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Syncopation, polyrhythm, and groove

There are three basic types of tension expressed in the relation between rhythm and meter: syncopation, polyrhythm, and groove.

Syncopation

Syncopation challenges our perception of meter. In other words, meter tells us where things are most likely to occur; syncopation subverts those expectations.

Generally, we expect rhythmic emphasis to occur on the downbeat (otherwise known as strong beats), as opposed to upbeats, or weak beats.

Here’s what no syncopation looks like:

We can syncopate this by simply removing beat 3. This emphasizes the weak part of the 2nd beat.

This example is more syncopated; all weak beats are emphasized, resulting in more tension. 

There’s a lot more to say about syncopation, but I’ll save that for a later post. For now, let’s move on to polyrhythm.

Polyrhythm

Sometimes meter is only weakly expressed; sometimes it’s not expressed at all. The rhythm in question may simply not communicate a meter, in which case the musicians rely on the listener to be able to predict the metrical framework.

Cross-rhythm is an example of this. Cross-rhythm occurs when a rhythmic pattern suggests more than one meter. An example is 3 against 4 – three equally spaced beats played against four equally spaced beats.

Is this in 3/4 or 4/4? Depending on how you listen, it can be one or the other. The ambiguity created by this phenomenon can create a lot of tension; and adding more layers with different meters adds more tension.

Metric displacement

Metric displacement occurs when a rhythmic motif starts  in a particular location…

and is then shifted to start in a different location.

This causes new relationships between layers. They interlock in new ways, and create different levels of complexity.

A simple example would be to imagine the first rhythm played in two separate parts… 

and then the first rhythm superimposed on the displaced rhythm.

  

Again, there’s lots more to say, but that will come later.

Groove

Groove can be as simple as a drum kit repeating a 2-bar pattern, or the complex interplay of a rhythm section. It involves some degree of syncopation, along with cross-rhythm and metric displacement; it is continuously repeated, and it makes you want to move.

In the context of continuous repetition, then, the violation of expectation (tension) found in syncopation and polyrhythm become pleasurable. This is good news, but makes me wonder how long a rhythmic unit can be repeated before it’s no longer pleasurable. In other words, when does it become boring?

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Rhythm, Meter, and Tension

Rhythmic tension is created by the interaction between what is heard (rhythm), and by how the brain anticipates musical structure (meter). Meter creates expectations. Rhythm either subverts or supports them. Subversion creates tension, and it’s tension that I’m interested in.

Before I get into that, a further distinction needs to be made between meter and rhythm. Here’s what everyone agrees with:

Rhythm, Meter, Pulse

Rhythm is considered as sound patterns in time. This is stuff that we hear – notes of varying durations thrown together to create patterns that draw us in, create interest, compel us to move.

Meter doesn’t exist until we construct it in our minds when hearing rhythmic patterns. When we start tapping our feet in equally spaced pulses (or beats), we express meter physically. Some of those pulses may be accented more than others. This phenomenon of accented, equally spaced pulses is meter.

Meter is made of conceptual timepoints. We don’t hear these timepoints in the physical world; they are simply used by our minds to organize rhythm. Pulse we hear and feel in the physical world.

So we experience meter – a regular, periodic sound physicalized as pulse – by paying attention to sound patterns in time, otherwise known as rhythm. Meter helps us to perceive rhythm, and we physicalize it by moving some part of our body in time to it.

This is interesting. Without rhythm, we wouldn’t perceive meter. Without meter we couldn’t organize rhythm. Rhythm gives rise to meter, which allows us to make sense of rhythm.

Composing

This stuff is important for composers. If we are interested in controlling tension, then it helps to understand how the rhythms we write create and subvert meter. A distinguishing feature of meter is the relationship between accented and unaccented beats. Constructing meter, then, requires that we determine these accents.

But what determines metric accent? Can composers create metric accent consciously through use of rhythmic accent, or is metric accent determined by musical style alone (i.e. accents on the 2nd and 4th beats in pop styles)?

Listening experience favours the latter. This can be subverted, however, if the composer simply chooses accents that aren’t the norm, and places these accents in the same place in each bar. This can seem a bit forced, but it’s important to play with this if we’re to move beyond conventional accent patterns that may exist simply because of centuries of listening habits.

The needs of the composition may not require conventional accent patterns. And alternate accent patterns may create new rhythmic ideas. No harm in experimenting.

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Create more by using less

Constrain yourself

Sometimes it’s hard to get started because there’s just so much you could do. When you’re in that space, think about eliminating possibilities.

 

Progression variation

For instance, you might have two chord progressions that you really like. You’re thinking of using one for the verse and the other for the chorus, but it doesn’t seem to be working. They simply don’t flow together.

Just eliminate one. It doesn’t matter which one. Tell yourself you’ll use the other one in another song.

Now take the one you’ve kept and explore the possible chord sequence combinations. For instance, the following chords – G Am Em D – could be combined as a progression in the following ways:

 

  1. G Am Em D
  2. G Am D Em
  3. G D Em, Am
  4. G D Em Am
  5. Am G Em D
  6. Am Em D G
  7. Am D Em G
  8. Am D G Em

 

Use the same process starting the progression with Em and then with D. At the end, you’ll have 16 progressions you can use. Some will be similar to others, but some will be different enough that they can be used side by side. In other words, one can be for the verse and one can be for the chorus.

Stay open to adding an extra chord if you think it’s necessary. Constraining yourself should be about generating ideas. This means that, when appropriate, you get to step outside of the box you’ve created.

 

Chord Duration

Another technique is to determine how long each chord can be. To keep it simple, stick to either 2 beats or 4 beats.

For instance:

G / / / | Am / / / |Em / / / | D / / / | can become

 

G / Am / | Am / / /|Em / D / | D / / / | .

 

If you repeat portions of the progression, more possibilities present themselves.

For instance,

 

G / Am / | G / Am | Em / / / | D / / / | or

 

G / Am / | G / Em / | G / / / | D / / / |

 

Combining progression variation and chord duration helps you generate a ton of possibilities. The work is always to find variety in a small amount of material.

When you do this, you find yourself writing more stuff. That other progression that you wanted to use for the chorus now becomes a completely new song.

 

 

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How to start

Sometimes it’s easy to write. Sometimes it’s really hard.

When it’s hard, you need a way to get started. Try this.

 

Rip someone off

Everyone does it. Some people do it consciously. Others unconsciously write something they’ve heard before. This is really common when you just sit down with the guitar and start noodling. That usually leads to playing something you’ve played or heard before.

Of course, consciously taking a big chunk of someone’s work is shitty. But it’s perfectly fine to take a fragment.

For instance, you could take a single bar somewhere in the middle of the verse (or wherever), and build some ideas around that.

And remember, we’re talking about a first draft here. By the time you finish polishing the whole song, the bar you borrowed will probably be miles from where it started. It often changes as the things around it changes.

Borrowing people’s stuff is meant as a starting point, not the end. And if it doesn’t change a lot, then it acts like an homage to the other artist.

That’s a nice thing. Especially because 99% of the song is yours.

 

Beyond the fragment

Listen to your favourite song, and ask yourself why you like it so much. Is it the hook, the bass line, the arrangement, the lyrics? Does the chorus do something dramatic like lose the bass line, go to double-time, use a lot of silence?

You could use any one of those elements as a general idea for inspiration. The point is to really listen, and consciously list the things you like. Keep notebook for this. That way you collect a set of ideas and tools that you can use in any number of songs, not just the one you’re working on now.

The notebook becomes a place you go when you feeling stuck.

 

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How to make sure your next song doesn’t sound exactly like your last song

At a certain point, this becomes a real concern. It’s particularly difficult for a singer whose only instrument is an acoustic guitar, and whose only tool-set is open string chords.

If you’re in a band, you have more options in terms of sound. But if all you know is verse-chorus-verse form, you’ll start to feel like everything you write is the same.

 

The fix

Of course, there are ways to counter these problems. One is to simply learn more chords, or pick up a book on song form.

Another is to look for inspiration. This means listening.

 

Listen widely

If all you listen to is the type of music you write, then it makes sense that all you’ll write is music that sounds like that.

But if you listen to house music (say), you’ll hear a different way of approaching form – extreme repetition of a limited amount of material, some of which stays the same from beginning to end, some of which repeats and varies. (I’m over-simplifying in order to make a point).

No verse-chorus-verse.

If you’re a folk musician (or rock, or jazz, or whatever) how do you incorporate this? Maybe the verse takes the house approach, and the chorus breaks into your regular way of doing things. Or vice versa.

 

Lists

Sit down and make a list of everything you use when you write songs. This includes materials and techniques.

Materials include things like:

 

  • Chords
  • Melody

 

Technique includes things like:

 

  • Strumming
  • Fingerpicking
  • Flat-picking

 

Add anything else that you know. Then list things that you know about, but don’t actually know. This might be 7th chords, hammer-ons, etc.

These are things that you can add to your abilities when things feel stale. This often breaks you out of a box, gives you fresh ideas.

 

What do you hear?

Then make a list of what you hear when you listen to unfamiliar music. Or any music. This doesn’t have to be accurate; just list impressions.

For instance, if you listen to jazz, you might hear that the piano player doesn’t play all the time, or that the overall feel is looser than other types of music.

Just try to describe whatever you hear. The point isn’t necessarily to add to things that you can do (although that’s good, too). The point is to generate a fresher way of thinking about what you do by stepping off the path you’re on once in a while.

 

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Communicating with melody

I’ve never heard songwriters explain how melody relates to the meaning of their words.

Is their approach completely intuitive? Or are interviews (where I always hear songwriters talking) the wrong place for that kind of discussion?

I don’t know. But I don’t have a problem talking about it here.

This is a continuation of my previous post on time signatures and rhythm. You may want to check that one out first.

 

4/4

melody_4:4

Walking through the doorway, all on the same pitch. A pretty determined move, full of intention. Then it meanders kind of drunkenly as soon as the singer sees whoever it is that’s standing there.

A nice contrast between confidence and a lack thereof. What story does it tell?

 

5/4

melody 5:4

The ascending line implies optimism, a feeling of lightness. The descending line implies the opposite. Why is this person on the other side of the doorway so awful? How does the symbol of the doorway fit in here?

 

3/4

melody 3:4

The descending line isn’t hopeful. But the rise in melody on each downbeat is. A descent to the depths, all the while thinking that maybe things will be alright.

Maybe they will. This is an example of melody as foreshadowing. Things are bad, but they could get better.

You’ll have to write the rest of the song to see if they do…

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