Jeremiah Goyette

TH581 – Hasegawa

The Linear and the non-Linear in Tristan Murail’s Ethers

Terms such as ‘spectralism’ are often an anathema to composers, in that they

group together disparate compositional practices into broad categories without fully

taking into consideration the various nuances of the actual compositional output.

However, from the writings of Murail we can get a glimpse of what spectralism means

for him. In Target Practice he lists some of the ‘essential precepts’ to spectralism, a list

that he notes is incomplete.1

• thinking in terms of continuous, rather than discrete, categories (corollary: the

understanding that everything is connected);
• a global approach, rather than a sequential or ‘cellular’ one;
• organizational process of a logarithmic or exponential, rather than linear, type;
• construction with a function, not combinatorial, method; and
• keeping in mind the relationship between concept and perception.

These precepts are no doubt interconnected and integral in creating the intended sound

landscape. However, the focus of this paper will be on the third listed precept—using

non-linear processes based on logarithms and exponents, and on how this notion

manifests in Ethers (1978). If taken more broadly, this precept suggests that within

spectralism there is an aesthetic emphasis on curvature rather than on straightness. Murail

has only suggested logarithms and exponents as the source of the curvature, but in

mathematics there are several other relationships that produce curved graphs.

Accordingly, Murail’s precept will be interpreted as a nod towards curvature in general,

and not necessarily towards just the logarithmic and exponential relationships. In the

following analysis of Ethers, it will be argued that notions of the linear and the non-linear

1
Murail, Target Practice, 152.
 2

manifest both in the harmonic and the metric dimensions: in the harmonic realm as

additive and difference tones, and in the metric realm as curved accelerandi and

decelerandi.

The incorporation of logarithms, or shall we say ‘curvature’, seems to draw from

a number of sources. Scelsi’s music, which was influential to Murail, as well as Grisey,

seems to provide of germ of the idea of curvature, in that it involves ideas on timbre and

the harmonic series and demonstrates a basic non-sectional formal shape, all of which

stem from an aesthetic that places smoothness in high regard. Furthermore, Murail was

working at IRCAM in the seventies, a place where much research on the mechanics of

timbre and harmonics was performed. Many of the studies at IRCAM focused on spectra

and the possible manipulations that can be done with these spectra, such as filtering and

modulation. The relevance of all this is that much of the research at IRCAM focused on

frequency, which is itself a logarithmic domain, and that some of the developed

techniques of manipulation involved treating frequency linearly. As will be shown below,

one of the techniques that became available—frequency shift, that is, moving pitches up

or down a specific number of Hertz—is in essence a linearization of a logarithmic

domain. Another possible source of the notion of curvature is from the music of Xenakis,

which incorporates spatial and architectural ideas into music. Like much architecture of

the twentieth-century, Xenakis’s music is based on curved lines rather than straight lines.

An issue that arises from the use of curvature is how to approximate it in music

notation. In general, in order to have curvature it is necessary to use real numbers

(numbers beyond the integers); however, traditional music notation does not allow for

such specific indications. Thus, losing a level of precision is inevitable when transferring
 3

these ideas to actual compositions. Throughout the paper, this issue will be addressed as

particular instances of rounding are found.

Ethers

Murail subdivides the score into rehearsal letters, giving a sort of self-analysis

with commentary in the performance notes on each section. Despite a real concern on not

using ‘cellular’ methods of organization, as shown in the above precepts, the score layout

of Ethers suggests the contrary in that it is neatly divided into ten sections. However,

rather than seeing these rehearsal letters as demarcating proper sections, it is perhaps

more appropriate to regard them as particular stop-points, semi-stable points within the

overall piece where there are changes in the underlying processes. Rather than addressing

all the sections in the piece, the present analysis will only focus on sections A, F and I as

to draw out relevant examples of curvature in the metric and harmonic domains. Let us

begin with section A.

In the performance notes, Murail gives a diagram of the basic idea, or

Grundgestalt, of the opening section, shown as Figure 1. The figure shows an interplay

between the harmonics in the strings and the flute sonorities, and shows that a

fundamental is derived from the string harmonics. What this diagram does not show is

how the harmonics relate to the flute sonorities. In reference to the music of Claude

Vivier, Bob Gilmore (2007, 6) discusses the opening section of Ethers and notes that the

flute is the generator of the harmonic sonorities of the section. Rather than being based

off of some spectral analysis of the flute—as is done with the sounds of a bell and a boy’s

voice in Jonathan Harvey’s Mortuos plango vivos voco—Gilmore points out that in
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section A of Ethers it is an extended technique of the flute that is the harmonic basis.2

The flute player is to play the lower note of a dyad and sing the upper, which creates a

four-note multiphonic chord composed of the two notes plus their summation and

difference tones (a, b, b+a and b-a, respectively).

