Showing posts with label kolmogorov. Show all posts
Showing posts with label kolmogorov. Show all posts

Thursday, November 18, 2010

Meta-complexity in Brahms’s Clarinet Quintet

 Robert Hill, photo © Benjamin Ealovega
A nthony Burton’s program notes for the London Phil’s ‘Chamber Contrasts’ series at Wigmore Hall emphasize how impressed Brahms was with the potential of clarinet, as a result of his hearing clarinettist Richard Mühlfeld perform in 1891. But Brahms composed this Op. 115 clarinet quintet within a few years of his death from cancer, a period when many of his friends and family died (his sister Elise, his brother Fritz, Elizabeth von Herzogenberg, Hermione Spies, Theodor Broth, Clara Schumann, etc.). This makes me think that the recursive, ‘re-considering’ structures in this quintet maybe derive more from the emotional impact of those events on Brahms—than from any scheme Brahms may have had, to create in Op. 115 a virtuosic clarinet showpiece for the great Mühlfeld.

L arge-scale variation comes from relationships between variations (the theme included) and how these relationships are united into a pervasive algorithm that encapsulates the entire set—that is, an operating system governing the entire set. In other words, these are not a mere series of independent objects and methods (scripts) that are expected derivatives of a parent object or class. They are a ‘network-based object-oriented OS’.

W hat I mean is, Brahms’s variations feel to me ‘network-based’, not ‘hierarchical’. It seems (to me) that Brahms was exposing larger-scale connections, and transforming his idea into a multi-domain network rather than a hierarchical structure with conventional ‘parent’ exposition classes and ‘child’ instantiations. The arrangement of variations involves pairs of diatonic pitch-class cells derived from the theme. But the textural differences that follow are like remote procedure-calls that cross-link the tension-producing structures within the variations’ designs. This gives the piece an attractive sort of ‘meta-complexity’.

I n other people’s analyses (links below), variation sets in Brahms’s multi-movement instrumental compositions are usually only moderately complex. Variation sets in interior movements often do not have full ‘closure’. In the variations in this Clarinet Quintet in B minor, Brahms suggests or ‘projects’ closure by recapitulating first-movement phrases. But the promised closure doesn’t come until the very end. It is as though there is a latent, suspended complexity that is irreducible until the very end.

T his gets me to thinking about how Brahms does this, and how we might devise similar structures and mechanics in new music. The ‘Kolmogorov complexity’ (links below) of a software program or script, or a piece of text or a musical composition, is a measure of the computational resources needed to specify the object. Kolmogorov complexity is also known as descriptive complexity, Kolmogorov-Chaitin complexity, stochastic complexity, algorithmic entropy, or program-size complexity.

O ne of the appealing, intuitively plausible qualities of Kolmogorov complexity as a metric to characterize what I was hearing last night in the account of the Brahms clarinet quintet given by Robert Hill and his colleagues has to do with how the aggregate complexity goes, for large composite or ‘compound’ or ‘network’ or ‘cloud’ objects that are constituted from multiple smaller objects. For example, consider a compound object built up from objects X and Y. The Kolmogorov complexity of the two of them together K(X,Y) is:

K(X,Y) = K(X) + K(Y|X) + O(ln(K(X,Y)))

T his says that the shortest program that reproduces X and Y is no more than a logarithmic term larger than a program to reproduce X and a program to reproduce Y given X. This basically puts a quantitative ‘bound’ on the amount of mutual information there is between X and Y in terms of the Kolmogorov complexity.

T he amount of unresolved tension we feel in the inner movements in this Brahms quintet—and the intensity of the desire we feel for the eventual resolution of these tensions at the end—feels, to me, logarithmic. Maybe some future music theory PhD candidate will explore this notion properly and critically. For now, it’s happy enough for me to give you a few interesting links below and the glimmer of a potential reason why the complexities and proportions of this quintet seem so ‘right’ and so beautiful.




