A Brief Introduction to Melodic Figuration Theory

by David Fuentes, Ph.D.

I’m a composer. For over thirty years I’ve taught composition, played in bands, and served as a church musician, talking shop with everyone from first-time songwriters to celebrated composers. What have I learned? That there are dozens—maybe hundreds—of ways to make a melody. Some of us improvise over a progression. Others collect fragments and stitch them together like a quilt. Many of us just start laying down notes until inspiration peters out. My own method? Depending on the situation, I’ve done all of these and more.

So does this mean that there’s no “method” to composing? Yes and no. Processes vary wildly, yet there are two principles that guide every single one of us:

First, no matter what method a composer uses, we rely on our “musical ear”—that intuitive compass that knows in an instant what sings and what stumbles.
Second, that musical ear isn’t magic; it’s informed by a deeply internalized vocabulary of patterns—three- to four-note “melodic figures”—absorbed over a lifetime of listening, playing, and creating.

Now, if that second principle sounds like a stretch, tell me this: How else can we explain that the same few dozen melodic patterns keep resurfacing across centuries, genres, and styles?

And the truly crazy part? The composers didn’t even know they were speaking this secret melodic language.

Melodic Figuration Theory is the first approach to discover and catalog melodic figures—and to show how they behave. And it does so in a way that tunes your ears and opens your eyes to the mechanics of composerly intuition, so you can finally take charge of what has always felt like untamable instinct.

Although this is but a brief introduction, its logical structure should give you a good sense of how it all fits together.

Tier 1: The Vocabulary of Melody will introduce the basic building blocks.
Tier 2: Five Dimensions of Melodic Behavior will explore how these figures behave in relation to harmony, meter, and more.
Tier 3: Melodic Syntax will examine how these figures combine to form musical gestures and phrases.
Tier 4: Melodic Schemas will look at more comprehensive patterns and frameworks for melodic development.

TIER #1: The Vocabulary of Melody

Melodic Figuration Theory proposes that tonal melodies draw from a shared and limited set of kinetic, semantic building blocks: two dozen 3- to 4-note figures, nine melodic dyads, and three options for single tones.

Composers don’t learn this vocabulary through deliberate study. We absorb it—through years of singing, playing, and hearing—until the patterns become second nature. Melodic figures are so familiar that we hardly notice how they shape our melodies and melodic instincts. And yet, they must: How else can we explain why we hear the same melodic figures appear again and again, across centuries, genres, and styles?

The table below displays the melodic building blocks in their simplest forms—much like triads in the first chapter of a harmony book. You might not find them remarkable at first glance, but much like triads, their expressive potential is truly limitless. Just click on any figure to hear it come alive in melodies across centuries and idioms.

If that were the whole story—that every tonal melody draws from the same set of patterns—we might shrug and move on.

But it’s not. In fact, this is a turning point.

For the first time, we can identify a limited set of melodic elements that show up across tonal music of all periods. And that ability to identify lets us compare one melodic moment with another. Why does this matter? Because comparison is how every field moves forward.

Material scientists develop stronger composites by comparing how structures respond under stress. Urban planners shape better cities by comparing long-term outcomes across zoning and transit strategies. Astrophysicists chart the universe by comparing light from distant galaxies to evolving cosmological models.

Practical insight doesn’t arise from isolated facts. It comes from lining things up and asking, what’s different? What works better?

Once we know the building blocks of melody, we can look as close as we want. Past taste. Past style. We can track how melodies grow from smaller figures, how those figures behave, and how those behaviors affect listeners.

The most powerful thing we’ll find? Each aspect of melody has both a normal and a modified mode—like the regular and irregular resolutions of a dominant seventh. Composers across styles and centuries have played these modes off each other to charm, stir, move, and surprise us. By charting normal and modified melodic behaviors, MFT offers not just a toolkit of expressive effects—but guidance for how and when to use them.