Graph 1 is a frequency graph of the six multiphonic sonorities used in section A.

The six chords are labeled a letter (a, b, etc.) based on the interval between the upper and

lower generating pitches. The first four sonorities have Cƒ4 as the lowest pitch, while the

last two have Bß3 as the lowest note. Because of the way the combination tones are

generated for each sonority—by adding or subtracting the frequency of the lower note

from the middle of the upper three notes—the three upper notes of each sonority form the

same shape on the graph as long as the lowest notes of these sonorities are the same. For

example, for the first sonority the flute player plays and sings the pitches Cƒ and Bß,

which then generate the E and the D↑. Since the second chord also has Cƒ as the lowest

note, the same value (277 Hz) is added and subtracted from upper note of the second

sonority (G). In this way, the change of the upper generating pitch from chord 1 to chord

2, from Bß to G, yields in effect a frequency shift of the upper trichord (indicated by the

dotted lines) over a pedal tone Cƒ.

In contrast to frequency shift, the motion from the fourth to the fifth chord is a

transposition of the entire multiphonic sonority (indicated by the thick lines).

Transposition is achieved by using the same interval between the two generating pitches

in both chords: in the fourth chord the interval between Cƒ and G is 18 equal-tempered

2
For more on how the bell sounds and the boy’s voice are used in the composition, see
Harvey 1981.
 5

semitones, as is the interval from Bß to E in the fifth chord (and hence both chords are

labeled as ‘b’). In section A, then, there is a dialectic between the linear and the

logarithmic within the harmonic field. That is to say, when the lower note is held constant

and the upper note moves around, frequency—which is normally a logarithmic realm—is

treated linearly. On the other hand, when the interval between the upper and lower

generating pitches is held constant there is transposition, which is a logarithmic function

in terms of frequency.

The dialectic between frequency shift and transposition can be applied to other

sonorities in the piece. For example, the main sonority of section I can be described in

terms of symmetry by frequency shift. The sonority arises through a process in which the

flute slowly introduces each pitch of the collection. Once the sonority is fully established,

the flute and strings participate in a process that Murail describes in the performance

notes as ‘phasing,’ a portion of which can be seen in Example 1.3 As can be seen, the

flute, violin and viola move through the same collection, though staggered and at

different tempi.

The collection used in this section has an internal symmetry based on frequency

shift. On first inspection, the sonority is distinctly whole-tone, judging by the six lowest

pitches; however, the upper six pitches (E – Gƒ) for the most part lie outside this whole-

tone collection. Graph 2 offers another perspective on this sonority, explaining it in terms

of three pitch groups related by frequency shift. The outer two pitches of the lowest group

(Cƒ and A) are related to the lower two pitches of the second group (Dƒ and G) through

3
Garant 2001, 73-80, discusses phasing in Ethers as well as in Territoires de l’oubli
(1976/77) and Godwana (1980). Murail discusses phasing in The Revolution of Complex
Sounds, 126.
 6

frequency shift. That is, the minor sixth of the first group shifts up to the major third of

the second group, shifting by a value of roughly 345 Hz (indicated as ‘a’). In a similar

manner, the second sonority is related to the third by frequency shift, though this time the

index of the frequency shift is roughly 697 Hz (2a). All three pitches of the second group

map onto the third, though the third group has added quarter-tone pitches that fill in the

interval from the middle to the top pitches of the group.

One might wonder why the interval between the lower pitch of the first group (Cƒ)

and the lower of the second (Dƒ) is a major ninth, while the interval between the lowest

pitches of the second and third groups (Dƒ and E) is a minor ninth. Since the indexes of

the frequency shift are roughly ‘a’ and ‘2a’, one might expect that these two intervals

should be the same. However, since frequency intervals are in general compressed as

they move upwards on the graph (under frequency shift, that is), it works out that the

major ninth interval is compressed to a minor ninth since it starts on Dƒ instead of Cƒ. The

third group, however, is actually only an approximation of the frequency shift, having a

Gƒ that is a bit too low. Despite the fact that there seems to be some rounding in the

numbers between the second and third pitch groups, the relationship is believed to hold

true since the third group is placed in the position that comes closest to approximate the

frequency shift. If instead the third group were placed on F, instead of on E, the A a

major third above would be much too high in respect to the expected note from a

frequency shift of the second group.

Now let us turn back to the six sonorities of section A. Bob Gilmore (2007, 6)

notes that besides having the four notes of the multiphonic sonorities, the full

sonorities—comprised of the multiphonic chords as well as the other pitches in the

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strings—involve higher order summation and difference tones (such as 2a+b, b-2a, 3a-b,

etc.). Example 2 gives the six full sonorities, with the multiphonic chords placed in the

middle staff, and the other pitches in the upper and lower staves.

