formula is out by a factor of twenty-nine.

6 figures $The fingerboard, with the hardest place on it. Every written pitch from G3 to G6 on every string that can reach it, shaded by the width of Schelleng's bow-force window there — dark is narrow, which is a note that is hard to start. Two effects are multiplied and neither earlier figure could show the other: the body's admittance, which depends on the frequency, and the bowing fraction and string impedance, which depend on where the hand is. The worst place is C♯4 on the G3 string, 6 semitones up it, at a window of 12.2 against 471 at the easiest — a factor of 39 across the instrument. It sits where the body's A0 resonance crosses the heaviest string played high, which is the compounding this figure was drawn to find: neither variable alone puts a minimum there.$

The hardest place on the fingerboard

Two things narrow a bow's window and each has been drawn alone. The bridge's admittance is a function of frequency; the bowing fraction is a function of where the left hand is. They meet on a real fingerboard, and multiplying the two curves gives a map with a worst place on it — C♯ on the G string, sixth position, where the body's air resonance crosses the heaviest string played short. The window there is twelve, against three hundred and eighty at the easiest.

Three ways a note starts, on one pair of axes. Every instrument in this collection, with how long its note takes to speak measured twice: across, in periods of the note itself; up, in milliseconds. The three clusters are three different pieces of physics. A wind instrument accumulates energy in a resonance, so its wait is the resonance's Q — 27, 26, 26, 19, 37 periods here. A bowed string is at full amplitude the moment Helmholtz motion begins and what takes time is the bow reaching a force inside Schelleng's window, which is 3.0, 3.8, 5.1, 7.6 periods. A plucked or struck string is at full amplitude at once and the only duration in it is the exciter's own contact, under a tenth of a period. The two axes do not agree: the slowest instrument in milliseconds is an alto saxophone at 159, and in periods it is an alto saxophone at 37.

A note takes a number of periods to speak

Two separate accounts stopped at the same object and said so. A wind instrument's note takes as long to arrive as its resonance takes to build, and that time is the resonance's Q divided by its frequency — so the number of periods is the Q and has no pitch in it, while the number of milliseconds does. The two readings order the instruments differently, and both orderings are wanted.

A family resemblance, in the heights rather than in the frequencies. The peak heights of trumpet, F horn, tenor trombone, plotted against peak number rather than against frequency. The three differ in length by a factor of 2.4 and their frequency series cannot be made to overlap; their heights agree to 3.2 decibels on average and their Qs to a factor of 1.30. The agreement improves up the series — 6.9 decibels at the first peak and 1.6 at the 8th — which is an earlier claim arriving as a measurement: a family has one voice because it has one filter, and the filter is visible in what the bore pushes back with and not in where its resonances are.

A family resemblance in the heights

Trumpet, horn and trombone differ in length by a factor of two and a half, so their frequency series cannot be laid over one another. Their impedance peaks agree to three decibels in height and to thirty per cent in Q, peak for peak, and the agreement improves with peak number. An earlier essay inferred that a family has one voice because it has one filter; the solver can now be asked directly.

One vent on a cone, over the notes it has to serve. A cone's modes are a full harmonic series, so the mode a register vent has to keep is the octave rather than the twelfth, and its pressure node sits at half the sounding length measured from the virtual apex. The apex is a fixed point of the instrument and the bell end is not, so every fingering moves the ideal position and there is one hole. The upper line is how much the vent spoils the fundamental, which is what it is for; the lower is how much it damages the octave, which is the cost. Their ratio runs from 451.2 at F♯4 down to 1.9 at B♭3 — a factor of 235 across a single register. The vent is placed at 37 per cent of the longest sounding length, which is where the worst fingering is least badly served.

The vent a cone cannot place

A clarinet's register key has to spoil a fundamental and leave a twelfth. A saxophone's has to spoil a fundamental and leave an octave, whose pressure node sits at half the sounding length from the virtual apex — and the apex is a fixed point while the bell end is not. Over one register the ideal position moves by a factor of two, and one hole is right for one note.

trumpet: what the cup does to every peak. Each impedance peak of a trumpet drawn twice: as the bare bore, and with its own catalogue mouthpiece in front of the throat. The bare heights fall monotonically, from 19.2 at the pedal to 1.96 at the top of the series, which is what a tube does. The fitted heights do not: they fall to 5.4 at E♭6 and rise again to 30.1 at E♭5, giving the instrument a maximum of support in the middle of its compass that the tube alone has nowhere. The dashed line is the mouthpiece's popping frequency, 642 hertz — the note the cup sounds when it is slapped on the palm — and the maximum sits beside it.