In Tier 2, I’ll show how Melodic Figuration Theory lets us map normal and modified behaviors across five key dimensions of melodic behavior: harmony, metric placement, trajectory, register, and contour. Along the way, I draw distinctions between MFT and traditional theory—not to challenge its authority, but to strengthen its reach. I hold traditional theory in the highest regard; its insights into harmony, voice leading, and form have shaped generations of composers and analysts. But melody, particularly its surface detail, has long remained underexplored. The distinctions I draw highlight omissions—not flaws—where MFT helps illuminate what traditional tools leave in shadow, especially in the very space where composers devote much of their creative energy.

TIER #2: Five Dimensions of Melodic Behavior

[1] HARMONIC MELODY.

As musicians, we hold the impression that melody is a horizontal line of notes and harmony is a vertical stack. But say a guitar player plays the same chord progression vertically or horizontally. Would anyone mistake fingerpicking an accompaniment for a melody?

Moving on to patterns that are clearly more melodic, we can sense which notes in a melodic figure are chord tones and which are non-chord tones simply by how they behave. Try for yourself with the five melodic figures below. For the first four, a quick glance is all you’ll need to spot the chord tones. And even though the harmonic structure of last figure isn’t as immediately apparent as the others, a little puzzling will reveal an elegant solution. (Play the video to reveal my answers, plus a bit more.)

The normal harmonic behavior of melodic figures.

Normally, melodic figures unfold straightforwardly: their most obvious chord tones directly match the underlying harmony. And we can take it to another level. The most normal of normal harmonic content will be limited to Rt, 3rd, and 5th, with 7ths only on dominant harmony. Such a restriction is what gives melodies like “Away in a Manger” their sweet clarity. And that’s no accident. The sanitary harmonic treatment perfectly conveys the song’s sentimental depiction of the nativity.

“Away in a Manger,” by James R. Murray

Knowing which notes in a melodic figure normally define its harmony opens three ways to modify its harmony: reinterpretation, role reversal, and harmonic divergence.

a. Modified harmonic behavior of melodic figures #1: reinterpretation.

Through reinterpretation, we preserve the position of any chord tones within a figure. For example, in an Auxiliary figure, notes 1 and 3 are always chord tones (and in this case, always the same chord tone). So the first and third notes might both be roots, 3rds, 5ths, or 7ths. However, by changing the harmony’s root, those chord tones immediately switch roles. This is what I show in the chart below.

The note C4 is root in C major (top line), 3rd in A minor (the second line), 5th in F major, and 7th in Dm7. This chart is also designed to show that figures with one or two chord tones are easier to reinterpret than those with several.

Harmonic flexibility based on the number of chord tones.

Here, I’ve reharmonized “Away in a Manger.” Remember that originally, the first figure’s chord tones were the 5th and 3rd of F harmony? This time I’ve made them the 7th and 5th of D7. Bar 2 gets a similar treatment. (You’ll have to wait for the next point for an explanation of what happens in bar 3.)

“Away in a Manger,” reharmonized

b. Modified harmonic behavior of melodic figures #2: role reversal.

In role reversal, we reassign which notes serve as chord tones. Listen to the third 3-Note Scale (on “crib for a”) in the previous reharmonization. F4 and D4 were originally chord tones in the “normal” harmonization; now they are non-chord tones. And the middle note, E4, now behaves like a non-chord tone. So F4 becomes an appoggiatura to E4, flipping D4 into a passing tone.

c. Modified harmonic behavior of melodic figures #3: harmonic divergence.

Like “Away in a Manger,” “Eleanor Rigby” also uses three 3-Note Scales in sequence—but this time, with some grit. Let’s zoom in on the first two.

The D5 on “rice” punches out a 7th—especially poignant because it’s not heard in the supporting E minor chord. Then comes the passing tone, C#5 (on “in”), which complicates things further with its Dorian hue. And then comes the 3-Note Scale on “church,” which sets a 3-Note Scale mves against the harmony! The outside notes aren’t even chord tones in Em. And yet, nothing sounds “wrong.” On the contrary, the dissonance adds urgency, depth, and just the right amount of spicy mustard.

