Time is a circle
Rhythm is a circle, and the bar line is a choice
Draw a rhythm as a line and it looks like a sequence of decisions. Draw it as a cycle and the same pattern turns out to be shared across continents, differing only in where somebody decided to start counting.
As evenly as possible, which turns out to be a famous rhythm
Ask an algorithm to space five strikes over eight beats as evenly as it can. It produces the cinquillo. Ask for three over eight and it produces the tresillo. Nobody told it about Cuba.
Two clocks at once, and where they agree
Three against two repeats every six subdivisions and feels like a figure. Seven against five repeats every thirty-five and feels like weather. The difference is one number.
Swing is a ratio, and it is not two to one
Swung quavers are notated as a triplet figure, which is a ratio of two to one. Measurements of what drummers actually play give anything from three and a half to one down to one to one, and which of those it is depends almost entirely on the tempo.
Beats of unequal length
A bar of nine in Balkan practice is not nine of anything. It is four beats, three short and one long, and the inequality is at the beat level rather than inside it — which is a thing no single division of a bar can produce.
A rhythm fast enough to be a chord
Three against two is a polyrhythm. Speed the same pattern up until the events arrive faster than about twenty a second and it is a perfect fifth. The ratio never changed, the figure never changed, and the only thing that moved is the rate — which makes rhythm and pitch one continuum with a perceptual boundary across the middle of it.
The beat is inferred, and sometimes wrongly
A bar line is not in the sound. One sequence of onsets supports a reading in four, in three and in six, and which one a listener settles on comes from a small set of preference rules rather than from anything in the signal — which is why the same recording can be heard two ways and why nobody can be talked out of either.
The beat has a preferred rate, and it is not the notation's
Metre is a hierarchy of levels and only one of them is tapped. Which one is decided by the listener's own clock rather than by the time signature: the window in which a series of events can be a beat at all runs from about a tenth of a second to two seconds, with a marked preference near half a second — so at the extremes of tempo the notated beat and the felt one part company, predictably.
How often the chord changes
Two pieces can use the same chords in the same order and be nothing alike, because a progression says which chords and not how fast. Harmonic rhythm is the second variable, it runs over a factor of thirty between the styles that use it, and both of its limits are set by things that are not harmony — a listener's memory at the slow end and a building at the fast one.
A cycle cannot cadence
Every component of closure is defined by a first time and a last time. Music built on a repeating cycle has neither, so the whole apparatus returns zero on it — not a small value, zero, at every setting. What such music uses instead is how many things are playing, and that is a curve which can be computed from the onsets and nothing else.
A process that enumerates its own form
Take a twelve-step pattern, play it against itself, and move one copy along by one step at a time. The piece is over when the copy returns to where it started, so its length is twelve — arithmetic, not a decision. What is heard at each stage is the union of the two parts, and nobody composed any of it.
The same algorithm made a Cuban rhythm
Ask Bjorklund's algorithm for seven onsets in twelve steps and it returns 101101011010, which read as pitch classes is the natural minor scale. That function has been producing the tresillo and the cinquillo here from the beginning, and nobody has said that the scale field's central object comes out of it unchanged.
How long until it comes back
A self-similarity matrix has a second reading that nobody looks for. Add up each diagonal instead of walking along one, and out falls repetition as a function of how long ago — a period, in bars, with no segmentation, no kernel width and no bar numbers anywhere in the answer. Five of the six schemes here report the length a listener would have named. The sixth reports something better.
The third pattern nobody played
Two players play two even pulses and a third rhythm arrives that neither of them played. It has a + b − 1 onsets, its gaps read the same forwards and backwards, and it uses exactly min(a, b) different lengths — which is a better account of why 3:2 is a figure and 7:5 is weather than the number used for the last three essays.
Which of the two is the beat
A polyrhythm is notated as a bar of two with three laid across it. Run the metre rules used here over the composite and they choose the three — at every ratio tried, without exception. Add the one other rule the rules have, and the answer changes hands at a bar of 1,013 milliseconds, which is 118 to the minute.
The bell is not a polyrhythm
Five earlier essays have set one pattern against another. In the practice the word cross-rhythm was borrowed from, there is one pattern and it is played against the beat — against several beats at once. Counted against the four divisions of a twelve-cycle, the Ewe bell marks half of the two, two-thirds of the three, half of the four and half of the six, and all of none of them.
The right period at the wrong phase
Finding the beat is two problems, not one. How far apart the beats are, and where the first one is. This site's rule set answers the first confidently on a tresillo and returns a three-way tie on the second — the same score for the downbeat on step one, step four and step seven — which is not a near miss but no answer at all.
