Back in the physics section of the music library. (Why isn't there such a thing, BTW?) We all listen to music in many ways. Live is nearly always the best way, of course, but we also listen to recorded music. To hear recorded music, we need speakers. The last time you went to see a band at a bar or at a fair, or even just listened to a band set up outside of some guy's house, there was probably some sort of sound amplification system being used.
The sound waves are picked up from the instrument (or voice) via a microphone, which is, technically, a sort of reverse speaker that converts the sound wave into an electrical signal. This signal can then be sent through amplifiers that literally makes the signal's size big enough to run through a speaker. Inside of speakers are electromagnets, which are essentially metal coils that create a magnetic field when electricity is run through them. This results in something that is a lot like a normal magnet except that by reversing the direction of the electrical current, it is possible to flip the poles of the electromagnet. Why is this important?
The electromagnet is placed in front of a normal (permanent) magnet. Because the normal magnet's poles do not change, the electromagnet is alternately attracted and repelled by the normal magnet (think back to 4th grade science class where you learned about poles of magnets repelling and attracting each other. Like poles repel, unlike poles attract.) The electromagnetic coil is attached to a paper or plastic cone that is allowed to move. When the signal is sent through this system, the coil reconverts the signal back into sound waves that are amplified by the cone. The pulses of electricity lead to a rapid switching of poles, moving the cone. On very large speakers, known as woofers, used for low frequencies (remember that low frequencies have large sound waves), you can actually see the cone move if you turn up the volume (amplitude). Very cool!
Smaller cones are used for high frequencies. These are known as tweeters, and though they may sometimes vary a bit in materials used, they operate in much the same way. Quality, high-end speakers will have a combination of small, medium, and large cones, capable of transmitting high, middle, and low frequencies in order to achieve the best fidelity (most like the originally recorded impulse).
Tuesday, March 27, 2012
Tuesday, March 20, 2012
Odd is beautiful
Clarinets are great. Everyone should have one. Or two! They are beautiful instruments with gorgeous sound and are capable of amazing versatility. The best instruments are made of a kind of dense African black wood. Usually Grenadilla wood from the mpingo tree, so dense it sinks in water. It's lovely to see too: dark brown, almost black, with ribbons of chocolate colours snaking throughout. Mid-level wooden clarinets are often stained to give a more uniform appearance, but high-end instruments are made with select pieces of wood that are many times left unstained. It is also not uncommon to see instruments made from cocobolo or other exotic hardwoods.
Physically speaking, clarinets are cylindrical bore, closed end pipes. A single reed is used to produce the vibrations (sound). If you recall the brief introduction to the harmonic series in the last post, you'll remember that all instruments feature the series in some way to produce characteristic tone. Clarinets, due to their cylindrical bore, lack the even harmonics (the 2nd and 4th, etc.) in their series. So, when we listen to a clarinet, we hear only a part of the full harmonic series. Namely, the odd harmonics: the first, third, fifth, etc.
If this is still a bit confusing to you, don't stress too much. Simply realize that just because two instruments have similar shape and size (consider the similar-looking oboe and clarinet) it doesn't mean that they will sound similar (clarinets and oboes have very different sounds). There is much more going on and that is what makes it so interesting.
Physically speaking, clarinets are cylindrical bore, closed end pipes. A single reed is used to produce the vibrations (sound). If you recall the brief introduction to the harmonic series in the last post, you'll remember that all instruments feature the series in some way to produce characteristic tone. Clarinets, due to their cylindrical bore, lack the even harmonics (the 2nd and 4th, etc.) in their series. So, when we listen to a clarinet, we hear only a part of the full harmonic series. Namely, the odd harmonics: the first, third, fifth, etc.
If this is still a bit confusing to you, don't stress too much. Simply realize that just because two instruments have similar shape and size (consider the similar-looking oboe and clarinet) it doesn't mean that they will sound similar (clarinets and oboes have very different sounds). There is much more going on and that is what makes it so interesting.
Thursday, March 15, 2012
Yay! We've made it to the Harmonic Series!
Okay. Let's get physical. No, Olivia, not the song. Let's talk string theory. And I don't mean the tiny vibrating ones that many scientists believe make up the fabric of space-time. I mean sound!* Strings, like on a guitar or a cello, vibrate to make sound. Sound is produced by moving the air molecules around the vibration. These vibrations are picked up by the apparatus in our ears and vibrate at exactly the same frequency as whatever it is that's being heard. These vibrations are relayed to the part of the brain that interprets vibration signals and our cortex allows us to decode what the signals mean. Are we hearing music or just noise? A Bach Cantata or a blender?