“Eleanor Rigby,” by Lennon & McCartney

Why does this work? It helps to hear this divergent 3-Note Scale in its larger context. It’s part of a descending sequence, as I’ve shown in the ossia notation. In other words, the divergence arises from passing a small 3-Note Scale through a bigger one.

Now let’s compare this with another case of harmonic divergence. First, let’s listen.

“Breathe,” by Holly Lamar and Stephanie Bentley

On the surface, these two songs might sound alike—both feature three-note melodic scales that create sharp contrasts with their accompanying harmony. But listen closely, and you’ll hear that their harmonic divergence springs from entirely different sources.

In “Eleanor Rigby,” that divergence arises from constantly shifting melodic figures set against a sustained harmony. Conversely, in “Breathe,” the melodic figure itself remains steadfast while the harmonies around it are in flux.

Both “Eleanor Rigby” and “Breathe” powerfully illustrate a fundamental truth about harmonic divergence: it always demands what, in human terms, we might call conviction.

Now, think of conviction in a melodic figure not as some stubborn refusal to yield, but rather as its inherent structural strength. This isn’t about mere clashing; it’s about the melody projecting its identity, its “inherent wholeness” (its gestalt), even when the surrounding harmonies seem to contradict one or more of its parts. Instead of simply dissolving into dissonance, the melody asserts its own compelling musical logic, creating a rich, dynamic tension. It’s about a melodic idea being so powerfully unified that its very essence isn’t dissolved by external pressures.

Wrapping up. Melodic Figuration Theory recalculates the relationship between harmony and melody. Melody is not merely supported by harmony, harmony is woven into the very fiber of every melodic figure. In fact, the way the way notes in a melodic figure move makes it clear which notes act as chord tones and which do not. And so, according to MFT, harmony can grow naturally from the figure itself.

This flips the traditional script. Suddenly, it becomes easy to hear when a figure’s harmony behaves “normally,” as in “Away in a Manger,” and when it’s modified—when it’s stretched, bent, or outright contradicted, as in “Eleanor Rigby” and “Breathe.” In the end, linking harmony to the structure and behavior of melodic figures doesn’t just explain what’s happening on the melodic surface—it shows why it works, with a rationale that the traditional approach—basing harmonic understanding entirely on chord tones vs. non-chord tones—never quite delivers.

[2] METRIC GRAVITY & PLACEMENT.

Meter is music’s essential pulse: a living, dynamic cycle of strong and weak beats that acts as a gravitational engine. And depending on how the other musical elements interact with this cyclical engine of strong and weak beats, a composer can generate feelings ranging from deep stability to playful confidence to intense agitation and more. This is possible because musical elements take on the characteristic lift and heft of the metric positions they inhabit.

To hear this principle in action, listen how drastically the same 2-note surface rhythm changes as I shift it to begin at different points within the metric cycle.

A 2-note rhythmic pattern repeated four times and shifted metrically

In version 1, the sixteenth note is a pickup, coming just before the beat which makes the rhythm bounce and skip.
In version 2, putting the sixteenth note right on the beat syncopates the dotted eighth such that both notes feel “hammered” or “beaten.”
And version 3 avoids the beat altogether, making the notes run barefoot across hot coals.

Of the three metric placements, version 1 emerges as the normal alignment for this rhythmic figure because its heaviest note aligns with the beat. This creates a stable relationship between the rhythmic figure’s weight and the meter’s cycle.

And so we might ask what might happen when we shift pitches around within the metric cycle?

a. Metric gravity influences both melody and harmony.

The first thing we find when we move the same pattern so its various features align with different pointe in the metric cycle is that the patterns themselves are affected.

A 4-note pitch pattern repeated four times and shifted metrically

Notice how the metric cycle emphasizes different pitches depending on which ones align with the beats and upbeats. Any note that lands on a strong beat (beats 1 & 3 in 4/4, especially when moving in eighth notes) gains perceptual prominence, as if gravitational positioning gives those notes primary focus (which it does). In short, NEW FIGURES EMERGE!