Friday, January 9, 2009

Dissonance and ‘Frisson’: Harmonic Spectral Complexity and Rate of Change of Complexity

I   t does feel like the brighter vowels are placed in chords that will benefit from the ‘frisson’ of their higher overtones. (This compositional device also resonates with the use of solfege as an intonational device—the built-in brightening of 3rd and 7th degrees of the scale from their syllables.)”
  —  Liz Garnett, BCU, commenting on choral [and barbershop] orchestration in previous CMT blog post.
F   ris•son´ [free-sohn]
{1770–80; < F: shiver, shudder, OF friçons (pl.) < LL frictiōnem, acc. of frictiō shiver (taken as deriv. of frīgēre to be cold)}
n.: a sudden, passing sensation of excitement; a shudder of emotion; a thrill.”
T he previous CMT post led composer/vocal coach/musicologist Liz Garnett at the Birmingham Conservatoire to comment on the multi-factorial origins of perceptual interest that’s aroused by harmonically complex polyphony. I especially liked Liz’s expression, ‘frisson’, when she was describing the sizzle of close-harmony and beat-frequencies among intertwining harmonics. The word ‘frisson’ exactly captures the sense that I experienced when I was singing tenor in a barbershop quartet for four years in the early 1990s. Maybe the word is vivid and accurate for you as well.

L iz averred that she had not studied the nature of the effect systematically [yet] but is interested in doing so. And she and I both agree that the effect is real and that it deserves systematic study. The matter is of interest (a) to composers who, by knowing additional dimensions of how the underlying acoustics and cognitive processes of music work, will be better able to reliably write music that efficiently utilizes those processes; (b) to performers and conductors who, by more fully understanding how a piece operates, will be better able to interpret and deliver the effects that the piece has to offer; (c) to recording engineers and sound-reinforcement engineers and architects who, through new insights into the harmonic properties of the sounds they are helping to produce, will be better able to create ‘systems’ and performance venues that do justice to the live aesthetics; and (d) to musicologists and music theorists, who want to enable us to make sense of it all. Maybe this somewhat esoteric topic even has some interest to regular audience members—at least science-friendly, numerate ones like you.

T here are a variety of wonderful recent books on the cognitive psychology of music; many of those have been cited in CMT posts over the past two years. But none of them, so far as I am aware, has specifically and quantitatively examined mechanisms of attention-capture and –retention by music as a function of its harmonic spectral content and trajectory.

B ut how to go about doing this? Well, first we need to have a collection of examples of compositions and performances that illustrate the effect we’re wanting to study—the ‘frisson’ of harmonic/spectral trajectories. Many barbershop and other close-harmony choral pieces are ideal examples, insofar as they generate most of their perceptual interest precisely in the way that Liz and I were discussing. The Eric Whitacre ‘Lux Aurumque’ piece is perfect: it is harmonically rich, but it is rhythmically and textually very simple—elegant. Many pieces of instrumental chamber music will also be analyzable by the methods I have in mind, and contain passages where much of the cognitive content is generated by close-harmony polyphony. So, in response to Liz Garnett’s suggestion and with an interest in continuity with the CMT post that stimulated it, I thought I’d take the Dale Warland Singers’ recording of ‘Lux Aurumque’ and see what I could make of it with some digital spectrum analysis.

I   write bars, for the musicians—because they have to be ‘together’. It’s difficult when you have multiple different speeds going on at the same time. But don’t think that this is mathematics. There are some [mathematical] constructions in it [i.e., in my compositional design], but the whole thing is ‘music’. In my piano concerto I developed the polyphony to a much higher level of complexity. I think in harmony and rhythm I have found ‘it’. But in melody, I still search…”
  —  György Ligeti, interview with Dorle Soria, 1987, Musical America 107(4).
A s I often try to do here on CMT, I invoke other disciplines outside of music itself, to see what techniques and analytical formalisms they may have to offer us. The cognitive robotics and artificial intelligence (AI) communities, for example, are not ordinarily ‘collaborators’ with music theory people, except on ‘music information retrieval’ (MIR) and a few other subjects. Consider, though, the recent work of Jürgen Schmidhuber and colleagues at TUM and IDSIA.

Jürgen Schmidhuber, Professor of Cognitive Robotics, TUM
I  nterestingness’ becomes the first derivative [with respect to time] of ‘subjective beauty’ [as a function of time]. As the learning agent improves its data compression algorithm, formerly apparently-random data parts become subjectively more regular and ‘beautiful’. Such progress in [adaptive, dynamic] data compression is measured and maximized by the ‘curiosity drive’ [that is exhibited by the agent’s behavior]: create action sequences that extend the observation history and that yield previously unknown, unpredictable-but-quickly-learnable algorithmic regularity. That is how beauty arises and how our interest is captured.”
  —  Jürgen Schmidhuber, Professor of Cognitive Robotics, Technische Univ Munich and Co-Director, IDSIA, Lugano, Switzerland, 2007.
J ürgen Schmidhuber is not the first to have linked aesthetic ‘interest’ with the time-derivative (the rate-of-change of ‘beauty’), nor is he the first to have associated ‘beauty’ with ‘complexity’. Fred Lerdahl at Columbia and many others have had similar thoughts in the past. But Jürgen takes the thought further, perhaps, than others have done, in terms of his analysis of the detailed adaptive encoding/compression behaviors that accompany cognitive ‘interest’—the ‘origination-persistence-dissipation’ life-cycle of it.

