I is for Intonation

What does it mean to say that something is played “in tune” or “out of tune”? Like Winona Ryder on irony (“I know it when I see it”) most music listeners (and almost all musicians) can hear when something is in tune (or not). You just know. Case in point:

So what is intonation?

There are a few different theories, and there’s all kinds of physics involved, but for orchestras, a note is in tune if its sound waves are vibrating at a rate consistent with its relation to the agreed-upon standard for intonation, A 440. This is the note the oboe plays at the beginning of an orchestra concert. Everyone joins in to make their instrument’s A match the oboe’s. The theory is that if we can all agree on one note, we will then all agree on the other notes.

Some instruments come pre-tuned, and how they’re played doesn’t affect intonation. Keyboard instruments. Marimbas and xylophones. Guitars. Percussion instruments (except the timpani). Accordions. Harmonicas. Bagpipes. Zithers:

People who play these instruments don’t have to worry about intonation while playing. If the piano is out of tune, call the tuner. If the guitar is out of tune, tune it before the next song. If the accordion is out of tune, ask yourself: why am I playing the accordion? Otherwise, you’re stuck with bad intonation. For one performance of the Trout Quintet, our pianist Ina Davenport was playing her part like it was nothing, but had to play on an instrument that was so out of tune, it sounded like it had been time-traveled from an Old West saloon. I thought showgirls were going to appear.

If it’s tuned, the piano is probably the best instrument for a child, for a few reasons. With intonation not a factor, they can spend more effort learning music fundamentals like rhythm, chords, and note reading. Also, playing a pre-tuned instrument gets your ear used to the sounds of different notes. Later on it’s a little easier to play an instrument that requires effort to play in tune.

To be totally truthful, though, pianos are not perfectly in tune. If they were, you’d have to retune them every time the key changed. The reason: intonation for every key is slightly different. Hundreds of years ago, musicians solved this problem with “equal tempering,” which means that the intervals on a piano are adjusted to be more or less in tune. Why is this?

Notes exist in relation to other notes. In C minor, E flat is a minor third from C. In B major, D sharp is a major third from B. (If you’re not a musician, try singing “Sunrise, Sunset” – “is this the little boy I cared for” – “This” and “the” are a minor third apart. Sounds kind of sad, huh? Now try “Do re mi” – “Doe a deer, a female deer” – “fe,” “male” and “deer” are a major third apart).

Back to the point: on the piano, E flat and D sharp are the same note. But if played by a solo instrument that can change pitch, the E flat will be a tiny bit lower in pitch than the D sharp because an E flat in the key of C minor is me (pronounced “may”), or the lowered third in solfege (do-re-me-fa-sol and so on) while D sharp in the key of B major is mi, pronounced “me” (a name I call myself).

That’s enough to give even Julie Andrews a headache! One upside, though: because of this pitch variability, really fine string quartets are theoretically able to play absolutely in tune in any key. Musicians who can play perfectly in tune by themselves still spend rehearsal time working on pitch. I remember sitting in on a rehearsal of the American Quartet rehearsing, very very slowly and quietly, a unison passage from Brahms. The second violinist stopped and said to the cellist, “I’m thinking of a high E” because the cellist’s E, while in basically in tune, wasn’t quite “bright” enough for ti (a drink with jam and bread… also a leading tone that brings us back to do…. oh, oh, oh.).

In school I had a coach who had us lie on the floor, in the middle of the group, and listen to chords played very slowly in order to experience perfect intonation. Recently at a rehearsal I was having trouble getting a D in tune. In the chord, it was the fifth, and needed to be “bright.”

Or maybe I just hadn’t been practicing enough and my index finger had forgotten where to go make an in-tune D. (Though I suspect it was pianist Ina Davenport’s fault. The string players in our group have agreed: whatever happens, it's Ina’s fault.) String players have to practice and practice for our fingers to go in the right places consistently. While learning, our teachers put tapes on the fingerboard so we can see where to put our fingers. Eventually one’s fingers develop muscle memory and remember where to go. Whenever a piece has more than four flats, one hears groans from the string section. String players have more difficulty playing in tune in flat keys than in sharp keys, for two reasons. First, flat keys have fewer open strings. And second, the finger patterns for sharp keys are taught first, and probably for that reason feel more natural.

I don’t know a lot about intonation for winds – it has to do with amount and speed of air flow, shape of the mouth, certain notes on individual instruments that tend sharp or flat… and pushing in or pulling out the sections of their instruments. If Ina Davenport is in the audience, that can affect the pitch as well.

In orchestras, intonation can pose some challenges. Wind instruments warm up as they play and can go sharp. Strings instruments also warm up but go flat as the strings stretch out. This push-pull factor is one reason orchestras sometimes tune between movements of a long piece. I try to make sure my lower strings are tuned to “bright” in case the pitch goes up – otherwise they will sound flat.

In chamber music or solo playing, some musicians tune backstage, and some tune onstage. I was always told to tune as well as you can backstage so you don’t have to do major tuning onstage. I was also taught that when playing a solo with piano, to turn around and face the piano, not to play your open strings to the audience like it was a concerto on four out-of-tune strings. The idea was that tuning is a private affair, not a performance. So one time at a music camp, when about to perform for a master class, I turned to the piano, and the violin teacher (whom we had nicknamed “The Dragon Lady”) yelled from the audience: “David, I don’t care how cute your butt is, you don’t ever turn your back on the audience!”

If that’s not enough of a viola joke, here’s another one:

What’s the difference between the first and last stand of the viola section? A minor second. Or a half step: try singing “ray, a drop of golden sun” – “a” to “drop of” is a minor second… this is funny because the section should be in unison but they’re really playing so out of tune that it’s like different notes… oh, I give up. Bottom line: the SLO Symphony always plays in tune. And if we don’t, it’s usually Ina Davenport’s fault. :-)

DH