Acoustics & Music Theory
why it sounds like that
Theme

The design was forced

A piano's hammer strikes at a seventh of the string, a bass string is wound, a guitar's saddle is slanted and a clarinet has one register hole doing a dozen jobs. None of those is a tradition. Each is the answer to an arithmetic that admitted no better one, and the leftover error is computable.
What a 60 cm tube supports, by how its ends are closed. The first 6 modes of an open cylinder and a stopped cylinder, all of the same acoustic length. An open tube supports every whole multiple of the fundamental and reaches the second mode an octave up. A cylinder stopped at one end supports only the odd multiples and reaches its second mode 1902 cents up, which is a twelfth. Its fundamental is also an octave below the others, because it fits a quarter of a wavelength where they fit a half. Instruments and their design

A tube that skips every other partial

Stop one end of a cylinder and half its modes vanish. That single fact about where the pressure has to be decides that a clarinet sounds hollow, that it plays an octave below its length suggests, and that it must cover nineteen semitones with fingers before it can overblow — while every other woodwind covers twelve.

 What a 60 cm tube supports, by how its ends are closed. The first 6 modes of a stopped cylinder and a cone, all of the same acoustic length. A cone supports every whole multiple of the fundamental and reaches the second mode an octave up. A cylinder stopped at one end supports only the odd multiples and reaches its second mode 1902 cents up, which is a twelfth. Its fundamental is also an octave below the others, because it fits a quarter of a wavelength where they fit a half. Instruments and their design

A cone is not a cylinder

A saxophone has a reed at a closed end, exactly as a clarinet does, and it overblows at the octave rather than the twelfth. If the previous essay's argument were about reeds that would refute it. It is about geometry, and a cone closed at its apex has the complete harmonic series for a reason that takes one line of algebra and is genuinely surprising.

 The end correction, for a bore of radius 7.5 mm. How flat a tube sounds against what its physical length alone would predict, because the wave carries on past the opening before it turns round. The correction is 4.6 mm at every note — Levine and Schwinger's 0.6133 times the radius for an unflanged end — and the error it causes is 13 cents on a 60 cm sounding length and 52 cents on 15 cm. It is the same millimetres in both cases. Instruments and their design

The tube ends after it ends

A wave does not turn round at the opening. It carries on into the room for about six-tenths of the bore radius and reflects there, so every tube is acoustically longer than it is. The correction is a fixed number of millimetres against a wavelength that halves every octave — a rounding error at the bottom of an instrument's range and most of a semitone at the top.

 Where each family's tone-hole lattice stops reflecting. The cutoff frequency of an open tone-hole lattice, from Benade's formula, for four woodwind geometries: clarinet 1824 Hz, oboe 2990 Hz, flute 1690 Hz, bassoon 506 Hz. Below its cutoff a note's wave turns round at the first open hole and the instrument is a tube of that length; above it the wave passes through the whole lattice and radiates from the far end, so the upper part of every note's spectrum leaves the instrument from the same place whichever note is fingered. That is what gives a family one recognisable voice across its range. Instruments and their design

Above a certain note the holes stop working

A row of open tone holes reflects the wave and makes the tube shorter — up to a frequency. Above it the wave runs straight past the whole lattice and leaves from the bell, so the top of every note's spectrum radiates from the same place whichever note is fingered. That cutoff is computable, it differs by family, and it is most of what makes an oboe sound like an oboe.

 One register vent, 12 fingerings. Where the second mode's pressure node sits for each fingering of a stopped tube, against a single register hole drilled 12 cm from the mouthpiece. The node is a third of the way along the sounding length, so it moves every time a hole is opened, and the vent's error runs from -38 to -1 cents across the range. A perfect register system would need one hole per fingering. The number of holes actually fitted is one, and the leftover is a design decision rather than a fault. Instruments and their design

One hole doing a dozen jobs

A register key works by forcing a pressure node where the second mode already has one, which kills the fundamental and leaves the mode above. The node sits a fixed fraction along the sounding length — and the sounding length changes with every fingering, while the hole stays where it was drilled. The leftover error is computable, and it is why the throat notes are the ones players complain about.

 A string struck at one 7th of its length. The amplitude of each partial of an ideal string excited at 0.1429 of its length. The mode shape is a sine, so a partial with a node at the excitation point cannot be set moving at all: partials 7, 14 are silent here. The envelope over the rest is one over n, a struck string's. Instruments and their design

Where the hammer lands

Strike a string at exactly one over n and the nth partial is silent, because the hammer has landed on that mode's node and cannot move it. A piano's hammers strike between a seventh and a ninth of the way along, which puts the seventh partial — the most dissonant member of the series — at or near a null. That is a design decision made in wood, and it takes one line of trigonometry.

 The same note, hit at a middling dynamic. The spectrum of a struck string with the hammer's own contact time applied as a low-pass. Contact lasts 1.60 ms at this force, against 2.26 ms at the softest and 0.95 ms at the loudest drawn — felt is a nonlinear spring, so a harder blow is a shorter contact and a brighter note. The spectral centroid moves from partial 1.5 to partial 2.2, which is a change of timbre and not of loudness. Instruments and their design

A hammer is not an impulse

Contact lasts a couple of milliseconds, which low-passes the note — any partial whose half-period is shorter than the contact is barely excited. Piano felt is a spring that stiffens as it compresses, so a harder blow makes the contact shorter, the corner higher and the note brighter. A loud note is not a scaled-up quiet one, and no linear model gives that.

 How much bow force is allowed, and where. Schelleng's diagram. The lower bound is the least force that will trigger a slip on every pass of the corner and goes as one over beta squared; the upper bound is the most the string will take before it sticks for more than a period and goes as one over beta. At beta = 0.09 the usable range spans a factor of 9.0; at 0.03, near the bridge, it is 3.0, and at 0.2, over the fingerboard, 20.0. The window closes in proportion to beta, so the difficulty of playing near the bridge is a slope on this picture rather than a matter of opinion. Instruments and their design

How much bow is allowed

Too little force and the corner fails to trigger a slip on every pass; too much and the string sticks for more than a period. Both bounds depend on where the bow is, and they depend on it differently — one as the square of the distance from the bridge and one linearly — so the window between them closes in proportion as the bow approaches the bridge. Sul ponticello is difficult by a power law.

 What is struck, and where its partials land. Partial ratios for an ideal string, an ideal membrane, a kettledrum, drawn on a logarithmic axis so that a whole-number ratio is a fixed distance from the last. An ideal string: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6. An ideal membrane: 1, 1.59, 2.14, 2.29, 2.65, 2.92. A kettledrum: 1, 1.50, 1.99, 2.44, 2.89. The membrane's are Bessel zeros — a derivation, and they land nowhere near the whole numbers. The kettledrum's have been pulled toward 2 : 3 : 4 : 5 by the enclosed air, on a fundamental an octave below the lowest partial present. Instruments and their design

What a drum is doing instead

An ideal membrane's modes are zeros of Bessel functions — 1, 1.59, 2.14, 2.30 — which support no common fundamental, so a drum rings without a note. A timpani is that problem solved — the kettle's air and the radiation load drag four modes onto 1, 1.5, 2, 2.5, and the pitch a timpanist tunes is the fundamental those four imply and none of them is.

 A string mode swept through a body resonance at 460 Hz. What the string plays against what comes out. Away from the resonance the two are the same and the line is the diagonal. Near it the mode splits into a pair, and the note warbles at the difference between them — 12.9 Hz at the centre, which is slow enough to be counted and far too fast to be a tremolo. The splitting is a coupled oscillator and has nothing to do with the wolf fifth of a tuning system, which is a twenty-three cent arithmetic residue and shares only the word. Timbre and acoustics

The other wolf

A cellist's wolf note is a string mode landing on a body resonance, at which point the two stop being separable and start exchanging energy — the mode splits in two and the note warbles at the difference. It is a coupled oscillator. The tuning system's wolf is twelve fifths failing to close by 23.5 cents. They share a word and nothing else.

 The worst interval in each open chord, before and after the best possible compensation. For each shape, the largest departure of any interval from the just interval its name implies, in cents. Before compensation the worst is 15.6 cents; after a search over per-string saddle compensation it is 15.6. The search has six numbers to fix eight shapes with, and on this measure it finds nothing worth changing — because what is being measured is almost entirely equal temperament's own thirds, and a saddle moves a length rather than a temperament. Pitch and tuning

A guitar cannot be in tune

Three errors land on the same instrument — equal temperament's own thirds, the sharpening that comes from pressing a string down to a fret, and the fact that the only correction available is one length per string. Searching over every setting a luthier could choose leaves a worst-case error of about fifteen cents, and most of what is left is the temperament, which no saddle can reach.

 The same total, distributed differently. The departure of each of the twelve major thirds from a pure 5:4, one row per temperament, keys ordered round the circle of fifths. The totals are equal — every closing temperament's twelve thirds add to 4800 cents — so what a temperament chooses is not how much error there is but which keys carry it. Pitch and tuning

What a temperament cannot do

Add up the twelve major thirds of any keyboard tuning whose chain of fifths closes and the answer is 4,800 cents. Every time, in every system, before a single fifth has been chosen. So no temperament has ever made the average third less wrong than any other one, and four hundred years of argument were about a distribution rather than about accuracy.

 Every voicing of a major triad, least rough first. All 27 arrangements of the same three pitch classes within 3 octaves from 131 Hz, scored for roughness. The best is spaced 19 then 9 semitones — wide below, close above — and the worst is the chord in close position at the bottom of the range, 6.6 times rougher with exactly the same notes in it. Harmony and voice leading

Where to put the third

Take three pitch classes, four octaves to put them in, and score all twenty-seven arrangements. The smoothest is root, fifth an octave up, third two octaves up — which is partials one, three and five of the harmonic series — and the roughest, at every register tried, is the chord in close root position at the bottom of the range. Every orchestration manual states that rule and none of them derives it.

 What each rule costs, in semitones of extra motion. Each prohibition priced on I – ii – iii – IV as the difference between the cheapest realisation that obeys it and the cheapest realisation of all, averaged over every one of the 144 melodies the progression admits inside an octave. The dearest rule costs 1.27 semitones a melody and the cheapest costs nothing, so the bars run from 1.27 to zero; the notes beside them give the share of melodies that pay nothing, or that cannot obey the rule at all. Harmony and voice leading

What the rules cost

The prohibitions of counterpoint are constraints on a minimisation already computed here, so each one has a price in semitones of extra motion. Priced over every melody a progression admits, most of them turn out to be free, the dearest is not the famous one, and two of them cost no motion at all — they cost tunes.

 What 2 partials imply, and how many answers there are. The partials are at 32.7, 49.0 Hz. Each row is a harmonic series they are consistent with to within 30 cents: the filled dots are the partials in their assigned slots and the open dots are slots the series predicts that nothing occupies. There are 5 such series with harmonic numbers up to 16, the best fitting them to 1.4 cents with a fundamental of 16.34 Hz and no unoccupied slot. The rest sit at one half, one third, one quarter, one fifth of it and their arithmetic is exactly as exact; what separates them is the count of empty slots, which is why a residue pitch built from few partials is reported an octave out by a minority of listeners and not by the rest. Instruments and their design

Two pipes for a note neither makes

The resultant stop sounds a sixteen-foot pipe and a ten-and-two-thirds-foot pipe and asks the listener for a thirty-two-foot note. It is the missing fundamental built on purpose from the fewest partials that can imply anything — and counting how many fundamentals two partials actually imply is the arithmetic behind three centuries of builders disagreeing about whether it works.

 The most a 6 cm cone can make of a low note. The maximum sound pressure level at one metre from a circular radiator of effective radius 3.2 cm, moving 1.5 mm at its limit, in a system resonating at 250 Hz. Below resonance the cone is already at that limit and the pressure a piston makes goes as the square of frequency, so the curve falls at twelve decibels an octave: 66 dB at 40 Hz, 78 dB at 80 Hz, 94 dB at 200 Hz. The 40 Hz figure is 28 decibels below the 200 Hz one, and that gap is arithmetic about a radius and a displacement rather than a property of any particular loudspeaker. The dots are the harmonics of a 41.2 Hz note with a one-over-n source spectrum; the loudest of them is the 6th. Instruments and their design

The bass a small loudspeaker does not make

A three-inch cone at its excursion limit produces sixty-six decibels at forty hertz, which the ear converts to seventeen phons — barely above nothing. The note is heard anyway, because its harmonics are radiated and its fundamental is supplied by the listener. Computing what arrives turns the residue from a curiosity into a design decision, and finds that the fundamental of a low note is not the loudest part of it on any system a listener is likely to own.

 The bell against every division of its cycle. A 12-step pattern of 7 onsets drawn round a circle, with 4 equal divisions of the same cycle as inner rings. Each ring's beats are filled where the pattern strikes them: 1 of the 2, 2 of the 3, 2 of the 4, 3 of the 6. No division has all of its beats struck and none has none of them, so the pattern belongs to no one of them and can be played against any of them. That is what a cross-rhythm is here: one pattern against the beat, and against more than one beat at once, rather than two patterns against each other. Rhythm and metre

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.

