With another beloved American holiday coming up, there’s a new terror threat.
“So Shall He Go Unloved By The False Bear”
With another beloved American holiday coming up, there’s a new terror threat.
What’s The Frequency, Kenneth?
Or, disregarding the Dan Rather reference, what’s the (time) signature? A commenter asks in this post:
Uh, pardon me for being clueless, but…..
Can someone explain to me (without using up too much of Rand’s drive-space) just what is meant by a tune’s “time”? I understand that it refers to the tune’s tempo, but the way it’s written suggests one quantity is in ratio to some other quantity…..
Yes, I flunked music appreciation in elementary school. 🙂
We can attempt to explain it to you, but you still may not get it. I’ve explained it to some very smart people, but they still couldn’t get it, even after listening to music that had clear time signatures explained to them.
The top number of a time signature is the number of beats of a measure, which is a unit of music marked off by an accented note. The accent is indicated either by the percussion, in the form of a stronger drumbeat, or by a louder note on the instruments. It’s like the accent on a syllable in a spoken word. So if the signature is 3/4, then every third beat (where each beat has an equal spacing in terms of time) will be noticeably different in some way than the other two.
The lower number is an indication as to whether the accent occurs every quarter note, or every eighth note (most signatures are either X/4 or X/8). Generally, signatures demarked in eighth notes will be more up tempo (faster) than those in quarter notes.
If you want to hear the difference, and you have access to specific types of music (you can almost surely find them on the net these days), waltzes (ONE two three ONE two three) are in 3/4 time, jigs (ONE two three four five six ONE two three four five six, spoken twice as fast as the waltz numbers) are in 6/8 time (classic example being The Irish Washerwoman). Hornpipes and reels are in 2/4 (or 2/8) as in (ONE two THREE four ONE two THREE four), and so on. Most rock and roll (and its slower progeniter, blues) is in one of these forms, though it can be in six as well.
Variations on this are syncopated beats, where the accent falls in unexpected places.
Then there are the weird ones, as discussed in the original post. “Take Five” is in 5/4 time, which means that it goes (ONE two three four five ONE two three four five), except that it’s slightly more complex than that because of a syncopated beat right after the one and the two. You have to listen to it to understand what I mean. “Blue Rondo a la Turk” is in 9, but it’s got subaccents with variations, so it goes ONE two THREE four FIVE six SEVEN eight nine ONE two THREE four FIVE six SEVEN eight nine ONE two THREE four FIVE six SEVEN eight nine ONE two three FOUR five six SEVEN eight nine…
And the Irish have something called a slip jig, which is in 9/8, that goes ONE two three four five six seven eight nine ONE two three four five six seven eight nine…
There are many more, but I hope that helped…someone.
[Saturday morning update]
Lots more good examples in comments, but it just strikes me that one of the most well-known examples of syncopation went out to the stars on the Voyager record.
Chuck Berry’s “Johnny B. Goode” is in a fast four, and if you listen to the guitar riff that leads the song off, for the first few measures every note is right on or between the beat, but in the middle section, you’ll hear them staggered for a few measures, after which it goes straight again to finish off the intro before the vocals. Classic.
Syncopation was also a feature of the Big Band sound. The best example that jumps immediately to mind is Artie Shaw’s classic version of Cole Porter’s “Begin the Beguine.”
What’s The Frequency, Kenneth?
Or, disregarding the Dan Rather reference, what’s the (time) signature? A commenter asks in this post:
Uh, pardon me for being clueless, but…..
Can someone explain to me (without using up too much of Rand’s drive-space) just what is meant by a tune’s “time”? I understand that it refers to the tune’s tempo, but the way it’s written suggests one quantity is in ratio to some other quantity…..
Yes, I flunked music appreciation in elementary school. 🙂
We can attempt to explain it to you, but you still may not get it. I’ve explained it to some very smart people, but they still couldn’t get it, even after listening to music that had clear time signatures explained to them.
The top number of a time signature is the number of beats of a measure, which is a unit of music marked off by an accented note. The accent is indicated either by the percussion, in the form of a stronger drumbeat, or by a louder note on the instruments. It’s like the accent on a syllable in a spoken word. So if the signature is 3/4, then every third beat (where each beat has an equal spacing in terms of time) will be noticeably different in some way than the other two.
