Documentos de Académico
Documentos de Profesional
Documentos de Cultura
Tunings
By Kyle Gann
1. Tuning in Pre-20th Century Europe
2. Meantone Tuning
3. Werckmeister III and Bach's W.T.C.
4. Well Temperament and 18th-Century Music
5. A Word about Pythagorean Tuning
6. Conclusion
Just Intonation - a whole other subject
Dead wrong.
Equal temperament - the bland, equal spacing of the 12 pitches of the octave -
is pretty much a 20th-century phenomenon. It was known about in Europe as
early as the early 17th century, and in China much earlier. But it wasn't used,
because the consensus was that it sounded awful: out of tune and
characterless. During the 19th century (for reasons we'll discuss later),
keyboard tuning drifted closer and closer to equal temperament over the
protest of many of the more sensitive musicians. Not until 1917 was a method
devised for tuning exact equal temperament.
So how was earlier European music tuned? What are we missing when we
hear older music played in 20th-century equal temperament?
2. Meantone Tuning
Let's start with Europe's most successful tuning, if endurance can be equated
with success. Meantone tuning appeared sometime around the late 15th
century, and was used widely through the early 18th century. In fact, it
survived in pockets of resistance, especially in the tuning of English organs,
all the way through the 19th century. No other tuning has survived in the west
for 400 years. Let's see what meantone offered.
In a purely consonant major third, the two strings vibrate at a frequency ratio
of 5 to 4. For example, if
A
vibrates at
440 cycles per second,
then
C#
vibrates at
550 cycles per second.
Or if G vibrates at 100 cycles per second, then B vibrates at 125, and so on. (If
you'd like this explained in more detail, visit my Just Intonation
Explained page.) The size of a pure 5:4 major third is 386.3 cents, a cent being
one 1200th of an octave, or one 100th of a half-step. Since an octave is 1200
cents, by definition, it is easy to see that three pure major thirds (3 x 386.3
cents = 1158.9) do not equal an octave. That's the whole problem of keyboard
tuning, where you're limited to 12 steps per octave. Where do you put the gaps
in your chains of perfect major thirds?
A
vibrates at
440 cycles per second,
then
E
vibrates at
660 cycles per second.
A pure perfect fifth should be 702 cents wide, which is just about 7/12 of an
octave; our current equal-tempered tuning accomodates perfect fifths (at 700
cents) within 2 cents, which is closer than most people can distinguish, but the
thirds (at 400 cents) are way off, and form audible beats that are ugly once
you're sensitized to hear them.
Let's look at the meantone solution. There was no one invariable meantone tuning; before the
20th century, tuning was an art, not a science, and each tuner had his own method of tuning
according to his own taste. The following is a chart of a meantone tuning defined in 1523 by
Pietro Aaron.
Pitch: C C# D Eb E F F# G G# A A# B C
Cents: 0 76.0 193.2 310.3 386.3 503.4 579.5 696.8 772.6 889.7 1006.8 1082.9 1200
(I adapt this chart, and ones following below, from an invaluable book, the
bible of historical keyboard tuning: Owen Jorgensen's Tuning: Containing the
Perfection of Eighteenth-Century Temperament, the Lost Art of Nineteenth-
Century Temperament, and the Science of Equal Temperament , Michigan State
University Press, 1991.) Now let's look at the sizes of the major thirds and perfect fifths on each
pitch:
A major third and perfect fifth on the same pitch, of course, make up a major
triad, the most common chord in European music from 1500 to 1900 - the
meantone era. Let's look at what kind of major triads we have in meantone
tuning.
The major thirds that are about 386 cents wide will be sweet, consonant,
attractive. Eight pitches have virtually perfect major thirds on them - all
except Db, F#, Ab, and B, whose major thirds are all about 427 cents. A third
of 427 cents sounds like this: WAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWA...!!! and is
unusable for normal musical purposes. (Trust me on this.) All of the fifths are
about 696 cents except for one, that on Ab, which is 737 cents and sounds
terrible. The fifths would sound better at 702 cents, but at 696 or 697 you
don't really notice the difference, especially if the chord is filled in with that
perfect major third to smooth over the discrepancy. This is where the practice
originated in European music of never having an open fifth sounding by itself
without a third filling it in: the spare perfect fifth isn't quite consonant, and
that fact becomes obvious if the third isn't there.