 Two metres as trees. Two metres — 9/8 as 3 × 3, 3 + 3 + 3; 9/8 as 2+2+2+3, 2 + 2 + 2 + 3 — each drawn as the bar dividing into beats and the beats dividing again. Simple and compound metres have the same number of beats and differ in the second division; an additive metre has beats of unequal length, which no single division produces. Rhythm and metre

No term for an unequal beat

A Balkan bar of nine is four beats, three short and one long. The induction rules lay their strong positions at a fixed period, so the only readings of nine it can offer are nine, three and one — and for a bar of seven, where seven is prime, the only readings are seven and one. The right answer is not among the candidates.

 The same census, in every universe from four to thirty. How many sets have all four properties, in a universe of n equal steps. None at all when n is two more than a multiple of four — 6, 10, 14, 18, 22, 26, 30 — exactly one when n is a multiple of four, and exactly two when n is odd. The multiples of four each have their survivor at n/2 + 1 notes generated by n/2 − 1 steps, so twelve's seven notes generated by the fifth is the general answer with n put at twelve rather than a fact about twelve. Pitch and tuning

Every universe has one, or none

Run the census that found the diatonic set in a universe of nineteen equal steps, or twenty-four, or fifty-three. The answer is completely regular and nobody appears to have written it down — none at all when the universe is two more than a multiple of four, exactly one when it is a multiple of four, and exactly two when it is odd.

 The triad on every degree of every rotation. The quality of the triad built on each degree of each rotation, computed from the set rather than tabulated. The triad on the fifth degree is major in 3 of the 7: Lydian, Ionian, Locrian. Of those, Locrian has no triad on its own first degree to resolve to, and Lydian has its fifth degree on the note the parent collection is built from, so the cadence would confirm the parent rather than the mode. What is left is Ionian — one rotation of the 7, and the others have to end some other way. Harmony and voice leading

One dominant among seven

The triad on the fifth degree is major in three of the seven rotations. One of those three has no triad on its own first degree, and one has its fifth degree on the note the parent collection is built from — so exactly one rotation of the seven has a dominant, and the other six end by moves that cost twice as much in voice leading.

 Where the series stops being a chord and becomes a scale. The interval between each partial and the next, in semitones, against partial number. It is an octave, then a fifth, then a fourth, a major third, a minor third — and it crosses 2 semitones between partials 9 and 10. Each shaded band is one octave of pitch and holds twice as many partials as the band below it: 2 between 1 and 2, 3 between 2 and 4, 5 between 4 and 8, 9 between 8 and 16. Nothing about the series changes with height; what changes is the density, and a set of notes becomes usable as a melody when its neighbours are a step apart. Instruments and their design

The register where the series becomes a scale

A melody needs steps, and a natural trumpet has only the harmonic series. The gap between one partial and the next falls as the series rises — an octave, a fifth, a fourth, a third — and does not reach a whole tone until the eighth. That single arithmetic fact decides what two centuries of brass writing could be: fanfares below, and melody only in a band one octave wide with nine notes in it, three of them badly out of tune and every one of them lipped into place by a player who had no valve to press.

 A constant bow force cannot start a note. Schelleng's minimum and maximum bow force, evaluated at the speed the bow has after one period rather than at the speed the note will be sustained at. Both bounds are proportional to bow speed and the speed after one period is the acceleration divided by the frequency, so both are proportional to acceleration and the region is a wedge through the origin. Its width as a ratio is 9.0 to 1 at every acceleration — the attack is not a narrower window than the sustain, it is the same window somewhere else. A fixed force, drawn here at 0.02, is inside it at one acceleration, about 0.18, which is why the force has to rise with the speed and why beginning a note is a trajectory through this plane rather than a point in it. Instruments and their design

The note has to start somewhere

Schelleng's diagram says how hard a bow may press at a given distance from the bridge for a steady tone to be possible. It is a map of a note that is already sounding, and it contains no information whatever about how to begin one. Read the same inequality at the speed the bow has after a single period rather than at the speed it will settle to and the admissible region turns out to be a wedge through the origin — same width as a ratio, a hundred and ninety-six times lower in force. A constant bow pressure is inside it for one instant of the attack and outside it for the rest.

 Where the two spellings meet, and where they cross. G♯ minus A♭ against the fraction of a comma each fifth is narrowed by — twelve fifths against seven octaves, and nothing else in the calculation. In Pythagorean tuning G♯ is 23.46 cents ABOVE A♭; in quarter-comma meantone it is 41.06 cents BELOW it; the two spellings coincide at 0.09090 of a comma, which is what equal temperament is. A page that distinguishes the two names is exact in every tuning on this line except one point on it, and at that point it is wrong by 0.0014 cents rather than by nothing, because one eleventh is not quite the crossing. Pitch and tuning

Two names for one key

A keyboard has one key between G and A and the page has two names for it. That looks like redundancy and it is not: the two names are twelve fifths apart on a chain, and in every tuning anybody played before the nineteenth century they are two different pitches. The size of the difference is twelve fifths against seven octaves and nothing else — twenty-three cents one way in Pythagorean, forty-one the other way in meantone, and zero at exactly one point in between.

 C4, in every place it can be played. A guitar neck with the 4 places C4 can be stopped, drawn at the fret spacing a 64.8-centimetre scale actually has. The stave writes one note and the tablature writes one of these; each notation says exactly what the other leaves out. The speaking lengths run from 61.2 down to 27.2 centimetres, so a hand plucking 12 centimetres from the bridge meets between 20 and 44 per cent of the string. Instruments and their design

What a tablature keeps

Middle C can be stopped in four places on a guitar. The speaking lengths run from 61 to 27 centimetres, so a hand plucking twelve centimetres from the bridge meets between a fifth and nearly a half of the string, and the comb of missing partials is different at every one: the second partial is thirteen decibels stronger in the best position than in the worst. A stave writes one note for all four. A tablature writes four different things and cannot say which note any of them is.

 How near the breaking point each string already is. Frequency times length, as a fraction of what the material allows. The ceiling is half the square root of specific strength — sheep gut 240, music wire 276, nylon 114, brass 127 hertz metres — and it depends on nothing a maker can change: not the gauge, not the tension, not the workmanship. The guitar top E runs at 187 per cent of its own ceiling, which is why it is the string that breaks and why every complaint about rising pitch in the historical record is about that one string. Pitch and tuning

A standard is a specification

Choosing where to put A looks like a convention and is a mechanical decision. Tension goes as the square of frequency, so a piano built at 440 and tuned to 466 carries twelve per cent more load — a tonne and a half in this model's arithmetic. And there is a hard ceiling nobody can engineer round: frequency times length is capped by half the square root of a material's specific strength, which for gut is 240 hertz-metres. A violin E at A440 runs at 89 per cent of that. At A493 it is at a hundred, and every complaint in the historical record about rising pitch is about that one string.

 One key, nineteen notes, one right answer. A register hole disturbs a mode in proportion to the square of that mode's pressure at the hole, so the place that spoils the fundamental and leaves the third harmonic alone is the third harmonic's own pressure node — a third of the way down whatever length is sounding. The length changes with every fingering and the key does not move, so the two curves cross at one note. At A3 the key sits almost exactly on the node and the twelfth speaks cleanly; at A♭4 it is at 62 per cent of the tube and disturbs the third harmonic by 96 per cent of what an antinode would, which is the throat of the instrument and is exactly where players say the notes are worst. Instruments and their design

The hole that spoils a note

A tone hole shortens the tube. A register hole does the opposite job: it is small enough to shorten nothing and is placed where it will wreck the fundamental's resonance and leave the third harmonic's alone, so the note jumps a twelfth instead of retuning. The place that does both is a pressure node of the harmonic being kept — a third of the way along whatever length is sounding — and the length changes with every fingering while the key does not. One key is at the right place for exactly one note, and the note it is worst for is in the throat of the instrument, which is where players say the instrument is worst.

 How much of the writing the prohibitions forbid. I – vi – ii – V – I in C major, written in 3, 4, 5, 6 parts, with every ensemble covering the same total compass. A triad has three pitch classes, so n parts double n − 3 of them and a duet cannot state one at all. Of every ordered pair of complete voicings of V and I, the share with no parallel fifth or octave between any pair of voices: 91.2% at 3, 75.0% at 4, 44.3% at 5, 17.9% at 6. Harmony and voice leading

Why the exercise is in four parts

Eight earlier essays move four voices, and nothing here ever chose four. Cut one choir's compass into three parts instead and the two most famous prohibitions in music cost exactly nothing — the cheapest realisation already obeys them. Cut it into six and they cost more than half a semitone per voice per chord change, because a parallel octave needs a doubled note and six voices sharing three notes can hardly avoid one. Four is the smallest number of parts at which the rules have a price at all, and it is the largest at which the price is small.

 A perfectly tuned unison is the shortest note on the piano. How long a struck unison takes to fall forty decibels, against how far apart its two strings are tuned, for a note whose single string would ring for 20 seconds and whose bridge takes the in-phase mode down in 1.5. At a perfect unison the hammer excites only the mode that drives the bridge, so the note dies in 1.00 seconds. The longest note is at 2.30 cents, at 3.05 seconds — three times as long. Past 4.48 cents the two modes stop sharing a frequency and start sharing a decay, the note beats instead of ringing, and the sustain collapses. Instruments and their design

Three strings, and the note that comes back

The usual account of a beat adds two independent sources together. A piano's strings are joined at the bridge and are not independent: the pair has normal modes, one of which drives the bridge and dies in a second and a half while the other cancels at the bridge and rings for twenty. A hammer striking a perfect unison excites only the first — so a perfectly tuned unison is the shortest note on the instrument, dying in one second, and the longest is at a deliberate detuning of about two and a half cents, at three. Past four and a half cents the two modes swap what they share and the sustain collapses.

 How near the node a hammer has to land. The level of partial 7, relative to the loudest partial of the same note, against how far the hammer is from that partial's node — for a contact 2.6 per cent of the speaking length wide, which is 16 mm on a 620 mm string. At the node exactly the partial is absent whatever the width, because a mode shape is odd about its own node and integrating an odd function symmetrically gives zero. Twenty decibels of suppression needs the hammer within 2.82 mm, and thirty needs 0.89 mm. The width itself barely matters in the musical range: its sinc reaches its first zero only at partial 77. Instruments and their design

The hammer is not a point either

The comb of missing partials is computed throughout for a contact of no width, and a piano hammer is sixteen millimetres of felt on a string of six hundred. Integrating the mode shape across the felt turns out not to fill the null in: a mode is odd about its own node, so a symmetric contact centred on it gives an exact zero however wide it is. What destroys the null is being in the wrong place, and the tolerance is 2.8 millimetres for twenty decibels of suppression and 0.89 for thirty. The design decision found at the outset is a manufacturing tolerance.

 How unequal a beat is allowed to be. Five bars — 2+3, 2+2+3, 2+2+2+3, 2+5, 3+4 — with the range of subdivision durations at which every one of the bar's beats stays inside the window where a series of events can be a beat — a tenth of a second to two seconds. The metres made of twos and threes have the widest bands, and they have them for a reason that is not about the window: a group of four subdivisions decomposes into two twos and a group of five into a two and a three, so neither is a beat at all. The only indivisible lengths are two and three, which fixes the ratio between an aksak metre's long and short beats at 3:2 by arithmetic. Rhythm and metre

How unequal a beat is allowed to be

A Balkan bar of nine is four beats, three short and one long, and the long one is always three subdivisions against two. Never four against two, never five against three. The usual explanation is that this is what the tradition does; there is a better one and it needs no perceptual measurement at all. A group of four subdivisions decomposes into two twos and a group of five into a two and a three, so neither is a beat — it is two. The only indivisible lengths are two and three, which fixes the ratio at three to two before anybody listens, and leaves the tempo window to decide only how fast the bar can go.

 Blowing harder is playing sharper. How far the played note is pulled from the bore's own resonance, against blowing pressure, for an air jet crossing a 4 mm embouchure. The jet's preferred frequency goes as the square root of the pressure, so it rises by a factor of 3.16 across the tenfold pressure range drawn, and the bore holds it to 272 cents of that — from -174 at the quietest to +98 at the loudest, about the player's own nominal. The rows below give the same pull for a drive one semitone sharp of the bore, for four valves: a clarinet reed is damped by the lip and pulls 4.9 cents, brass lips are not and pull 23.6. Pitch and tuning

Blowing harder is playing sharper

Every frequency computed so far for an air column is a resonance of the tube, and no wind instrument plays at its bore's resonance. It plays between the bore and whatever is driving it, weighted by how sharply each is tuned — and a flute's driver is an air jet whose own preferred frequency goes as the square root of the blowing pressure. Across a tenfold pressure range the jet's preference rises by a factor of 3.16 and the bore holds it to 112 cents of that. A wind player's dynamics and their intonation are one control, and the size of the coupling between them is the valve's Q.