The ratio that stops being two
Eight earlier essays have taken two clocks at a rational ratio to be a thing a listener can hold. There is a ratio past which it is not, and the bound is not where anyone would look for it: the cycle is exactly one bar long at every ratio, so the length of the pattern separates nothing. What separates them is the closest the two streams ever come, which is one part in their least common multiple — 400 milliseconds for three against two, and seventeen for thirteen against eleven, which is not two events at all.
The rotation the necklace cannot see
Ask Bjorklund's algorithm for the world's timelines and the usual answer is that it produces them. Search every rotation of each Euclidean pattern for a match and the answer is more interesting: the tresillo is E(3,8) exactly, the bossa-nova and the standard bell pattern are rotations of theirs, and the son and rumba claves — the two best-known timelines in the world — are not Euclidean at any rotation whatever. Where the match does hold it holds up to a starting position, and a starting position is the one thing a timeline is.
Which notes are the chord
A progression is a list of chords, and before there is a list something has to decide which of the notes sounding are chord tones and which are passing. Take the eight notes of a scale as eight quavers and score every triad and seventh at every root: barred as written the best reading is C major seventh, with the barline moved by one quaver it is D minor seventh, and with no metre at all three readings tie exactly and the passage has no best analysis. Same eight notes in all three. Harmonic analysis is a function of a variable that is not harmony.
The time signature is a claim
A bar line is not a measurement. It is a claim about where the accents are, made before the sound exists, and there is a metre-induction model here that can be handed the same onsets and asked whether it agrees. On a hemiola it does not: the page says three and the model says six, by a margin of twelve against minus four. And on a bar of seven the signature is not even a candidate — what decides the reading is the beaming, which the signature does not contain.
The note that has a length
Every melodic figure so far reads a table where each note is a pair — a pitch and a duration — and throws the second number away. A step between two minims and a step between two quavers have been one event in every histogram it has drawn. Weighting the same statistics by time moves the step distribution by up to seven points, changes forty-four of a hundred and one contour signs, and turns up an off-by-one in the one figure that did use the durations: it took the length of the note arrived at where the time between two onsets is the length of the note left.
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.
What the clave buys with its unevenness
The essay before this one found that the two best-known timelines in the world are not Euclidean at any rotation, and asked whether they maximise something else. They do: how quickly a fragment of the cycle says where in the cycle it is. The son clave locates itself in nine of its sixteen steps where the even pattern needs fifteen — and of two hundred and seventy-three patterns, twenty-two are on the frontier between the two objectives and the son clave is one of them.
The short note is sitting on the floor
Swing is modelled here as a short note of constant absolute length, which was measured from drummers and left as a fitted parameter. The tempo window's fast edge — the shortest interval a series of events can be a beat at — was measured from listeners tapping. Both are a hundred milliseconds, and if that is not a coincidence then the swing ratio has no free parameter in it at all: the short note is not held constant, it is resting on the floor.
The level the tempo chooses
The boundary detector has a scale parameter and an earlier essay left it free, ending with the sentence that names this one: the scale is in notes and the psychological present is in seconds. The psychological present is two to eight seconds, a tempo converts one to the other, and the level a listener reads then stops being a parameter at all — which is a prediction with teeth, because the same tune at two tempos should be phrased differently at levels the arithmetic names in advance.
A cycle that says where it is
Euclidean timelines were asked how quickly they tell a listener where in the cycle they are, and answered it with rotational asymmetry: a symmetric pattern never locates at all. A colotomic cycle answers the same question with nothing asymmetric in it. Several isochronous layers at nested periods — a gong every sixteen, a kempul every eight, a kenong every four — put the position in which instruments sound, and the position is legible from a single stroke.
The cycle that outruns the memory
A timeline and a colotomy were compared at equal strokes and the comparison had no clock in it. A memory span is a number of seconds and a cycle is a number of steps, so the two only meet through a tempo — and at a clave's two seconds a listener's memory covers twenty-eight steps and forgets nothing, while at a gong cycle's forty it covers 1.4 and forgets almost everything. The single line is the better locator up to twenty-three seconds a cycle and the layered code is better after it, which is very close to where each is actually used.
The frontier and the ruler
A Pareto frontier is a claim about two quantities and only one of them was measured. The locating cost is exact; the unevenness it was traded against was one choice among several. Under four different rulers the son clave stays on the frontier and the frontier shrinks from twenty-two of 273 patterns to seven, so its membership means more rather than less — but the bembe stops being dominated, the two claves stop being equally uneven, and one plausible measure destroys the result entirely.
The surprise of nothing happening
A hazard charges a listener twice — once when the chord changes and once, quietly, at every beat it does not. The second term was expected to dominate, because there are more beats than changes. It is a third of the bill at one chord a bar and never reaches a half at any rate a metre survives, because the cost of a beat where nothing happens is second-order small.