Before we leave the subject of meantone, lets look at the available minor triads:
A pure minor third is supposed to have a frequency ratio of 6:5. For example, if C# vibrates at
550 cycles per second, E should vibrate at 660. A 6:5 ratio interval is 315.64 cents wide. None
of the minor thirds in this meantone are quite that wide, but most of them are 310 cents,
which is, pardon the expression, close enough for jazz. (Actually, a narrow 7/6 minor third,
often used by La Monte Young, is 266.8 cents, invitingly close to that 269; but 7/6 is an interval
that was never recognized by European theory, though used in jazz and Arabic music among
others.) Therefore the minor triads on C, C#, D, E, F#, G, A, and B are acceptable. (Not the one
on G#, despite its OK minor third, because it has that wildly beating fifth.) If you think about it,
these triads define the relative minor of the major keys implied by the major triads above:
Major: C D Eb E F G A Bb
Minor: A B C C# D E F# G
One important keyboard work from the early 17th century (a real masterpiece,
in fact) is Orlando Gibbons's Lord Salisbury Pavane. It's in A minor. If you
look at it (it's in the Historical Anthology of Music), Gibbons several times
goes to the major triads on F, G, and C (which are in A natural minor), E (in
the harmonic major), and D (not in A minor). He never, however, uses a B
major (V/V) or F# major (V/ii) triad, even though V/V is not rare and V/ii not
unthinkable in a minor key. He avoids them because they don't really exist in
the tuning of his harpsichord. Had Gibbons begun in the key of C minor, he
would have had to write a different piece, because instead of moving from A
minor to F major, he would have had to move from C minor to Ab major, and
Ab major, strictly speaking, didn't exist on his harpsichord.
One last point: Why is it called meantone? Because it splits the difference on
where to place certain pitches. If C and E are tuned as a perfect major third of
386 cents, D should be tuned at 204 cents (9/8) for the key of C, but at 182
cents (10/9) for the key of D. Tuned at 193, D is right in the middle, halfway
between C and E, and halfway between the two points it needs to be in for the
various common keys; 193 is the mean between 182 and 204. Meantone
temperament sacrificed the seconds, which were mainly melodic intervals
rather than harmonic ones anyway, to achieve beautiful thirds.
Bach did not use equal temperament. In fact, in his day there was no way to
tune strings to equal temperament, because there were no devices to measure
frequency. They had no scientific method to achieve real equal-ness; they
could only approximate.
Bach was, however, interested in a tuning that would allow him the possibility
of working in all 12 keys, that did not make certain triads off-limits. He was a
master of counterpoint, and chafed and fumed when the music in his head
demanded a triad on A-flat and the harpsichord in front of him couldn't play it
in tune. (In fact, he used to torment his organ tuner by playing sour Ab-major
triads when the old man came in to work.) So he was glad to see tuners
develop a tuning that, today, is known as well temperament. Back then, they
did call it equal temperament - not because the 12 pitches were equally
spaced, but because you could play equally well in all keys. Each key,
however, was a little different, and Bach wrote The Well-Tempered Clavier in
all 24 major and minor keys in order to capitalize on those differences, not
because the differences didn't exist.
In any case (according to Jorgensen), the error that Bach wrote the W.T.C. in
order to take advantage of what we call equal temperament crept into the
1893 Grove Dictionary, and has since been uncritically taught as fact to
millions of budding musicians. Lord knows how long it will take to get that
error out of the universities. It's still in all kinds of reference books.