 What a chorus costs on one bridge. The sixty-decibel time of the longest-lived mode of two coupled strings at 262 hertz, against how far apart they are tuned. Below the bifurcation at 4.5 cents the pair splits its decays and one mode rings on; above it the pair splits its frequencies instead, both modes carry the bridge's loss, and the sustain sits at 2.8 seconds however much further the tuning is opened. The flat line is what the same two strings would do if they did not share a bridge. A chorused sound and a long one cannot be had from one bridge, and the first four and a half cents cost all of it. Pitch and tuning

The pair tuned apart on purpose

A piano's unison buys its sustain with a detuning of two and a half cents and loses it past four and a half. Read from the other side that is a design constraint on every instrument that wants the beating instead: past the bifurcation the sustain is gone and no further detuning costs anything more, which is why every chorused voice in the world — the celeste rank, the musette reeds, the paired gamelan — is built out of sources that do not share a bridge.

 Which partials of a natural horn can be lipped into tune. Every partial of the natural series against the nearest note of twelve equal, in cents, with the band the player's lips can actually move it drawn around each one. The band is ±23.1 cents, computed from the Q-weighted mean of a bore at Q 40 and lips at Q 12 rather than chosen. 4 of the first 16 partials fall outside it: 7, 11, 13, 14. The worst is the 11th at -48.7 cents, which would need lips of Q 38 to reach — comparable with the bore's own, at which point the bore has stopped deciding the pitch at all. Pitch and tuning

The partial the lips cannot reach

A wind instrument plays between its valve's preferred frequency and its bore's, which suggested that the natural trumpet's notorious eleventh partial would therefore turn out to be a statement about the lips. It is not. Run the same Q-weighted mean over the whole series and the lips can move that partial twenty-three cents, which is a quarter of what it needs — and the Q that would fix it is the Q at which the bore stops choosing the note.

 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. Instruments and their design

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. Instruments and their design

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 note a chord would rather have twice. Every complete four-part voicing of each chord inside the SATB ranges, grouped by which member sounds twice and scored for roughness — 480 voicings for a triad. The order for a major triad is root < fifth < third, which is the rule every part-writing treatise states. For a minor triad it is fifth < root < third, which is not. The numbers printed under each bar are the mean error, in cents, with which the four sounding notes fit a single harmonic series, and that measure separates the three far more sharply than roughness does. Intervals and chords

The note that sounds twice

A triad has three notes and a four-part texture has four voices, so one note is doubled — and the voicing model used here leaves the choice free because the rules have an opinion about it. Asked properly, the arithmetic agrees with the treatises for the first time in nine essays: root, then fifth, then third. For a minor triad it does not agree, and for a symmetric chord it correctly has nothing to say.

 The staff holds 11 positions and nothing fits in it. Each clef's eleven staff positions — five lines, four spaces and the space either side — as a bar on an axis that counts letters, with eight ranges laid underneath. The clefs step through the axis in thirds and cover fifteen positions of offset between them. Every range drawn is wider than eleven positions: the four voices span 13, 12, 13, 13 and the four instruments 24, 24, 25, 23, so the best clef for each still leaves 1 to 7 positions off the staff. A clef is a choice of which end sticks out. Scales and modes

The clef is an integer

The first essay on notation found that the staff's vertical axis counts letters rather than pitch, and named the clef as a question it was leaving open. Paid, it is arithmetic: a staff holds eleven letters, no voice or instrument is that narrow, and the eight clefs of European practice step through the axis in thirds — a spacing that buys everything a set of fifteen would buy on a wide range, for eight.

 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. Instruments and their design

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.

 What a hand in the bell buys, and what it costs. How far the instrument flattens and how much radiation it loses, against the share of the bell's mouth the hand blocks, for an F horn's 15 centimetre mouth on a 3.7 metre acoustic length. The two curves are the same aperture radius read twice: a narrower mouth adds inertance, which lengthens the tube, and is acoustically smaller, which stops radiating. The mark is the 25.6 cents left owed earlier on the eleventh partial — it needs 62 per cent of the mouth blocked and costs 3.8 decibels of radiated power. Fully stopping is a semitone and nine decibels. Pitch and tuning

The hand that changes the bore

A conjecture refuted here left a question with a number on it: the natural trumpet's eleventh partial is 48.7 cents flat, the lips can move it 23.1, and 25.6 cents are owed by something that is not an embouchure. There is exactly one thing a player can change about the bore while playing, and putting the hand in the bell buys those 25.6 cents at a cost of 3.8 decibels — because the aperture that tunes the instrument is the aperture that radiates it.

 Every modern bell puts the boundary at the same partial. For each brass instrument, the partial at which its bell stops turning the wave round — the frequency at which half the energy escapes at the mouth, divided by the tube's own fundamental. The five modern instruments land between partial 8.4 and partial 10.2 despite tube lengths differing by a factor of four, because a bell is scaled with its instrument. The natural trumpet of the baroque, whose bell is small and whose tube is long, puts it at partial 17.2. Intervals and chords

The fourth top is the maker's

The series has three tops and all three are the ear's: where consecutive partials stop being resolved, where their spacing falls below a semitone, and where it falls below what the ear can hear at all. The fourth is how far up a player can go, and it is the only one somebody chose. Every modern brass bell puts the boundary at about the ninth partial across a family whose tubes differ by a factor of four — and the baroque natural trumpet, whose bell is small, puts it at the seventeenth, which is exactly the top of the clarino register.

 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. Instruments and their design

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.

 C4: the pulse computed and the pulse assumed. Above, the force the hammer delivers to the string at C4, integrated forward against the felt's nonlinear force and the string's returning corner, drawn against the half-sine of 1.60 milliseconds that every earlier figure assumed. The computed contact lasts 2.21 milliseconds and the corner comes home 4.6 times inside it. Below, the excitation each pulse gives to each partial. They agree at the bottom and part company higher up — worst at partial 6, by 34 decibels — because the assumed pulse has nulls the computed one does not. Timbre and acoustics

The pulse that was assumed

Every figure until now low-passes the string's excitation with the spectrum of a half-sine, which is what a hammer would deliver against a rigid wall. An earlier essay said so and declined to do better. Doing better takes forty lines and refuses the prediction that came with it: the corner's round trips govern the spectrum as expected, and the contact time is governed by something else entirely — the mass ratio discovered one essay earlier.

 What the climb costs, in tonnes and in inharmonicity. The total string tension a piano frame carries at each historical standard, computed from the string scaling used here. Tension goes as the square of the pitch, so the climb from 392 to 465 hertz is a rise from 11.5 to 16.2 tonnes on one instrument. The same ratio runs the other way through inharmonicity, which is inversely proportional to tension: the same wire at 465 hertz has 29 per cent less of it than at 392, so its partials are that much closer to a true series. Pitch and tuning

What the climb was a search for

The four-hundred-year rise in the pitch standard is usually explained as a search for brilliance, and an earlier essay ended by asking whether that was even coherent: does raising a string's tension change its spectrum as well as its pitch? Mostly it does not. What changes the timbre is something else entirely, and it is a mechanism that applies to instruments with no strings at all — every filter in the chain is fixed in absolute frequency while the notes move against it, so raising the standard is not a brightening but a reshuffling, and some notes lose.

 What eleven positions cover, at seven to the octave and at twelve. A clef's 11 positions, read as a range, in three systems. At seven positions to the octave they cover 1.57 octaves — an octave and a fourth, which is the seventh rung's own number. At twelve they cover 0.92. Writing a 44-semitone range then takes 3 staves and about 15 ledger positions on the staff, and 4 staves and 33 on a chromatic one. The accidentals a chromatic staff removes are paid for in vertical space, at a rate the two integers fix. Scales and modes

The notations invented for the overflow

Every proposal to replace the staff since the seventeenth century is a response to a specific overflow, and the commonest one — a chromatic staff with twelve positions per octave instead of seven — makes a trade computable from the same two integers the clef essay counted. It buys the accidentals outright and pays 40 per cent of the range, three ledger positions for one, and twenty-three enharmonic distinctions that are not merely absent from the page but unrecoverable.

 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. Instruments and their design

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.

 What a trumpet mouthpiece does to the series. Each bore's modes before a mouthpiece is fitted and after, on the axis that says which harmonic each mode is: zero means the m-th mode sits at m times the spacing and is the m-th harmonic. Every shape starts near -0.14 and ends near 0.05. The cup holds 3.0 millilitres against a throat 3.7 mm across and pops at 642 hertz. What does not improve is the regularity: the spacing stays as uneven as the flare left it. Timbre and acoustics

What the mouthpiece is actually for

A cup and a throat look like a comfort fitting and are a component. Put a real one on the front of a real bore in the horn equation and the whole mode series slides sideways by about a seventh of its own spacing — which is exactly the distance between a series whose second resonance is 1.85 times the spacing and one whose second resonance is the second harmonic. The flare decides whether the modes are evenly spaced; the mouthpiece decides which harmonic each one is.

 cylinder and Bessel flare: the length each mode behaves as though it has. Each mode's own acoustic length, m·c over twice its frequency, for a bore 148 cm long. A cylinder would give one number repeated. This gives 164 cm at the second mode and 154 at the 8th — a spread of 10.1 centimetres, or 110 cents, because a flare's end correction is a length that shrinks as the note rises. The first mode is off the top of this axis and is not a mode a player uses. Pitch and tuning

A horn has one length per partial

Every tube until now has had an acoustic length: its physical length plus a correction for the wave carrying on past the opening. A flaring bore does not have one. Its second mode behaves as though the tube were 164 centimetres long and its eighth as though it were 154, and the ten centimetres between them are the same physical fact — a fixed correction against a shrinking wavelength — arriving as a hundred cents.

 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. Instruments and their design

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.

 Why a concert hall is narrow. The lateral energy fraction at the middle seat as the same hall is widened, everything else held. It peaks at 12 metres across at 0.235 and falls to 0.000 at 44. A wide hall's side walls are further away, so their reflections arrive later, weaker and — this is the part Sabine's model cannot say — from nearer the front, where the sideways weighting discounts them. The shoebox halls the orchestral repertoire was written for are all between about eighteen and twenty-five metres wide, and this is the arithmetic they are the answer to. Perception and the listener

A room with directions in it

Every room until now has been a reservoir of energy that drains at a rate. That model has no directions in it at all, so it cannot say the one thing every published measure of spaciousness is about: how much of what arrives comes from the side. Mirror the source in six walls and every reflection acquires an angle and a time — and the answer to why a concert hall is narrow falls out at eighteen metres.

 Re-gauging at a fixed tension: how close sheep gut comes to breaking. Holding the tension at 700 newtons and re-gauging every string to suit the standard, the diameter each note needs goes as one over its frequency — so the stress goes as the frequency squared, and the margin against breaking falls the same way. At A = 392 the worst note has 1.79 times the stress sheep gut will take; at A = 466 it has 1.27. The margin reaches one at A = 525 hertz, which is far above anything the four hundred years of climb reached. Pitch and tuning

It was never the strings that stopped the climb

Every figure so far holds the instrument still and moves the standard. History did the opposite — instruments were rebuilt to suit the pitch, string by string. Hold the tension instead and each string's gauge is forced: the diameter goes as one over the frequency and the stress as its square. Gut breaks at A = 525 hertz and steel at 604, and the climb stopped at 466. The ceiling was somewhere else entirely.

 What the engraver used here gives a note, measured off the page. The horizontal distance VexFlow allots each duration, read back off a formatted system rather than quoted from a manual. It is not a power of the duration: it is a constant of 58 points plus 15 points a crotchet, and the constant is 93 per cent of the width the shortest note here gets. A note four times as long as another is about 2 times as wide, not four. The floor is the notehead, its stem, its accidental and the space a reader needs to see them as separate events — which is a claim about legibility and not about time at all. Scales and modes

The axis that is not a time axis

Eight earlier essays have measured the staff's vertical axis to a position. Its horizontal one has never been asked about, and the answer is that it is proportional to nothing: measured off the typesetter used here, a note gets 58 points before its duration is considered at all and 15 points a crotchet after — so the constant is 93 per cent of what the shortest note gets, and a note four times as long is not four times as wide.

 Every assignment, at equal levels and at its own best balance. The 6 ways of putting 3 players on a chord, each drawn twice: hollow at equal levels, which is what an assignment ranking sees, and filled at the levels that balance the parts and then minimise roughness. Every scoring here is at the same total loudness, 23.3 sones, so two points are comparable. Solving the discrete problem first picks violin · clarinet · oboe; solving both at once picks violin · oboe · clarinet, and the two-stage answer costs 9.0 per cent more roughness. The orderings do not keep their places between the two columns, which is the whole of the argument: a ranking taken at equal levels is not a ranking. Form and structure

Who plays what and how loud is one question

Two lines of argument, one about spectrum and one about loudness, each stopped at the same wall and each said so. One of them can choose who plays which note and has every player at the same level; the other can choose how loud each part is and has nobody assigned to anything. Put together they are a single problem with two kinds of variable, and solving it in stages picks a different answer from solving it at once — nine per cent rougher, at the same loudness, on an ordinary triad.