After having noted the presence of high-level combination tones in section A,

Gilmore, unfortunately, does not add any more on how these combination tones are used.

The following presentation will attempt to demonstrate how combination tones are used.

The six sonorities in section A (see Example 2) are each unique in construction, most

notably, sonorities 2 and 4, which have the same multiphonic chord and yet have

different pitches added by the strings. In order to attempt to show how the other pitches

relate to the multiphonic sonorities, I offer Table 1, which shows how the non-

multiphonic pitches might be read in terms of combination tones. Starting with the two

generating notes of the flute multiphonic (a and b), each of the pitches are given a

possible label in terms of ‘a’ and ‘b’. In the rightmost column, the pitches are shown as

partials of some harmonic series.4 As can be seen, the first full sonority falls nicely onto a

harmonic spectrum, but the sonorities progressively become more difficult to define in

terms of spectra. The sixth sonority is shown in respect to three different harmonic series

since it fails to reasonably fit into a single harmonic series. Overall, there seems to be a

move within section A towards what Grisey calls ‘inharmonicity’, that is, towards

sonorities that have overtones that diverge from multiples of the fundamental frequency.

In the diagram for this section (Figure 1) Murail shows that there is a process of

finding the fundamental of the sonority. In the first sonority, the fundamental is clearly

4
It should be noted that for the calculations performed in Table 1, the symbols ↑ and ↓
were considered as altering a pitch a sixth tone (i.e. 33 cents). In the performance notes of
the score Murail only says that these signs mean ‘a bit higher or lower’. Presumably, they
should be less than a quarter tone.
 8

given, which is the Fƒ given by the contrabass. However, for the rest of the sonorities the

fundamental is not as clear. The analysis given in the table shows that in fact only the

first sonority has partial 1 of a harmonic series. Sonorities 3 and 5 do have partials 4 and

8 as the lowest partial, which are the same pitch class as the fundamental; but they are

still not the fundamental. As sonorities 2-6 are voiced, there is no pitch in each of these

sonorities that possibly could be a fundamental, since the register of the lowest pitches of

these sonorities are never low enough to be a fundamental. Nevertheless, the chosen

harmonic spectra mostly fall on an Fƒ fundamental. The choice corresponds to my hearing

of the passage: an Fƒ major sonority is heard throughout most of the section, which gives

way to an indeterminate sonority towards the end of the section.

The issue of rounding comes about in a couple of ways in section A. For one, the

pitches in the strings that replicate the flute multiphonic are sometimes approximations of

pitches in the flute. For example, in sonority 2, when the strings take up the B quarter-

sharp of the multiphonic chord, it actually becomes B∂ (and for this reason there are

question marks at this point in Table 1). The issue here is that the B’s in the strings are

harmonics, and there is no way of making natural harmonics on B quarter-sharp. It seems

that here, Murail made a pragmatic decision to let B∂ stand in place of B quarter-sharp.

Another case similar to the one just mentioned can be found in the third sonority, where

the A↓ in the flute multiphonic becomes Gƒ in the violin. Here the reasons for rounding

are less clear, since the Gƒ in the violin is not a harmonic, and thus could easily have been

an A↓. What can be said, however, is that for the most part the flute multiphonic chords

are normalized when the strings take them up.

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Rounding also appears in the construction of the combination tones. When using

just intervals it is in fact quite normal to round pitches to the closest equal-tempered

semitone or quarter-tone representative. However, the issue here is that the interval

between the generating pitches in each sonority (the interval from ‘a’ to ‘b’) is equal

tempered, and is not necessarily a just interval. If the interval were just, then the

mathematics would be much simpler since everything would be a clean multiple of some

fundamental. However, since the two generating pitches are equally tempered, there is no

harmonic series that can capture all of the various combination tones, hence the

complications described before in trying to place the sonorities in terms of harmonic

partials. Some combination tones in particular corroborate the fact that Murail was not

thinking of some template based on the harmonic series, but that he was instead taking

these equally tempered intervals at face value and using them as the source of the

combination tones. Take for example the fifth sonority, with the generating pitches Bß

and E, which are an equal-tempered compound tritone apart. In terms of some harmonic

series, the easiest reading of these pitches (though with rounding) is as the fifth and

fourteenth partials, respectively, which would place the fundamental at Fƒ. In the music,

however, there is no low Fƒ, but there is instead a G quarter-flat. If the Bß and E interval is

considered as equally tempered then it turns out that the G quarter-flat more closely

corresponds to a combination tone than would an Fƒ.