The theorist who came up with the easiest way to tune the kind of well
temperament Bach needed was the German organist Andreas Werckmeister
(1645-1706), whose most famous tuning, dating from 1691, is known as
Werckmeister III. A table for Werckmeister III is as follows:
Pitch: C C# D Eb E F F# G G# A A# B C
Cents 90.22 192.1 294.13 390.22 498.04 588.2 696.0 792.1 888.2 996.0 1092.1 120
0
: 5 8 5 5 5 7 9 8 7 9 8 0
Notice that we've moved considerably closer to equal temperament; no pitch is more than 12
cents off. The following perfect fifths are 3/2 ratios of 701.955 cents each: Gb - Db - Ab - Eb - Bb
- F - C, as well as A - E - B. The Pythagorean comma is distributed among the remaining fourths,
C - G - D - A and B - F#, each of which is 696.09 cents. Let's look at the triads we now have on
each pitch, organized for clarity's sake following the circle of fifths:
As you look down the columns, you can get an idea of the quality of each
triad. Note that no perfect fifth is narrower than 696 cents, nor wider than 702;
this is what renders all 12 (or 24 keys) usable. The closest major thirds to
perfect are C-E and F-A. G-B, D-F#, and Bb-D are each 396.09 cents, still
sweeter than equal temperament. A-C#, E-G#, and Eb-G are around 401 cents,
close to equal temperament; they therefore have a rather bland, neutral quality.
The major thirds on F#, Db, and Ab are 408 cents wide, the same size as in
Pythagorean tuning (for which, see below), and not very attractive. Again, the
best minor triads are grouped around A minor, with the minor third A-C, at
312 cents, coming closest to the optimum of 316 cents.
So what is the effect of Werckmeister III? Can the ear really hear a difference
from equal temperament?
I've done experiments with students at Bard and Bucknell, playing preludes
from the W.T.C. in different keys on a sampled piano tuned to Werckmeister
III; say, playing the C major prelude in B, C, and D (computer-sequenced, so
that the quality of the transposed performances wasn't a factor). Especially at
Bard, the students could invariably pick which was the appropriate key
for each prelude. In keys with poor consonances, like F# major, Bach will
pass quickly by the major third, and the slight touches of dissonance give the
prelude a bright, sparkly air. In more consonant keys, as in the C major
prelude, the tonality is much more mellow, and Bach can afford to dwell on
the tonic triad. Each key has a different color (as opposed to the uniform color
of all keys in equal termperament), and even (or especially!) the unpracticed
ear can hear appropriate and inappropriate correspondences between the
character of each prelude and the color of each key. Of course, there are
preludes that sound fine in more than one key; but it's disconcerting to move a
prelude to a distant key, such as from Bb to B, or C# minor to Eb minor.
Pitch: C C# D Eb E F F# G G# A A# B C
Cents: 0 93.9 195.8 297.8 391.7 499.9 591.9 697.9 795.8 893.8 999.8 1091.8 1200
This is even closer to equal temperament; even so, when I switched to it, my
piano tuner had to return twice within two months before it began to stabilize.
(You'd be surprised how exactly your piano's soundboard can remember a 6-
cent difference.) Let's look at the quality of the triads:
This is a subtle tuning, quite usable in all keys, and the differences from equal
temperament are more evident to the pianist playing in it than to the listener.
The best major thirds are grouped in the circle of fifths around C-E, whereas
the perfect fifths become more perfect in the black keys, which all have fifths
of 702 cents. This gives the keys related to C a sweet, gentle quality, the
black-note keys an austere, noble quality, and middle keys like Eb and A a
neutral, ambiguous quality.
Certain keys are warmer than others; F# minor, for instance, imparts a lush
quality to the slow movement of the Hammerklavier Sonata. Db major is
surprising, almost too harsh, and if I happen to play Db and F alone on the
keyboard the buzzy beats make me jump as though I had played a wrong note.
I'm surprised, when I play the slow movement of
Beethoven's Appassionata Sonata that he chose this bright key for such a
mellow movement. (It makes me wonder if his deafness made him forget
about the varying qualities of the keys.)
