Six rhythms, all from the same construction
Drawn above with its standard settings, which is almost never how an essay draws it: an essay states the numbers it is arguing about, so the figure a reader meets there is about that argument rather than about the drawing in general. Every option a placement passes is checked against the ones this function actually reads, because an option it does not read is silently ignored and the figure quietly draws what is above instead.
It makes a noise. 93 of its 93 placements carry sound, built from the same numbers as the drawing, offering these buttons: 5 in 16 with a longest silence of 12, 5 in 16 with a longest silence of 4, A displacement that makes a new figure, marked, A displacement that shifts the bell, marked, As played, E(2,4), E(2,5), E(2,8) and 100 more.
Called by 21 essays
the blast radius of changing it
As evenly as possible, which turns out to be a famous rhythm
Ask an algorithm to space five strikes over eight beats as evenly as it can. It produces the cinquillo. Ask for three over eight and it produces the tresillo. Nobody told it about Cuba.
Swing is a ratio, and it is not two to one
Swung quavers are notated as a triplet figure, which is a ratio of two to one. Measurements of what drummers actually play give anything from three and a half to one down to one to one, and which of those it is depends almost entirely on the tempo.
Beats of unequal length
A bar of nine in Balkan practice is not nine of anything. It is four beats, three short and one long, and the inequality is at the beat level rather than inside it — which is a thing no single division of a bar can produce.
The beat is inferred, and sometimes wrongly
A bar line is not in the sound. One sequence of onsets supports a reading in four, in three and in six, and which one a listener settles on comes from a small set of preference rules rather than from anything in the signal — which is why the same recording can be heard two ways and why nobody can be talked out of either.
The same algorithm made a Cuban rhythm
Ask Bjorklund's algorithm for seven onsets in twelve steps and it returns 101101011010, which read as pitch classes is the natural minor scale. That function has been producing the tresillo and the cinquillo here from the beginning, and nobody has said that the scale field's central object comes out of it unchanged.
The third pattern nobody played
Two players play two even pulses and a third rhythm arrives that neither of them played. It has a + b − 1 onsets, its gaps read the same forwards and backwards, and it uses exactly min(a, b) different lengths — which is a better account of why 3:2 is a figure and 7:5 is weather than the number used for the last three essays.
The bell is not a polyrhythm
Five earlier essays have set one pattern against another. In the practice the word cross-rhythm was borrowed from, there is one pattern and it is played against the beat — against several beats at once. Counted against the four divisions of a twelve-cycle, the Ewe bell marks half of the two, two-thirds of the three, half of the four and half of the six, and all of none of them.
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.
A cycle that says where it is
Euclidean timelines were asked how quickly they tell a listener where in the cycle they are, and answered it with rotational asymmetry: a symmetric pattern never locates at all. A colotomic cycle answers the same question with nothing asymmetric in it. Several isochronous layers at nested periods — a gong every sixteen, a kempul every eight, a kenong every four — put the position in which instruments sound, and the position is legible from a single stroke.
The cycle that outruns the memory
A timeline and a colotomy were compared at equal strokes and the comparison had no clock in it. A memory span is a number of seconds and a cycle is a number of steps, so the two only meet through a tempo — and at a clave's two seconds a listener's memory covers twenty-eight steps and forgets nothing, while at a gong cycle's forty it covers 1.4 and forgets almost everything. The single line is the better locator up to twenty-three seconds a cycle and the layered code is better after it, which is very close to where each is actually used.
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.
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.
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 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.