But that’s hardly the whole story. Changing a figure’s proximity to the beat also reshapes its harmonic implications.

I demonstrated the concept of “harmonic implication” in the previous tier on harmony, showing how the pitches in a melodic figure behave in ways that reveal whether (in the most normal conditions) which pitches are most likely chord tones or non-chord tones. The fact that we can so accurately predict each note’s harmonic identity within melodic patterns offers convincing evidence that melodic figures have a harmonic dimension: behavior-based qualities that not only allow for straightforward harmonic treatments but also for playful experimentation.

So the next logical question is, “Do melodic figures also have a metric dimension?” In other words, does the normal behavior a figure’s steps, leaps, and directional changes suggests a certain “most natural alignment” within the gravitational cycle?

Yes. Melodic figures have a metric dimension that manifests in two ways: (1) normal and modified ways to align figures within the metric cycle, and (2) figure-specific structures that shape rhythmic/metric behaviors.

b. Normal and modified metric placement of melodic figures.

The normal metric placement for any melodic figure is this: start on a beat, which (depending on the number of notes and the rhythmic value) leaves its last note “dangling” on an upbeat. This positioning creates a sense of grounding at the beginning and open-endedness at the end, as the.
We can modify the normal behavior of a figure by repositioning it differently within the meter.

In the example below, versions B–D show modified metric alignments of the 3-Note Scale.

For examples from actual songs, I’ll start with the same 3-Note Scale melodies from the section on harmony, this time marked to show their metric placement.

“Away in a Manger” uses normal alignment.
“Eleanor Rigby” uses normal alignment with syncopation. Syncopation only slightly modifies metric placement. That’s because in syncopation, the first note of each figure “jumps the gun” to get to the upcoming note a tad early. The result is a lengthened note that still occupies the same metric spot.
“Breathe” presents with an entirely different metric placement. Its 3-Note Scales are ligatures, set up so that only the last note lands on the strong beat. And the repeated notes in those 3-Note Scales create anticipations to each upcoming pitch.

In all three songs, I’ve used bold formatting to show highlight normal prosody—how the accentuation of important syllables corresponds to the strong beats, making the lyrics easy to grasp. The music in our speech (and song) relies on many of the same metric principles I’ve shown in this section.

Next, we hear the 3-Note Scale as a pickup. Though this figure is a common choice for a pickup of this length, notice something a bit odd: the scale doesn’t land where it leads. Instead, it leaps to an appoggiatura, giving it even more accent than it would normally receive because of its manner of “connection,” which I’ll cover in more detail in the next section on “Trajectory.”

“The Greatest Show on Earth,” by Victor Young

Finally, “Desperado” offers a compelling example of straddled alignment—and a remarkably nuanced one at that. It vividly demonstrates how metric placement can profoundly shape meaning. The song’s opening gesture encapsulates its central theme: an road-weary outlaw being asked if he’s finally ready to settle down.

The melody opens on a B4 that belongs to the upcoming G chord, not the current D major. This kind of two-note anticipation doesn’t fit neatly into any textbook category for non-chord tones. Still, the ear grasps it instantly, no problem.

As for the metric placement, the last two syllables, “ra-do,” are both syncopated, but not in the same way. The first arrives early, the second comes late, creating a subtle “kick”—as if the melody is covertly resisting the idea of putting down roots. This final note doesn’t just arrive late; it seems to hesitate, signaling a deeper reluctance to settle, much like a micro-expression on a face.

Taken together, these precise pitches and rhythms create a potent, yet understated, confluence that captures the song’s emotional weariness and longing in a single, telling gesture.

“Desperado,” by Don Henley and Glen Frey

c. Interior motion and rhythmic/metric implications.

The interior motion of many melodic figures can make them seem to go with or against the natural “grain” of the meter. Here are three examples. In each case, I’ve rewritten the same figure differently to produce different rhythmic groupings, each with metric implications. I indicate the implied rhythmic groupings they create with slurs and also re-notated them in the ossia line.

