Or, disregarding the Dan Ra^ther 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.”

Or, disregarding the Dan Ra^ther 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.”

Or, disregarding the Dan Ra^ther 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.”

Michigan against Texas in the Rose Bowl. Of course, it was Cal who really got jobbed by the BCS this year.

It’s up to almost sixty thousand now.

I was actually surprised at how low the early reports were, considering how widespread the devastation was, and how densely populated many of the areas were. I won’t be surprised if the final tally ends up being in the hundreds of thousands, as areas start reporting in that we haven’t even heard from yet.

Jay Manifold reminds us of the potential for a much larger tsunami than the one that hit this past weekend. Patricia and I were wondering last night what we would do if we heard about a Canary collapse. It might be sufficient to get out to the west county. If we have to go further than that, we might be SOL, because there are only a couple roads that head into the Everglades here, and they’d probably be jammed once people figured out what was happening. Though I wonder if the Bahamas would take the brunt of it, and much of the energy.

Of course, it wouldn’t be just Florida that gets hit. The entire eastern seaboard would likely be wiped out, all the way up into Canada.

I’m always a little disconcerted by holiday products that are food in the form of sentient creatures.

When a child, I loved getting chocolate Easter bunnies, not because I believed in the resurrection, or because I loved bunnies (I don’t mind them, but I find cats preferable as pets) but because I love chocolate. But I was always put off a little by the fact that I had to eat a bunny. And a helpless bunny at that, one that, by virtue (if that’s the right word…) of being composed purely of sugar and cocoa and various fats, but no proteins or muscle tissue, was in no position to defend itself, and was entirely prostrate to my gustatory whims.

Now comes Christmas, and Patricia has put a chocolate Santa in my stocking. And not just any chocolate Santa, but knowing my weakness (hers is dark chocolate), a milk chocolate Santa.

So what do I do? It’s not bad enough that I eat it, but lest I consume the foil wrapping, thus making my teeth and fillings vulnerable to powerful local radio stations and the mind-control beams of the incompetent CIA (whose incompetence extends to the possibility of scrambling my brain, but probably not leaving it uncorrupted by their brain-death beams), I had to strip the foil down from it prior to consuming it and its precious life-giving constituents. Kind of like stripping down a cadaver before consuming it, lest one get the threads of the clothing of the helpless victim caught in one’s incisors.

(Ummmmm…….braaaiinnnsss)

Anyway, my choice was to put it out of its misery immediately, by biting off its head. Then, the rest of the body can lie painless and dormant as I consume the remainder over the next few days.

So, am I sick, or should I start a rock band?

Like, for example, this one by the appropriately named A. E. Brain.

When I see that the blogfather has linked to someone, I assume that it needs no further linking, unless I (rarely) have some unique words of wisdom to append to it.

Is that right? Are there really readers of this website who don’t also read Instapundit? If so, then perhaps I should reconsider my position, but my preference is to point out things that people won’t read elsewhere, for parsimony of my efforts, if for no other reason.

Like, for example, this one by the appropriately named A. E. Brain.

When I see that the blogfather has linked to someone, I assume that it needs no further linking, unless I (rarely) have some unique words of wisdom to append to it.

Is that right? Are there really readers of this website who don’t also read Instapundit? If so, then perhaps I should reconsider my position, but my preference is to point out things that people won’t read elsewhere, for parsimony of my efforts, if for no other reason.

Like, for example, this one by the appropriately named A. E. Brain.

When I see that the blogfather has linked to someone, I assume that it needs no further linking, unless I (rarely) have some unique words of wisdom to append to it.

Is that right? Are there really readers of this website who don’t also read Instapundit? If so, then perhaps I should reconsider my position, but my preference is to point out things that people won’t read elsewhere, for parsimony of my efforts, if for no other reason.