A nd, although the first-order time-derivative (slope) of harmonic complexity c(t) is not by any means the only predictor of musical interest or subjective ‘frisson’ or ‘sizzle’, it is one of the things that we can readily examine, to investigate how good or poor a correlate of ‘frisson’ it is. That’s what I set about to do this past week. The preliminary results of my initial exploring appear further down this page...

C   omplexity that works is built up out of modules that work perfectly, layered one over the other.”
  —  Kevin Kelly, ‘Out of Control: The New Biology of Machines, Social Systems, & the Economic World’, 1995.
 Vowels, Formants F1 and F2
Y ou may like to know that there are a variety of ‘freeware’ software applications that can help you do this sort of thing, in case you wish to undertake some investigation of these things yourself. SFS from the Phonetics Dept at UCL is the tool that I happened to use, although there are several other purpose-built spectral analysis programs for harmonic and formant analysis of speech, which allow importing .mp3 or .wav audio files. Or you can use the signal-processing modules of MATLAB or other full-function analytics packages.

T he more challenging thing, in my view, is to select a quantitative complexity index (or, alternatively, devise a new, entirely original complexity metric) that adequately represents the harmonic complexity of the polyphony at any instant in time and that enables us to analyze the timeseries of serial complexity indices of the music in sync with the music’s score. The mathematics and computer science literature on Kolmogorov complexity is especially extensive.

B ut Kolmogorov is computationally more difficult to implement than I wanted to do right now. So I considered Lempel-Ziv complexity (LZC), which is another complexity metric that has received much attention over the past 30 years. I have used LZC in a recent project in my software-engineering day-job, and I have coded it in C and C++ languages in the past. But the LZC is a ‘left-to-right reading’ or ‘directional’ complexity metric, which is undesirable for what we are aiming to do here. We don’t want a complexity metric that gives different or undue emphasis or deemphasis to harmonics that are on the ‘left’ of the input string (the low-frequency bands, bass) vs. the ‘middle’ (the mid-range registers, tenor and alto) vs. the ‘right’ (the high-frequency bands, soprano, etc.).

F or my initial study, I therefore settled on a simple, non-directional ‘compositional complexity’ metric, with a separate ‘channel’ for each of [any number of] the significant harmonics that exist (in the context of the chord that prevails at each moment). My complexity metric has no fancy adjustments for pitch error or jitter or phasing or nonlinear Fletcher-Munson- or Robinson-Dadson-type aural sensitivity curves or other important things. It’s a basic, exploratory tool, nothing more. It is not meant to be a definitive representation of the sound or the waveform or the neurophysiology of our hearing of the sound. It is not the product of some extensive, scholarly project. It’s just ‘lunch’—featuring left-over things I know from other analytics projects I’ve done, plus a few hours of Java coding and testing. In other words, my complexity metric is just a quick, simple method to see whether the interpretive path that I’m on makes sense and whether it might be productive or not. Productive for me … or sufficiently intriguing for you or others to pursue it further.

T his ‘compositional complexity’ metric is designed so as to assign the same complexity value to a given polyphony/harmonics ‘pattern’ regardless of its performance dynamics. That is, the string A=‘1020000000000000’ and B=‘2070000000000000’ have the same pitches sounded, for example. The pitches have different sound intensities and different relative loudnesses with respect to each other, so their timbres are actually substantially different. But for the preliminary purposes of this experiment, A and B are harmonically ‘the same’, according to our simple ‘compositional complexity’ metric, in terms of the pitches and beat-frequencies, etc., that they contain. They each have only two loudness levels instantiated and they each have only two harmonics instantiated: therefore, their complexity metrics are identical.