Pitch: C C# D Eb E F F# G G# A A# B C
2187/204 32/2 81/6 729/51 128/8 27/1 243/12
Ratios: 1/1 9/8 4/3 3/2 16/9 2/1
8 7 4 2 1 6 8
203. 996.
Cents: 0 113.7 294.1 407.8 498 611.7 702 792.2 905.9 1109.8 1200
9 1
This was an appropriate scale for a music in which perfect fifths and fourths
were the overwhelmingly dominant sonority, and in which the pitches C#, F#,
and G# hardly appeared if at all. Though used, the thirds were theoretical
dissonances, and therefore avoided at final cadences: the major third, 81/64,
was 408 cents wide, and the minor third, 32/27, 294 cents. As Margo Schulter
has convincingly written me, however, those wide thirds do provide a
compelling pull to the perfect fifths they usually resolve outward to; that is, in
a cadence typical of Guillaume de Machaut (c. 1300-1377), a D and F# 408
cents apart will move outwardly to C and G. Gradually, especially under the
English influence of John Dunstable and others, the thirds began to be
redefined as 5-related intervals, 5/4 and 6/5, precipitating the necessity of
meantone tuning and a revolution in musical style that led to the Renaissance.
Since equal temperament has close-to-perfect fifths (700 cents compared to a
perfect 702), much music written in Pythogorean tuning doesn't fare too badly
in equal temperament. The Hilliard Ensemble observes Pythagorean tuning in
its recordings of the Machaut Notre Dame Mass (Hyperion) and the organum
of Perotin (ECM).
6. Conclusion
I wish I could offer a wider disography of recordings in historical tunings.
Luckily, a few recordings in documented historical temperaments have
appeared in the last few years:
And Francis Markey has written from Uppsala, Sweden, to tell me that many
recordings of Renaissance-and-earlier brass music are played in just
intonation. The same is more or less true, of course, of many string quartet
recordings and old-fashioned barbershop quartets. Then, there are the Hilliard
Ensemble recordings in Pythagorean tuning given above. It may be that some
of the many original-practice harpsichord recordings and European organ
recordings use meantone. I haven't run into any that document their tuning.
This whole subject has been so well hidden by the universities and musical
authorities that very few musicians even realize how arbitrary, recent, and
misleading our current universal tuning is. I was introduced to the subject by
pianist Phillip Bush, who played a concert in New York a few years ago
featuring Renaissance music in meantone and Beethoven in well
temperament. For those further interested, I highly recommend Owen
Jorgensen's four-inch thick Tuning compendium (Michigan State University
Press, 1991). And I hope this will spark some interest that will lead to further
experiments in reclaiming the original beauty of Europe's musical past.
C
is denoted as
1/1.
Any C in the scale can then be denoted as 1/1. Or, the C an octave above a
particular C can be denoted as 2/1, since a 2-to-1 ratio between frequencies is
an octave.
In order to define pitches by fractions, some arbitrary pitch needs to be
defined as 1/1. E-flat can be 1/1, or F-sharp, or A-flat - it doesn't matter. For
now, we'll use 1/1 = C.
These ratios are always ratios between the rate of vibration of two tones. For
example,
(An interval is simply the distance between any two pitches in perceived
pitch-space.)
The confusing thing for most people is that fractions denoting octaves are
equivalent. That is, 1/1 is the same pitch as 2/1, and also the same pitch as 4/1.
We're used to eight different keys on the piano all being called by the same
letter - C - but we're not used to fractions behaving this way: 1/1 = 2/1 = 4/1.
In just intonation, that's the way it is. Fractions in tuning are usually written in
such a way as to bring them between 1/1 and 2/1, multiplying or dividing by 2
when necessary. That is,
For many people, this is the hardest aspect of tuning theory: getting used to
the idea that
If one pitch vibrates at 200 cycles per second and another at 300 cycles per
second, we have a 3/2 ratio. This is what musicians commonly call a "perfect
fifth": C to G. If we are in the key of C, then
1/1 denotes C,
and
3/2 denotes G.