What a cup does to the support

The mouthpiece's job was settled four essays ago and settled in cents: it decides which harmonic each mode is. Measured instead in the currency a player buys one in — how hard the note pushes back, and how narrowly it holds its pitch — the cup does something else entirely. It multiplies the support in the written register by about five, and it puts a ceiling on the instrument that the bell had not put there.

Seven holes that all sound 196 hertz, and none of them agrees about the twelfth. Each dot is a hole radius, placed at the station that makes the first resonance 196 hertz. The stations run from 411 millimetres for a 7.5-millimetre hole to 307 for a 1.4-millimetre one, which is a fifth of the tube. Up the axis is what the second resonance does: a cylinder's should be three times the first, and it is -2 cents from it for the widest hole and -453 for the narrowest. The hole's inertance rises with frequency, so a narrow hole lengthens the tube more for the twelfth than for the fundamental — and two holes that are interchangeable in the first register are a fourth apart in the second.

A hole is a short tube

Four earlier essays have treated an open tone hole as a point where the pressure is released. It is not: the air in a hole has mass, and a hole with mass does not end the bore, it loads it. Seven holes drilled at seven stations all sound the same G — and their twelfths are spread over a fourth. Cross-fingering falls out of the same arithmetic, and it is not made of what everybody says it is.

Three instruments, three wires, and an order of magnitude between them. The inharmonicity coefficient of each instrument's own string design, across its own compass. At middle-of-the-keyboard C a piano's wire is 315 millimetres long and 1.02 thick and gives B = 1.5e-3; a harpsichord's at the same pitch is 355 millimetres and 0.30, and gives 8.1e-5 — a factor of 19. The harpsichord's line is nearly flat across four octaves because its scaling is Pythagorean: the length doubles for every octave down, exactly, until the case runs out. The piano's is a V, because its case runs out two octaves earlier and everything below the break is a compromise. Every column before now used the top line for all three instruments.

Three exciters and three wires

Every column drawn so far has run a plectrum and a beater on a piano's string, because a piano's was the only scaling to hand. A harpsichord's wire is an order of magnitude less stiff, for a reason that turns out to be the tensile strength of iron — and with all nine combinations computed, the crossing found before stays exactly where it was, on every wire.

The violin is the one where the bow's width catches up. Three separate limits on how near the bridge a bow can go, for the four bowed instruments. The ribbon's near edge reaches the bridge at 5, 6, 6, 8 millimetres; the ribbon covers half the corner's bridge-side excursion at 10, 11, 12, 15; and Schelleng's force window narrows to a factor of 3 at 10, 12, 21, 32. On the viola, cello and double bass the force window binds first, by a margin that widens to a factor of two on the bass. On the violin the ribbon binds first, at 10 millimetres against 9.8. A bow's hair is as wide as a hand can control and a string is as long as its pitch requires, so the ratio between them is a fact about the violin rather than about bowing.

The bow is not a point either

Seven earlier essays set the bowing point to a number between 0.02 and 0.3 and drew it as a point. A violin bow's hair is ten millimetres wide on a string of three hundred and twenty-five, so near the bridge the ribbon is wider than its own distance from it. In the spectrum that turns out to be worth nothing. In the geometry it is the reason sul ponticello has a floor, and the violin is the one instrument of the four where it arrives before the force does.

The period is still there, and it is wider. The autocorrelation of a 12-partial complex on 220 hertz, drawn twice: steady, and averaged over one cycle of a 71-cent vibrato. A vibrato moves every partial by the same number of cents, so the complex is exactly harmonic at every instant and nothing is mistuned — what moves is the period the extractor is looking for. The peak survives. It loses 6 per cent of its height above the surrounding lags and gains 11 per cent in width, because the vibrato swings the period by 0.37 milliseconds against a peak 0.90 wide. Its maximum also moves, to 2.4 cents sharp of the still tone's, which is a prediction with a sign in it.

The pitch that does not wobble

Three earlier essays have treated a vibrato as a modulation of roughness. The reason singers use one is what it does to the note, and there is an extractor here that turns a set of partials into a pitch and has never been asked what it does with partials that will not hold still. The period survives, at a cost that rises with the extent — and the practice stops within a hair of where the cost becomes total.