Before we get to the violin, though, visualize a jump rope. One end is attached to something, or in the hand of a friend, and the other end is in your hand. You begin swinging the rope. The large arc that is created is a fundamental. A fundamental is the lowest frequency that can be made, and referred to as the first harmonic. Remember that a frequency is the number of sound waves that passes a given point within a given period of time. It is possible to create a second harmonic of this fundamental by swinging one end of the rope faster. This will create two smaller arcs that will rotate opposite each other. We can theoretically take this further by increasing the speed of one end again, creating another (third) harmonic.
This isn't my image, but here is what it looks like:
Sort of, anyway. You can imagine the harmonic as the section labelled "one oscillation". But they are moving opposite each other.
Now the cool part. Let's put away the rope and get out a stringed instrument. Pluck the string of the violin, sitar, banjo, whatever, and you have produced not one, but several harmonics simultaneously. That means all at once! This is the essence of the harmonic series. You know how I mentioned that instrument shape is only a part of the reason why instruments have unique sounds? The bigger reason is the harmonic series. Each instrument has its own harmonic series. Certain harmonics are stronger or weaker, giving very characteristic sounds. This is why a trumpet sounds like a trumpet and not like a flute. The harmonic series is also a big part of how a brass instrument works, but I'll leave that for another time.
*With some help from the very interesting For the Love of Physics by Walter Lewin. New York: Free Press. 2011.
Before we get to the violin, though, visualize a jump rope. One end is attached to something, or in the hand of a friend, and the other end is in your hand. You begin swinging the rope. The large arc that is created is a fundamental. A fundamental is the lowest frequency that can be made, and referred to as the first harmonic. Remember that a frequency is the number of sound waves that passes a given point within a given period of time. It is possible to create a second harmonic of this fundamental by swinging one end of the rope faster. This will create two smaller arcs that will rotate opposite each other. We can theoretically take this further by increasing the speed of one end again, creating another (third) harmonic.
This isn't my image, but here is what it looks like:
Sort of, anyway. You can imagine the harmonic as the section labelled "one oscillation". But they are moving opposite each other.
Now the cool part. Let's put away the rope and get out a stringed instrument. Pluck the string of the violin, sitar, banjo, whatever, and you have produced not one, but several harmonics simultaneously. That means all at once! This is the essence of the harmonic series. You know how I mentioned that instrument shape is only a part of the reason why instruments have unique sounds? The bigger reason is the harmonic series. Each instrument has its own harmonic series. Certain harmonics are stronger or weaker, giving very characteristic sounds. This is why a trumpet sounds like a trumpet and not like a flute. The harmonic series is also a big part of how a brass instrument works, but I'll leave that for another time.
*With some help from the very interesting For the Love of Physics by Walter Lewin. New York: Free Press. 2011.
Tuesday, March 13, 2012
Fun with physics (and flutes)
I love science. Physics and biology are my preferred fields and my favourite classes in school were always the music and science ones. So, it's no real surprise that I've done a fair amount of research about the physics of music. Fascinating stuff. It's good to know how your instrument works on the mechanical level. When you have a basic idea how it works, you can do some simple diagnostics to pinpoint where the problem is if something is wrong, and you can play the instrument better.
In fact, instrument shape has a huge impact on how it sounds (with the exception of electric instruments. Shape plays no part in how an electric guitar will sound. All that matters there is the electronics.) So, speaking of instrument shape (I'm really going on an unintended tangent here, BTW): trumpets and cornets sound different because of their shapes and bores (the bore is the shape/size of the inside of the tube). Both horns play the same music, in the same key, and with the same fingerings. But cornets, because they have more bends in their shape, in comparison with the more sharply curved trumpet, have a mellow sound. The tighter angles of the trumpet give it its piercing quality. Shape is also part of the reason why a saxophone sounds like a saxophone and not a like a bassoon.