The ratio 3/2 simply means that one pitch vibrates 3/2 as fast (three halves as
fast) as the other.
The fraction or ratio 5/4 gives us what musicians call a "major third," that is, E in the key of C.
(The E string vibrates 5/4 as fast as the C string.) Notes that have these simple arithmetical
relationships sound good (consonant) together; the ear registers their harmoniousness.
("Harmony" and "arithmetic" are derived from the same root.) Ever since Ptolemy in the
second century A.D., our major scale has been an approximation of the following ratios:
C D E F G A B C
1/1 9/8 5/4 4/3 3/2 5/3 15/8 2/1
Whenever you sing "Way down upon the Swanee River" - E D C E D C C' A
C' - your voice and ear are unconsciously measuring these ratios to the tonic
pitch: 5/4, 9/8, 1/1, 5/4, 9/8, 1/1, 2/1, 5/3, 2/1, and so on. Didn't know your ear
could calculate exact ratios between frequencies, did you? It can, with
astonishing accuracy.
Naturally, there are an infinite number of fractions, and every single fraction between 1/1 and
2/1 pinpoints a potential note in a scale. For example, we could expand Ptolemy's scale above
to complete a chromatic scale of 12 pitches:
C C# D Eb E F F# G Ab A Bb B C
1/1 16/15 9/8 6/5 5/4 4/3 45/32 3/2 8/5 5/3 9/5 15/8 2/1
Scientists have devised a standard unit for measuring the size of perceived
intervals resulting from two frequencies vibrating at a given ratio. This unit is
called a cent because it equals 1/100th of a half-step. A half-step is the
smallest interval between two notes on the piano. There are 12 half-steps in an
octave, and so one octave = 1200 cents. By definition.
This means that all of our normal intervals on the modern piano are divisible
by 100 cents. For example, what musicians call a
There is a rather complicated formula for figuring out how many cents large
an interval is:
And so on, and so on. (Find a reference chart of several hundred intervals
within an octave, given with ratios and cents, at Anatomy of an Octave.)
The smaller the numbers in an interval's ratio, the more consonant (sweet-
sounding) it is, and the more useful it is for purposes of musical intelligibility.
(There are times, of course, when unintelligibility is desirable.) The most
consonant interval besides the unison (1/1) is the octave (2/1), next the perfect
fifth (3/2), then the perfect fourth (4/3 - even though European music long
treated this interval as a dissonance), then the major sixth (5/3), then the major
third (5/4), minor third (6/5), and so on. (6/4, of course, reduces to 3/2.)
Using slightly larger numbers, we get a variety of interval sizes among pitches whose ratios are
still simple enough to learn to hear. For instance, here is a series of major seconds, ranging
from one a quarter-tone flat to one a sixth-tone sharp:
Likewise, there are several simple thirds, ranging from a bitterly narrow 7/6 minor third to a
"normal" 6/5 minor third to an "undecimal" (11-related) "neutral" third (in-between major and
minor) of 11/9, to a normal major third of 5/4, to a wide 9/7 major third:
Notice that the two 7-related thirds, 7/6 and 9/7, are at 267 cents and 435 cents
- each of them about a third of a half-step away from 12-pitch equal
temperament. This means that dividing your octave into 36 equal steps will
accommodate a lot of 7-related intervals. Also notice that the 11-related
intervals, like 11/10 and 11/9, are very close to quarter-tones. A quarter-tone
scale allows for close approximations of a lot of 11-related intervals.
