Every essay — page 9
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Scales and modes
Which seven of the twelve, and what changes when the same seven start somewhere else.
The scale belongs to the ringing instrument
A gamelan plays two instruments on one scale at once — a saron damped at every stroke and a gendèr several times faster with its bars left to ring — and a quarter of the roughness a listener receives falls on pairs that cross between them, which no figure had computed. The cross pairs turn out to be no worse than either stream's own. What decides the scale's standing is the fast part: the ensemble sits at the sixth percentile among random five-note scales and so does the ringing instrument alone, while the damped one alone sits at the ninety-sixth.
Given the bar in octaves, the degree comes back
A bass note is a bare pitch class in the usual figure, and a register in any realisation anybody plays. Voice each bar in octaves and a listener knows which three pitch classes are sounding and which is at the bottom, which names the chord outright — and the rule that uses it reads the right scale degree in 92 per cent of bars on a real bass line, against 68 for the published cue on the same line and 89 for that cue on a line made entirely of roots. The question was whether the register recovers the 89. It recovers it and passes it.
A sharper cue is worth nothing to a reading that moves
The rule that names the chord outright reads 92 per cent of scale degrees right where the published bass cue reads 68 — at the key cost these readings have always been run at. Sweep that cost and the advantage is not a property of the cue. Where a change of key is cheap the sharp rule reads 46 per cent and the vaguest rule 47, because a reading that will move key on one bar's evidence follows a sharp cue wherever it points. The cue's whole value is borrowed from the model's reluctance to be moved.
The two parameters turn out to have a ceiling between them
The essay before this one asked whether the bass cue's weight and the cost of changing key are one quantity with two names, and said the test was a contour: if they multiply, the curves of equal degree share are hyperbolae. They are not. Along the ninety per cent contour the product of the two runs from 2.7 to 15.2, because past a bass weight of about one and a half the reading saturates and more cue buys nothing. And the sweep finds something no single-parameter sweep here could: the key cost has a best value, and a reading that will never change key is worse than one that will.
The ceiling is thirteen bars with names
The key-finder's two cues stop buying anything at about 93 per cent of scheme bars read right, and the obvious suspect was the chord segmentation feeding it. The reading was never given a segmentation: every bar arrives with its true chord. What the ceiling is made of can be listed instead, and it is thirteen bars of 188 — seven in a bridge of secondary dominants, four in a minor episode whose chords C major also owns, and two at the edges of a modulation. No weight of any cue moves one of them.
A wrong bar beats the same on either instrument
The ringing instrument carries a gamelan scale's standing, so a tuning error on it was predicted to cost more than the same error on the damped instrument. Put in the beating the model lacked, and the prediction fails: moved ten cents, a degree costs the same 0.85 summed over the scale on either instrument, because almost all of the cost is the wrong bar beating against the right one on the other instrument, and a beat belongs to both of the bars that make it. Moving a whole instrument costs exactly what its five degrees cost separately, and it takes nothing from the scale's standing.
The bridge is not a labelling problem
Seven of the key-finder's thirteen remaining misses are the thirty-two-bar song's bridge, and the essay before this one proposed that they might be an argument about labels rather than a failure: relabel the eight bars with the keys their dominants point at, and the reading's E and D majors might turn out to be right. They do not. The reading gets one bar of eight under either label, because four of the eight are read as the chord's own root taken for a tonic — a dominant seventh heard as a chord in its own right. And one of the bars the relabelling could have bought is unwinnable in principle: an applied dominant is the same four notes in the major and the minor of the key it points at.
Looking ahead rescues the relative minor, not the bridge
A key-finding reading that scores each bar by its own notes cannot hear an applied dominant, whose meaning is in the bar after it. Given one cue about a pair of bars — a dominant earns credit when the next bar is rooted on its key's tonic — the thirty-two-bar song's bridge is read as the chain of dominants it is, each chord both the arrival of the last and the departure to the next. But the same cue hears a blues's opening tonic seventh as the dominant of its own IV, and at the setting that read the listing best it costs five bars for three. The cue earns its place only in a reading reluctant to change key, and there what it rescues is the rondo's episode in the relative minor.