The purpose of this post, though, is this: go find a flute and perform a simple experiment. Use just the head joint (the part that the player blows over) and blow a note. If you aren't sure how to make a sound on the flute (which is a whole new physical concept altogether) it can be loosely equated to the blowing-across-the-soda/beer-bottle trick. The experiment is this: blow a note on the head joint. Then, cover the open end with the palm of your hand and blow the note again. If you are careful not to over blow, the resulting pitch is roughly an octave below the first pitch (the flute I tried this with was a half-step away from a full octave). This is because the sound wave is forced to make a return trip from your palm back to the open lip plate that you are blowing over. The longer sound wave produces a lower pitch. In other words, you've demonstrated how short sound waves make high pitches and long sound waves make low pitches.
Incidentally, this is also why most basses need special amplifiers. Bass sound waves are very big and will not "fit" into the smaller speakers used by guitars.
Now, I expect you to totally nerd out at the next concert you attend.
In fact, instrument shape has a huge impact on how it sounds (with the exception of electric instruments. Shape plays no part in how an electric guitar will sound. All that matters there is the electronics.) So, speaking of instrument shape (I'm really going on an unintended tangent here, BTW): trumpets and cornets sound different because of their shapes and bores (the bore is the shape/size of the inside of the tube). Both horns play the same music, in the same key, and with the same fingerings. But cornets, because they have more bends in their shape, in comparison with the more sharply curved trumpet, have a mellow sound. The tighter angles of the trumpet give it its piercing quality. Shape is also part of the reason why a saxophone sounds like a saxophone and not a like a bassoon.
The purpose of this post, though, is this: go find a flute and perform a simple experiment. Use just the head joint (the part that the player blows over) and blow a note. If you aren't sure how to make a sound on the flute (which is a whole new physical concept altogether) it can be loosely equated to the blowing-across-the-soda/beer-bottle trick. The experiment is this: blow a note on the head joint. Then, cover the open end with the palm of your hand and blow the note again. If you are careful not to over blow, the resulting pitch is roughly an octave below the first pitch (the flute I tried this with was a half-step away from a full octave). This is because the sound wave is forced to make a return trip from your palm back to the open lip plate that you are blowing over. The longer sound wave produces a lower pitch. In other words, you've demonstrated how short sound waves make high pitches and long sound waves make low pitches.
Incidentally, this is also why most basses need special amplifiers. Bass sound waves are very big and will not "fit" into the smaller speakers used by guitars.
Now, I expect you to totally nerd out at the next concert you attend.
Friday, March 9, 2012
Happy belated birthday!!
Happy Birthday, Music Zombie! (I'm only about 6 days late. Whoopsies.)
I have now been at this blogging thing for a year.
Hopefully, my few readers have noticed an improvement.
Here's to another year of showing and telling anyone who will listen all of the really cool, interesting stuff that music offers when one simply takes the time to look!!
*Raises glass of tasty wine*
*clink!* *clink*
To make this post musical, I will give you a piece of music trivia:
In Mason City, IA there is a building called Music Man Square. (Mason City was the hometown of Meredith Willson, the composer of the musical The Music Man.) In one room of this building there are 76 trombones hanging from the ceiling.
♫♪♫
I have now been at this blogging thing for a year.
Hopefully, my few readers have noticed an improvement.
Here's to another year of showing and telling anyone who will listen all of the really cool, interesting stuff that music offers when one simply takes the time to look!!
*Raises glass of tasty wine*
*clink!* *clink*
To make this post musical, I will give you a piece of music trivia:
In Mason City, IA there is a building called Music Man Square. (Mason City was the hometown of Meredith Willson, the composer of the musical The Music Man.) In one room of this building there are 76 trombones hanging from the ceiling.
♫♪♫
Thursday, March 8, 2012
Flying Home
Hello again! Sorry for the sporadic-ness of my posts, for those of you who actually read Music Zombie. There's been a lot going on.
Anyway, here's another post about saxophone players. I know I've become a bit saxophone-centric lately, but for so many years I was so clarinet-centric that I'm trying to balance myself out. Just roll with it. The saxophone player for the day is Jean Baptiste Illinois Jacquet, or just Illinois Jacquet. Born in Broussard, Louisiana in 1922, he made his first recording at age 19. Playing with vibraphonist Lionel Hampton's band in 1942, he recorded the now famous solo to the tune Flying Home. This solo became his signature and helped to further pull the saxophone away from "legitimacy" as a classical instrument. In other words, he drove the saxophone's career arc jazz directly into rock and roll and rhythm and blues. Through the use of harmonics, he also expanded the range of the horn by two octaves (a la Lenny Pickett over the Saturday Night Live opening credits).