Here is a sequence of fourths leading into tritones and then fifths, actually the
same sequence I use as drones in the Battle Scene of Custer and Sitting Bull:
Ratio: 21/16 4/3 27/20 11/8 7/5 10/7 16/11 40/27 3/2
Cents: 470.8 498.0 519.6 551.3 582.5 617.5 648.7 680.5 702.0
By the way, it's really not so difficult to learn to recognize these intervals by
ear. When I first started out with this in 1984, I would tune a synthesizer to the
intervals I wanted to learn - I started out contrasting 10/9 and 9/8 - and then let
the intervals run in a loop on tape (later computer-sequenced) as I was going
about my daily business, letting myself pick up the differences in character
with my peripheral hearing. Today, if I'm composing in just intonation and I
accidentally use a pitch as much as five cents off from the one I wanted, I
catch the mistake by ear almost immediately - because I recognize that
the character of the interval is not the one I wanted. (And no, I don't have
perfect pitch.)
So what about the larger numbers, like 1323/1024 and 243/128? Why do such
intervals exist at all?
Usually because they are derived intervals that are useful for modulating to
different tonics, or transposing chords. I'll explain in a roundabout way:
Another of the biggest mental blocks for people starting out with tuning
theory is that, to add two intervals together, you have to multiply their
ratios. For example,
So, for some musical purposes, we might want a pure minor seventh of
7/4
And above that 7/4 we might want to have a perfect fifth available:
That's a simple harmonic structure, but already the numbers are getting pretty
big. And the most complex number in La Monte Young's The Well-Tuned
Piano, 1323/1024, is the result of taking a minor seventh
7/4
That's not a very complicated musical relationship for a composer to think in,
but the numbers get complicated if you're trying to think of it in just
intonation. And actually, that pitch is the least often used in The Well-Tuned
Piano, and doesn't appear on the recorded version at all.
Pitch: C D E F G A B C
Ratio: 1/1 9/8 5/4 4/3 3/2 5/3 15/8 2/1
Cents: 0 204 386 498 702 884 1088 1200
That's a fine scale for playing in the key of C. The major third above C is 386 cents, the perfect
fifth is 702 cents - it'll sound great. But let's move to the key of D and recalculate the intervals
in cents above D:
Pitch: C D E F G A B C
Ratio to C: 1/1 9/8 5/4 4/3 3/2 5/3 15/8 2/1
Ratio to D: 8/9 1/1 10/9 32/27 4/3 40/27 5/3 16/9
Cents: -204 0 182 294 498 680 884 996
The perfect fifth from D to A is now only 680 cents wide instead of an
optimum 702, and it sounds awful. You may have noticed it has a wow-wow-
wow growl to it, which you can hear in isolation here, that explains why such
fifths have always been called "wolf" intervals. (Here you can hear it
contrasted with a simpler 3/2 fifth.) You might occasionally want that sound
for a scary moment, but you generally can't use it as a point of stability. In
addition, the D-to-F interval is 32/27 (294 cents) instead of an optimum 6/5
(316 cents), so that minor third will sound a little pinched and harsh as well. A
keyboard tuned perfectly to C like this will sound lovely as long as you don't
venture beyond the I, IV, and V chords of C (C, F, and G major triads), but the
minute you try a ii chord (D) you're in trouble, as you can hear in the twangy
fifth chord of this chord progression (which would sound even worse on an
acoustic piano). And as for playing in more distant keys like A-flat and E
major and F# - forget it.
So we compromise. We jiggle all of the pitches around until all the perfect
fifths are equal, all 700 cents, which after all is pretty close to 702. All the
major thirds, though, are 400 cents instead of 386, which is pretty sharp. We
don't notice how bad our major thirds sound because our culture has been
awash in equal-tempered intervals since the turn of the last century. We grow
up desensitized to the buzz that equal-tempered intervals make, a buzz you
can hear quite clearly by sitting at a piano and playing two low-register notes
an octave and a major third apart, or a major sixth apart. (Those are
particularly obvious examples. In fact, piano tuners count the beats per second
in those intervals to tell when they've tuned a piano "correctly.")
