Every essay — page 3
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
Pitch and tuning
Frequency ratios, the comma that will not close, and every compromise ever made about it.
A string that decays twice is counted early
A mistuned octave's beats were found countable only between a twelfth and a quarter of a note's life, on a note decaying once. A piano string decays twice, a fast prompt sound over a slow aftersound, and the prediction was that this would open the count sooner and close it later. It opens sooner — at a seventh of a second rather than a second — and closes exactly where a single decay struck twenty decibels softer closes, so at 80 dB it holds 8.8 beats instead of 11.8. The count now rises with the strike to 90 dB, and a tuner who strikes hard is right.
One tuning has no comma to place
Standard guitar tuning is four fourths and a third, and tuned pure it closes two octaves exactly a syntonic comma short — so tuning by ear decides where the comma goes rather than whether. An open tuning replaces the interval list. D A D G A D's fifth, two fourths, a tone and a fourth multiply to exactly four, so its chain closes and there is nothing to place: its six strings sit within four cents of the frets. The open-chord tunings close too, and pay for it with one string fifteen cents flat — which every chord barred straight across inherits exactly, and which is why every such chord is precisely as pure as the open one.
The quartet settles at two pitches, not four
The quartet's open strings have been treated as five fixed pitches on one chain, and they are not: the violin, the viola and the cello each tuned a G string by ear and the three are expected to sit two and a half cents apart. Giving each player their own strings, with their own scatter, and pulling each toward only their own, changes the ensemble's settled pitch by a hundredth of a cent. What it does change is systematic rather than random: a violin has an E string and no C, the lower instruments have a C and no E, so the quartet splits by section by a tenth of a cent in every key.
A tuning is right for some chords and wrong for the rest
An earlier essay asked which tuning minimises a piece's total departure from just, and guessed the answer would be a few cents off a named one. Searched over all six strings, two of three pieces get back the tuning they were already in — because their chains close and there is nothing to improve. The third lands on a tuning nobody names, three and nine tenths of a cent better than anything a player would have tried, and it is not a compromise: two of its three chords are exactly just and the third is abandoned by thirteen cents.
Counting beats moves the price of a chord, not the tuning
The search that found a guitar piece's best tuning counted every cent of error alike, and the obvious objection is that a cent of a third beats faster than a cent of an octave. Counted in beats instead, every piece gets exactly the same tuning back. What changes is how much of the piece the abandoned chord has to hold before it is rescued — thirty beats instead of forty-four, arriving in three steps instead of one.
The chord a tuning gives up is a fingering
A guitar piece's best tuning makes two of its chords exactly just and abandons the third by thirteen cents, and no way of counting error — cents, beats, squared cents, or only the beats slow enough to hear — brings the third chord back. Fingered as a barre chord in the shape the other two already use, it comes back completely, and the whole piece is exactly just. The conflict was never between chords. It was between hands.
Intervals and chords
Two notes at once, why some of them beat, and the geometry of the ones that do not.
Two notes and a ratio, which is the whole of consonance
Sound two tones together and the pair either settles or does not. What decides it is the ratio of their frequencies, and the rule is that simpler ratios settle — which is two and a half thousand years old and still not quite an explanation.
Beats are arithmetic that anybody can hear
Two tones a few hertz apart swell and fade at exactly their difference. It is the most direct evidence available that the ear does sums on what reaches it, and it is how every instrument in the world gets tuned.
Roughness can be computed, and the answer looks like a scale
Feed two spectra into a model of how nearby frequencies interfere, sweep one past the other, and the curve that comes out has dips exactly where the consonant intervals are. Nobody put them there.
The note that is not there
A telephone reproduces nothing below about three hundred hertz, and a bass line down at eighty comes through it perfectly. The pitch that is heard is not a frequency present in the sound, and one nineteenth-century experiment settles what it is instead.
A third is rougher in the bass
Consonance is usually presented as a property an interval has. It is not. The same major third is muddy two octaves below middle C and clean two octaves above it, the ratio never changed, and the frequency where it stops being muddy can be solved for.