Wrapping up. Melody gets much of its kinetic energy and expressive power by carefully aligning its figures right on, just before, or just after a beat. This came through clearly in the examples we explored, most centered around the same melodic figure: a 3-Note Scale. The many treatments explored herein showed how the same melodic figure can sound and feel completely different depending on where it starts and ends within the metric cycle. The possible effects of rhythmic and pitch patterns becomes far richer as we consider how they interact with the melodic cycle.

[3] TRAJECTORY.

One of Western music’s great achievements is its comprehensive theory of musical structure. Its various facets provide a powerful lens for understanding functional harmony, the magnetism of voice leading, long- and short-term scale degree tendencies, the logic of large-scale forms, and more. At the core of this worldview lies a stable framework of structural pitches and foundational harmonies—a profoundly deep architecture that gives every piece of music its fundamental integrity.

From this perspective, different aspects of music inhabit different structural “levels.” For instance, it can demonstrate how the grace, intrigue, and athletic prowess of the musical “surface” derive their coherence from all the available ways they might connect, prolong, or elaborate the structural tones that make up its “deep architecture.” However, while this structural approach can offer truly valuable insights about how a melody moves from pillar to pillar, it can’t quite tell us how it moves by its own power.

In MFT, every note is a full and equal member of a melodic figure. No main notes. No embellishments. No filler. Melodic trajectory emerges from the combined agency of a melodic figure interacting with metric gravity: that is, figures link to one another while simultaneously interacting with the metric grid. If anything is “structural,” it’s the beat itself—a point of kinetic contact, like a foot touching the ground mid-stride. The beat isn’t (usually) a final destination; rather, it’s more like a fulcrum that, playing its role within the metric cycle, energizes and propels the melody.

The three discussions in this tier flow directly from the conception of melodic trajectory as the combined agency of the melodic figure and the metrical cycle.

a. The beat as a melodic target.

To show how beats are points of kinetic contact, just place two melody notes on two consecutive (strong) beats. They can be the same note or different notes; within an octave or light years apart. It doesn’t matter. Whatever the second note is, it becomes a melodic target with multiple paths to hit it. In this example, you’ll hear seven different ways to get from D5 to G4 using eighth notes.

7 Ways to get from D to G using eighth notes

The first option takes the most direct path, which we also mark as the “normal” connection. It’s simple, efficient, and feels absolutely familiar. (Not to mention that it obeys Euclidean geometry.) Of course in music, “normal” hardly implies “best.” In certain contexts, the direct approach feels inevitable, confident, elegant. In others, the same pathway can come off as blunt, cliché, emotionally flat.

These choices lie at the heart of melodic trajectory. Melody moves in time. It’s bound to time. Its touchpoints are bound to measured time. And so, each melodic figure choice either falls in line with, defers, or even resists the bounds of time. Particularly when lyrics come into play, such choices can shape their meaning.

Consider the two melodies below. Both span D5 to G4, the very same fifth as the examples above. Each excerpt has also been decomposed using the “opposite” pathway: if the original takes a direct route, the ossia takes a diverted one, and vice versa. The differences aren’t merely mechanical. listen to how taking the road less traveled can totally reshape (or wreck) the expressive physicality of a line.

“The Halleluia Chorus,” from The Messiah by George Frideric Handel

“A Groovy Kind of Love,” by Toni Wine & Carole Bayer Sager (The Mindbenders)

As for how trajectory affects meaning in these two cases? of this passage from benefits from an angular melody that’s hard to gloss over. Its structure

The angular structure of Handel’s melody make it nigh impossible to sing legato, driving home its weighty theological message. The opposite holds true for “A Groovy Kind of Love.” (And please note that I’m not suggesting these effects are universal for all Runs and Zigzag figures.)

b. Connecting figures: Seamless vs. accented links.

This next application of melodic trajectory addresses whether or not the end of one figure glides into the beginning of next. And it focuses on precisely three notes. Three notes come into play because the manner in which last two notes of a melodic figure move sets up an expectation for how they will “link up” to the next figure, dyad, or single tone. I’ve circled melodic links in the excerpt below.