The lower number is an indication as to whether the accent occurs every quarter note, or every eighth note (most signatures are either X/4 or X/8). Generally, signatures demarked in eighth notes will be more up tempo (faster) than those in quarter notes.
If you want to hear the difference, and you have access to specific types of music (you can almost surely find them on the net these days), waltzes (ONE two three ONE two three) are in 3/4 time, jigs (ONE two three four five six ONE two three four five six, spoken twice as fast as the waltz numbers) are in 6/8 time (classic example being The Irish Washerwoman). Hornpipes and reels are in 2/4 (or 2/8) as in (ONE two THREE four ONE two THREE four), and so on. Most rock and roll (and its slower progeniter, blues) is in one of these forms, though it can be in six as well.
Variations on this are syncopated beats, where the accent falls in unexpected places.
Then there are the weird ones, as discussed in the original post. “Take Five” is in 5/4 time, which means that it goes (ONE two three four five ONE two three four five), except that it’s slightly more complex than that because of a syncopated beat right after the one and the two. You have to listen to it to understand what I mean. “Blue Rondo a la Turk” is in 9, but it’s got subaccents with variations, so it goes ONE two THREE four FIVE six SEVEN eight nine ONE two THREE four FIVE six SEVEN eight nine ONE two THREE four FIVE six SEVEN eight nine ONE two three FOUR five six SEVEN eight nine…
And the Irish have something called a slip jig, which is in 9/8, that goes ONE two three four five six seven eight nine ONE two three four five six seven eight nine…
There are many more, but I hope that helped…someone.
[Saturday morning update]
Lots more good examples in comments, but it just strikes me that one of the most well-known examples of syncopation went out to the stars on the Voyager record.
Chuck Berry’s “Johnny B. Goode” is in a fast four, and if you listen to the guitar riff that leads the song off, for the first few measures every note is right on or between the beat, but in the middle section, you’ll hear them staggered for a few measures, after which it goes straight again to finish off the intro before the vocals. Classic.
Syncopation was also a feature of the Big Band sound. The best example that jumps immediately to mind is Artie Shaw’s classic version of Cole Porter’s “Begin the Beguine.”
What’s The Frequency, Kenneth?
Or, disregarding the Dan Rather reference, what’s the (time) signature? A commenter asks in this post:
Uh, pardon me for being clueless, but…..
Can someone explain to me (without using up too much of Rand’s drive-space) just what is meant by a tune’s “time”? I understand that it refers to the tune’s tempo, but the way it’s written suggests one quantity is in ratio to some other quantity…..
Yes, I flunked music appreciation in elementary school. 🙂
We can attempt to explain it to you, but you still may not get it. I’ve explained it to some very smart people, but they still couldn’t get it, even after listening to music that had clear time signatures explained to them.
The top number of a time signature is the number of beats of a measure, which is a unit of music marked off by an accented note. The accent is indicated either by the percussion, in the form of a stronger drumbeat, or by a louder note on the instruments. It’s like the accent on a syllable in a spoken word. So if the signature is 3/4, then every third beat (where each beat has an equal spacing in terms of time) will be noticeably different in some way than the other two.
The lower number is an indication as to whether the accent occurs every quarter note, or every eighth note (most signatures are either X/4 or X/8). Generally, signatures demarked in eighth notes will be more up tempo (faster) than those in quarter notes.
If you want to hear the difference, and you have access to specific types of music (you can almost surely find them on the net these days), waltzes (ONE two three ONE two three) are in 3/4 time, jigs (ONE two three four five six ONE two three four five six, spoken twice as fast as the waltz numbers) are in 6/8 time (classic example being The Irish Washerwoman). Hornpipes and reels are in 2/4 (or 2/8) as in (ONE two THREE four ONE two THREE four), and so on. Most rock and roll (and its slower progeniter, blues) is in one of these forms, though it can be in six as well.
Variations on this are syncopated beats, where the accent falls in unexpected places.