Three is the largest agreeable number
Take every chord of every size that can be built from the twelve, score each one for roughness and for the size of the whole numbers it needs, and ask how many are good on both counts. At two notes the answer is one. At three notes it is still one. At four it is eight, and the question stops having an answer.
The ear sorts into boxes, and the boxes are the theory
Slide one note slowly upward against another and the interval between them changes continuously. What a listener reports does not. It stays a minor third, stays a minor third, and then in the space of about twenty cents becomes a major third — and nothing in the sound corresponds to the moment of the change.
The ear makes its own sound, and it is not the missing fundamental
Play two loud tones and a third pitch appears that is in neither of them. The ear is not a passive analyser: it is nonlinear, it generates frequencies of its own, and it emits sound back out of the ear canal. None of which explains the missing fundamental — the products land in the wrong place, and finding out where they land is the experiment that made the residue theory necessary.
A spectrum chooses its own scale
The roughness curve's dips are always described as landing on the small whole numbers. They do not land on numbers. They land where partials coincide, and stretching a spectrum by seven per cent moves every one of them by exactly seven per cent — so the scale a set of intervals belongs to is a property of the instrument's spectrum rather than of arithmetic.
Roughness cannot choose a scale
Score all four hundred and sixty-two seven-note selections from the twelve for roughness and the answer at middle C is a mode of the diatonic set, first out of four hundred and sixty-two. Ask the same question an octave lower and the same selection ranks a hundred and forty-first. The model is not wrong; it is answering a question about frequencies, and a scale is not one.
A dissonance has to last
Roughness is a fluctuation, and a fluctuation needs cycles. A minor second at the bottom of a cello fluctuates thirty-three times a second, so a semiquaver holds four of them and a demisemiquaver holds two — which turns the counterpoint rule that a dissonance may pass if it is short into a number, and puts that number at about seventy milliseconds through most of the range, once the pairs beating too slowly to be roughness at all are taken out of the average.
Which harmonics carry the pitch
A missing fundamental is inferred from a pattern, and a pattern has to be legible before it can be matched. Counting how many harmonics of a note land in separate auditory filters prices the inference — and the answer at the bottom of a bass guitar's range is none of them.
The same chord is harsher when it is louder
Every roughness number so far was computed at a level nobody stated. Roughness is the product of two partial amplitudes, so it is quadratic in pressure, while loudness is compressive — which makes a minor third at middle C thirty-two thousand times rougher at fortissimo than at pianissimo and only twenty-five times louder. A chord has no single consonance to report.
The mode with no fifth
Six of the seven rotations have a perfect fifth above their own first degree and one does not, which is a structural disqualification rather than a preference. And the set's single tritone sits on a different pair of degrees in every rotation — on the fourth and seventh in Ionian, on the tonic itself in two others — which decides most of what each mode can do.
The third the model has no opinion about
A neutral third — halfway between major and minor, and a scale degree in most of the music between Morocco and Iran — is nothing at all on an ordinary roughness curve. It becomes a well at 347 cents, which is exactly 11:9, only for a spectrum whose ninth and eleventh partials are at least three times their natural strength. No instrument has that spectrum.
The inversion that cannot end a phrase
Three positions of one triad, three measurements, and the practice contradicted at every turn. The second inversion is the smoothest of the three by roughness, the best explained of the three by a virtual-pitch model, and the one that three centuries of practice will not let a phrase end on. What forbids it is a rule about a two-voice skeleton.
The root an ear supplies
A major triad's notes fit 4:5:6 with nothing missing and a fundamental two octaves below the bass. A minor triad's fit two different series with two different answers a major sixth apart, and the model cannot choose between them. The ambiguity theorists argued about for two centuries is a computable quantity, and the spectrum invented to remove it is one no object produces.
A chord is a register
The same three pitch classes are five times rougher at the bottom of a piano than in the middle, and the arrangement that minimises the roughness over a low bass turns out to be the bass's own fifth and sixth partials. The orchestration rule about low thirds is not a convention. It falls out of the width of a critical band, exactly.