W hat next? The sound intensity needs to be determined at each moment in time (in elapsed milliseconds, in the .mp3), with each moment/sample tagged with the corresponding notation in the music score. For simplicity’s sake, I arbitrarily chose to do 3-bit quantization of the sound intensity (8 levels, coded as ‘0’ to ‘7’), corresponding roughly to qualitative ‘nil’, ‘ppp’, ‘pp’, ‘p’, ‘mp’, ‘mf’, ‘f’, and ‘fff’ dynamics. I measured the sound-level of each harmonic, ascertained from the SFS digital spectrograms of the Warland ‘Lux Aurumque’ .mp3 at each point in time. In other words, my sound intensity quantization of this .mp3 did not just assign one dynamics code at each moment but instead assigned a multi-frequency ‘vector’ comprised of up to 16 three-bit dynamics codes at each moment, one for each harmonic present [plus the ‘0’=‘nil’ sound intensity code for any harmonic that was ‘implied’ by the prevailing chord structure but un-voiced or absent in the sampled audio].

 Harmonics
Here is a jpeg SFS screenshot of one of the ‘Lux’ vowels in the piece...

 SFS, spectrogram of Whitacre ‘Lux Aurumque’, m. 6
I  then wrote a simple Java program to accept these 16-vectors as input and calculate the compositional complexity for each one. Now, we don’t want a coarser or finer representation of the frequency domain (EQ bands) to cause us to compute wildly different complexity index values. We want our complexity metric to be ‘normed’ and vary, say, on a range between 0.0 and 1.0, regardless how many or few bands or channels we use to measure the polyphony and harmonics. The nj are the numbers of each harmonic 'band' in the sample. C varies from values close to zero for simple, flute-like, near sine-wave sounds up to 1.0 for all-hell-broke-loose dissonance.

T he equation that governs the ‘normalization’ of the computed complexity index is a function of the number of ‘bands’—the EQ spectrogram ‘length’ L (expressed in bins, by note-by-note fundamental in bin #1, its octave in bin #2, and so on). The normalization also a function of the number of sound-intensity levels, which was N=8 for my 3-bit quantization, as shown in this equation.

 Normed Complexity
T he normalization calculation is done automatically in my little Java program. If you like, you can click on the jpeg of the Java code below and download a copy to play with.

 complexity.java program, DSM
Y ou can download the free copy of the Java Development Kit (JDK) from Sun Microsystems here. Extract it to your hard-drive. Then compile the complexity.java program in a command window with the ‘javac’ compiler command:

     C:\>\Program Files\Java\jdk1.6.0_11\bin\javac complexity.java

To run the program, use the java command:

     C:\>\Program Files\Java\jdk1.6.0_11\bin\java complexity

Y ou don’t need to be a software developer/programmer to do this. It’s easy. Entering some intensity vectors from the keyboard as strings gives you output like what you see below…

 Output of complexity.java with example 16-band harmonics and 3-bit quantization
T hen we take that timeseries of complexity values computed from our spectral analysis measurements of the .mp3 music file and use difference-equations (in Excel or whatever you like) to estimate the first derivative (slope, rate-of-change) of the complexity at each time point. When we plot it, it looks like this…

DSM, complexity analysis, 16-harmonic, 3-bit quantization, Eric Whitacre, ‘Lux Aurumque’, mm. 6 – 8, Dale Warland Singers
W hat we see here is that the moments that have that ‘frisson’ that Liz and I were referring to do have high complexity levels. And the heart-pounding, emotionally-evocative compositional structures/moments tend to be ones where the first derivative of complexity has high positive or negative values—moments of dramatic change in polyphony harmonics and dynamics.

T   he art of ‘simplicity’ is a puzzle of ‘complexity’.”
  —  Douglas Horton, Harvard Divinity School, 1955.
W hen the performance is delivered in an echoic space like a cathedral, you get significantly non-zero spectral complexities that linger hundreds of milliseconds after a note is released. The ‘shock’ value of this is almost as great as the ‘voix celeste’ beat-frequency implied-pitch effects we were discussing before. The effect is somewhat like SONAR: your voices are acoustically ‘imaging’ the geometry of the performance hall, somewhat like a bat would do … flying around in the upper reaches of Chartres Cathedral at Christmas Eve midnight Mass. The composer has created a gesture that causes you to acoustically plumb your ‘situatedness’ and physicality as a human being in the cathedral, much like a bat. The polyphony—the frisson and its decay—causes you to realize your physical humanness in a very dramatic, palpable way. You are performatively ‘present’ more vividly than at almost any other time in your life. Through the ‘frisson’ you become intensely aware of your own personhood and that of the other singers (or instrumental players) around you. It is breath-taking to hear it; tremendously exciting or emotionally unnerving to perform it.