Many recent composers have come to feel that the compromise of equal
temperament was a mistake. They feel that the musical logic of moving from
any key to any other key became a priority at the expense of music's sonic
sensuousness. Harry Partch was the first such composer. He defined his own
scale with 43 pitches to the octave, and invented his own instruments to play
it. Lou Harrison was the next major figure to abandon equal temperament; he
has used many tunings taken from Indonesian gamelans, and also, in his Piano
Concerto, returned to an almost-pure tuning called Kirnberger II from the 18th
century. Other composers to work in pure tuning (just intonation) include
Partch's protegeBen Johnston (my teacher), La Monte Young, Terry
Riley, Pauline Oliveros, James Tenney, Rhys Chatham, Glenn Branca (in
his middle symphonies, Nos. 3, 4, and 5), Ben Neill, Dean Drummond, and
myself (Kyle Gann).
Notes: Eb E F F# G G# A Bb B C C# D
Ratios: 1/1 567/512 9/8 147/128 21/16 1323/1024 189/128 3/2 49/32 7/4 441/256 63/32
Cents: 0 177 204 240 471 444 675 702 738 969 942 1173
Here is a quiet, transitional excerpt from the piece that uses a variety of the
intervals offered.
Here's an excerpt, the first minute, from Ben Johnston's Suite for Microtonal
Piano (1977), in which the piano is entirely tuned to overtones of C. You can
clearly hear the 11th harmonic halfway between F and F#, and the 31-cent
"flat" seventh harmonic. The scale is as follows:
Notes: C C# D Eb E F F# G Ab A Bb B
Ratios: 1/1 17/16 9/8 19/16 5/4 21/16 11/8 3/2 13/8 27/16 7/4 15/8
Cents: 0 105 203.9 297.5 386.3 470.8 551.3 702 840.5 905.9 968.8 1088.3
Here's an excerpt from the final scene of my Custer and Sitting Bull, based on
a 31-pitch scale over a G drone. Voice-leading in tiny increments, especially
in the part of the scale from A up to D, is clearly audible.
My teacher, Ben Johnston, was convinced that our tuning is responsible for
much of our cultural psychology, the fact that we are so geared toward
progress and action and violence and so little attuned to introspection,
contentment, and acquiesence. Equal temperament could be described as the
musical equivalent to eating a lot of red meat and processed sugars and
watching violent action films. The music doesn't turn your attention inward, it
makes you want to go out and work off your nervous energy on something.
On a more subtle level, after I've been immersed in just intonation for a couple
of weeks, equal temperament music begins to sound insipid, bland, colorless.
There are only eleven types of intervals available instead of the potential
several dozen that exist in even the simplest just system, and you don't get
gradations of different sizes of major third or major sixths the way you do in
just tuning. On a piano in just intonation, moving from one tonic to another
changes the whole interval makeup of the key, and you get a really specific,
visceral feel for where you are on the pitch map. That feeling disappears in
bland, all-keys-the-same equal temperament. As a composer, I enjoy having
the option, if I'm going to use a minor third interval, of being able to choose
among the 7/6, 6/5, 19/16, and 11/9 varieties, each with its own individual
feeling.
Far beyond the mere theoretical purity, playing in just intonation for long
periods sensitizes me to a myriad colors, and coming back to the equal
tempered world is like seeing everything click back into black and white. It's a
disappointing readjustment. Come to think of it, maybe you shouldn't try just
intonation - you'll become unfit to live in the West, and have to move to India
or Bali.
Does this sound like I have a problem with European music? I don't at all. My
complaint is with the bland way in which European and American musics are
currently tuned. In fact, before the 20th century, European music had its own
wonderful non-equal-tempered tunings, which unfortunately we've
abandoned. To read about them, go to my Introduction to Historical
Tunings page.
Terry Riley: The Harp of New Albion - Riley, piano; Celestial Harmonies
CEL 018/19 (two CDs).
Terry Riley: Shri Camel (Anthem of the Trinity; Celestial Valley; Across the
Lake of the Ancient Word; Desert of Ice) - Riley, just-intonation organ; CBS
MK 35164.
Ben Johnston: String Quartet No. 9 - Stanford String Quartet; Laurel LR-
847CD.