 Trumpet at three dynamics, as a spectrum rather than a level. The radiated partials of a trumpet at 45, 70, 95 decibels, each normalised to its own strongest partial so that only the SHAPE is compared. A linear source would give three identical pictures. This one does not: the spectral centroid moves from partial 2.19 to 6.41, a factor of 2.92, because the excitation is nonlinear and blowing harder steepens the pressure front rather than scaling it. The tilt used is 3 decibels per octave of partial number per ten decibels of level, referred to 70 dB — a stipulated, ordinal number, not a measurement of any instrument. Timbre and acoustics

A dynamic mark changes what a note is

Every spectrum until now is a shape with a level in front of it, so that playing ten decibels louder raises every partial by ten. That is true of exactly one instrument in an orchestra. Everybody else steepens their own spectrum as they lean on it, and a trumpet's centre of gravity moves from the second partial to the sixth across a dynamic range while an organ flue pipe's does not move at all.

 The first five peaks, followed as the hand closes. Each line is one member of the series, tracked by its rank rather than by its frequency, and each dot's size is that peak's height. The lowest peak falls from 38 hertz to 34 as the hand closes and then jumps to 45, which is the renumbering computed earlier: past the wall the series is one member shorter at the bottom and every peak has taken the place of the one below it. The dots shrink through the middle of the travel and grow again at the far end, so the transition costs the player support as well as pitch — and the cost is temporary, which is why a fully stopped horn is a usable instrument and a nearly stopped one is not. Pitch and tuning

A resonance has a strength as well as a frequency

What eleven earlier essays drew is a row of frequencies, because the solver behind it has no losses and a lossless resonance has no width. Put the losses in and every one of them acquires a height and a Q — and the hand closing a horn's bell turns out to take away nine and a half per cent of the instrument's total support before giving all of it back, in a window a few per cent wide where the horn is genuinely hard to play.

 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. Instruments and their design

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.

 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. Instruments and their design

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.

 Which of the four terms is doing the removing, note by note. Each of three terms has a corner — a partial number above which it is the one taking the energy away — and the lowest corner at each pitch is the term that binds. The comb is flat at 8, because where the hammer lands is a fraction of the length and does not change with the note. The contact time's corner falls from 34 at A0 to 0.5 at A7. They cross at about E3, 165 hertz: below it the strike point decides the spectrum and above it the contact time does. The dispersion's corner is above both at every pitch on the instrument — 5.8 at the top against a contact corner of 0.5 — so that earlier term is real and is nowhere the binding one. That is a statement no one of them could make on its own. Timbre and acoustics

Four terms, and only one of them binds

Six earlier essays each computed one term of a piano's excitation spectrum and handed it to the next, and nobody had multiplied them. Multiplied, three of the four have a corner — a partial above which they are the term doing the removing — and putting the three corners on one axis says which is in charge at each pitch. Below E3 the strike point decides; above it the contact time does; and the dispersion, which is the newest and most laborious term, is nowhere the binding one.

 How much music each notation fits on a page. The two axes multiplied. Vertically, a system is as tall as the staves the range needs; horizontally, a system holds as many notes as fit once the shortest is wide enough to read. the staff, seven to the octave: 3 staves to the system, 4 systems and 38 notes to a system, 152 notes to the page — 46 seconds at 100 beats a minute, so a page turn every 46 seconds; a chromatic staff, twelve to the octave: 4 staves to the system, 3 systems and 38 notes to a system, 114 notes to the page — 34 seconds at 100 beats a minute, so a page turn every 34 seconds; a whole-tone staff, six to the octave: 2 staves to the system, 7 systems and 38 notes to a system, 266 notes to the page — 80 seconds at 100 beats a minute, so a page turn every 80 seconds. a whole-tone staff, six to the octave holds 2.33 times what a chromatic staff, twelve to the octave does, which is a difference of 1.00 page turns a minute — and a page turn is a thing a player with two hands occupied cannot do. Scales and modes

How much music a page holds

Nine earlier essays have measured notations, and every one of them is a page — a two-dimensional object read in a fixed order by a reader who has to turn it. One measured the vertical axis and another the horizontal, and multiplying them gives the one design constraint on notation that is not about legibility at all: a chromatic staff turns pages a third more often than an ordinary one, and a proportional spacing rule turns them nearly twice as often as a columnar one.

 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. Instruments and their design

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.

 The violin's attack times, string by string. Every playable cell of the earlier map, with its bow-force window turned into a time. A player aiming at the geometric centre of the window has to wait until the accelerating bow's maximum force rises to that value, which is a fraction one over the square root of the window width of the way through the bow's ramp — so a narrow window is a late note and the exponent is a half. The latest cell is C♯4 on the G3 string at 21.9 milliseconds, against 4.1 at C6 on the A4: a factor of 5.3 in time out of a factor of 29 in window width. The darkest cell is the same hardest place, unchanged — the map is the same map under a monotone change of units, and what is new is that the units are milliseconds, which a player and a listener both have access to. Rhythm and metre

The hardest place is also the latest

A bow-force window is a ratio of forces, which nobody can hear. An attack time is milliseconds, which a player and a listener both have. The map of the violin's windows becomes a map of its attack times under a change of units, and the exponent turns out to be a half — so a window twenty-nine times narrower is only five times later.

 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. Instruments and their design

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. Instruments and their design

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.

 The flare that makes a series harmonic, and how narrow it is. Every combination of a flare exponent and a station at which the flare begins, shaded by how far the bore's resonance series is from a harmonic series over partials 2 to 8, in cents. The best is 4.6 cents at an exponent of 1.00 beginning 43 per cent of the way along, against 127 cents for a plain cylinder, 21 for a plain cone and 26 for a Bessel horn of the exponent used everywhere else. Only 2.1 per cent of the surface is within five cents of the minimum, so the shape is forced rather than chosen — which is what three centuries of empirical brass design were finding. Timbre and acoustics

The flare that makes a series harmonic

Every figure until now treats a partial as n times a fundamental, and the whole of brass instrument design is the business of making that true. A plain cylinder is 127 cents from a harmonic series and a plain cone is 21; the best flare found by sweeping is 4.6, and only two per cent of the swept surface comes within five cents of it. The shape is forced rather than chosen.

 Where each exciter's contact corner sits against its comb. The merger's four corners, drawn for three exciters. The comb is the strike point and is a horizontal line, because it is a fraction of the string and has no pitch in it. The contact corner is the exciter's, and it falls up the compass because the contact time is a fixed number of milliseconds against a shrinking period. Where they cross, the binding term changes. piano hammer crosses at E3; harpsichord plectrum crosses nowhere in the compass; dulcimer beater crosses at A5. So the crossing found earlier is not a fact about pianos. It is a fact about compliance: a felt hammer stays on the string for about 1.6 milliseconds and a plectrum for 0.05, and a difference of that size is a corner in a different place. Timbre and acoustics

The crossing belongs to the felt

On a piano the strike point decides the top of the spectrum below E3 and the hammer's contact decides it above. The merger's own bookkeeping asked whether that crossing is a fact about pianos or about hammers. A plectrum never crosses at all and a hard beater crosses two octaves higher, and the boundary is a contact time of about an eighth of a millisecond — ten times shorter than felt.

 A woodwind cannot be pulled to a new standard. Every earlier figure computes strings, because a string's tension and gauge give a closed-form scaling law. A wind instrument does not have one, and this is why. To move from 440 to 415 hertz the player pulls out 11.7 millimetres at the joint, which lengthens the sounding tube of every fingering by the same absolute amount — so the interval each note drops is a fixed length against a shrinking one, exactly the shape of an end correction. The tuning note lands where it should and nothing else does: D3 is 67 cents sharp of where it belongs and G5 is 75 flat, a spread of 142 cents across the compass. A rebuilt instrument has no such problem — scale every length by one ratio and every mode moves by the same interval, and the tone-hole lattice cutoff moves with it, from 1766 hertz to 1666, which is 101 cents and therefore the same instrument transposed. That is the difference between an afternoon and a year. Pitch and tuning

A woodwind cannot be pulled to a new standard

Every earlier essay computes strings, because a string has a closed-form scaling law. A wind instrument does not. Pulling out at the joint lengthens every fingering's sounding tube by the same number of millimetres, which is a fixed length against a shrinking one — so the tuning note lands and the compass spreads by 142 cents. The strings could be regauged in an afternoon; the winds had to be rebuilt.

 Every standard rastral size against the two bounds a reader imposes. Print the notes larger and the eye-hand span stops fitting inside one fixation, so the reader has to saccade ahead faster than the eye can move. Print them smaller and a notehead stops subtending enough angle to be identified. Both bounds come from the reader and neither from the music. At 100 beats a minute with 2 notes to the beat, the acuity bound sits at 1.63 millimetres and the saccade bound at 7.5 — so the saccade rate is nowhere near binding and acuity is doing all the work, which is the opposite of what the eye-hand span suggests. 5 of the 9 standard rastrals clear the acuity bound: rastral 4 and larger. Those are exactly the sizes used for parts, and the ones below are used for study scores — which are read at a desk rather than played from at a stand, and a shorter viewing distance moves the bound with them. Scales and modes

The page is read by an eye

A sight-reader's eye sits a fixed number of notes ahead of the sounding one and a fixation takes in a fixed number of millimetres, and the spacing rule converts between them. Two bounds follow, from the reader rather than from the music — and the one everybody would expect to bind does not. The saccade rate has enormous headroom at any playable tempo, and what decides is acuity.

 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. Instruments and their design

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.

 The bell and the cup, on one surface. Every combination of a flare exponent and a cup depth, shaded by how far the resonance series is from a harmonic series over partials 2 to 8, in cents. The pale line is the best flare for each cup — the ridge — and it runs diagonally: the exponent that suits the shallowest cup here is 0.93 and the one that suits the deepest is 0.70, a spread of 0.22. The ring marks the bell found earlier by sweeping the flare alone, at an exponent of 1.00 — which reaches 4.6 cents with nothing in front of it, and sits where the ring is, at 24.9 cents, once a catalogue mouthpiece is on it. It is on none of the ridge, and that is the whole finding: the two choices are not separable, and a bell optimised alone is not the bell an instrument wants. Timbre and acoustics

The bell is tuned for the cup

Sweeping a brass bell's two flare parameters found a shape that makes the resonance series harmonic to four and a half cents. Bolt the mouthpiece that instrument is actually played with onto it and the series is twenty-five cents out — worse than a plain cone. The flare and the cup are not two independent choices, and the best bell for a maker to build is one that is deliberately wrong.

 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. Instruments and their design

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. Instruments and their design

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. Instruments and their design

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.

 Four of the five are a whole number of semitones, and one is exactly half of one. Each mismatch in cents, against the ticks at whole semitones — which are the only places a transposing keyboard can put a player. 4 of the 5 land within six cents of a tick: the Chorton–Kammerton gap is 197 cents against a whole tone's 200, and Chorton against French pitch is 296 against a minor third's 300. The exception is an English organ against Handel's fork, at 50 cents — 50 cents from the nearest tick, which is as far as it is possible to be. So the small mismatches are the unsolvable ones, and the large ones were solved by shifting the keys. Pitch and tuning

The instrument that cannot be moved

A string is regauged and a woodwind is scaled. An organ's pitch is the length of its pipes, and metal can be cut off and cannot be put back — so an organ is a ratchet that only goes sharp. The mechanical answer was to shift the keyboard against the pipes, and its cost is not the transposition. It is that the temperament's key colours rotate out from under the notation, by an amount measured in fifths rather than in semitones.

 Intonation is a unison problem and nothing else. The roughness between two instruments on one note, against how far apart they are in cents, drawn for a unison and for the intervals beside it. A perfect unison is 0.0007 — the partials coincide and there is nothing to beat. Five cents apart it is 0.0465, 65 times as rough, and ten cents apart it is rougher than a major third played exactly. The mechanism is that partial n of a note mistuned by c cents is mistuned by c cents as well, which is n times as many hertz — so the top of the spectrum enters the critical band long before the fundamental does. The other curves are flat, because a third's roughness is set by which partials nearly coincide and a few cents does not change which. Timbre and acoustics

Two players on one note

Six essays have put one instrument on each note of a chord, and the commonest thing an orchestrator actually does is put two on the same note. Two independent sources add in power, so the composite is neither of them — except that it nearly always is one of them, because the level at which ownership changes hands is rarely at zero. And a unison ten cents out is rougher than a major third dead in tune.

 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. Instruments and their design

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. Instruments and their design

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.

 A woodwind with holes graduated 12 mm to 6 mm, drilled so that every fingering is in tune. A cylindrical bore 567 millimetres of acoustic length and 15 across, with twelve tone holes through a 4-millimetre wall. Opening them one at a time from the far end takes it up a chromatic scale from D3 to D4. The stations are not copied from a maker's drawing: each was solved so that its own fingering sounds its equal-tempered note in this model, one hole at a time down the tube with every hole below it already open, which is what a reamer and a tuning fork do. The worst fingering is 11.9 cents out. The diameters run 12.0 millimetres at the bell end to 6.0 at the top, and the spacings close from 30 millimetres to 19. Instruments and their design

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. Instruments and their design

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.

 How long a bar of unequal beats can be, at a present of 3.5 seconds. Two quantities against the number of subdivisions in the bar. The bars are how many genuinely distinct unequal metres that length admits — groupings of twos and threes, up to rotation, discarding any that repeats a shorter grouping — and they run from one at 5 to 28 at 23. The line is how good a beat the best of those metres can manage once the whole bar is required to fit inside a psychological present of 3.5 seconds. It is flat at 0.865 up to a bar of 16 units, which is where the bar at the best subdivision first overruns the present, and falls after it: 17 at 0.830, 18 at 0.797, 19 at 0.765, 20 at 0.735. The supply of metres is still growing where the quality has begun to fall, so the lengths a tradition can use are a bounded prefix of an unbounded list. Rhythm and metre

How long a limping bar can be

The bound on an unequal beat turned out to be arithmetic, and the tempo window was left with only the tempo to decide. It decides nothing: every metre built from twos and threes gets the same answer, because the window is asked a yes-or-no question. Graded instead, an unequal beat costs 0.135 of the window's own preference at every bar length — and the constraint that does depend on length is the one nobody applied, that the whole bar has to fit inside the psychological present. At the subdivision that suits both beats best, a bar of sixteen units just fits and a bar of seventeen does not, which is where the supply of distinct metres has only started to grow.

 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. Instruments and their design

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. Instruments and their design

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.

 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. Instruments and their design

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.

 Who owns clarinet, oboe, voice at every balance. The composite of three players at 392 hertz belongs to whichever of them it is nearest in log-spectral distance, and here that is drawn over the whole plane of balances a conductor could set — the second and third players from 24 decibels below the first to 24 above. voice owns 79 per cent of the square. The three regions meet where all three distances are equal, which is the only balance at which the composite belongs to nobody: it is at -0.3 and -19.1 decibels, inside the square and therefore a balance an ensemble could actually be asked for. A trio has a colour of its own at one point, not over a region. Timbre and acoustics

A section has a loudest member, not a colour

Two players on one note have a balance at which the composite belongs to neither, and that is what blending means. Three should have three such balances and no reason for them to agree — a trio with a rock-paper-scissors ownership would have no strongest member at all. Twenty trios, sixty pairwise comparisons, and not one disagreement: the possibility is real, arbitrary spectra do it once in twenty, and instruments never do.

 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. Instruments and their design

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.

 Where one arch can put a bar's second and third partials. The plane of the second and third partials, with the path a single arch traces through it as it is cut deeper, for 4 arch lengths from 50 to 100 per cent of the bar. Every path starts at the plain bar's 2.756 and 5.404 and runs up and to the right. The xylophone's target of 3 and 6 lies on them: reach the second partial and the third is there. The marimba's target of 4 and 10 lies above every one of them — the best any of these arches manages while holding the second partial at 4 is 9.176, which is 149 cents short. A marimba's third partial is not something one cut can place, and that is a statement about the shape of the cut rather than about the maker. Instruments and their design

One cut cannot place two partials

An arch cut into a bar's underside is one knob, and a maker aims it at two targets. Swept across every arch length, the path it traces through the plane of the second and third partials passes through the xylophone's 3 and 6 — dead through it, within a tenth of a cent at the natural arch length — and under the marimba's 4 and 10 by between 149 and 326 cents. Hitting one target means missing the other, and that is why a marimba bar's underside is not a simple arch.

 What a stopped tube tuned to the fundamental does to a marimba bar's partials. Power radiated from the mouth of a 311 millimetre stopped tube of 56 millimetre bore, tuned so that its first resonance is the bar's fundamental at 262 hertz, plotted against multiples of that fundamental and referred to what it does at the fundamental itself. Its quality factor there is 80. A stopped tube resonates at the odd multiples and presents an infinite input impedance — a rigid lid — at the even ones, so a partial's fate is decided by the parity of the ratio the arch put it on. The bar's own partials are marked: 1 at 0.0 decibels, 4.00 at -38.5 decibels, 9.03 at -13.1 decibels. Instruments and their design

The tube shuts on the partial the arch placed

A stopped tube tuned to a bar's fundamental resonates at every odd multiple of it and presents a rigid lid — an infinite input impedance — at every even one. A xylophone's arch puts its second partial on 3, which is a resonance, and the tube passes it within five decibels. A marimba's puts it on 4, which is an antiresonance, and the tube takes it thirty-eight decibels down. Same tube, opposite answers, and the difference is parity.

 What each strike point on a marimba bar excites. The amplitude each of the first 4 partials receives from a strike at each point along the bar, each partial drawn to its own maximum. On a string this comb is |sin nπx| and is periodic, so one strike point silences a whole family; on a bar it is the mode shape itself, whose zeroes are not at rational fractions, so no strike point silences a family. The exception is the middle: every antisymmetric mode is zero there by symmetry, so a centre strike drives partial 1 at 100 per cent of its maximum and partial 2 at nothing at all. The cord's hole at 0.2031 is the mirror case — the fundamental is the partial a strike there cannot reach. Instruments and their design

The four ways a marimba loses what its arch placed

The centre of a bar is a node of every even mode by symmetry, so a stroke there gives the second partial exactly nothing and a mallet's width cannot recover it; five millimetres off centre returns 14 per cent. Add the yarn mallet's 3-millisecond contact, the tube's rigid lid and a decay four times faster than the fundamental's, and four independent mechanisms take the tuned partial 80 decibels below it. On a xylophone the same four come to 24.

 The bare bore does not care which valve is down. The distance in cents of partials 2 to 8 from the harmonic series that fits them best, at each valve combination of a B♭ trumpet, computed with the mouthpiece in place and again with the bore alone. The bare bore is flat — 0.78 cents from best to worst across the whole set — so the length changes nothing. With one cup serving all of them the same bore runs 19.53 to 24.83 cents, a spread of 5.30, because the cup's popping frequency stays at 642 hertz while the series underneath it drops. Timbre and acoustics

One cup and seven lengths

A trumpet is seven tubes with one mouthpiece serving all of them, and the harmonicity of its resonance series is a different number in every position — 19.5 cents open, 24.8 with all three valves down. The bare bore is flat across the same seven lengths to within eight-tenths of a cent, so none of it is a length problem. It is the cup, standing still while the series walks past it, and pressing all three valves does to the series exactly what fitting a mouthpiece 56 per cent of the catalogue depth would do.

 Where the register break falls on a tenor's page. The two measured laryngeal crossings — 330 hertz going up and 294 coming down — read as WRITTEN notes, against the pitch standard the part is performed at. The crossings are frequencies and do not move; the notation does, so the seam slides down the stave by exactly the interval the standard rises. At A392 the upward crossing is written F♯4, at A415 it is F4, at A440 E4 and at A465 E♭4 — a minor third of movement across four centuries, on a part nobody rewrote. Across the range drawn the seam passes 4 written semitones. The shaded horizontal band is the tenor's written compass, C3 to A4; the seam is inside it at 7 of the 7 documented standards drawn. Pitch and tuning

A standard moves the page, and not the seam

Every earlier essay has priced a pitch standard against something with a fixed length in it. A voice has none, so nothing about it changes at all — what changes is where the written note falls against a break in the larynx that is a frequency and stays put. At A415 that break is written F4, at A440 it is E4 and at Chorton it is E♭4: a minor third of movement across four centuries, on a part nobody rewrote.

 Every pitch standard, given the width 8 degrees gives it. Each documented standard drawn not as a point but as the band an ensemble occupies while the room warms by 8 degrees: the air columns sharpen by 23.3 cents, the steel strings flatten by 20.1, and 13.8 cents of spread inside each wind instrument's own register cannot be pulled out because it is a gradient along the bore rather than an offset. The band is 57 cents wide, and 5 of the 6 adjacent steps in the whole record are narrower than it — which is to say that 5 of the distinctions four centuries of committees argued about are smaller than the pitch spread inside one orchestra on one evening. Pitch and tuning

A standard is a point, and a performance is a band

Nine earlier essays draw every pitch standard as a single number, because none of them has a temperature in it. An air column sharpens as the room warms and a steel string flattens, at 2.95 and 2.49 cents a degree; add the 13.8 cents of spread inside one wind instrument's own register and eight degrees makes an orchestra 57 cents wide. Five of the six steps in four hundred years of pitch standards are narrower than that.

 A notehead in four parts costs 1.30 bits and one in two parts costs 1.89. What one notehead asks of a reader, against how many parts are on the page, for a progression realised by the voice-leading solver used here at 2 semitones of motion a voice a chord. The horizontal rule is a note of a single melody under the measure established earlier, 1.89 bits, which is what a texture costs when its parts have to be read one at a time. The bars are the harmonic reading: the chord, charged at the worst case of 2.81 bits for one of seven diatonic degrees, plus the logarithm of how many voicings of it the previous chord could legally have moved to. At two parts there is no bar, because a duet has no complete voicing of any triad — it cannot state the harmony and has to be read as 3.79 bits of two independent lines. Every thicker texture is cheaper a notehead than the thin one, and the four-part figure is an upper bound. Harmony and voice leading

Four parts are easier to read than two

Twelve earlier essays read one line, and a score is several at once. Measured through the voice-leading model, a notehead of a four-part chorale asks a reader for 1.30 bits and a note of an independent line asks 1.89 — so twice the ink is less than three quarters of the load. The reason is a boundary those essays already established: a duet has no complete voicing of any triad at all, so two parts cannot be read from their harmony and have to be read as two melodies.

 The partials the air makes, on the series the bore actually has. The input impedance of a trumpet, with the partials wave steepening manufactures from its A4 at 428 hertz drawn on it as vertical marks. The steepening is a distortion of one periodic waveform, so it makes its partials at exact integer multiples — 856, 1285, 1713, 2141, 2569 hertz. The bore's own resonances are not at integer multiples of anything: the peaks the manufactured partials aim at sit at 886, 1346, 1812, 2278, 2741. So every manufactured partial lands flat of the peak it might have used, by 59, 81, 98, 108, 112 cents — 2.6, 2.7, 3.0, 4.0, 4.9 half-widths of the peaks in question, which is outside the half-power point of every one of them. The dashed line is where the bell stops reflecting, at 2945 hertz; above it there is no peak to land on or miss. Instruments and their design

Which notes go brassy first

Wave steepening manufactures partials at exact integer multiples of the note being played. A brass instrument's resonances are not at integer multiples of anything, and twelve earlier essays have measured how far off they are without ever putting the two on one axis. Put them there and a manufactured partial never lands on a peak — never once, at any note, by a miss that is the same number of hertz every time. So the alignment cannot be what decides which notes blare, and the thing that does turns out to be the bell.

 Four throats on one instrument, drawn to scale. 4 bores 148 centimetres long, drawn to scale in radius and length, differing only in the radius of the tube itself — 6.0, 9.6, 14.0, 22.0 millimetres across at the throat. The mouth is held at 124 millimetres, which is what a maker changing a leadpipe actually does. A consequence is that the flare ratio falls from 20.7 to 5.6 and the bell's own boundary with it, from 5906 hertz to 1158. Beside each is the fourth resonance and how sharp it is: 427 Hz at Q 23, 428 Hz at Q 34, 427 Hz at Q 44, 421 Hz at Q 51. The notes move by 27 cents across the whole sweep and the sharpness rises by a factor of 2.2. Instruments and their design

The throat that decides both

Eight earlier essays draw a tube eleven millimetres across and none of them draws another. Opened from six millimetres to twenty-two, it does exactly what was predicted to the loss in the walls — and it moves the radiation loss three times further, in the opposite direction, and monotonically, which the bell does not. So the two ends of a brass instrument do not divide the two losses between them. One end owns one loss and both ends own the other.

 Two registers 50 microseconds apart on one string. The partials of a 355-millimetre string plucked at 32 and 50 millimetres from the nut, drawn twice: once with the two quills releasing together, once with the far one releasing 0.05 milliseconds later, which is 0.026 of this string's period. A delayed release turns partial n through 2·pi·f_n·dt, so the rotation is proportional to the partial number: the fundamental is turned 9 degrees and partial 24 is turned 226. Simultaneous, the pair is missing partials 17 and 20 — holes it digs for itself where the two combs are equal and opposite. Staggered, it is missing none of them: a rotation of anything at all takes two amplitudes out of opposition. The partials neither comb can excite at all — 7, 11, 22 — are filled either way, because where one comb is zero the sum is the other one whatever its phase. The fundamental's gain over the far register alone falls from 4.36 decibels to 4.34. Instruments and their design

The interval between two quills

Two jacks on one key are voiced separately and do not let go at the same instant. That interval turns each partial of the later pluck through an angle proportional to its number — so it leaves the fundamental alone and inverts the twentieth partial, and the holes the pair digs for itself vanish at a hundredth of a period. What a regulator can tolerate turns out to be one fixed fraction of a period at every pitch, which on a five-octave instrument is a factor of sixteen in milliseconds.

