Can your child learn some of Mozart's magic?
By Michael Abrams
Perfect Pitch
Name That Tone
The psychology annex building at the University of California
at San Diego has no elevator, but it has something even better:
a singing stairwell. "It's a low F, I think," Diana
Deutsch says, pausing on the top step to listen to the wind's
howl. Deutsch has a face as round and sprightly as a sixteenth
note, a red bob of hair, and a doctorate in psychology. She also
has perfect pitch. "I realized I had it when I began taking
piano lessons at the age of 4," she says. "It was a
great surprise to me that other people could not name notes. It
was as if everyone around me was unable to name colors."
Mozart must have known how she feels: He could name a single
note from a tolling bell or a chiming pocket watch. Yet only one
in 10,000 Americans has perfect pitch, and even professional musicians
tend to make do with relative pitch: They can name only the intervals
between notes. To approximate perfect pitch, some musicians memorize
just one note, usually middle C, and then use relative pitch to
navigate to others. But these pitch estimators need a moment of
thought to name a note, and they tend to be slightly off. (Granted,
the notes themselves are a bit off: In Handel's time, an A above
middle C had a pitch of 422.5 vibrations a second; these days,
that same A has climbed to 440 vibrations a second.) People with
perfect pitch name notes instantly and they're invariably correct.
For decades, biologists thought that perfect pitch was a genetic
anomaly, passed on from generation to generation. Identical twins
are far more likely than fraternal twins to have perfect pitch,
and nearly half of all people with perfect pitch have relatives
who have it. But studies by Deutsch and others have shown that
perfect pitch is far more common than it seems. It's a form of
speech rather than a feature of music-and like speech, it can
be learned.
The essential idea began to take shape in Deutsch's mind three
years ago, when she was studying music perception among people
from Vietnam. The study subjects, she found, had no trouble understanding
her Vietnamese when she spoke at the correct pitch. "But
when I deliberately shifted my pitch-to an extent that would be
barely noticeable in English-it was as if I'd said, 'I like your
beat,' or 'I like your bite,' when I'd meant to say, 'I like your
boat.'" Just to communicate, she realized, Vietnamese have
to identify pitches correctly. What seems like magic to Americans
is just second nature in other parts of the world.
"The real puzzle about perfect pitch is not why so few
people possess it but rather why most people do not," Deutsch
says. "Everyone has an implicit form of perfect pitch, even
though we aren't all able to put a label to notes. It's as if
people suffer from a kind of anomia: They can recognize the note
but can't label it. What's learned as a child is the ability to
label." In a study published in 1994, psychologist Daniel
Levitin at the University of Oregon asked subjects to sing hit
songs such as "Hotel California" from memory. Forty
percent came within a semitone (the change from F to F-sharp,
for instance) of the first pitch on the recording. If someone
was a little off-key, it was probably due to their singing ability:
They could hear the correct pitches in their heads; they just
couldn't reproduce them. "I have perfect pitch, but I sing
terribly out of tune," Deutsch says. "Toscanini had
perfect pitch, but I've heard it said that he insisted on humming
out of tune . . . very irritating to the players. There really
is a difference between perception and production."
Deutsch has spent the past few years circling in on this innate
sense of pitch through a series of experiments. To demonstrate,
she sits me down in front of a microphone and digital audiotape
machine and asks me to talk about anything I wish for five minutes.
Although she seems interested in hearing about my flight from
New York and the malfunctioning flaps on the airplane, she's really
after my pitch range. Most people's voices, she says, stay within
a single octave-a do, re, mi, fa, sol, la, ti, do, identified
by the name of its first and last notes. "Congratulations,"
Deutsch says, after analyzing my soliloquy, "you're a G-sharp,
just like me."
Pitch ranges are often a handy way for people to distinguish
males from females and very young children from adults. But Deutsch
thinks the distinctions we make are far more subtle. "You
can evaluate whether a person is speaking your dialect based on
the range of their voice," she says. "Supposing you
want, as birds do, to judge if someone's from the same geographic
region. You may be able to do so by evoking a pitch range."
The best example of this ability is what Deutsch calls the
"tritone paradox." Imagine two tones played one after
the other. The first tone is actually two separate notes an octave
apart-a high and low C, say-played in perfect unison so that they
sound like a single tone. (When Deutsch performs the experiment,
she plays six octaves at once, but they still sound like one.)
The second tone is a "tritone": a note exactly halfway
between the two octaves-a G-flat in this case. Although the G-flat
is between the two Cs, some listeners hear it as higher and some
as lower, depending on their pitch range. More intriguing still,
their responses vary depending on where they were raised.
Pitch ranges are so clearly tied to geography that Deutsch
can often guess where her subjects or their parents grew up. Californians
tend to have a pitch range that starts and ends around C-sharp;
Vietnamese have a range that starts and ends around E. The predictability
of those ranges suggests, in turn, that people develop a sense
of pitch at a very early age, perhaps even in the womb. "Children
probably pick up their pitch range from the voices they hear around
them," Deutsch says. "The noise of the mother's voice
comes through very loudly during pregnancy."
For most of us, learning to keep within a certain pitch range-and
to identify that range in others-is all the voice training we
really need. When Deutsch recently asked English speakers to read
the same list of words on different days, she found that their
pitch for any given word could vary by as much as two notes. But
speakers of certain tonal languages, such as Vietnamese and Mandarin,
don't have that much room for error. In Mandarin, for instance,
the word ma can mean "mother," "horse," "hemp,"
or "to scold," depending on its pitch. In a study presented
to the Acoustical Society of America, Deutsch found that tonal
speakers hit the same pitches dead on, day after day, and an unusual
number of them have perfect pitch.
Certain genes may help some people acquire perfect pitch more
easily than others, but Deutsch's findings suggest that almost
anyone can learn to label notes-provided they start young. Children
who don't learn to do it by the time they learn the rudiments
of language may never gain the ability. Deutsch thinks that parents
should give young children access to musical instruments, preferably
with labeled notes, to help the process along. "I often wonder
if I acquired my perfect pitch because I had a color-coded xylophone
as a kid," she says, noting that people with perfect pitch
have a higher incidence of synesthesia: When they hear a sound,
they see a color. Even when they don't, she says, their gift adds
an extra dimension to their listening experience, revealing the
music's architecture as well as its sound. "It's as though
you are seeing the musical score scroll past your eyes."
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