Where the chord actually lands
Every timing surprise so far is evaluated on a downbeat: the curve spans a factor of 6.7 and every number is read at its peak. Charge the waiting as well as the arrival and the costs over a bar become a proper distribution, the spread between the best and worst beat rises to a factor of 19.5, and a third of the probability sits on a bar in which nothing changes at all.
The longest silence is not a third axis
The frontier between evenness and locatability was drawn twice and both times against two quantities, with the third job a timeline does left uncomputed. Computed, neither candidate for it is a third quantity: the longest silence ranks the whole census with the spread of the gaps at 0.94, and syncopation is not a property of a cycle at all — every one of the 273 patterns changes its count when the bar line moves. What the request was actually asking for is a cap rather than an axis, and under the tightest one the census admits thirteen patterns and every named timeline is among them.
The other censuses keep evenness, not locating
Five onsets in sixteen suggested two rules: a named timeline's longest gap is the shortest its census allows, and its syncopation totalled over every rotation is the largest. Nine of ten named timelines across five censuses meet both — but so does the evenly spaced pattern, in all twenty-one censuses from two onsets in eight to eight in sixteen, and in four of those five censuses the named timeline is the evenly spaced pattern. What the rules describe is evenness. The quantity the frontier was built on points the other way: the evenly spaced pattern is the slowest of its census to locate in nineteen of twenty-one, the standard bell pattern is the slowest of all sixty-six patterns of seven in twelve, and among the orders of its own gaps a named timeline is usually both the most even and the slowest to locate. The son clave, whose most even order is also the fastest, is the exception the locating story was told about.
Knowing every metre is slower than knowing none
A long aksak bar cannot be told from its shorter cuts by induction before one step into its last beat, and no accent carried by the notes moves that floor. The obvious escape is a listener who knows the repertoire and recognises the metre instead. Recognition among all 1,820 arrangements of twos and threes never beats the floor, is never quicker than induction, and is slower for half the metres: a nine induced in 9 steps is recognised in 27. What breaks the floor is a small repertoire that leaves out the metre's own longest cut — with the cut known, no repertoire of any size does.
The bell pattern is slowest only to a perfect memory
Among the orders of its own gaps, a named timeline is usually both the most even and the slowest to locate — for a listener who never forgets. Give the listener a memory that halves and the result comes apart. Of six timelines slowest among their orders with perfect memory, only the fume-fume stays slowest for every forgetting listener, and the standard bell pattern, which is the fume-fume with onsets and rests exchanged and settles at exactly the same floors, is second of its three orders for every memory of half its cycle or less. The census ranking survives better, and in fourteen of twenty-one censuses it was the arithmetic of a pattern that repeats.
A dancer who comes in late needs the downbeat marked
Every window for recognising an aksak metre so far started at its written downbeat. A dancer joining a dance already going has not heard the downbeat, and the arithmetic of that is blunt: a metre entered part-way is, onset for onset, each of its own rotations heard from their downbeats, and the rotations are metres too — 2+2+3 and 3+2+2 are counted differently. So on onsets, and with the long beats accented, no metre is ever told from its rotations. Only an accented downbeat tells them apart, and with it a listener who knows thirty metres recognises 54 per cent of them inside the present from a random entry, against 1 per cent without.
Repetition buys least where it is needed most
Every locating figure so far is a listener arriving — the uncertainty averaged over the first cycle heard. Cyclic music comes round dozens of times, and the same model already carries the answer for a listener who has settled: a floor of uncertainty that nothing had read. At two seconds a cycle the repetitions close the whole gap. At sixty they close eight per cent for a single timeline and twelve for a layered code. A slow cycle is worse on the first hearing and gains less from the second, and the two disadvantages compound.
A late dancer needs the landmarks, not the rhythm
A listener who joins an additive-metre dance part-way recognises it far more reliably with the downbeat accented. Strip the stream down to its landmarks — the onsets that begin a bar or a long beat, with every other onset removed — and the listener does as well or better: knowing a hundred metres, 23 per cent are recognised within the present against 14 with every onset. Unmarked, the landmarks still beat every onset with the long beats accented. Neither half does it alone; what identifies a metre from a late entry is where its long beats sit relative to its bar.
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.
An expectation cannot rescue a cycle too slow to time
A listener who knows a piece arrives with an expectation of where in the cycle they are, and the size of that expectation was the number the last essay said nobody had. It can be given one: a listener who has been timing the cycle carries a spread of their Weber fraction times the cycle, which is the same number of steps at any tempo. Timed to ten per cent, a forty-second cycle would be placed better than a newcomer places a two-second one. But forty seconds is judged in the band where the Weber fraction is nearer forty per cent, and there the expectation is worth a tenth of a bit.