Incidentally (but unsurprisingly), expressively-effective close-harmony ‘frisson’ doesn’t come suddenly out of ‘nowhere’. It has a foundation—a methodical, deliberate architecture. We look at the c(t) and dc(t)/dt curves, and we see that the effect builds progressively, logically, over a phrase or a portion of a phrase. You feel this happening when you sing it, of course. These spectral analysis and complexity timeseries plots only confirm quantitatively/objectively what most of us feel intuitively/subjectively. Same thing when you perform a similarly orchestrated close-harmony piece of instrumental music. The acclaim that Eric Whitacre has accrued over the past 10 years redounds to his skill in engineering these kinds of harmonic gestures. The ambiguity of the C#m [I] → C#m7/9 (D#m7) [II6] V-of-V supertonic and other things Whitacre’s got going on in here are impressive.

S   implicity does not precede complexity but instead follows it.”
  —  Alan J. Perlis, ‘Software Metrics’, 1981.
A  more extended, time-consuming effort will be required to statistically evaluate the correlation of the spectral ‘brightening’ (more acoustic energy in the higher harmonics) with certain vowel and consonant sounds and short time-scale structures associating text phonetics-to-timbre and –pitch/–spectrum. It’s more work than I have time to devote to right now. But this CMT post is meant to convince you that studying effects like these quantitatively is surely feasible—feasible even using available free-ware and simple complexity metrics that you can code for free in Java. In other words, there is a real possibility for you to do this without a big expenditure for software or expensive computers. If you are a student in a conservatory, though, you probably will want to get copies of several of the books in the list below ...

 Vowels, formants F1 and F2
W hat else? Well, it’s important to note that you can’t write a piece that has constant low levels of complexity—or constant, excessive complexity—and expect people to sit still for it. Nor can you whip-saw people with changes in dc(t)/dt that are too frequent or too fast. You either won’t capture the artists’/audience’s attention at all, or you will rapidly lose it, annoying them in the process. Beauty and interest may indeed be functions of the first time-derivative, as Jürgen Schmidhuber says, but that doesn’t mean that ‘more is better’ or that ‘all frisson, all the time’ is a categorical aesthetic good. You need to write with a storyline—compose/arrange with a good ‘plot’ in mind. Of course, this comes as no surprise. For me, the surprise is being able now to quantatively see what we already knew or believed—understanding the mechanisms of musical ‘interest’ in terms of spectral complexity timeseries. It’s a new way to understand the ‘mechanics’ of how good writing works, and to identify the faults and reasons why other compositions don’t work. Simple. And pretty useful, I think.

 Wundt curve, preference as function of complexity, elegant brinkspersonship
T hanks for your interest in this topic! Please feel free to post a comment or email me anytime, about this or other aspects concerning how we transmit/receive/perceive musical aesthetic value. If there’s enough interest, I’ll continue with more posts in this vein. And thanks especially to you, Liz, for the dialogue.

T   he complexity of things—the things within things—is endless. Nothing is easy; nothing is simple... I was looking forward to telling the truth, or some of it, in all its complexity, to a person who would not be surprised or outraged by it.”
  —  Alice Munro, ‘Carried Away’, 2006.

John Rhys-Davies, ‘Indiana Jones: Raiders of the Lost Ark’, Lucasfilm, 1981
I   ndy, why does the floor move?”
  —  Sallah (John Rhys-Davies) to Indiana Jones, upon opening the Well of Souls, ‘Raiders of the Lost Ark’, Lucasfilm, 1981.
 Well of Souls, ‘Indiana Jones: Raiders of the Lost Ark’, Lucasfilm, 1981
I  t is our inimitable frisson of complexity—all writhing and beauteous complexity down here.”
  —  Snakes’ reply, to Sallah and Indiana, from the bottom of Well of Souls, ‘Raiders of the Lost Ark’, Lucasfilm, 1981.


Saturday, December 8, 2007

Bronfman: Is Virtuosity ‘Necessary’? Is Sublimity ‘Measurable’?