Ben Johnston: Suite for Microtonal Piano - Robert Miller, piano; New
World Records, 80203-2.
Kyle Gann: The Day Revisited on Private Dances, New Albion NA 137
Kyle Gann: Custer's Ghost - Monroe Street msm 60104.
I'm a great fan of both just intonation and various equal temperaments.
Personally, I vastly prefer composing in just intonation, but I am thrilled by
the sound of a lot of music that uses equal temperaments of more than 12
pitches per octave. Artists have to use materials with which they can feel
comfortably creative: for me, that's the ratios of just intonation, but for many
other people, equal scale steps are easier to negotiate. Both are valid, and the
results can sometimes even be practically indistinguishable.
For anyone, no matter whom, to make the assumption that composers who use
just intonation do so from a desire to hear pure, beatless intervals, and only for
that reason, would be presumptuous and naive. For instance, I use just
intonation with synthesizers, and not very sophisticated ones at that. I am
under no illusion that I am going to get beatless consonance. I usually can't
even get a single beatless tone. I've written just-intonation pieces on an Akai
sampler with only a 6-cent resolution and been happy as a clam. I think the
only composer who is really looking for perfectly beatless consonances is La
Monte Young, and he has an extreme synthesizer, extreme ears, and extreme
patience. I don't.
5. For me the great thing about just intonation is not that everything is
consonant and beats don't exist, but that you have a tremendous range
from having no beats at all to extreme WOWOWOWOWOW beat
conglomerations. It's not that I dislike the buzziness of out-of-tune intervals,
but I want to be able to control that buzziness, and have it only when I intend
it as part of the musical effect - not pop up quasi randomly and without
expressive intent, as it does in the out-of-tune major thirds and sixths of the
normally tuned piano. I frequently use intervals like 40/27 to get beats,
deliberately. Ben Johnston's music is often based around moving gradually
from extreme consonance to extreme out-of-tuneness, and it's an amazing
effect - I try to get the same thing in, for instance, the "Battle" scene of
my Custer and Sitting Bull. Nevertheless, the fact that even my simple
consonances are not exactly perfect on my synthesizers has never once
bothered me. I live in the real world, where nothing is perfect.
Beats, schmeats - it's not so much the purity of sound I get from just
intonation as the creative influence of thinking in ratios that I treasure (along
with the variety of interval sizes, of course). Some hot-shot who's figured out
that 137 pitches per octave is the perfect equal division will harangue me that
my music could be redone in a 137-equal scale and I'd never be able to tell the
difference, and maybe he's right - but I would never have written the piece the
way I did thinking in 137 equal steps. (I do, however, enjoy being told that by
adding lots more pitches, I could approximate what I've already got exactly.)
You can't just ignore the impact that how you define your materials has on the
creative process. Just intonation, for me, represents the ability to use every
note with an intense awareness of its harmonic interconnectedness with every
other note. The theoretical harmonic purity of numerical relationships is the
basis of that interconnectedness, but the ultimate sonic manifestation does not
have to be pure for the composing process to have the intensity I love about it.
As Ben always says, "Better to have a perfect model and get an imperfect
realization of it, than to have an imperfect model to begin with." Or as Charles
Ives asked, "What has sound got to do with music?"
I don't proselytize for just intonation. Everyone who likes working in equal
temperaments should continue doing so. I have nothing against equal
temperaments 19 and over - they're just inefficient for my purposes. I don't
imagine I could be very creative in an expanded equal temperament, just as I
imagine a lot of composers would have trouble being creative within masses
of fractions. I'm glad other composers are exploring equal temperaments, and
I follow their results with eager curiosity. May a hundred thousand scales
flourish. And may the equal temperament people leave us just intonationists to
our preferred way of composing without further caricature.
Kyle Gann
June, 2004
Anatomy of an Octave
Below, for the reference of tuning enthusiasts, is a table of more than 700
pitches within an octave. The table contains all pitches that meet any one of
the following six criteria: