As musical old-timers repeatedly sing the sad song of the supposed demise of the full-length album, a funny thing has happened. Lovers of games have taken up a growing passion for game music, and in particular the indie score for indie games. Independent game publishing and independent music composition – from truly unsigned, unknown artists – go hand in hand. Indeed, the download and purchase charts on Bandcamp are often dominated by game scores. Fueled by word-of-mouth, these go viral in enthusiast communities largely ignored by either music or game reportage.

Far from the big-budget blockbuster war game, these scores – like the games for which they’re composed – are quirky and eccentric. They reject the usual expectations of what game music might be, sometimes tending to the cinematic, sometimes to the retro, sometimes unapologetically embracing magical, sentimental, childlike worlds.

And now, defying music’s typical business models as well as its genre expectations, you can get a whole big bundle of games for almost no money. Pay what you want, and get hours of music. Pay more than $10, and get loads more. You just have to do it before the deal ends (five days from this posting), at which point the bundle is gone forever. In a sign of just how much love listeners of these records feel, there’s a competition to get into the top 20, top 10, and top-paying spots, which with days left in the contest is already pushing well into the hundreds of dollars. But for that rate or just the few-dollar rate, these are the true fans. You’ve heard about them in theory in trendy music business blogs and conferences, in theory. But here, someone’s doing something about it, and it’s not a fluke or a one-time novelty: it’s a real formula.

http://www.gamemusicbundle.com/

Game music itself is, of course, a funny thing. Game play itself tends to repetition, meaning you hear this music a lot. So it says something really extraordinary about the affection for these scores that gamers want to hear the music again and again. This gets the musical content well beyond the level of annoying wallpaper into something that, even more than a film score you hear just once or a few times, you want to make part of your life. That endless play gets us back to what inspired ownership in the first place, to buying stacks of records rather than just waiting for them on the radio. And in that sense, perhaps what motivates owning music versus treating it like a utility or water faucet hasn’t changed in the digital age at all. Maybe it’s gotten even stronger.

We’ve already sung the praises of Sword and Sworcery on this site; it’s notably in the bundle. But I want to highlight in particular one other score, the inventive and dream-like Machinarium. Impeccably recorded, boldly original, the work of Prague-based Tomáš Dvořák, Machinarium mirrors the whimsical constructed machines of the games. There’s a careful attention to timbre, and music that moves from film-like moments to song to beautiful washes of ambience, glitch set against warm rushes of landscape. For his part, Dvořák is a clarinetist, and his musical senstitivity never ceases to translate into the score. It’s just good music, even if you never play the game, and easily worth the price of admission for the bundle if you never listened to anything else (though you would truly be missing out). It’s simply one of the best game music scores in recent years.

And another look at Jim Guthrie’s score to Sword & Sworcery:

Game Meets Album: Behind the Music and Design of the iPad Indie Blockbuster Swords & Sworcery[Create Digital Music]

Game Meets Album: Behind the Music and Design of the iPad Indie Blockbuster Swords & Sworcery [Create Digital Motion]

Also in this collection: Aquaria, To the Moon, Jamestown, and a mash-up, plus a whole bunch of bonus games when you spend a bit more that feel heavily influenced by Japanese game music and chip music.

And some of the best gems are in the repeat of the last bundle, which you can (and should) add on for US$5 more:
Minecraft: Volume Alpha, Super Meat Boy: Digital Soundtrack, PPPPPP (soundtrack to VVVVVV), Impostor Nostalgia, Cobalt, Ravenmark: Scourge of Estellion, A.R.E.S. Extinction Agenda, Return All Robots!, Mighty Milky, Way / Mighty Flip Champs, Tree of Knowledge

I’ve sat at game conferences as composers working for so-called AAA titles lamented the limitations of the game music production pipeline. Quietly, indie game developers have shown that anything is possible, that the quality of a game score is limited only by a composer’s imagination.

More music to hear (and some behind-the-scenes footage), including a really promising Kickstarter-funded iPad music project from regular CDM reader Wiley Wiggins:

Have an uncommon yule with tools and music from the Commons.

That’s the pitch (so to speak) of the Ultimate Christmas Songbook, an iPad app built with 50 Christmas songs and a fully free and open source notation engine. Making use of public domain songs, the number of songs available continues to grow as the community contributes tunes. (Those contributors got the app for free.)

As notation proliferates on tablets, the app also suggests that “commercial” doesn’t have to mean “closed.” The scores themselves are available in open, cross-platform formats (MIDI, MusicXML, MuseScore, and PDF). But by generating revenues, the app can support further development – something that’s often been missing in open source music software projects.

And if you’re looking for a way to help family and friends play music, and they have iPads, the score reading features are quite reasonable. You get lovely display of scores, audio playback, tempo change, transpose, and the all-important font resize with reflow so you don’t have to squint.

The app is on iOS now, but other platforms are planned; an Android version is already in testing. And we hear lots more is coming from MuseScore, too, hot on the heals of a release that earned half a million downloads:
A Christmas update from MuseScore

More resources:
Open source code for mscore at SourceForge
Contributed scores to download
Ultimate Christmas Songbook, US$1.99 at iTunes
http://musescore.com/, software and community, including the desktop software for Mac, Windows, and Linux

For reference, here’s a look at how the desktop software works:

Consumption, or creation?

When it comes to notation and musical scores, the iPad (and tablets, generally) has fallen on the side of reading rather than writing, display rather than creation.

Notion for iPad, a mobile version of the desktop notation software, looks poised to change all of that. See video, above, for an overview of the features. Highlights:

• Entry, editing, and playback for notation and guitar tab
• Built-in samples, including keys, guitar and bass, and the London Symphony Orchestra as recorded at Abbey Road Studios
• Enter notes by tapping a keyboard or 24-fret fretboard, or select and drag and drop
• Mixer and effects
• Orchestra and guitar articulations and marks
• Text/lyrics support
• Import MIDI, MusicXML, GuitarPro, and export to PDF, MusicXML, and MIDI
• Look for guitar tab, MIDI, and MusicXML right inside the app – this could be a huge feature

There are also in-app purchases of instruments and effects and so on.

It’s a big deal, I think, and a huge release. Even if you use software other than Notion on desktop, I can see this as – at last – a way for people comfortable with notation to sketch ideas and enter MIDI and scores from a music stand. I look forward to testing it. (Anyone know of any other candidates in this category? Since Sibelius focused on score reading, Notion seems to be the first major release of this kind for a tablet.)

Thanks to everyone who sent this in.

http://www.notionmusic.com/products/notionipad.html

By the way, what’s up with the lines at the end of the video?

You Honor Tradition!
You Defy Genre!
You The Create Future! [sic]

You have come to fight as free men, and free men you are. What would you do without freedom? Will you fight?

They may take our lives, but they will never take our freedom!

(Sorry, I may have broken into the speech from Braveheart there. It could be the London Symphony Orchestra music. Alba gu bra!)

Since today is Beethoven’s 241st birthday, it seems only appropriate to inject a little conventional notation into today’s coverage. And what better way to do that than with an iPad app that promises some musician-friendly reading features.

We’ve already looked a couple of times at Avid’s Sibelius-powered Scorch iPad reader, which features nice output and score integration, and recently added PDF support.

Scorecerer has some unique features – aside from, augh, a somewhat unpronounceable name. It goes further in page turn control, MIDI integration, and DAW integration (through MIDI program changes). A desktop version aids in scanned score management.

And it has two potentially killer features: one is the ability to manage converting your conventional notation to PDF, and the other is – at last – proper markup.

Run-down of features:

• Markup: highlight or add handwritten notes (why every app doesn’t include this, standard, I have no idea – it’s a deal-breaker without it.) See the video for more.
• Meet your MIDI page turner: Load songs, change pages, from any MIDI instrument – or send page turns from a DAW’s sequence playback (via a program change message) for automated page turns.
• Total page layout control: Arrange pages in an arbitrary sequence, so, for instance, repeats and DS al Coda sections simply repeat in front of you instead of requiring you to go back.
• Desktop PDF conversion: Scan images or import PDFs, straighten out crooked scans, remove borders, create lead sheets, all in a batch-conversion desktop management tool.
• Desktop Pro software: Add on this US$39.95 desktop companion, and you additionally get to publish scanned or imported music as a set of images, PDF, Kindle DX, or MusicPad Pro. (The free iPad edition only exports to the iPad.) You can also batch convert a stack of music – like an entire fake book – by splitting it into PDFs.

The emphasis on scanning and importing PDFs is a concession to the likely reality of iPad notation users. Simply put, you’re probably not going to use an iPad for notation unless you can make it useful with all the scores you’ve already got. Now, some of this batch processing I imagine could make publishers very nervous about piracy. But I still imagine that – as we saw with the combination of digital downloads and ripped CDs, only with yet-more-expansive collections – we’ll see a bit of each. (Selling scores online I still think will be a big market for publishers.)

But I just keep coming back to this: you have to have markup. And I look forward to watching tablet apps in general work to provide features that make them more usable to musicians.

More on the app:
http://www.deskew.com/

There’s a free, “Lite” version that you can try out first.

The full version is US$9.95.

Scorcerer @ iTunes App Store

More than anything, a tablet resembles a piece of paper. Apple’s iPad rests easily on a music stand, and – while in this generation, it’s a bit small and low-resolution – is at least the beginning of an ideal score reader.

We took a look at Avid’s Scorch, a leading contender for your iPad score-reading needs, when it came out, and followed up with questions for Avid (like how you turn pages on a tablet – hint, it’s easier than on paper):

Not Quite Sibelius for iPad, but Avid Scorch Could Become an iTunes of Notation (“Not Quite” because, while powered by Sibelius’ notation engine, you can read but not create scores)

Tablet Scores: Avid Answers Our Scorch Questions; Bluetooth Page Turners for iPad, Android

Now, there are further developments. Most importantly, in its evolution toward what I predicted would be an iTunes of music, there’s now a huge store of notation – Hal Leonard’s Sheet Music Direct is now available, powered by the Avid Scorch platform. That’s relevant to, erm, about half of our readers, because it’s only available in the USA (or if you have a US iTunes account). But I imagine we’ll see other countries soon, as Sheet Music Direct is an international service.

If you are in the USA, you can grab the app for free and get 15 songs free of charge to get started:
Sheet Music Direct @iTunes

Daniel Spreadbury, a gifted notation and education advocate I’ve had the pleasure to know for some time, details what’s in the new release.

New Sheet Music Direct app for iPad powered by Scorch technology [Sibelius Blog]

The highlights: what differentiates this from, say, a chunk of bleached tree, are features like:

• Metronome
• Tuner
• Set lists
• Sharing
• Lighter than a tree
• Turn pages with a foot. (*Possible with paper, provided you have a human page turner and you kick them.)
• On-demand purchasing

In the favor of the flattened wood pulp with ink marks on it: higher resolution, bigger, easier to see, easier to mark up, the battery never runs out, does not cost US$499. (Not at first, anyway.) Oh, and you don’t have to wait for it to come out on the iTunes store in your country.

But that puts some significant promise on the iPad side of things.

There are also 90 improvements in Scorch 1.1, including better page turning features and page turning, but one of those 90 features to me jumps out: you get PDF support.

With PDF support, wherever you are, and whatever notation program you use to generate scores, you can now easily share your work with someone else with an iPad. Scorch itself has a separate link from the Sheet Music Direct app:

Scorch @ iTunes

I really want to hear from someone actually using these apps to read scores. What’s the experience like? Are you using it on a regular basis, or did you revert to paper scores?

In a twist on generating music from dance, artist and coder João Pais sends us Pd-generated scores, transformed into twinkling sounds by music boxes. As it happens, the music boxes are the same featured in Friday’s story on Ritornell.

The piece is RISS, a “performative installation/concert” produced outdoors in Berlin, with a 30-meter score generated by Pd from movement.

João describes his work: “The patch was simple, it analysed the sounds, and made a score using data structures. then I printed the score, and spent lots of hours puncturing all the holes.”

The video documents those sounds, in a project produced by the collaboration of composer and artist Christian Graupner, dancer/choreographer Phuong Nguyen, and João Pais. (For his part, João has been utterly invaluable in helping me with some Pd patches – I need to post some abstractions based on that work soon for everyone.)

More info:
http://www.humatic.net/art/p/riss/index.html

And I know this is just the tip of the … music box iceberg. Sorry, that’s a really horrible mixed metaphor. There are lots of people using music boxes, yes.

Digital notation took a big step forward last week with the release of Avid Scorch, the first take on mobile notation from developer Sibelius. (It’s the first mobile app, period, from industry titan Avid, so it’s interesting to watch them go first with notation – especially as even Apple skipped scores with their first release of GarageBand.)

Anything new is liable to generate a lot of questions. So we’ve taken those questions straight to the source, to the Sibelius team at Avid. One of the things I always enjoyed about the folks at Sibelius is that they’re an exceptionally bright, articulate, and musically-minded bunch of people, so I’ve found even if we don’t see eye to eye on an issue, I’ll get an intelligent answer. (The same is true, incidentally, of the people at their chief rival, Finale developer MakeMusic.)

Here’s what they had to say about page turns, annotation (hint: it’s missing for now), sharing and distribution, rendering and page format, and what this is all about.

Meanwhile, the most significant answer comes not from Sibelius and Avid but from vendors of Bluetooth foot pedals, the essential ingredient in making digital scores work. We talk to one of those vendors below, as well, about hardware relevant not only to Scorch and iPad, but other notation tools and devices, as well.

Q+A: Avid Scorch

Tom Clarke, Senior Product Manager for both Avid Scorch and Sibelius, answers a few of our questions. (Thanks to reader comments for suggesting many of these!)

CDM: How might a user turn pages with Scorch in a performance/rehearsal?

Tom: To turn pages in Scorch, you simply swipe – or, in Music Stand mode, tap on either side of the screen to go forwards and back. Scorch also works with any Bluetooth device that can send left- and right-arrow commands, including Bluetooth footswitches, to allow hands-free page turning. We’ve tested with a couple of devices in particular: PageFlip and AirTurn.

There’s not presently a way to annotate scores, I take it? With a paper score, of course, you can quickly make a note with a pencil, etc.

That’s correct – currently Scorch allows you to interact with and transform the music, but not to annotate it. We’ve already had a number of users request this, so it’s on the list of possible improvements to include in future updates. It’s actually quite a tricky problem to solve though, if the music underneath can be changed and reformatted: any annotations would have to be able to move around relative to the musical element(s) they’re describing, so it’s not a straightforward request.

Let’s say a composer wants to quickly push out a bunch of revised parts to an ensemble. How does one do this? And otherwise, you would distribute music for sale on the Scorch store as previously, correct?

Currently, the best way to distribute revised parts in Scorch would be to email the completed score (or extracted parts, if you prefer) to the musicians you want to share it with – or to use, say, a public Dropbox folder that everyone can access. Then each musician opens the score on their iPad and views their part independently, making any changes they want to their own copy of it.

As for self-publishing, using the SibeliusMusic.com site, composers and arrangers can sell their scores – or make them freely available – very easily. Sign up for an account, upload your music and set a price to sell it on SibeliusMusic.com (you get to keep half of the proceeds of any sale through the site); the Scorch Store, meanwhile, maps this price onto one of Apple’s in-app purchase price points and makes it available to buy on the iPad – if that price is higher you get to keep any extra margin.

How much of the Sibelius rendering engine is reproduced in Scorch? Is there anything you can see in a Sibelius score that won’t then appear for Scorch? Any special preparation?

The entire Sibelius rendering engine is reproduced in Scorch so that positioning, styles, formatting and everything else on the page should be no different to Sibelius on the desktop. There are some things that aren’t visible in Scorch, though, such as hidden objects, saved versions, ideas and layout marks. These items only really make sense in an editing environment like Sibelius. The iPad does have some limitations on things like the text fonts included in iOS, but we’ve included the same intelligent font substitution that Sibelius uses in order to try and render scores so that they resemble as closely as possible the original fonts used.

Normally, you format scores for different paper sizes (A4, Letter…) How would you format for tablets? Does the idea of a page size still remain? Would you make a score, say, 4:3 for iPad?

Currently Scorch respects the page settings and layout choices of the score’s author, so yes, page sizes still remain. We recommend using a Letter page size to make best use of the display in Music Stand mode. Look out for some House Style templates on the SibeliusBlog, which you can use to reformat your existing scores easily and make the best use of the iPad’s display and treat the device bevel as the margin.

How do you see the big picture for this offering?

We see Scorch as Avid’s first foray into the world of dedicated mobile apps: there’s a clear use for existing Sibelius customers, solving the obvious problems of portability – but without sacrificing musical intelligence, flexibility and the clarity afforded by the world’s most beautiful music notation. But there’s also an exciting opportunity here for people who wouldn’t normally be interested in notation, at least in the sense of creating it. For those people, Scorch is a great way to learn to play music and to expand their repertoire, tailoring the music that they enjoy to suit their instrument or voice. And because the world’s leading music publishers use Sibelius, we can take their extensive libraries of scores and make them truly interactive in a way that a piece of paper simply can’t match.

The Must-Have Accessory for Digital Scores

Swiping a tablet while you’re trying to play has about as much appeal as … well, turning pages with paper. One clear advantage digital scores have over the printed variety is the promise of hands-free page turns. To do that, you need a Bluetooth pedal. Thanks to the standardization of Bluetooth, these should work not only with Apple’s iPad, but tablets from other makers, as well. (You wouldn’t want music notation to be a platform exclusive, after all.)

Expect to see various offerings out there, but Hugh Sung, co-founder of AirTurn, was first to pipe in when readers pondered how page turns would work with Scorch. Hugh sends over some extensive details on how their system works.

The BT-105 works as an external Bluetooth keyboard, but with some nifty extra features, like a built-in debounce filter to prevent multiple page turns per foot switch press, multiple keyboard profiles for different applications, and one really cool feature exclusive to the BT-105, the ability to toggle on the iPad’s virtual keyboard for text entry (all other external page turners/keyboards hide the iPad’s virtual keyboard by default).

The BT-105 features the latest 2.1 + EDR Bluetooth capabilities, which means that pairing is automatic – no need to enter any passkey codes. Also, the pairing automatically shows the BT-105′s unique serial number, making it easy for multiple users to quickly locate their respective AirTurn units.

The BT-105 comes with 2 ATFS-2 silent foot switches – as i mentioned in the comment, these are the quietest foot switches in the consumer market, thanks to some nifty proprietary technology that features no mechanical moving parts aside from the hinge. That means, no clicks, no squeaks when operating the foot switch. We’re using a nedymium magnet and a rhodium reed switch embedded in the high strength plastic body of the foot switch. As a professional classical pianist, making sure our AirTurn page turning device was perfectly silent was my top priority.

You can find some photos of the BT-105 and our new ATFS-2 silent foot switch in our press release here:

http://www.prweb.com/releases/2011/6/prweb8504375.htm

You can also get more information directly from our website at http://airturn.com.

There’s no reason this will be limited to iPad; Hugh tells us that we can expect an Android version of the Musicnotes.com music notation marketplace soon, projected by the end of summer. (That should time nicely with a whole crop of Honeycomb-powered tablets over the summer; I now have a Galaxy Tab 10.1 machine I’m carrying for development and everyday use, and it compares nicely to my iPad that’s CDM’s testbed for music apps.)

There’s also no reason the use has to be limited to page turns. Foot switches could be boons in applications like punch in / punch out recording, too; developers just need to add support – and it’s simple to implement.

We’ll keep an eye out for other pedals. And if you’re considering using digital notation when gigging, we’d love to hear from you – and maybe talk about doing a proper review.

Let’s get this out of the way first: if you’re looking for a tool for composing and editing scores on your iPad, Avid Scorch isn’t it — not yet, at least. But as a score reader, Scorch could be a glimpse of a future in which tablets create a new marketplace and exchange for notated music.

Scorch is, first and foremost, a score reader. It shares the mature notational display engine of Sibelius, and makes use of Sibelius’ (and now Pro Tools’) scores. That includes Sibelius’ broad library of musical symbols, guitar tab features, and handwritten fonts, among other features. (It even includes the somewhat silly, but potentially-comforting, textures that have long been a feature of the desktop product.)

The role of tablets in digital music is still evolving. But it’s not hard to make a case for the form factor here: unlike a MacBook Pro or a PC tower, you can put a tablet on a music stand. As such, a tiny device can have dynamic access to a near-limitless collection of music. We’ve already seen impressive takes on the classic jazz fake book on the iPad, and they handily beat the older form when it comes to weight or bulk.

That leaves the question of what reading a score on what remains essentially a computer, in place of on paper, actually means. Scorch shows off some advantages here. For instance, you can transpose scores – say, for a singer, or a different reed instrument – in realtime. (That grumbling noise you hear is people complaining about the loss of musicianship and the ability to sight-transpose. I agree, to a point – but I’ve also known some musicians who could do that who also used the transposition button on a digital piano.)

Other features could broaden the appeal of notation in general. With one tap, you can convert a line to guitar tab, dynamically, as seen in the image below. You can change fonts, or pull out a single part, in order to improve readability. These are things that would normally require a copyist to go back to the drawing board and make new parts, even in the computer age. The very notion of what a score is is changing: that score becomes dynamic, electronic, and live, open to instantaneous shared revisions.

I’m following up with Avid’s developers and testing the application myself, as some questions remain. Turning pages electronically could theoretically be easier … or not. There’s an interactive “Music Stand” mode, but that’ll require an actual test. (Stay tuned for results of that shortly.) Depending on your instrument, you may not have a hand free, and on the iPad, there’s no way to tape multiple pages together to increase the size of the paper. My bet is that we’ll badly need a footswitch. (See this week’s discussion of augmenting tablets with foot pedals.)

While I investigate that, though, it’s just as interesting to ponder that Scorch is not just an application, but a marketplace. Using Apple’s in-app payments (the rules for which this week were loosened), you can purchase scores or download free scores. The display even looks like e-reader apps from Apple, Amazon, and others. With brick-and-mortar music stores few and far between, and the record store long gone, this is huge news. Demand for notation has been on the uptick, as popular music, reality TV, and shows like Glee continue to feed on – and feed – appetite for musical expression. (I need to pull some solid numbers on that, but I do know there are some positive signs; that’s probably a topic for another story.)

Scorch could be the start of something big – and with electronics makers around the world, not just Apple, betting on the tablet, it could be a sign of other tools to come.

I still imagine many people want to use tablets to make scores, not just consume them, and I expect that to be a growth area, too. But Scorch is notable as the first big-league entry into what could be a transformative arena. And it could be transformative in ways that are more profound than even digital distribution of music. Notation has evolved the way it has on a paper medium, designed to be fixed, still influenced by the conventions of the pen and engraving. The next question: will scores, from creation to display, need to change, too?

Avid Scorch

The history of music and the history of music notation are closely intertwined. Now, digital languages for communicating musical ideas between devices, users, and software, and storing and reproducing those ideas, take on the role notation alone once did. Notation has always been more than just a way of telling musicians what to do. (Any composer will quickly tell you as much.) Notation is a model by which we think about music, one so ingrained that even people who can’t read music are impacted by the way scores shape musical practice.

All of this creates a special challenge. Musical notational systems had traditionally evolved over centuries. Now, we face the daunting question of how to build that language overnight.

This question has been a topic I’ve visited in a couple of talks, first here in New York at in/out fest last December, then most recently for a more general audience at RSVP, a new conversation series in Hamburg, Germany hosted by the multi-disciplinary design studio Precious Forever. (See photo at top, by which we can prove that the event happened. Check out more on the event and how the Precious gang hope this will inspire new interchange of ideas in Hamburg – something perhaps to bring to your town.)

What I’ve learned in talking to people at those events is, music notation matters. It’s more relevant to broad audiences than even those audiences might instinctively think. The most common lingua franca we have for digital music storage, MIDI, is woefully inadequate.

But perhaps most importantly: replacing MIDI’s primitive note message is far from easy. The more you try to “fix” MIDI, the more you appreciate its relative simplicity. And engineering new solutions could take re-examining assumptions Western music notation has made for centuries.

Musical notation and culture

Explaining the importance of notation to expert musicians is easy. But to convey its importance to lay people, you need look no further than the game interface developed by Harmonix for the hit titles Guitar Hero and Rock Band (and in turn descended from a similar interface paradigm used in the Japan-only Konami GuitarFreaks). These games demonstrate that, even among non-musician gamers, certain received wisdoms from Western notation endure. (In fairness, many of the designers of music games have a fair bit of musical experience, but the fact that their work is received by audiences in the way it is nonetheless speaks volumes.)

The Guitar Hero interface actually is a Western musical score, rotated 90 degrees to make it easier to see how the events on-screen are matched to game play input. (For visual effect, the “track” is also rotated away from the screen, so that events further in the future recede into the background – a bit of visual flair that helped differentiate Harmonix from flatter-looking Japanese games.)

Whatever the rotation, the assumptions of the game screen itself are rooted in notation. Pitch is displayed along lines and spaces, just as on a score. Rhythm is displayed along a metrical grid, which reads as a linear track. Not coincidentally, I believe, when Harmonix has deviated from this formula, their titles have tended to be less successful. More sophisticated interactions in titles like Amplitude and Frequency (and the iPod game Phase) were big hits among gamers, but less so among the general public, perhaps in part because they require a more abstract relationship to the music.

Games are just one example, of course. Musical scores reflect basic cultural expectations, and in turn shape the music that people in that culture produce. As with most Western languages, text flows from left to right and top to bottom. Ask people to describe pitch in any culture that uses this notational system, and they’ll use the notions of “up” and “down,” “higher” and “lower” – even though these metaphors are meaningless in terms of sound. (Indonesian culture, for instance, gets it more physically correct, by describing what we call higher pitches as “smaller” and deeper pitches as “larger,” as they are in gongs.) And music in Western cultures are also deeply rooted on a grid, on 4/4 time and equal subdivisions. It wasn’t always so: even in the West, prior to the advent of notation of these meters, metrical structures flowed more freely.

It’s little surprise, then, that some of the biggest successes in electronic musical instruments have adopted the same conventions. From the Moog sequencer to the Page R editor on the Fairlight CMI sampler to the array of buttons on Roland’s grooveboxes, rhythmic sequencers that follow the grids devised in Western music notation are often the most popular. Even if the paradigm of the interface is one degree removed from the notation, the assumptions of how rhythms are divided – and thus the kinds of patterns you produce – remain.

Nowhere is this more true than in MIDI. MIDI is itself a kind of notational system, around which nearly all interfaces in software and hardware have been based over the past two and a half decades since its introduction.

MIDI, keyboards, and piano rolls: An incomplete “standard”

The first thing to understand about MIDI is that it began life as a keyboard technology. A complete history of MIDI should wait for another day, but even as its early history is told by the MIDI Manufacturing Association, it’s a technology for connecting keyboard-based synthesizers, not a solution to the broader question of how to represent music in general.

Many of the tradeoffs in MIDI, though, were made long before the 1980s or the invention of digital technology. When the 19th Century creators of the player piano needed not only standardization but reproduce-ability – before the advent of recording, the power to recreate entire musical performances – they turned to the piano as a way of modeling musical events. Indeed, the first player pianos quite literally reproduced the process of playing a piano, using wooden, mechanical fingers to strike notes on the keys just as a human would, before that mechanism was replaced with the internal players familiar to us today. What these inventors found in the piano was an instrument that, in the name of accessibility, aligned pitch to a simple grid.

The piano is a beautiful instrument, but its great innovation – the grid of its black and white keys – is also its greatest shortcoming. That grid is an imperfect model even of Western musical pitches, let alone other cultural systems. The 12-tone equal-tempered tuning used on modern pianos makes tuning multiple keys easier, but only by way of compromises. Even a modern violinist or singer may differentiate between the inflection of a G flat and an F sharp, based on context, but to the piano, these pitches are the same. And tuning is only the beginning. Piano notes begin with a note being “switched” on and end with it being “switched” off – no bending or other events within that pitch as on most other instruments.

It’s little wonder, given MIDI’s origins as a protocol for communicating amongst keyboards, that the editing view most common in music software is the piano roll, labeled as such. The piano roll is the perfect paradigm for sequencing events played on a keyboard, but that doesn’t mean it’s the best language for describing all music. And the obligation of a digital protocol is actually greater than that of musical notation, because there’s no human being at the other end to fill in missing expression and context.

Consider what’s missing in MIDI:

• Pitch reference: By convention, MIDI note 60 is C4. However, musical practice internationally lacks a consistent standard for what the tuning of C4 is, and any number of variables can interfere, from independent tuning tables to the use of the pitch bend to the activation of an octave transpose key.
• Pitch meaning: MIDI note values use an arbitrary pitch range from 0 to 127, a hypothetical 128-key piano, which itself makes no sense. 4? 8? 15? 16? 23? 42? The numbers themselves don’t mean anything.
• Pitch resolution: Because of the 0-127 resolution constraints, to get notes in between the pitches, you need a series of separate messages like pitch bend, giving you two values with only an incidental relationship to one another. Since pitch range is kept in yet another message, the results are confusing and un-musical, far more complex than they need to be. (Why wouldn’t 60.5 be a half-tone higher than 60?)
• Real expression: Events between note on and note off are represented independently as control change values. But that causes problems, because it means there’s no standard way to represent something as simple as a musical glissando. On a synth, making an expression (like twisting a knob or turning a wheel) separate from a note (pressing a key) makes sense. But that doesn’t make musical sense, and it doesn’t match most non-keyboard instruments. Only aftertouch is currently available, and that again assumes a keyboard and doesn’t expose pitch relationships created by adding the data.
• Musical representations of tuning and mode: The MIDI Tuning extensions require that you dump tuning information in fairly unstructured System Exclusive binary dumps. The standard itself is in some flux, and at best, its reliance on byte messages means that it’s not something a human being can read. And it still must be aligned with 128 otherwise arbitrary values. It’ll work, but it only makes sense on keyboards, and even then, it’s not terribly musical. Looking at number 42 in your sequencer, you’d have no idea of the tuning behind it, or the position in a mode – something any rational musical notational system would make clear.

Ironically, it was this very set of constraints that early innovators on the Buchla and Moog synthesizers hoped to escape. They were fully aware that the very genius of the keyboard was restricting musical invention. Analog control voltage, the basic means of interconnecting equipment prior to digital tech, was more open ended than MIDI, which replaced it. But that’s not to say it was better. Standardization is an aid in communication, as is the ability to describe messages. The question is, how can you do both? How can you be open ended and descriptive at the same time?

How do you build a new system?

Deconstructing is easy; constructing is hard. We certainly have the ability to send more open-ended messages and higher-resolution data; that’s not a problem. (Even by the early 80s when MIDI was introduced, its tiny messages and slow transmission speeds were conservative.) We also have OpenSoundControl (OSC), which has some traction and popularity, including near-viral use on mobile devices and universal support in live visual applications. It’s telling that that protocol is itself not really an independent protocol in the sense that MIDI is, but built on existing standards like TCP/IP and UDP. 2010 is, after all, not 1984.

The hold-up, I think, is simply the lack of a solid proposal for how to handle musical notes. And there are plenty of distractions. It’s tempting to throw out the simplicity of MIDI’s note on and note off schema, but it’s partly necessary: with a live input, you won’t know the duration of a pressed key until that key is released. It’s equally tempting to cling to Western musical pitches, even though those pitches themselves lack solid standardization and don’t encompass musical practices in the rest of the world. (12-tone equal temperament is a recent invention even in the Western world, and one that doesn’t encompass all of our musical practice. World tunings should best be described not by majority, but plurality, anyway – have a look at the current demographics of Planet Earth.)

One solution is simply to express musical events by frequency. That’s not a bad lowest common denominator, or a way to set the frequency of an oscillator. As a musical representation, though, it’s inadequate. It’s simply not how we think musically. The numbers are also unpleasant, because we perceive pitch roughly logarithmically. Pop quiz:

Can you do logarithms in your head? Yes or no?

Can you count?

MIDI gets it half right by using numbers, but then it’s hard to see octave equivalence, another essential concept for perceiving pitch. MIDI note 72 is probably equivalent to MIDI note 60… assuming 12 steps per octave. Or it might not be.

If you need a common denominator that covers a variety of musical traditions, mode (or more loosely, pitch collection) and register aren’t a bad place to start. I don’t think a system needs to be terribly complex. It could simply be more descriptive than MIDI is – while learning from the things MIDI does effectively.

Consider a new kind of musical object, described over any protocol you choose. It would ideally contain:

• Mode/pitch collection: As with MIDI and the MIDI tuning tables, tuning would need to be defined independently, but it can be done in a musical, human-readable way. It then becomes possible even to define modes that have different inflections based on context, as with pitches that are slightly different in ascending and descending gestures (common in many musical systems).
• Relative degree: a notation like “1 1 2 3 5 6″ can work in any musical language. You simply need to know the active mode or pitch collection.
• Register: Instead of conflating register and scale degree, you could simply define an octave register and starting frequency. This retains modal identities and octave equivalence, and makes relative transposition easy to understand. (A “transposition” message could be defined as an actual message, which is more musically meaningful.)
• Standardized inflections, connected to pitch: Pitch bends and glissandi should be relative to a specific note, because notes can have pitches that bend around their relative scale degree. (Think of a singer bending just below a note and into the actual pitch. These aren’t independent events.) A trombonist would never have invented MIDI notes. They would likely have immediately turned to the question of how to universally describe bending between notes.
• Yes, frequency: There will be times when directly referring to frequency makes sense, and that should be possible, as well.
• Relative duration: Musical notation, regardless of musical culture, uses some kind of relative indication of duration. Only machines use raw clock values. The result is that it’s possible to make musically meaningful changes in tempo and have durations respond accordingly. And whereas note on and note on events make sense on input, a musical event would not logically separate these events; there’s some notion of an event with a beginning, middle, and end. If you sing an ‘A,’ that’s one event, with a duration, not an independent beginning of the note and end of the note.

Far from replacing existing standards for music notation, this kind of standard could interchange more gracefully with printed notation. If you import a standard MIDI file into notation software, you get results that are typically full of errors, because the SMF lacks musical information about the events it contains. With more of that information stored, and stored in standard ways, translating to paper would become vastly more effective.

I’m sure attempts to model this in OSC have been attempted before, but it’s worth compiling those ideas and resurrecting the discussion.

What about input?

Ah, you say, but then, let’s go back to the keyboard. None of these events makes sense on a keyboard. You don’t know when a note is pressed how long it’ll last. You don’t know the modal degree of a particular, arbitrarily-played note.

I was stuck on the same problem, until I realized what I had been taking for granted: MIDI conflates two very separate processes. It makes input and output the same. Musical notational systems have never done that. When you look at a score, it’s a set of musical ideas, given meaning and context. If you record a series of events from an input, those events don’t immediately have meaning or context. It’s confusing the mechanical with the musical. It’s the reason MIDI is not just like a player piano – it is a digital player piano.

Separate out the issue of recording mechanical input events, and you can have a system that’s more flexible. That system should fit whatever the input is. An organ, a shakuhachi, a didgeridoo, and an electric guitar aren’t the same thing. Why would they be represented with the same set of input events? That’s pretty daft.

Look at it this way: imagine if instead of being invented by synthesizer people, Aeolian Harp players had invented MIDI. (It’s not so far-fetched: the Aeolian Harp has a millenia-long history and was once quite popular.) An Aeolian Harp sequencer would feature elaborate, high-resolution data recording for wind pressure relative to different strings. It might measure, even, wind direction. In fact, it’d look a lot more like meteorological data than musical data per se. It certainly wouldn’t involve integers from 0 to 127.

This should lead to a simple conclusion with profound consequences:

Physical input and musical output should not be the same thing.

One of the advantages of a protocol like OSC (or any open, networked, self-described protocol) is that it can be open-ended and descriptive, meeting our earlier challenge. For instance, using a hierarchy of meta-data attached to the message, you could describe a set of variables relevant to wind input. If you wanted to transcribe the results in musical terms, you could then use a musical notation, as above – one that used musical identity attached to the resulting frequencies, as in relative modal pitch and rhythmic duration. But the input would be a separate problem. That’s a far piece from MIDI, which is adequate neither as a complete description of the input device, nor of any kind of resulting musical system.

But wait a minute – how is there a standard? How do you standardize something that could include an Aeolian Harp, a vuvuzela, and a bagpipe? Welcome to the problem of music. Music is by its very nature resistant to standardization, because the possibilities of the physical world are so broad. This also suggests how input protocols (and output protocols) can go beyond musically-exclusive data. Again, we can turn back to MIDI as a model. MIDI was intended with specific applications in mind, with messages that referred to MIDI notes and filter cutoff. But that didn’t stop it from being warped to accommodate tasks well outside the standard, ranging from triggering videos to controlling amusement park robotic characters (literally). This suggests to me that what defines a standard protocol of this kind is not what is most strictly standardized, but what is most flexible.

The real challenge with something like OSC, then, is to come up with standardized ways of defining non-standardized events, and using some kind of reflection or remote invocation to allow devices or software that have never communicated before to handle unexpected messages intelligently. At the very least, they should give users clear, understandable options about the data they send and receive. This independent question has been one the OSC community has raised for some time. To me, all that remains is to make some compelling implementations and let the most effective solution evolve and win out. Recent reading on the topic (though this absolutely deserves a separate post, which I’ll get to soon):
Best Practices for Open Sound Control
Minuit : Propositions for a query system over OSC

That’s a separate problem from how to make events musically meaningful. But that to me is the central revelation, and something MIDI completely misses: these are two separate problems, not one problem. Handle input events as input. If it makes sense in a sequencer to record them as musical events (like scale degree pitches), do that. If it makes sense to record them as a series of time-stamped, physical events, do that – but with actual information relative to what was recorded, so that the wind across an Aeolian Harp is recorded in a way that makes sense for that input. And when describing musical events, describe them in musical ways.

This isn’t relevant only to music communities, either: it’s relevant to anyone recording events in time. It’s part of the reason the “sound” needs to be dropped from OSC. MIDI is as specific as it is partly because the specification has messages too small to contain information describing what the events mean. We now have standard network protocols that do that, so they can include information about other kinds of events. There’s no reason someone monitoring water levels in their herb garden and someone recording a sousaphone solo couldn’t use some of the same underlying protocols. There’s also every reason they’d record different kinds of data content.

Promising venues and a call to action

There’s really no need to try to “replace” or “fix” MIDI – if MIDI has endured for a specific application, maybe it actually is well-suited to that application. I think it’s time, instead, to think about how new systems can encompass more musical meaning from our own traditions and traditions around the world, and how we can standardize broad ranges of events instead of trying to fit everything into narrow, rigid boxes.

There is every reason to believe new things can happen now, too. Whereas hardware standardization once was a slow process, requiring the involvement of major manufacturers, we now carry around programmable computers inside our pockets as “phones” and learn to write embedded code in Freshman college classes using $30 Arduino boards. If you want new hardware standards, you can literally make them yourself. We have the ability to share musical notation directly in a Web browser using standard descriptions, as covered here recently. Because browsers in general are demanding newly distributed, networked applications, communicating in standard ways – as Web APIs do naturally – is becoming imperative.

But there’s one thing that makes me especially optimistic: you. Via the Web, we have instant access to your collective knowledge and experience. That means it’s a sure thing that all of us, collectively, knows more about previous research in this area, previous ideas, and what has and hasn’t worked. We also have the opportunity to communicate with each other, to make ideas evolve, at least experimentally. That doesn’t remove the need for eventual standardization, but good standards follow practice, not the other way around – something has to work in one place before it can be a shared standard. We also have mechanisms for self-standardization that didn’t exist before. Spoken languages evolve because people collectively work to share common means of communication. You might argue that this leads to a tower of Babel, but then, I’m writing this in English and you’re reading it in the same language and (hopefully) understanding. The same is true of Mandarin, Portuguese, German, Arabic, Hindi, and so on. It’s also true of volunteer adoption on the Internet of HTML, XML, JSON, and RSS.

Music is not the result of notation or standards. It’s the other way around. Musical practice long predated any attempt to write it down. And mathematics and written language each have abilities to describe music and many other media.

To me, two questions remain:
1. What would an implementation of structured messages for pitch and duration look like, perhaps implemented via OSC? What history has been there in this area, and what do you need?
2. How can smarter implementations of a protocol like OSC allow software and hardware to better handle unfamiliar input – as musicians, as they have done since the dawn of time, invent novel physical interfaces?

I look forward to kicking off this discussion and hearing what you think.

As the iPad hits Europe and the world generally gets more time with the tablet, it continues to play host to new music software. I still have to wonder when some of its software design patterns – touch interfaces, big displays, and simplified, task-specific user experiences – will begin to influence other platforms. That is, it’s never been clear why arrays of tiny knobs were the best solution for conventional computers, either. But for those of you who have picked up an iPad and are curious what you can do with it, here are some ideas, all now “natively” optimized for the iPad’s screen resolution.

This week’s latest rash of developments includes the brilliant, generative Brian Eno / Peter Chilvers software Bloom, a new creation intended to help manage live setlists, software for displaying (though not editing) music notation, and for those of you who still prefer your more-powerful Mac soft synths and workflow, a demonstration of the iPad as a touch controller for the Mac.

Bloom is an immersive musical experience as much as a musical tool, using touches to allow the user to compose musical patterns visually, then optionally generating its own textures and tunes if left alone. Its release in 2008 heralded some of what the new generation of mobile music software would hold. On the iPad, it’s basically the same app on a bigger screen, though that alloaws for a nice solution for displaying parameters (top). Bloom HD is US$3.99. (Thanks, Peter!)

Etude is another app that’s made the leap from iPhone to iPad; the software displays a selection of pre-made scores on the device, with support for audio playback, display, and even visual feedback for those learning notation. (Image above from the iPhone; no iPad image yet.) The rendering looks lovely, but it is pre-rendered – you can’t edit notation with Etude, and you’re limited to viewing one of a few hundred free scores available. At US$4.99, it’s still well worth a look, but that leaves a big gap open for a more fully-featured tool. I’m curious to hear if anyone tries one of the browser notation tools mentioned here previously in Mobile Safari, which would enable editing and sharing. Check out Etude and scores available for it on the developer site.

Setlists is a free application for organizing sets, lyrics, and the likes for a gig – a feature previously seen in tools like the Mac app Rax, but welcome on the iPad, and a compelling bridge to non-electronic bands, too. Creator Jeff tells us:

It’s a Setlist app that lets musicians manage their sets and songs. You can even email the setlists to your bandmates. I have plans to soon include the ability to record the audio from the set, organize recordings, and do some other clever stuff. Most importantly it’s totally free

Full details on the developer site; Jeff tells us there’s more to come.

Audio Palette by interactive audio whiz Kent Jolly (EA’s game Spore, with Brian Eno) is a fantastic, visual loop app which is now available for botouh iPhone and iPad. If you love Brian Eno’s sounds in Bloom, you get even more custom Eno samples in this tool, among others, but with greater interactive control. Via a graphical array of circles, you can trigger loop playback and perform a live mix. The new release now allows you to upload samples wirelessly via the Web, and the iPad brings greater sample capacity along with the greater UI real estate. This tool actually deserves some separate time on its own; check out the demo above, visit the developer’s site, and let us know if you create some interesting mixes of your own.

Lastly, in an example that’s only really practical on the iPad, watch what happens when familiar soft synths get touch-enabled using the iPad’s screen. It stilwel makes me long for more competent touch laptops and full-blown tablets, but in the meantime, the solution works pretty well. Not only does it mean the iPad does touc shh for the UI, but you can easily place the interface of a soft synth atop a music stand by your keyboard, instead of having to hunch over your computer. And the one takeaway above all others should be: developers, design UIs that are scalable and that can support touch.

That’s all for now, but let us know if you’ve found applications that make you productive. I’m also interested to hear reactions on the design of software for iPad versus iPhone. To me, just as there are certain clear examples that work better on larger screen real estate, there’s also a particular pleasure to something you can hold in the palm of your hand, which is not the case with iPad. Whatever your platform of choice, though, scale and interaction design matter – the iPad ought to be an excellent reminder of that.