A straight mute where its corks put it, and the annulus left over. The last 220 millimetres of a trumpet's bell, drawn to scale in radius and in length, with a straight mute in it. The mute is a cone 150 mm long running from 35 mm across at the tip to 105 at the base, and it is pushed in until its clearance is the cork's 3.0 mm — which stops it 63 mm inside the rim. The sound goes past it through the annulus between cone and wall, and the narrowest place in that annulus is 393 square millimetres, 59 mm in, which is 27 per cent of the bell's own section there. The lower curve is that annulus turned into the only thing a transmission line cares about: the radius of a round tube of the same area, which falls to 11.2 mm at the throat and recovers to 53 at the rim.

The resonator at the far end

A cup at the throat owns the top of a brass instrument and puts a ceiling on it. A straight mute is a second closure at the other end of the same air column, and the prediction written down before it was computed was that it would push that ceiling further down. It does the opposite: the ceiling goes from C6 to E♭6, and it goes there by reviving exactly the resonances the cup had killed.

Four bells on one tube, and the series each of them supports. The same 1.48-metre trumpet bore, drawn to scale, with its mouth opened from 32 millimetres across to 280 — a factor of 8.8 in radius and everything else held. Beside each is the frequency past which its flare stops reflecting, computed from the geometry: 403 Hz, 1212 Hz, 2945 Hz, 7303 Hz. That boundary moves by a factor of 18. The resonances underneath it barely move at all — the fourth peak sits at 409, 421, 428, 432 hertz across all four.

The mouth that decides nothing

Twelve figures across six earlier essays draw a trumpet with a 124-millimetre bell, and not one of them draws any other. Opened from 32 millimetres across to 280, the bell's own boundary moves by a factor of eighteen and almost nothing else moves at all: the instrument's registration, the sharpness of its notes in the written register, and where it runs out are all within a semitone of themselves. The reason is that the resonances are held by the walls, and a bell cannot reach them.

The cutoff that is a list

Five earlier essays have quoted one number for a woodwind's cutoff — 1,824 hertz for a clarinet — from a formula written for an infinite lattice of identical holes. Solve a whole twelve-hole chart instead and the number is eleven different numbers, running from 2,193 hertz down to 1,574, which is 574 cents. The lowest fingering has no cutoff at all, and which way the list runs turns out to be a design decision rather than a fact about woodwinds.

How much of each instrument is narrow enough to steepen a wave. For each bore, the quantity that decides how nonlinear it is: the narrowest radius divided by the radius at each station, integrated along the tube. The shading is that integrand, so a bar that stays dark is a tube still doing damage to the wave and a bar that fades is a flare that has thinned it out. Divided by the instrument's own length the integral is a pure number: a plain cylinder 1.00, a tenor trombone 0.88, a trumpet 0.86, an F horn 0.59, a cone of a trumpet's length 0.24. A plain cylinder is 1 by construction, a cone of the same length and mouth is 0.24, and the ordering across the brass family is the one players give when asked which of them can be made to blare.

The partials the tube makes itself

Eleven earlier essays compute a passive linear resonator, and none of them ever says so. At a real fortissimo the air in a brass instrument is not linear: a compression outruns a rarefaction, the wave leans forward as it travels, and the fourth partial of a loud trumpet note is seventy decibels louder than a scaled-up quiet one — generated in the tube rather than at the lips. How much of it happens is an integral over the bore, and it is why a flugelhorn cannot be blown into being a trumpet.

Three impedances meet at the bowing point and only one is in the way. Every impedance at the contact between a violin bow and a violin's strings, on one logarithmic axis in kilograms per second. The four strings run from 0.19 on the E to 0.34 on the G. The hair ribbon's TRANSVERSE impedance, across its own length, is 0.59 — 1.7 to 3.2 times the strings', which is comparable and is the number expected earlier to matter. It lies perpendicular to the string's own motion, because the bow is drawn ACROSS the string and the hair therefore runs along the direction the string vibrates in; what it is in the path of is the bow force. The impedance that does lie along the string's motion is the ribbon's LONGITUDINAL one, 11.4, which is 19 times the transverse and 34 to 61 times the strings'. A point load of that size against the 2Zc a string offers reflects 94.4 per cent of an arriving corner, so the fixed bowing point every earlier figure has assumed is right to within 5.6 per cent on the G string.