To sum things up thus far, basing the harmonic sonorities of section A on flute

multiphonics, with involve combination tones, allows for an employment of frequency

shift with acoustic instruments. However, because of the predominance of equal

temperament, the generating intervals create inharmonic pitches that do not lie neatly on
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a single harmonic series. Furthermore, in the realization of the score the pitches become

normalized to the nearest semitone, or rarely quarter tone, adding further to the overall

inharmonicity.

At this point, let us turn to consider curvature in meter. There are two places

within the piece that incorporate progressive accelerations and decelerations: sections B

through C and section F. For the purpose of this analysis, the following discussion will

focus on the acceleration used in section F. As was done with section A, Murail gives a

diagram of the basic idea of Section F, shown as Figure 2. The process that Murail

describes in the diagram involves the flute material being taken up by the strings and

modified through a series of écrasement—that is, a crushing of the pitch by applying bow

pressure.5 The procedure described in the diagram begins at the beginning of Section F,

starting off quite slowly and continuing in a gradual acceleration that leads to a

culmination at the beginning of section G.6 The acceleration used in this section is not

linear—that is, the acceleration is not constant—but is instead a ‘curved’ acceleration. In

order to illustrate this point I offer Graphs 3a and 3b. Graph 3a plots the number of

quarter notes between each of the flute attacks from F1 to F24.7 In this section the tempo

is set at quarter note equals 60, and thus these durations can also be considered in terms

of the number of seconds between attacks. As can be seen, the durations between each

flute attack shortens not by a set amount; rather the amount by which the durations

5
In The Revolution of Complex Sounds (134-5) Murail describes this technique as
producing a sort of undertone, which lies about a major seventh below the fundamental.
6
Garant calls this point, G1 and the following, the climax of the piece (2001, 85).
7
F1 is an abbreviation for Section F, m. 1.
 11

decrease, which I will call the degree of change, also decreases. The result is in essence a

‘curved’ acceleration.8

Table 2 places the information of Graph 3a into table form, adding as well the

degree of change between each flute attack and the number of beats of rests used between

each attack. The degree of change between each attack actually does not consistently

decrease: from the eighth to ninth attacks there is an increase of the degree of change, and

from the tenth to the eleventh the degree of change stays the same. That is to say, the

curve is not a perfectly smooth curve. The reason that this is the case is uncertain, but

very well could arise from the fact that the smallest denominator is the thirty-second note,

and that to make a clean start on the next part of the acceleration, which involves

acceleration by change of tempi, it is necessary to land the last attack on the beat. A small

amount of ‘fudging’ has already been demonstrated in the harmonic aspects section A,

where compositional constraints required some rounding. It seems likely that here in

section F the same sort of use of rounding appears as to accommodate other

compositional factors.

Graph 3b is a continuation of Graph 3b, picking up the acceleration at F24. At this

point, the acceleration no longer happens through a decrease in the number of quarter

notes between each attack, but now happens through an acceleration of tempi. In the

score there are some measures with constant tempi, and some measures with accelerandi,

the former being shown with horizontal lines, and the latter with diagonal lines. Because

of this, the curve in Graph 3b is much less smooth than the one in Graph 3a. Because of

8
The term ‘logarithmic’ would not be the correct term to describe this process, even
though the graph is curved. As it is presented, the graph would better be described as
some sort of inverse relation—that is, with a formula such as x = 1/y.
 12

the switch from an acceleration in terms of quarter-note durations to an acceleration in

terms of tempi, the accelerando from F24 onwards becomes much more staggered. In

performance, however, the staggeredness of the acceleration will probably vanish, and

the result will more than likely be smooth and organic.

Conclusion

The aesthetic agenda of spectralism seems to place high value in music that

involves curvature. Ironically, though many of the ideas that have been incorporated into

spectral composition derive from the use of computers, the aesthetic of curvature can

actually be better understood as a nod towards the natural and the organic. Shaping pieces

so that the form is continuous and non-segmented is a direct imitation of the actuality of

the world. No matter how hard I try, when I swing my arm the rate at which my arm

moves will be curved. Linearity is in fact quite uncommon in the real world. Likewise,

the use of the harmonic series, combination tones, and the manipulation of spectra also tie

deeply to an underlying philosophy of the natural. In this way, spectralism can be

understood as a mediation between two disparate enterprises, musical formalism and

naturalism.

References

Garant, Dominic. 2001. Tristan Murail: une expression musicale modélisée. Paris:
L’Harmattan.

Gilmore, Bob. 2007. On Claude Vivier’s ‘Lonely Child’. Tempo 61, 2-17.

Murail, Tristan. 2005a. The Revolution of Complex Sounds. Contemporary Music

Review 24/2-3, 121-135. Translated by Joshua Cody.
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___________. 2005b. Target Practice. Contemporary Music Review 24/2-3, 149-171.

Translated by Joshua Cody.