A second slot hears every modulation as a tonicization
A key-finder that names one key per bar reads a chain of applied dominants by moving the key with every chord. Give its state a second slot — the key a bar is in, and the key its dominant points at — and the thirty-two-bar song's bridge is read exactly as the scheme labels it, every bar, for the first time in these essays, and the blues's opening stays in its tonic. At every setting that does that, the rondo's two eight-bar episodes are heard as tonicizations inside C, and no setting of the three costs reads both. A modulation to a closely related key and a long tonicization are the same chords; what separates them is how long they last, and a cost for entering a state cannot count.
A modulation is a dominant that keeps coming back
A key-finder with a slot for an applied dominant read the thirty-two-bar song's bridge as its scheme labels it and heard the rondo's two episodes as tonicizations inside C, and no setting read both. The obvious repair — charge a tonicization by the bar, so a long one costs more than a short one — makes it worse: the reading gives up the bridge before it gives back a single episode, because the bridge spends six bars in applied chords and the episodes three and two. By the bar, the chain is the longest tonicization in the listing. What the episodes have and the bridge does not is a dominant that resolves to the same tonic again and again.
A return is cheaper to avoid than to pay for
The essay before this one found what separates a modulation from a tonicization: an episode's dominant keeps resolving to the same target, and the bridge's dominants never do. So the key-finder was given a memory of where its last dominant went, and charged for a return — the prediction being that one setting would at last hear the episodes as keys and the bridge as a chain. None does. Every return the charge is aimed at is avoided for less than a nat, by hearing a D7 as a minor chord or by moving the passage into another key, while the reading the charge was meant to force costs twelve.
The bar a gamelan can least afford wrong is the one its skeleton lands on
A wrong bar in a gamelan costs what its beating against the other instrument costs, and that depends on how often the music doubles the degree. The obvious place for doubling is where an elaborating part meets the skeleton at the end of each four-stroke unit, so the prediction was that the meeting rule would rank the degrees. It barely does: a part left to ring doubles a degree whenever it sounds it while the other instrument's bar still sounds, and the meetings add three per cent. What ranks the degrees is where the skeleton lands. A skeleton that ends its units on one degree makes that bar three and a half to five times as costly to leave wrong as any other single bar.
An elaboration that arrives early makes every goal tone the bar to tune first
A gamelan's bars are costliest to leave out of tune where the skeleton lands, but a mode with three goal tones spread the cost so thinly that a low goal could end up cheaper than a high bar that is never a goal. The rule tested there put the elaborating part on the goal only at the goal stroke. Elaborations in the style reach their goal early and stay on it. Let them arrive seven strokes early and every goal tone costs more than three times the dearest bar that is not a goal; the goal's own cost rises by about half for every few strokes of anticipation, and a whole instrument out of tune becomes dearer too.
A gamelan's beating names its goal only if each goal beats at its own rate
When a gamelan's elaborating parts reach a goal tone early, a pair of instruments tuned slightly apart beats on that degree for the strokes before the goal — a swell of shimmer just before each structural stroke, which is exactly where a recognisable event does a slow cycle's clock most good. Whether it does that good depends on whether one goal's swell can be told from another's. Tune every pair to the same beat rate, the practice that keeps a gamelan's shimmer even, and every swell is the same event: it buys a third of what it could. Tune every pair the same number of cents apart and each degree beats at its own rate, fifteen per cent faster than the degree below, and the swells start naming which goal is coming.
The leading note is already inside the chord that hides the key
A key-finder kept hearing a rondo's episodes as passages inside C, and the escape it used was to hear a D7 as a D minor chord, throwing away its F♯. Charge a chromatic note by how strongly it points at another key, and that escape closes. Nothing else moves, because every F♯ and G♯ in the episodes was already inside the chord the reading heard — as the third of V of V. The charge takes a chromatic note seriously everywhere except where it was needed, and in the blues it mistakes a flattened seventh for a leading note.