The hair runs the wrong way

Eight earlier essays treat the bow as a contact and the string as the object, and the last of them asked what the bow's own impedance does at the point of contact. It has three, and the one that is comparable to the string's — 0.59 kilograms per second against 0.19 to 0.34 — lies at right angles to the direction the string moves in. The one that lies along it is thirty-four times the string's, which is why a fixed bowing point has been the right assumption all along; and it stops being right at one partial in the middle of the instrument's range.

Schelleng's window at five states of the rosin. The ratio of the largest usable bow force to the smallest, against distance from the bridge on a violin, drawn at friction contrasts of 0.5, 0.75, 1, 1.5, 2 times the normally-rosined bow every other figure assumes. The window is a hundred times the friction contrast times beta, so each curve is the next one shifted bodily: the position at which it narrows to a factor of 3 moves from 19.5 millimetres at 0.5 to 4.9 at 2. The two vertical marks are the geometric limits found earlier and neither of them moves with the rosin: the ribbon covers half the corner's bridge-side excursion at 10.0 millimetres and its near edge reaches the bridge at 5.0. The friction contrast at which the force limit retreats behind the first of those is 0.98, and behind the second 1.95 — so a violin at ordinary rosin is sitting within a few per cent of the exchange, and at twice it the force window has no say at any playable bow position.

What the rosin is worth

Schelleng's window has three parameters and it has been drawn thirty-nine times with two of them held at one. The bow speed turns out to cancel exactly — it multiplies both bounds and leaves the ratio alone — and the friction contrast does not: the window is proportional to it, so every limit priced in millimetres moves as one over it and none of the geometric ones move at all. A violin at ordinary rosin is sitting 2.5 per cent from the point where the two exchange places, and at twice it the force window has no say at any playable bow position.

7 figures $A plucking point 50 millimetres from the nut, across a harpsichord's compass. The jacks stand in a rail and the rail is one object, so a register plucks at a fixed distance from the nut while the strings shorten by a factor of ten from the bass to the treble. At 50 millimetres that is one 36th of the string at C2 and one 3.5th at C6 — a plucking fraction that changes by a factor of 10.1 without the maker moving anything. The comb corner is one over that fraction and falls with it, from 36 to 3.5; the dispersion corner has the fraction under a cube root and falls only from 106 to 21. They never meet. Setting one over p equal to the cube root of two over three times the inharmonicity and the fraction gives a plucking point at p = √(1.5B), which on this instrument's iron wire is between 3.4 and 9.9 millimetres from the nut — nearer to it than any register a harpsichord has ever carried, the lute stop included. So the maker's one free choice is the binding term at every pitch and every register position, which is exactly what the piano's is not: on a piano the contact time takes the decision away above E3.$

What the second register is for

Nine earlier essays take the plucking fraction as given — an eighth, a sixth, a seventh — and a harpsichord's jacks stand in a rail, so what is given is a distance and the fraction is a consequence: 50 millimetres is one thirty-sixth of the string in the bass and one three-and-a-halfth in the treble. Engage two registers on one string and the amplitudes add exactly, the near one fills the far one's missing partials, the pair digs holes of its own that neither has, and the combination comes out louder and rounder than either — including the bright one.

Four players on three notes, every arrangement. The 36 ways of putting 4 players on a 3-note chord so that every note is covered, ranked by roughness, all at one total loudness of 26.9 sones. Each row is shaded by which note carries the pair. The best is flue | clarinet+violin | oboe and the worst is clarinet | oboe+flue | violin, a factor of 2.21. Every earlier essay puts exactly one player on each note, which is a permutation; a doubling makes the arrangement a surjection instead, and the doubled note sounds neither of its two players but the composite they make. Which note gets the pair explains 7 per cent of the spread here and which players sit on the lowest note explains 89: the fourth player is a much smaller decision than the three that were already there.

The fourth player is a spectrum, not a decision

Six earlier essays put exactly one instrument on each note, which makes an arrangement a permutation — and the commonest operation in orchestration is a doubling, which does not. Four players on three notes give thirty-six arrangements instead of six, and the extra choice turns out to be the smallest thing on the page: which note carries the pair explains three per cent of the spread and which players sit on the bass explains eighty-nine. A doubled note can be priced as one player, and which one is not the one a spectral account would have named.