 Where a bar and its pipe stop being two things. The two normal modes of a bar and a resonator tuned to it, against how strongly they are coupled, at 262 hertz. Below a threshold the pair has one frequency and two different decay rates — the pale curves, which are the damping splitting rather than the pitch — and above it the frequencies separate. The threshold is exact and it is not a matter of degree: it is where the coupling rate equals half the difference between the two damping rates, which for a bar of Q 197 against a tube of Q 80 is a coupling of 0.37 per cent. A marimba's own coupling is 0.62 per cent — 1.67 times the threshold, and not free: it is fixed by how much louder the tube makes the note, since the coupling that splits the pair is the coupling that carries the energy out. So the resonator model's assumption that the tube is a filter downstream of the bar is wrong at middle C, and it is wrong by less than a factor of two. Instruments and their design

A bar and its pipe are one object

Three earlier essays treat a marimba's resonator as a filter the bar's output passes through, and both of them said in their own caveats that the coupling was not modelled. It is here, and the debt was right: the coupling is 1.67 times the threshold at which the pair acquires two frequencies instead of two decay rates, so the tube is not downstream of anything. Every consequence of that is smaller than the peaks it would have to be seen between.

 One doubling, held down a phrase. Where a single held arrangement of 4 players on 3 notes stands among the 36 at each chord of a 5-chord passage, best at the top, with what each chord would rather have named along the bottom. The held answer is flue pipe · trumpet · clarinet+violin, and it is the chord's own first choice at 4 of 5 of them. Holding it costs 16.2 per cent of the passage's roughness against re-scoring every chord — which is 2.4 per cent of the range the choice actually spans, since the arrangements at one chord differ by a factor of 7.8 on average. The cost is not spread over the passage: 1 chord carries nearly all of it. Instruments and their design

An orchestrator doubles a line, not a chord

Three earlier essays made the objective a functional over a passage and a later one went back to holding one chord still. Put the doubling back into time and the retreat turns out to have been cheap: one arrangement held down a five-chord phrase is that phrase's own best answer at four of its five chords and costs 2.4 per cent of the range the choice spans — while the forward mask named earlier as the third temporal constant reaches for twenty milliseconds rather than two hundred, and cannot change the answer at any pace at all.

 The longest silence against the spread of the gaps. Every one of the 273 rotation classes of 5 onsets in 16 steps, placed by how uneven its gaps are against how long its longest gap is. The two rank the census together at a Spearman correlation of 0.94, so the longest silence is not a second thing to know about a timeline; it is the same thing measured more crudely. Against the other axis on the frontier — how much of the cycle has to be heard before a listener knows where in it they are — it correlates at -0.02, which is nothing. The named timelines are marked, and all of them sit at 4, the shortest longest-gap any pattern of this size can have. Rhythm and metre

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.

 An entrance stops being a loudness event and never stops being a colour one. The same oboe entering on the same note at the same level, against how many players were already sounding. Its contribution to the loudness falls from 15.5 phons to 0.32 — a factor of 48 — and crosses the one-phon difference limen at 5 players already playing. Its contribution to the roughness rises by a factor of 12.3 over the same range, because roughness is a sum over pairs and the entrant makes one new pair with everybody. Both curves are drawn as a share of their own largest value, since a phon and a squared pascal have no exchange rate. The claim is the two directions, not the crossing point of two units. Form and structure

An entrance is a change of colour

Eight essays on orchestration move the assignment and hold the ensemble still, and a score does the opposite: it brings players in and takes them out. Loudness is a sum over parts and roughness is a sum over pairs, so the player who joins adds one term to the first and one to the second for everybody already there. What the entrance is worth in phons falls by a factor of forty-eight across the range an ensemble spans and crosses the difference limen at five players; what it is worth in roughness rises by twelve, and by a further factor of ten for every ten decibels the passage is played at.

 The same player, arriving and leaving, read as a share of the change. One oboe joining 5 players and the same oboe leaving them again, with both loudness readings drawn as the share of their own change that has arrived. The entrance is half received in 90 milliseconds and the exit in 1.43 seconds, a factor of 15.9. The roughness readings, drawn faintly, are 25 and 25 milliseconds and lie on top of each other. A score that writes a diminuendo under a departing part is not softening the exit. It is doing the smoother's release for it, on a clock the smoother would otherwise take two seconds over. Form and structure

A part that leaves is not a part that arrives

The same player, the same note, the same level, and the only difference is which way round it happens. A listener's loudness reading takes 1.43 seconds to receive half of a departure and 90 milliseconds to receive half of an arrival — a factor of sixteen with nothing asymmetric in the sound at all, since both readings integrate the same two states in the same order. The colour reading receives the two identically, because a window has no direction, so a departure is a change whose grain arrives at once and whose level takes most of two seconds.

 Which chord of a passage has room for the part that is entering. An oboe entering on one note, tried at each chord of a five-chord passage, scored by how far its own partials sit above the threshold the ensemble already sounding puts over them. The best moment gives it 9.0 decibels of margin and the worst 0.3, a spread of 8.7 — and the best moment is not the quietest chord, which is vi, close below. Room for an entrance is spectral rather than dynamic. A chord with a hole in its written spacing need not have one in its spectrum, because the partials of its bass fill the middle whatever the notes above it do. Form and structure

The chord that has room for an entrance

Three essays have made the ensemble something a score can change and none of them has asked when. The ensemble already sounding puts a masked threshold over whatever register an entering part takes, and that threshold is set by the voicing rather than by the dynamic — so the five chords of one passage differ by 8.7 decibels in how much of an entering oboe survives them, and the quietest chord of the five is the worst place in the passage to bring somebody in. Swept over the entrant's own pitch, the choice of moment is worth as much as the choice of register.

 Two ways to match a tuning note, and they are not the same size. How finely one player can put their A on another's, at 440 hertz on a note of 2 seconds, by each of the two criteria available. Judging one pitch is good to 4.0 cents; comparing two of them adds two errors in quadrature and is good to 5.7. Nulling the beat between them is a different operation altogether — a mistuning of 2.0 cents makes a beat of 0.50 hertz, which shows one full cycle inside the note — and it is 2.9 times finer. The beat criterion is available only when the two tones sound together and share a partial. A player tuning to a note that has already stopped has the coarse one, and so does a singer with nothing to beat against. Pitch and tuning

An orchestra is given a note

Every earlier essay on pitch standards draws a standard as a number an ensemble is at, and no ensemble is at a pitch. It is handed one, by one player, on one note, and everything else is matched to it by ear — so a standard reaches an orchestra through a limen nobody quotes. Matching by comparing two pitches is good to 5.7 cents at A; nulling the beat between them is good to 2.0, and which of the two is available depends on how long the oboe holds the note. The crossover is at about seven tenths of a second, which is shorter than an oboe's A and longer than a plucked one.

 Who listens to whom decides how far apart an orchestra ends up. The spread an ensemble of 60 arrives at, for four ways of passing the tuning note around, with one match good to 2.0 cents. Matching the giver directly leaves every player one match away and a spread of 2.0 cents whatever the size; passing it along a line leaves the last player 59 matches away and a spread of 15.1. Orchestral practice is the middle one — principals to the oboe, sections to their principals — which is two matches and 2.8 cents, and is within half a cent of the best arrangement available at any ensemble size. A convention nobody derived sits one step off the optimum of an arithmetic nobody wrote down. Pitch and tuning

Who listens to whom when an orchestra tunes

One match is good to two cents and an orchestra is sixty of them, arranged in an order that nobody chose deliberately. Passed along a line, the errors accumulate and the last player is fifteen cents from the first; given to everybody at once, nobody is more than two. The convention every orchestra uses — principals to the oboe, sections to their principals — is two matches deep, costs 2.8 cents whether there are four players or a hundred, and sits within a cent of the best arrangement that exists.

 The interval an orchestra tunes on is the least sensitive one it plays. The smallest mistuning each interval betrays, on notes of 2 seconds with the lower note at 440 hertz, taking one full beat cycle as the criterion. A unison shows 1.97 cents; a fifth shows 0.66, a major third 0.39, a minor third 0.33. The ratio is exact and it is the interval's own upper term: the lowest coincidence of a p:q interval sits at p times the lower note's frequency, so the beat runs p times faster. The dashed line is what the same players manage by comparing two pitches instead, at 5.7 cents — coarser than every interval on the axis by between three and seventeen times. Pitch and tuning

The unison is the coarsest thing in the room

An orchestra tunes on a unison and then plays intervals, and the two are not the same test. The lowest coincidence of a p:q interval sits at p times the lower note's frequency, so a mistuning of a given number of cents makes a beat p times faster — a fifth betrays it three times sooner than a unison, a minor third six. The ritual that opens a rehearsal is therefore the least sensitive measurement anybody will make all evening, and every chord afterwards is a finer one.

 The term that was owed, and the corpus cannot hold it. For each of the three tunes everything here is measured on, how many of its notes have a duration that differs from the gap to the next onset. The answer is none, in 101 notes: these tunes are stored as a list of pitches and lengths with no rests in them, so a note's duration IS its inter-onset interval and conditioning one on the other leaves exactly zero bits. That is a fact about the representation rather than about music. The prediction was that the term would be small, and it could not have been known that the corpus would make it identically zero — which means the prediction cannot be tested here and the exceptions have to be priced directly. Scales and modes

A note lasts until the next one starts

Pricing where a note is against which note it is left duration as the term it had not, with a prediction that it would be small. Measured on the three tunes these readings are built on, it is exactly zero — and it is zero by construction, because those tunes are stored as pitches and lengths with no rests in them, so every duration is its own inter-onset interval. The prediction cannot be tested on the corpus that produced it. Priced directly, a rest costs 0.67 bits a note where a tenth of the notes have one, which is not well under half a bit.

 A tie is charged twice, and the second charge is the larger one. What a tie costs a reader, against the share of noteheads that are the second of a tied pair. The lower curve is the decision itself — is this notehead an event or a continuation? — at 0.52 bits a note where a tenth of them are tied. The upper curve adds what the extra noteheads cost on every other axis: a tied continuation has a pitch and a position and is read like any other notehead before the reader discovers it carries no event, at 4.79 bits each. The total is 1.05 bits a note, which is 2.0 times the decision alone and is a fifth of what a whole note of music costs. A tie is the most expensive mark on the staff per occurrence, and every published account of notational difficulty treats it as a minor one. Scales and modes

The notehead that is not a note

Every quantity so far is charged per notehead, and a tie is the one mark on the staff that puts a notehead on the page carrying no event. Its cost is not the decision that identifies it — that is half a bit where a tenth of the noteheads are continuations. It is the decision plus the whole reading of a notehead that turns out to have been unnecessary, which is 1.05 bits, twice the decision and a fifth of what a note of music costs. Set beside a dot and a longer note value, the tie is five times the price of either and is the only one of the three that can cross a barline.

 One number a page, and what a hard rhythm buys against a hard tune. Every combination of six kinds of line and seven kinds of rhythm, placed by what each axis costs a reader. The duration term (0.67 bits) and the interaction (0.31) are the same for every cell, so the diagonals are pages of equal difficulty and the exchange rate between the two axes is the slope of one. The pitch axis spans 5.26 bits across the six lines and the position axis 4.46 across the seven rhythms, so a composer choosing between the hardest line and the hardest rhythm is choosing between quantities within 18 per cent of each other. The hardest page is wide leaps in off the beat at 14.0 bits a note and the easiest is a scale on the beat at 4.2. Scales and modes

One number for a page

Four terms and an interaction give a single bit rate per note, and with it the exchange rate a long run of essays has been pointing at. Six kinds of line span 5.26 bits and seven kinds of rhythm span 4.46, so a composer trading a harder tune against a harder rhythm is trading quantities within eighteen per cent of each other — and pages that look nothing alike sit on the same contour. The hardest page on the grid costs 13.96 bits a note and the easiest 4.24, a factor of three and a half, and the subject closes there.

 The best seven of the twelve is a scale nobody has ever used. All 462 ways of choosing seven of the twelve semitones with the tonic fixed, ranked by the identification error the harmonicity model gives them. The best is C C♯ F♯ G A♭ B♭ B at 8.8 per cent and the worst is 13.4; the diatonic major sits at rank 376, in the worse fifth of the ranking, at 11.8. The optimum is a cluster of semitones around the tonic and around the fifth, and the reason is visible in the criterion rather than in music: a boundary next to the unison or the fifth is a boundary with very little noise on it, so the cheapest way to satisfy this measure is to crowd the degrees where the model says the ear is sharpest. A criterion whose optimum is a scale nobody plays is a criterion that is not what scales are chosen for, and the useful reading of this drawing is that rather than its winner. Scales and modes

The best seven of the twelve

Once the noise is allowed to differ from boundary to boundary, a scale can be chosen to minimise identification error — and the choice is a search over four hundred and sixty-two sets rather than an argument. Run, it returns a cluster of semitones around the tonic and around the fifth, and puts the diatonic major at rank 376 of 462, in the worse fifth of the ranking. A criterion whose optimum is a scale nobody has ever played is a criterion that is not what scales are chosen for, and the reason it fails is legible in the model rather than in the music.

 5 censuses: the floor of the longest gap, the ceiling of the syncopation total, and how few patterns reach both. For each census of k onsets in n steps, counted by rotation class: 3 in 8: patterns 7, floor of longest gap 3, at the floor 1, ceiling of total 14, at the ceiling 2, at both 1; 5 in 8: patterns 7, floor of longest gap 2, at the floor 2, ceiling of total 12, at the ceiling 2, at both 2; 5 in 12: patterns 66, floor of longest gap 3, at the floor 6, ceiling of total 28, at the ceiling 6, at both 6; 7 in 12: patterns 66, floor of longest gap 2, at the floor 3, ceiling of total 20, at the ceiling 38, at both 3; 5 in 16: patterns 273, floor of longest gap 4, at the floor 13, ceiling of total 79, at the ceiling 9, at both 9. The rotation-total of syncopation is taken against a metre of 2 × 2 × 2 for 8 steps, 2 × 2 × 3 for 12 steps, 2 × 2 × 2 × 2 for 16 steps. In every census drawn the evenly spaced pattern is at the floor and at the ceiling. Rhythm and metre

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 schedule that hears every entrance best holds the high parts back. Six parts waiting to enter a five-chord passage over four sounding players, each entering once and staying: the schedule under which the least audible entrance is as audible as it can be made. brass on E3 enters at I, open with -1.4 decibels of mean margin over the mask; oboe on E4 enters at vi, close below with -2.6 decibels of mean margin over the mask; clarinet on G4 enters at I, open with -1.4 decibels of mean margin over the mask; voice on C5 enters at IV, close above with 2.1 decibels of mean margin over the mask; violin on G5 enters at V, bracketing with 6.9 decibels of mean margin over the mask; flue pipe on C6 enters at I, hollow with 4.0 decibels of mean margin over the mask. The least audible entrance is at -2.6 decibels and the margins sum to 7.6; of all 15625 schedules 0 have a better least audible entrance and 576 a larger sum. Form and structure

Room is used up by whoever enters first

The chord with the most room for a part entering alone is a fact about that chord. It stops being a fact the moment two parts want it, because each part that comes in raises the mask over everybody after it. Given six parts waiting to enter a five-chord passage, choosing each part's moment the way one part's moment is chosen puts three of them into the same chord and lands in the bottom fifth of all 15,625 schedules. Placing them one at a time does no better. The schedule under which the least audible entrance is heard best is unique, and it brings the low and middle parts in while the texture is thin and holds the three highest back for the last three chords — because a high part keeps its room over a full texture and a middle part does not.

 Opening a triad changes which interval goes first. The six voicings of a major and a minor triad over C3, each close and with its middle note raised an octave, struck at 80 decibels, with how long each keeps the coincidences of all three of its intervals and which interval goes first. major root position: close 1.03 s, held by its minor third 6:5; open 1.26 s, held by its major tenth 5:2. major sixth chord: close 0.74 s, held by its minor sixth 8:5; open 0.47 s, held by its minor tenth 12:5. major six-four: close 1.26 s, held by its major sixth 5:3; open 0.74 s, held by its eleventh 8:3. minor root position: close 1.04 s, held by its minor third 6:5; open 0.47 s, held by its minor tenth 12:5. minor sixth chord: close 1.26 s, held by its major third 5:4; open 1.26 s, held by its major sixth 5:3. minor six-four: close 0.74 s, held by its minor sixth 8:5; open 0.74 s, held by its minor sixth 8:5. Intervals and chords

An open triad lasts as long as its tenth

Close, every triad's weakest link is a third or a sixth. Raise its middle note an octave and the link becomes a compound interval, and compound intervals do not last alike: a major tenth, 5:2, lives as long as a major sixth, while a minor tenth, 12:5, needs the twelfth partial and lives 0.47 seconds. So the spacing orchestration manuals recommend for a major chord in the bass is the longest-lived voicing a struck triad has, and the same spacing halves the life of a minor chord — and the six-four's advantage reverses.

 Four pure fourths and a pure third leave a comma on the top strings. Each of a guitar's six open strings, in cents from the note its own frets make, when the strings are tuned against each other three ways. fretted unisons: E2 +0.00, A2 +0.00, D3 +0.00, G3 +0.00, B3 +0.00, E4 +0.00. harmonics, pure third on G–B: E2 +0.00, A2 −1.96, D3 −3.91, G3 −5.87, B3 −19.55, E4 −21.51. harmonics, B from the low E's twelfth: E2 +0.00, A2 −1.96, D3 −3.91, G3 −5.87, B3 +1.96, E4 +0.00. Tuned with pure fourths and a pure third the high E closes two octaves 21.51 cents flat, a syntonic comma; taking the B from the low E's twelfth lands the high E exactly and moves the error into the third between the G and B strings. Pitch and tuning

A guitar tuned by harmonics hides a comma

A quartet's stopped notes go wherever its players put them, so its open strings can sit on a pure chain. A guitar's stopped notes are fixed by frets that are already an equal temperament, and its six open strings — four fourths and a third — close two octaves exactly a syntonic comma short when tuned pure, since (4/3)⁴·(5/4) is 4 × 80/81. Tuning by harmonics decides where the comma goes, not whether: a pure third puts it in the octaves of an open E major chord, 17.6 cents narrow; a B from the low E's twelfth puts it in the G–B third, 21.5 cents wide.

 The drain does not stop when the key does. The note does.. Semitones of colour gone, against time, for a note on 130.8 hertz left to ring and for the same note released after 0.4 seconds onto a damper of 0.15 seconds. The two curves lie on each other until the key comes up, and the damped one then ends: the note is inaudible at 0.52 seconds with 8.7 of the free note's 9.9 semitones delivered. A damper adds one loss to every partial alike, so it adds the same number to every decay rate and leaves every DIFFERENCE between rates exactly as it was — the spectrum at each instant is the ringing spectrum shifted bodily down by 400 decibels a second. The colour goes on draining at its own rate the whole time. What the damper takes away is not the drain but the seconds. Timbre and acoustics

A damper changes the clock, not the colour

A damper is an extra loss on the string rather than a second decay, so it adds the same number of nepers a second to every partial — and adding a constant to every rate leaves every difference between rates exactly where it was. The damped spectrum at any instant is the ringing spectrum at that instant shifted bodily down, to machine precision. The colour goes on draining at its own rate; the note simply runs out of seconds, and how many it gets is written on the page as a note value and a tempo.

 Both qualities reach the same ceiling. The longest-lived spacing of a major triad and of a minor one, over four basses, taken over every arrangement of the three pitch classes within 2 octaves. They are the same number at every bass — 1.16 seconds over C2, 1.26 seconds over C3, 1.26 seconds over C4, 1.41 seconds over C5 — and at each bass 2 major and 2 minor spacings are tied at it. The faint line is the worst a minor spacing can do, which is 3.5 times shorter. So the asymmetry found earlier is a fact about the minor tenth rather than about the minor triad: a minor chord has a spacing that avoids it, and that spacing is its first inversion, where the minor third between two of its notes appears as a major sixth instead. Intervals and chords

A minor triad can be spaced to last

Two spacings of each triad, drawn side by side, say that opening lengthens a major chord and halves a minor one. Drawn over every arrangement of the three pitch classes within two octaves of a fixed bass, the asymmetry disappears: a minor triad reaches 1.26 seconds over C3 and so does a major one, with two spacings of each tied at the top. The short-lived chords were never the minor ones. They were the ones with a minor tenth on the outside, and a minor triad has three spacings that avoid it.

 A count is least reliable at both ends and best in the middle. How precisely a listener knows the length of a section they are counting, against how many units long it is, at three kinds of timing judgement. A slip — one unit miscounted, at 2% a unit — accumulates as a random walk, so its relative cost FALLS as the section lengthens. A lapse — the count lost altogether, at 1% a unit — compounds, so the chance of still having the count falls geometrically and a long enough section is certain to lose it. A listener who has lost the count is back to timing, so the two failures mix into a floor. Against a Weber fraction of 7.5% the count is worth most at 21 units, where it is 1.7 times finer than timing, and falls back under a quarter better by 98 units; Against a Weber fraction of 15% the count is worth most at 10 units, where it is 2.4 times finer than timing, and falls back under a quarter better by 101 units; Against a Weber fraction of 38% the count is worth most at 4 units, where it is 3.7 times finer than timing, and falls back under a quarter better by 102 units. The length at which it stops being worth much is nearly the same in all three, because it is set by the lapse rate alone. Form and structure

A count is not an estimate

Both established routes to a proportion are estimates — a duration timed, blurred by a Weber fraction, and a duration stored, biased by what was new. A listener who has induced a hypermetre has a third, and it is exact until it fails. It fails two ways that pull opposite: a slip miscounts one unit and its relative cost falls as the section lengthens, while a lapse loses the count entirely and its chance compounds. The mixture has a floor at about four units, where counting is 3.7 times finer than timing, and it is worth almost nothing past a hundred.

 Timing blurs a whole form evenly; counting sharpens it downward. A piece of 480 seconds divided 7 times, each level half the length of the one above, with how many proportions between 1 : 1 and 3 : 1 a listener can tell apart at each. Timed, the answer is 2.1 at the top and 5.2 at the bottom, a spread of 2.4 — because a timing judgement's Weber fraction is a step function of duration and almost every level of a piece falls in one step of it. Counted, in units of 2 seconds, the answer runs 2.2 to 10.3, a spread of 5.5. At no level does timing separate 3 : 2 from the golden section. Form and structure

A form is sharp at the bottom and vague at the top

A movement is divided into sections, each into phrases, each into bars, and every level is a ratio of two estimates. Timed, the hierarchy is almost uniformly blunt — 2.1 distinguishable proportions at the top and 5.2 at the bottom, because a Weber fraction is a step function of duration and six of a piece's seven levels fall in one step of it. Counted, the same hierarchy runs from 2.2 to 12.2 and sharpens monotonically downward. At no level of either does timing separate 3 : 2 from the golden section.

 One of these tunings has no comma to place. Five guitar tunings, each with every adjacent interval set to the pure ratio nearest the interval it spans, drawn as how far each string then sits from where the frets put it. standard, spanning 5–5–5–4–5 semitones, closes 21.5 cents short and spreads its strings over 21.5 cents; drop D, spanning 7–5–5–4–5 semitones, closes 17.6 cents short and spreads its strings over 19.6 cents; D A D G A D, spanning 7–5–5–2–5 semitones, closes exactly and spreads its strings over 3.9 cents; open G, spanning 5–7–5–4–3 semitones, closes exactly and spreads its strings over 15.6 cents; open D, spanning 7–5–4–3–5 semitones, closes exactly and spreads its strings over 15.6 cents. Standard tuning's four fourths and a third fall a syntonic comma short of two octaves, which is what was found earlier. D A D G A D's fifth, two fourths, a tone and a fourth multiply to exactly four — two octaves — so nothing has to be put anywhere. Pitch and tuning

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.

 Which tuning a piece wants, and when the answer is one that has a name. Three short pieces, each a list of fretted chords with durations, scored by how far their intervals sit from just on average — and each played three ways: with every string on its fret, with every adjacent interval of the tuning set pure, and with all six strings free and searched. open G blues costs 5.74 cents on the frets, 0.00 on the pure chain and 0.00 at its own optimum; D A D G A D air costs 1.79 cents on the frets, 0.60 on the pure chain and 0.60 at its own optimum; standard song costs 5.97 cents on the frets, 13.80 on the pure chain and 2.05 at its own optimum. The two pieces whose tuning closes gain nothing from the search: the named tuning already is the optimum, to a thousandth of a cent. The piece in standard tuning, whose chain falls a syntonic comma short, gains 3.92 cents on a tuning that has no name. Pitch and tuning

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.

 A damper is a loss on the string, so a room can overrule it. Decay rate in nepers a second against partial number, for a note on 130.8 hertz in a room of 2 seconds. The rising line is the string's own loss, 1.15 nepers a second at the fundamental and growing as the partial number to the power 1. The line above it is that plus the damper's 46.1, which is what the string does once the key comes up. The flat line is the room. What a listener receives is the SLOWER of the damped string and the room, because a hall goes on radiating what the string has already given it — and here the room is slower on 8 of 8 partials, from the fundamental upward. The composition proposed earlier — take the slower of the string and the room, then add the damper to whichever won — would put the damper outside the minimum, where nothing can overrule it, and would predict a note 2.54 seconds shorter than ringing where the arithmetic here predicts 0.90. Timbre and acoustics

A damper cannot reach into the room

The essay before this one proposed the arithmetic for a damped note in a hall: take the slower of the string's rate and the room's, then add the damper's to whichever won. The composition is wrong, and it is wrong in the one place that decides the answer. A damper is a loss on the string, so it belongs inside the minimum where a room can overrule it — and past about three seconds of reverberation it is overruled on every partial, so the damper removes no audible seconds of note at all.