The brief excerpts above show step-step, leap-step, leap-leap, and repeated-note connections. Each combination has its own norms, alternatives, and expressive effects. Our focus here will only cover stepwise connections.

When stepwise motion continues directly into the next beat it makes a seamless link. By contrast, an accented link interrupts stepwise motion at the end of a figure by leaping to the next beat. The effects are easy to hear. Seamless links feel natural, even inevitable. Accented links, by contrast, create a “written in” accent—one that’s nearly impossible to perform legato.

Seamless and accented links following a 3-Note Scale

These next two songs use the formula for accented links to celebrate the experience of “making it.”

“Looks Like We Made It,” by Richard Kerr and Will Jennings

“Theme from New York New York,” by John Kander and Fred Ebb<}/h4>

c. Truly musical guidelines for writing steps and leaps.

When it comes to writing leaps, Textbooks lay down hard-and-fast rules to prevent harsh or awkward leaps.

“Standard rules for writing melodic leaps.”
1. Singable melodies move mostly by step, adding just a few leaps for variety. (This reduces the balance of steps and leaps to a ratio).
2. After a large leap, move by step in the opposite direction to the leap.
3. Never leap a dissonant interval.

Note that in actual music, we hear modifications to all three rules. For example, “Looks Like We Made It” and “Theme from New York New York” both break Rule #2. And this 2-bar melody by Bach breaks Rule #3 twice within three beats—leaping a minor 7th both times. So why do “illegal” (dissonant) leaps sound so elegant?

“Invention #11,” by J.S. Bach

Bach uses stepwise motion to create a seamless (normal) link to the D4 on beat 4 (highlighted below). Such a decisive landing sets up a perfect opportunity to start a new gesture. This means that the line doesn’t leap from D4 to C5. Rather, the melody completes its motion to D4 by landing on the beat, then starts a new gesture on C5! In short, the reason Bach’s dissonant leaps sound elegant has everything to do with metric placement. They occur after the melody makes a seamless link to the upcoming beat.

To illustrate the essential role metric placement plays here, I’ve shifted both of Bach’s leaps to break the metric cycle: leaping between beats rather than letting stepwise motion take its natural course. Even though the interval size remains unchanged, the new leaps sound harsh. To fully experience the differences, sing along with the video. The cross-beat leaps not only sound disruptive, they’re much harder to sing. (Also notice the accented leap (marked with a star), and the musical reason for it: The accent heralds an impending cadence.)

Moral of the story? When it comes to leaping, timing matters more than distance.

Wrapping up. Melodic Figuration Theory offers precise ways to control how melodies move toward targets. Each trajectory produces a distinct musical effect—seamless (normal), punctuated, acrobatic, hesitant, and more. MFT also uses trajectory principles to offer more musical guidelines for melodic leaps: It’s not the ratio of steps to leaps, the size of the leap, or consonance vs. dissonance. What matters most is the timing: when a leap lands in relation to the beat.

[4] REGISTER.

Every melody has a floor plan. Each one occupies a given registral “space” (its lowest to highest notes), and composers and improvisers harness that space to create subtlety and impact—from weightless to 10-G, from warm to searing, from intimate to towering. Sometimes a “home” register is established, only to be stretched, sidestepped, or abandoned for expressive effect, much like a tonal center. Elsewhere, shifting registers can break a melody into a back-and-forth dialogue. And register can also play a central role in crafting melodic “plot twists”—those sudden, striking notes that jolt or delight us, and hit us like a surprise reveal in a thriller, flipping our expectations.

Melodic Figuration Theory, with its precise grasp of each figure’s registral properties and behaviors, is uniquely poised to reveal the full expressive power of this often-overlooked dimension.

Melodic figures and registral span.

“Registral span” refers to the distance between the lowest and highest notes in a melodic figure, gesture, or phrase. And here, one of the quiet strengths of melodic figures comes into focus: each one carves out its registral span with clarity and precision.