A gamelan tuner can name the goals for nothing
A pair tuned so that each goal beats at its own rate lets the swells before a gamelan's structural strokes say which goal is coming, and the question left was what that costs in roughness. Held at the same average shimmer, nothing: a constant interval adds one per cent less roughness than an even beat rate, and a rate rising as the square of the pitch adds three per cent less while naming the goals for a far coarser ear. The even shimmer puts its widest pairs on the low degrees, where a cent of detuning costs most.
A gamelan's shimmer has to start again at every octave
Within one octave, a gamelan tuner who lets each pair's beat rate rise faster than its pitch names the goal tones and pays nothing in roughness for it. Carried across a real instrument's three octaves, the same rise breaks twice. The steepest rise that keeps every pair beating falls from a power of four to a power of one, and the roughness saving turns into a cost: a rise as the square of the pitch is seven per cent rougher than one rate everywhere. A tuning that gives each degree its middle-octave rate in every octave keeps both the clock and the saving at any compass. The beat rate then names the degree, not the pitch.
A degree's three swells are one landmark only if they agree
A gamelan's goal tone is struck in several octaves at once, so the swell of beating that warns of it is three swells. A tuning whose beat rate rises with pitch across the whole compass gives each octave its own rate, and a listener who hears a degree's swells as one event only when their rates agree finds that, at any useful rise, none of them do: every goal becomes a swell of no particular rate and the clock is left exactly where swells that all sound alike leave it. No rise can both name the goals and let their swells agree, since naming needs ten times the power agreeing allows. Repeating the middle octave's rates in every octave does both.
A gamelan's shimmer should rise only downward
A gamelan tuner who lets each pair's beat rate follow its pitch saves roughness in the low octave, where the pairs slow, and pays it in the high octave, where they race. Repeating the middle octave's rates only at the goal tones and letting the rest follow the pitch, as the lead proposed, is rougher than repeating everywhere. The tuning that saves is the one that lets the rate follow the pitch below the middle octave and repeats it above — a fifth less roughness at the square — and it keeps the clock only if the low octave does not double the goals.
A gamelan's shimmer has no cheaper shape, only a slower one
The tuning that let each pair's beat rate follow its pitch below the middle octave and repeated it above saved a fifth of the roughness — and slowed the ensemble's average shimmer by more than a third while doing it. Held to the shimmer it promised, it is rougher than repeating the middle octave's rates everywhere, and the middle octave's rates simply slowed to the same average are smoother than either. With the average fixed, the cheapest shape runs the other way, and a knee is never cheaper than a step.
A gamelan's shimmer can slow to a fifth before its clock notices
Roughness falls steadily as every pair's beating is slowed by one factor, and the listener who times a goal's swell does not object until the shimmer is a fifth of the promised speed. The limit is not how many beats a swell holds — a ten-second step holds eight even there — but the once-a-second boundary below which a beat is waited out rather than counted, and it bites when the second-slowest goal degree crosses it. At the quick tempi where a swell could hold too few beats, the skeleton already carries the clock alone.
A goal tone that returns should swell only once
When two of a gamelan cycle's four goal strokes land on the same degree, their swells of beating sound alike, and a listener who hears one cannot tell which goal is coming. Across all 625 ways five degrees can fill four goals, 365 are served better by an elaboration that anticipates fewer goals than four. The repeated pair costs most at slow cycles, can cost more than every swell is worth at moderate ones, and is spared only when its first swell comes straight after the gong.
A tune's range is a number of notes, not an interval
An earlier essay derived the width of a tune from a walk pulled back towards its middle, and read it in semitones. That reading has a scale inside it. Put the same walk on five notes, seven and twelve, and at thirty notes it covers 16, 11 and 7 semitones, while using the same seven or so different pitches on all three. The width a tune inherits from its walk is a count of notes, which an interval then measures. And on a pentatonic scale, the taught rule about leaps cannot even be stated in semitones.
A melody's pull can be counted only where a step is a skip
A melody drifts back towards its centre, and nobody has said in what unit: a distance on the keyboard or a distance in the scale. On even scales the two cannot be told apart. On unequal ones they can, and an exact reckoning puts a price on it: about five hundred thirty-note tunes on the major scale, a dozen on hirajōshi. The price falls with the square of how uneven the scale is, and then drops seventeenfold at the point where a step of the scale gets wide enough to be counted as a skip.