 Two shapes asking fifteen pairs of strings for different things. Every pair of the six strings, and the difference in cents between the two strings' offsets that would make the interval each shape puts on that pair exactly just. The piece's chords fall into two families that never disagree with themselves: E major, open and A major barred at 5 (44 beats), and G major, open (8 beats). They disagree on 13 of the 15 pairs: E2–A2 is asked for 1.96 and -13.69; E2–D3 is asked for 0.00 and 1.96; E2–G3 is asked for -13.69 and 0.00; E2–B3 is asked for 1.96 and -13.69; A2–D3 is asked for -1.96 and 15.64; A2–G3 is asked for -15.64 and 13.69; A2–E4 is asked for -1.96 and 13.69; D3–G3 is asked for -13.69 and -1.96; D3–B3 is asked for 1.96 and -15.64; D3–E4 is asked for 0.00 and -1.96; G3–B3 is asked for 15.64 and -13.69; G3–E4 is asked for 13.69 and 0.00; B3–E4 is asked for -1.96 and 13.69. The ring on each row is where the piece's cheapest tuning actually puts the pair. It sits on the first family's demand every time, which is what abandoning the other chord means: no weighting of the error can put a ring on two different places. Pitch and tuning

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.

 With 4 of six required at the end, the best schedule hands parts over. Six parts entering, leaving and re-entering a five-chord passage over four sounding players, in the walk through all 64 sets of sounding parts that makes the least audible entrance as audible as possible, with no memory of the chord before and at least 4 of the six sounding at the last chord. I, open: clarinet on G4 enters at 0.6 dB; vi, close below: oboe on E4 enters at 0.3 dB, and clarinet leaves; IV, close above: brass on E3 enters at -0.7 dB, voice on C5 enters at 2.2 dB, and oboe leaves; V, bracketing: violin on G5 enters at 7.2 dB; I, hollow: flue pipe on C6 enters at 4.0 dB. The least audible entrance is -0.72 dB against -2.65 for the best schedule in which nobody leaves; the walk has 2 exits and 6 entrances. Form and structure

An exit is worth nothing until the tutti is given up

Six parts entering a five-chord passage have a best schedule when each enters once and stays, and letting parts leave and come back was supposed to improve it. Searched over every set of sounding parts at every chord, it improves it by exactly nothing, with or without the chord before still masking — as long as all six must be playing at the end. Let one part be missing from the final chord and the weakest entrance gains 1.4 decibels; let two be missing and it gains 1.9, by a relay in which the parts with least room come in, are heard for one chord, and give way.

 Checkpoints sharpen the middle of a form and leave its top vague. A piece of 480 seconds divided 7 times, with how many proportions between 1 : 1 and 3 : 1 a listener tells apart at each level: timed, counted in 2-second units, and counted with a second count of 16-second phrases that can mend a lapse in the first. 480 s: 2.1 timed, 2.2 counted, 3.9 with 0 per cent of lapses shared and 2.5 with 50 per cent of lapses shared; 240 s: 2.1 timed, 2.5 counted, 7.1 with 0 per cent of lapses shared and 3.1 with 50 per cent of lapses shared; 120 s: 2.1 timed, 3.1 counted, 13.2 with 0 per cent of lapses shared and 4.0 with 50 per cent of lapses shared; 60 s: 2.1 timed, 4.1 counted, 19.4 with 0 per cent of lapses shared and 5.4 with 50 per cent of lapses shared; 30 s: 2.1 timed, 5.4 counted, 18.1 with 0 per cent of lapses shared and 7.2 with 50 per cent of lapses shared; 15 s: 5.2 timed, 12.2 counted, 12.2 with 0 per cent of lapses shared and 12.2 with 50 per cent of lapses shared; 7.5 s: 5.2 timed, 10.3 counted, 10.3 with 0 per cent of lapses shared and 10.3 with 50 per cent of lapses shared. With the two counts failing independently, the level of 60 seconds goes from 4.1 to 19.4, and the whole piece only from 2.2 to 3.9. Form and structure

Checkpoints sharpen the middle of a form, not its top

A listener who counts bars loses the count somewhere in a long section and is thrown back on timing the whole of it. A listener who also counts phrases can mend the lapse at the last phrase. If the two counts fail independently, the level a minute long goes from four distinguishable proportions to nineteen; the whole eight-minute piece goes only from two to four, because thirty phrases are long enough to lose a count as well. And if a fifth of lapses take both counts at once, three quarters of the gain is gone.

 The content errs slow and the bass errs fast. Passages of eight bars built at three harmonic rhythms, each with a bass that states every new chord's root and moves to another chord tone on a beat 50 per cent of the time. Two readings are asked the chord rate: one from how much the pitch-class content changes across a grid, one from how completely the bass's moves land on it. At two chords a bar the content reading names the rate 63 per cent of the time, too fast 0 and too slow 37; the bass reading 100, 0 and 0. At one chord a bar the content reading names the rate 67 per cent of the time, too fast 0 and too slow 33; the bass reading 18, 80 and 2. At a chord every two bars the content reading names the rate 98 per cent of the time, too fast 2 and too slow 0; the bass reading 0, 100 and 0. The two readings miss in opposite directions and at opposite ends of the tempo range: the content reading at fast harmonic rhythms, by naming a multiple, and the bass reading at slow ones, by naming its own arpeggiation. Harmony and voice leading

The bass errs fast where the content errs slow

Asked how often the chords change, a reading built on pitch-class content names a slower multiple and never a faster rate. Give the passage a bass that states each new root and moves between chord tones inside a chord, and a reading built on the bass's moves errs the other way: it names a faster grid and never a slower one. At two chords a bar the bass is right every time; at a chord every two bars it is never right. Six ways of combining the two readings each trade one end of the range for the other.

 A harder strike buys beats only if the drop does not deepen with it. The beats a mistuned octave on A3 delivers on a string that decays in two stages, against how hard both notes are struck, with the aftersound's drop below the strike 20 dB at 80 dB and changing by a stated number of decibels for each decibel of strike. -0.5 dB per dB: 70 dB 2.5, 75 dB 5.7, 80 dB 8.9, 85 dB 11.9, 90 dB 12.2, 95 dB 11.6, 100 dB 10.9; 0 dB per dB: 70 dB 4.7, 75 dB 6.9, 80 dB 8.9, 85 dB 11.0, 90 dB 12.3, 95 dB 12.2, 100 dB 11.8; +0.5 dB per dB: 70 dB 7.2, 75 dB 8.1, 80 dB 8.9, 85 dB 9.8, 90 dB 10.7, 95 dB 11.2, 100 dB 11.9; +1 dB per dB: 70 dB 9.6, 75 dB 9.2, 80 dB 8.9, 85 dB 8.4, 90 dB 8.1, 95 dB 7.8, 100 dB 7.5. Where the drop stays put, a harder strike keeps buying beats to about 90 dB; where it deepens by a decibel per decibel, every strike past 70 dB costs beats. Intervals and chords

A firm touch buys beats until the aftersound sinks with it

A piano string decays twice, and a mistuned octave's countable beats were found to rise with how hard the note is struck — on the assumption that the aftersound always starts twenty decibels below the strike. It need not. The moment the count shuts is set by the level the aftersound starts at and nothing else, so a harder strike buys beats only if its aftersound does not sink with it. If the drop deepens by more than 0.85 decibels for each decibel of strike, the firm touch costs beats instead.

 No seventh chord can be spaced to last as long as a triad. Every inversion and spacing within 2 octaves over C3, struck at 80 dB, for two triads and five seventh chords: the bar is the longest any spacing keeps every pair's partial coincidence, and the tick is the bound set by the chord's worst pitch-class distance — the longest any presentation of that distance lasts. major triad: 1.26 s over 12 voicings, bound 1.26 set by the minor third; minor triad: 1.26 s over 12 voicings, bound 1.26 set by the minor third; dominant seventh: 0.66 s over 32 voicings, bound 0.64 set by the tone; major seventh: 0.42 s over 32 voicings, bound 0.38 set by the semitone; minor seventh: 0.69 s over 32 voicings, bound 0.64 set by the tone; half-diminished seventh: 0.69 s over 32 voicings, bound 0.64 set by the tone; diminished seventh: 0.86 s over 32 voicings, bound 0.87 set by the tritone. Every seventh chord contains a distance worse than any a triad contains, except the diminished seventh, whose distances are only minor thirds and tritones. Timbre and acoustics

A seventh chord cannot be spaced to last like a triad

A struck triad keeps the partial coincidences of all its intervals for at most 1.26 seconds, whichever way it is spaced. Run the same census over every inversion and spacing of five kinds of seventh chord and none gets near: the dominant, minor and half-diminished sevenths top out at about two thirds of a second, the major seventh at 0.42. The diminished seventh, which theory calls the least stable of them, lasts longest at 0.86 — because it is the only one with no tone or semitone among its pitch-class distances, and the worst distance a chord contains sets a ceiling no spacing can lift.

 The ceiling is thirteen bars, and every one of them has a name. Every bar of the six schemes read by the key-finder at a key cost of 3 and a bass weight of 3, with the chord in every bar given exactly — no segmentation is involved. 175 of 188 bars have both the key and the degree right, 93.1 per cent. The misses: 7 in the thirty-two-bar song's bridge, where the chain III7 is read in E major, III7 is read in E major, VI7 is read in E major, VI7 is read in D major, II7 is read in D major, II7 is read in D major, V7 is read in D major; 4 bars of the rondo's A minor episode read as C major; 2 next to a change of key; and 0 of any other kind. Scales and modes

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.

 Against a pulse, the bell pattern is the quickest of its orders to place. The bits of position a listener is still missing, averaged over the first cycle heard, for each cyclic order of the gaps 1 1 2 2 2 2 2 in 12 steps, heard alone, against a pulse every three steps and against a pulse every four, at perfect memory, half-life 3 steps, half-life 1.5 steps. 2 2 2 1 2 1 2: alone 1.08, 1.23, 1.73; against a pulse every 3 steps 0.69, 0.75, 0.96; against a pulse every 4 steps 0.63, 0.67, 0.85. 2 2 2 2 1 1 2: alone 1.22, 1.63, 2.02; against a pulse every 3 steps 0.60, 0.73, 0.92; against a pulse every 4 steps 0.83, 1.07, 1.36. 2 2 1 2 2 1 2 (the standard bell pattern): alone 1.25, 1.45, 1.82; against a pulse every 3 steps 0.54, 0.56, 0.67; against a pulse every 4 steps 0.55, 0.57, 0.68. Alone, the bell pattern is not the quickest order to place at any memory. Against either pulse it is the quickest at every memory. Rhythm and metre

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.

 Holding the bass through one mid-bar change in six finds the barline five times in six. Passages of eight bars at two chords a bar, with the bass arpeggiating on 50 per cent of its beats, and each barline reading's share of passages it places correctly, against the share of mid-bar chord changes voiced over the bass already sounding. 0% held (convention strength 0): metre then bass 50%, bass alone 13%, metre alone 50%, chord changes alone 10%; 4% held (convention strength 0.1): metre then bass 62%, bass alone 34%, metre alone 50%, chord changes alone 10%; 6% held (convention strength 0.2): metre then bass 68%, bass alone 44%, metre alone 50%, chord changes alone 15%; 9% held (convention strength 0.3): metre then bass 75%, bass alone 57%, metre alone 50%, chord changes alone 18%; 15% held (convention strength 0.4): metre then bass 82%, bass alone 68%, metre alone 50%, chord changes alone 13%; 16% held (convention strength 0.5): metre then bass 85%, bass alone 74%, metre alone 50%, chord changes alone 14%; 20% held (convention strength 0.6): metre then bass 88%, bass alone 79%, metre alone 50%, chord changes alone 11%; 26% held (convention strength 0.7): metre then bass 92%, bass alone 86%, metre alone 50%, chord changes alone 13%; 27% held (convention strength 0.8): metre then bass 92%, bass alone 86%, metre alone 50%, chord changes alone 13%; 28% held (convention strength 0.9): metre then bass 95%, bass alone 92%, metre alone 50%, chord changes alone 10%; 33% held (convention strength 1): metre then bass 96%, bass alone 93%, metre alone 50%, chord changes alone 10%. The metre ties the barline with the half-bar and the chord changes are at chance, since the chords change at both; the bass's holds are the only evidence that separates them. Harmony and voice leading

A bass that holds through a change marks the barline

At two chords a bar the chords change on the barline and on the half-bar alike, so a reading of where they change is at chance, and the metre ties the two. The bass has one more piece of evidence: a change inside the bar can be voiced over the note already sounding, and a change on the barline is voiced over its root. Hold the bass through one mid-bar change in six and the metre and bass together place the barline in 85 per cent of eight-bar passages; one in three, 97. The convention cannot be stronger than that, and the chord changes, asked first, only get in the way.

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