Yefim Bronfman
I t is not true that the entire evening will be as hard as you say. There is one easy part in tonight’s program. I think you call it the interval, the intermission?”
  — Yefim Bronfman, jesting repartee with audience, in reply to Cynthia Siebert’s words introducing him, 07-DEC-2007, Kansas City.
There are many instances of virtuosic writing in these pieces and, with Yefim Bronfman, many instances of virtuosic playing. The profusion of dazzle makes apprehending the pieces even harder—we find ourselves wanting to press a ‘◄’ button and hear each passage again. Even the asynchrony in the second movement of the Beethoven Sonata No. 13 (Op. 27, No. 1) is texturally and rhythmically complex—it resists decomposition or deconstruction. But Bronfman’s account of Balakirev’s ‘Islamei’ may be the first time when I had to set aside the whole process of comprending the music, step back from it, throw up my hands and just marvel: How did he do that? ... Intricate sets of nonlinear relationships such that only certain aspects of them can be grasped at a time, to use Paul Cilliers’ phrase, defining complexity.

Look below — think of all the cognition and neurophysiology needed to absorb all that’s happening even in this short little introductory bit: the rhythmic and contrapuntal complexity, and how these link up so seamlessly with what has come before and what is yet to come, not only within these 6 bars but within the next 29 pages. I’m impatient, not a fan of protracted development. Very few composers can pull long thematic developments off gracefully and, even when they do, the listener thinks, ‘Okay, that was impressive, but — was it necessary?’ But with Yefim Bronfman the virtuosic passages not only ‘work’ — we glimpse how the passages are necessary to the expressive goals of the piece. We suspend our disbelief and immerse ourselves in the thing, and we take it to heart and rapidly accept the composer’s/Bronfman’s goals as our own.

I should like now to play something easy: Chopin… Now, Prokofiev, something that is, finally, easy… The Schumann Romance and Intermezzo: at last, easy!”
  — Yefim Bronfman, remarks to audience, winking puckishly, prior to performing encores #1, #2, and #3 [Chopin Etude Op. 10 No. 12; Prokofiev, Finale from Sonata No. 7 Op. 83; and Schumann Op. 26, respectively], 07-DEC-2007, Kansas City.
Balakirev, Islamei, mm. 9 - 14
How, then, would we measure virtuosity? Could musical virtuosity be quantified? I think the answer is ‘yes’. A good ‘virtuosity metric’ would not only be longitudinal—a velocity correlate of the number of notes per unit time. Velocity or longitudinal complexity is not enough to capture what we routinely mean by the word ‘virtuosic’.

Virtuosity is also related to the degree of rhythmic irregularity and vertical harmonic complexity and pitch span, the slew rate (how fast the span is traversed, in individual jumps; how long is the cumulative duration that such rapid jumps, hand-crossings, etc., are sustained), the jump rate (how many jumps per minute), the degree of multi-processing and rendezvousing between the parallel processes (in the right and left hands of the pianist, in regard to Bronfman’s playing), and the precision required in all of these moves. This last part—the precision—is important. It’s closely related to ‘system identification’: our intuitive ‘Can you detect a mistake or not?’ criterion.

In regard to these factors, I think ‘processual’ musical virtuosity (or a virtuosic composition) would be measured like complexity in nature is measured—and how it is mathematically measured in computer science: pi algebras, minimum description length, Hausdorff fractal measure, and Kolmogorov complexity measure. So far, only a few have looked at applying Kolmogorov complexity to music (Paul Vitányi; Ming Li; handful of others), but I think it will be a fruitful avenue to pursue further ...

A  complex system is one that is thermodynamically open (participates in a matter and energy budget and exchange) and operates away from equilibrium. A complex system is one whose history matters; whose present and future behavior are, in part, determined by its past.”
  —  J. Ricard, Complexity and Dynamics of Life Processes.
C omplexity results from the interaction between the components of a system, and therefore complexity is manifested at the level of the system itself.”
  —  Gregoire Nicolis & Ilya Prigogine, Exploring Complexity.
A  complex system is one in which there are far more possibilities than can be actualized.”
  —  Niklas Luhmann, Sociological Theory of Law.

It’s also related to philosophy-of-mind and artificial intelligence and Turing Machines and Searle’s Chinese Box: can a listener tell whether the performer hidden inside the machine/box is human or not? If the sounds emitted are implausibly complex in terms of their cognitive and motor nervous system implications and the composition is syntactically well-formed and precisely ordered, then we ordinarily deduce that the box may contain either a very good synthesizer and a very good software-driven sequencer attempting to deceive us to believing it is a live human, or it may contain a new super-human being whose virtuosic skill is simply beyond anything that we’ve ever before encountered or imagined. (I close my eyes and listen to Bronfman... My conclusion, especially in view of his casualness and humor, is that he must be super-human.)

(On the other hand, if a composition is implausibly complex but doesn’t consist of syntactically ‘well-formed’ expressions——is instead comprised of random sounds whose structure strikes us as arbitrary, chaotic, and imprecise, as, say, in a piece by the late Karlheinz Stockhausen——then we can’t make any such deduction.)

Schumann, Faschingsschwank, Intermezzo, mm. 1-2
In the case of a human performer—Yefim Bronfman, last night—whose sounds, virtuosic in their precision and in their emotional aptness, were beyond our imagining, we experience a sublime sense of wonder: sheer wonderment at possibilities not thought to be humanly achievable. Virtuosity like this is empowering of all humankind. It doesn’t only redound upon the individual virtuoso. And that is really why we find it sublime. Our witnessing such virtuosity can be transcendent, in much the way that gazing through a large telescope on a clear cold night can be so … gazing abjectly into the chasm of possibility.

What I mean to say is that virtuosity and unearthly complexity are psychologically connected with the innate human drive for awe and spirituality. Tonight, Bronfman’s cosmic playing forced me to confront this fact.

Yefim Bronfman
K olmogorov complexity is a notion of randomness dealing with the quantity of information in individual objects; that is, pointwise randomness rather than average randomness as produced by a random source. Known as ‘descriptional complexity’, ‘shortest program length’, ‘algorithmic entropy’, and others. Martin-Loef tests for randomness and Gödel’s incompleteness are related to this.”
  —  Ming Li & Paul Vitanyi, Introduction to Kolmogorov Complexity and Its Applications.


T raditional wisdom has it that the better a theory compresses evidence, the better the theory predicts unknown data. With the advent of Kolmogorov complexity this was rigorously proved in a general setting. Making these ideas rigorous involves the length of the shortest effective description of an individual object: its Kolmogorov complexity. Ray Solomonoff invented the notion of universal prediction using Kolmogorov complexity-based universal distribution. Universal prediction is related to optimal effective compression.”
  —  Jorg Rothe, Complexity Theory and Cryptology.

D   efine it by example—societies, governments, corporations, the stock market, families, the body, an organ system, memory, a cell, an organelle, the weather, ecosystems, flow in a river, the snap of a whip: these are undeniably complex. Chief properties of such systems include: components, modularity, spatial dispersion, interactions among components across space and time, self-organization, multiple relevant spatial and time scales of formation and operation, diversity, instability, nonlinearity, variability, functional activities and the existence of objectives. The latter properties confer autonomy, anticipativeness, and adaptiveness. In other words, complexity admits of degrees and types.”
  —  Yaneer Bar-Yam. Dynamics of Complex Systems.
S ome systems have a very large number of components but can be analyzed in the full sense of the word. Such systems are merely complicated. Other systems are constituted by intricate sets of nonlinear relationships such that only certain aspects of them can be analyzed at a time. Such systems are properly termed complex.”
  —  Paul Cilliers, Complexity and Postmodernism.
D   istinction between simple and complex is a function of our distance from the system.”
  —  Roberto Serra & Gianni Zanarini, Complex Systems and Cognitive Processes.
P eople stare contemplating the ocean as it swells and crashes on a rocky shore. They gaze fixedly into a fire until the sting of smoke raises their awareness. People lie on their backs and follow passing clouds or marvel at the glittering of the stars. There are many things that fascinate us, that mesmerize us, that cause us to forget ourselves and our situations as we become lost in a timeless appreciation. ...Kant introduces the dynamically sublime as relating to encounters with the ferocity of nature and the sense of vulnerability this entails, coupled with the triumph of reason over fear. And in his own writings on the sublime, Edmund Burke takes the view that the sensation of incomprehensibility, the fear of hopelessness, coupled with the knowledge that one is able to reason about something beyond one’s senses... causes a kind of delight through internal conflict: a sublime experience.”
  —  Alan Dorin, Wonder and The Sublime in Art and Nature, in Adamatzky & Komosinski, Artificial Life in Software.


Chopin, Etude No. 12 Op. 10, mm. 3 – 4