Then there are the weird ones, as discussed in the original post. “Take Five” is in 5/4 time, which means that it goes (ONE two three four five ONE two three four five), except that it’s slightly more complex than that because of a syncopated beat right after the one and the two. You have to listen to it to understand what I mean. “Blue Rondo a la Turk” is in 9, but it’s got subaccents with variations, so it goes ONE two THREE four FIVE six SEVEN eight nine ONE two THREE four FIVE six SEVEN eight nine ONE two THREE four FIVE six SEVEN eight nine ONE two three FOUR five six SEVEN eight nine…
And the Irish have something called a slip jig, which is in 9/8, that goes ONE two three four five six seven eight nine ONE two three four five six seven eight nine…
There are many more, but I hope that helped…someone.
[Saturday morning update]
Lots more good examples in comments, but it just strikes me that one of the most well-known examples of syncopation went out to the stars on the Voyager record.
Chuck Berry’s “Johnny B. Goode” is in a fast four, and if you listen to the guitar riff that leads the song off, for the first few measures every note is right on or between the beat, but in the middle section, you’ll hear them staggered for a few measures, after which it goes straight again to finish off the intro before the vocals. Classic.
Syncopation was also a feature of the Big Band sound. The best example that jumps immediately to mind is Artie Shaw’s classic version of Cole Porter’s “Begin the Beguine.”
Another Scalp For The Blogosphere?
Ramesh Ponnuru is reporting that Eason Jordan just resigned.
I guess that some folks really didn’t want that videotape to get out, to protect the CNN brand. I wonder if Jonathan Klein is getting himself fitted for some pajamas?
Note the timing also. Late Friday aftenoon, so everyone will have forgotten about it by Monday.
Does that trick still work in the era of the blogosphere?
Clueless Reporters
At the WaPo.
When are they going to learn what a blog is? Hint: Free Republic isn’t one, doesn’t have one, and its commenters are not “bloggers.”
I think that to the degree they think they know what a blog is, in their minds, it probably means “people who post stuff on that Internet thingie that somehow, unaccountably, keeps making us look bad.”
Reversing Yalta
The Yalta summit was sixty years ago today. The Germans had been defeated in the Battle of the Bulge a couple weeks before, and the end of the Nazi regime was clearly only weeks or at most months away. Much of the damage of that conference was undone in the late eighties, as the Wall came down. But Arthur Herman says that President Bush should (as he implied in his inaugural address) finish the job.
We Ain’t Got No Rhythm
In North America, that is:
Hannon and Sandra Trehub of the University of Toronto began their study with knowledge that other studies had shown people in North America struggle to grasp irregular rhythms. Balkan music proves troubling, for example. So the researchers studied 50 college students, mostly from the United States and Canada, and 17 first- or second-generation Bulgarian and Macedonian immigrants. Songs with simple meters were made more complex, and complex songs were simplified.
The North Americans recognized when things got trickier, but couldn’t tell when things got simpler. The immigrants figured both out.
I have an old album by the Irish folk musician Andy Irvine, who spent a lot of time in the Balkans, and plays bouzouki, on which he plays a number of horas. I can’t imagine how in the world folks dance to them.
But I was particularly appalled a few years ago when in an elevator, I heard a version of Dave Brubeck’s “Take Five” done in 4/4 time (it was originally written, as hinted at by the title, in 5/4–another Brubeck classic, on the same album, is Blue Rondo A La Turk, in 9/8). They had apparently dumbed it down for less sophisticated American ears. I almost couldn’t believe what I was hearing.
We Ain’t Got No Rhythm
In North America, that is:
Hannon and Sandra Trehub of the University of Toronto began their study with knowledge that other studies had shown people in North America struggle to grasp irregular rhythms. Balkan music proves troubling, for example. So the researchers studied 50 college students, mostly from the United States and Canada, and 17 first- or second-generation Bulgarian and Macedonian immigrants. Songs with simple meters were made more complex, and complex songs were simplified.
The North Americans recognized when things got trickier, but couldn’t tell when things got simpler. The immigrants figured both out.
I have an old album by the Irish folk musician Andy Irvine, who spent a lot of time in the Balkans, and plays bouzouki, on which he plays a number of horas. I can’t imagine how in the world folks dance to them.
But I was particularly appalled a few years ago when in an elevator, I heard a version of Dave Brubeck’s “Take Five” done in 4/4 time (it was originally written, as hinted at by the title, in 5/4–another Brubeck classic, on the same album, is Blue Rondo A La Turk, in 9/8). They had apparently dumbed it down for less sophisticated American ears. I almost couldn’t believe what I was hearing.