He performed and recorded with Hampton, Cab Calloway, and Count Basie, and with his own band, too. In the 1960s, he learned, and mastered, the bassoon and recorded on that with Jo Jones and Milt Buckner. Between 1982 and 1984, he held the distinction of being the first jazz musician to serve a long-term residency at Harvard University. In 1992, Jacquet and his Big Band played for Bill Clinton's Inaugural Ball. It was one of Jacquet's tenors that the President jammed on to C Jam Blues. In 2000, he was presented with Lincoln Center's Award for Artistic Excellence. He was the fifth person to be honored with this award. Two months before his death in 2004, he was given an Honorary Doctorate of Music, awarded by the Juilliard School. "This is the happiest day of my life," he remarked.
He contributed a beautiful rendition of Harlem Nocturne, and his rock and roll influence can be heard on that famous Flying Home solo. I'm going to go listen some more. You should too!
Anyway, here's another post about saxophone players. I know I've become a bit saxophone-centric lately, but for so many years I was so clarinet-centric that I'm trying to balance myself out. Just roll with it. The saxophone player for the day is Jean Baptiste Illinois Jacquet, or just Illinois Jacquet. Born in Broussard, Louisiana in 1922, he made his first recording at age 19. Playing with vibraphonist Lionel Hampton's band in 1942, he recorded the now famous solo to the tune Flying Home. This solo became his signature and helped to further pull the saxophone away from "legitimacy" as a classical instrument. In other words, he drove the saxophone's career arc jazz directly into rock and roll and rhythm and blues. Through the use of harmonics, he also expanded the range of the horn by two octaves (a la Lenny Pickett over the Saturday Night Live opening credits).
He performed and recorded with Hampton, Cab Calloway, and Count Basie, and with his own band, too. In the 1960s, he learned, and mastered, the bassoon and recorded on that with Jo Jones and Milt Buckner. Between 1982 and 1984, he held the distinction of being the first jazz musician to serve a long-term residency at Harvard University. In 1992, Jacquet and his Big Band played for Bill Clinton's Inaugural Ball. It was one of Jacquet's tenors that the President jammed on to C Jam Blues. In 2000, he was presented with Lincoln Center's Award for Artistic Excellence. He was the fifth person to be honored with this award. Two months before his death in 2004, he was given an Honorary Doctorate of Music, awarded by the Juilliard School. "This is the happiest day of my life," he remarked.
He contributed a beautiful rendition of Harlem Nocturne, and his rock and roll influence can be heard on that famous Flying Home solo. I'm going to go listen some more. You should too!
Thursday, March 1, 2012
Story Time
Today, I want to tell you a story. Not a particularly good or funny story, but a story. Have a seat, feel free to eat a snack or have some tea.
Many years ago, I had the good fortune to play with a music group that toured Iowa. I was in the jazz band part of this group, playing second chair alto saxophone and clarinet. After spending the majority of the summer playing in tiny towns, and slightly larger towns, and sometimes big towns, all over Iowa; staying in Iowan homes with nice Iowan families (ask me about the "shower is in the basement" home-stay. Yikes!) I learned a lot about what is involved with schlepping around a three hour show, including set pieces, instruments, PA gear, sound equipment, about 45 high-school aged kids, plus band leaders,a charter bus, and a 50-foot Ryder truck.
The final stop for this tour was a two-week stay-and-play at the Iowa State Fair. I was introduced to the wonderfulness of the Tubadour, saw the bands Sugar Ray, Fastball, and Def Leppard at the Grandstand, and between shows, rehearsals, and enjoying the fair stuff, practicing my clarinet because I was going to start college immediately after the Fair ended.
Just before the Fair opened, our group was supposed to act as Grand Marshals of the pre-Fair parade. So, they loaded us up onto trams that took us from the Fairgrounds to the parade route. The skies began to get grey and dark...
We arrived at the Capitol building, and had to wait for rain. A lot of rain. Fortunately, we were allowed to stay on the trams until the weather cleared enough to allow the parade to begin. Being naive high school students, and at the end of our tour, we were in fairly good spirits, and so took the rain in stride. Once the officials were okay with starting the parade, we were loaded up onto a flat-bed semi-truck trailer (fortunately, we didn't have to play or sing or dance on that thing) and paraded through the parade. Fine.
After reaching the end of the parade route, we were unceremoniously kicked off of the flat-bed trailer and told to wait for the trams to pick us up to take us back to the Fairgrounds. The trams did not show up. It was still a bit overcast, though the rain had stopped. So, we walked around a bit, following our fearless leaders as they seemingly wandered around Des Moines, searching for our missing trams. At one point, one of our directors decided to leave the group, apparently determined to find the trams himself. The other directors stuck around, to keep us in line, and not lost, I guess. May I remind you that this was before the proliferation of cell phones?
It's beginning to get late, and still no trams. Our director returns to where we had been waiting for him and says, in that ominous tone that tells you that you are going to have to do something that you really aren't going to like: "This is going to be an adventure!" He turned and began walking. We followed him. His solution was to have us walk the several miles back to the Fairgrounds. This resulted in 45 kids, in khakis and polo shirts, wandering around the not-very-nice part of Des Moines.
We were nearly to the Grounds, when the trams appear! Where the hell were they nearly an hour ago when we were still soggy from the rain, cold, tired, and hungry post-parade? We were told that they were being used to ferry the Fair Queens back to wherever it is that Fair Queens come from, and the musicians were neglected. (I know. Typical, right?) We got back on our trams, and rode the remaining half-mile back to our Fair dorms.
And with that, we kicked off our two-week stint at the Iowa State Fair.
Many years ago, I had the good fortune to play with a music group that toured Iowa. I was in the jazz band part of this group, playing second chair alto saxophone and clarinet. After spending the majority of the summer playing in tiny towns, and slightly larger towns, and sometimes big towns, all over Iowa; staying in Iowan homes with nice Iowan families (ask me about the "shower is in the basement" home-stay. Yikes!) I learned a lot about what is involved with schlepping around a three hour show, including set pieces, instruments, PA gear, sound equipment, about 45 high-school aged kids, plus band leaders,a charter bus, and a 50-foot Ryder truck.
The final stop for this tour was a two-week stay-and-play at the Iowa State Fair. I was introduced to the wonderfulness of the Tubadour, saw the bands Sugar Ray, Fastball, and Def Leppard at the Grandstand, and between shows, rehearsals, and enjoying the fair stuff, practicing my clarinet because I was going to start college immediately after the Fair ended.
Just before the Fair opened, our group was supposed to act as Grand Marshals of the pre-Fair parade. So, they loaded us up onto trams that took us from the Fairgrounds to the parade route. The skies began to get grey and dark...
We arrived at the Capitol building, and had to wait for rain. A lot of rain. Fortunately, we were allowed to stay on the trams until the weather cleared enough to allow the parade to begin. Being naive high school students, and at the end of our tour, we were in fairly good spirits, and so took the rain in stride. Once the officials were okay with starting the parade, we were loaded up onto a flat-bed semi-truck trailer (fortunately, we didn't have to play or sing or dance on that thing) and paraded through the parade. Fine.
After reaching the end of the parade route, we were unceremoniously kicked off of the flat-bed trailer and told to wait for the trams to pick us up to take us back to the Fairgrounds. The trams did not show up. It was still a bit overcast, though the rain had stopped. So, we walked around a bit, following our fearless leaders as they seemingly wandered around Des Moines, searching for our missing trams. At one point, one of our directors decided to leave the group, apparently determined to find the trams himself. The other directors stuck around, to keep us in line, and not lost, I guess. May I remind you that this was before the proliferation of cell phones?
It's beginning to get late, and still no trams. Our director returns to where we had been waiting for him and says, in that ominous tone that tells you that you are going to have to do something that you really aren't going to like: "This is going to be an adventure!" He turned and began walking. We followed him. His solution was to have us walk the several miles back to the Fairgrounds. This resulted in 45 kids, in khakis and polo shirts, wandering around the not-very-nice part of Des Moines.
We were nearly to the Grounds, when the trams appear! Where the hell were they nearly an hour ago when we were still soggy from the rain, cold, tired, and hungry post-parade? We were told that they were being used to ferry the Fair Queens back to wherever it is that Fair Queens come from, and the musicians were neglected. (I know. Typical, right?) We got back on our trams, and rode the remaining half-mile back to our Fair dorms.
And with that, we kicked off our two-week stint at the Iowa State Fair.
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