Half of the 24 melodic figures are “fixed,” meaning their registral span never changes—ranging from a 2nd to a 4th. As shown in the graphic below, these figures move mostly by step. Any leaps are limited to a 3rd, which we refer to in MFT as “gaps.” (To highlight gaps, I’ve filled them in with faint noteheads.)

The Fixed Figures arranged by their registral span

The remaining 12 figures are “flexible,” and can span from 4th to however far a performer’s instrument and proficiency allows. In each case, the flexible figure contains a true leap, which unlike gaps can expand or contract at will. Here are a few examples.

Some flexible figures

a. Controlling the slope.

Registral span is a vertical measurement. But when we hear register unfold over time (even a very short time), it’s better understood as “slope”—the degree and speed that a melodic gesture rises or falls. Take the first two gestures in the chorus of “Best of My Love.” Both involve nearly the same number of notes (4 notes vs. 3), but the first rises a 6th while the second falls a 3rd. The first slope is steeper than the second. Once you’re aware of how slope can contrast, you’ll be surprised at how often you encounter it.

“Best of My Love,” by The Eagles

Balanced, but not formulaic. The ossia line in the previous example lets us hear what can happen when we directly mirror the slope between a pair of ascending and descending gestures (which may seem like the most normal response), the dialogue feels too predictable.

Now let’s zoom out to hear the registral plan of the entire phrase. The melody opens with a generous, upward-leaping arpeggio. Each gesture that follows drops just a little, until the melody settles back into its original register: a strategy (schema) known as a gap-fill pattern. You’ll hear it in songs like “Over the Rainbow” and “Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star” plus countless melodies across all styles.

But in this phrase, we get a modified version of the fill. The third gesture (“you get the best of my”) uses the Oscillator—a figure that hovers rather than descends. Lingering for a moment gives the phrase exactly the breathing room it needs. And there’s another twist at the end: the super quick, final drop on “love.” All told, the figures in this phrase don’t just vary in pitch—they vary in slope, each one shaped and timed to fit its expressive moment. The special contribution of MFT in this context? Because MFT includes figures that share the same span but differ in slope, this kind of fine-grained shaping becomes more vivid and more controllable.

b. Isolating registers.

Figures with fixed spans are also effective at partitioning an entire phrase into separate registral regions. “Oh Bess” begins with a gut-wrenching wail by putting its pickup far beneath the melodic space that follows, launching the melody from a place of raw, aching vulnerability. The response, set in a lower tessitura—one that feels more resigned—leaving no doubt about the answer: he already knows the heartbreaking answer to his plea.

“Oh Bess, Oh Where’s My Bess,” from Porgy and Bess, by George and Ira Gershwin

c. Overstepping the Line.

The lyrics in “Nobody Told Me” present a more fluid kind of inner dialogue than “Oh Bess,” and the registral scheme follows suit. Each four-bar phrase builds upward through mostly chromatic Runs, unfolding two bars at a time. While the line feels continuous, it still carves out two registral zones. This time, the division isn’t created by registral distance but by a mid-phrase pause that momentarily clears the slate.

In bars 5–8, Rodgers repeats the first phrase nearly verbatim. But then comes the plot twist: at the word “quake” where the melody leaps a minor 3rd. In a chromatic context, any leap will normally feel enormous. More importantly here, “quake” breaks through the melody’s earlier “ceiling,” established when the first phrase peaked at B4. And so, with the arrival of C5, that ceiling gives way—making the new high note feel even higher than it is.

Overstepping the line is a classic melodic technique: (1) establish a (temporary) “boundary,” (2) retreat, then (3) exceed it. The result is a surge of expressive energy, achieved with little more than a well-placed leap.

“Nobody Told Me,” by Richard Rogers

Wrapping up. Composers—from Baroque to jazz to pop—have long relied on register as a core expressive tool, using similar tactics to anchor, bend, or shatter registral boundaries. Melodic Figuration Theory uncovers register’s structural and expressive power, revealing how fixed figures hold their ground and flexible figures expand or contract as needed. Such distinctions allow composers to take a strategic approach to register: Perfectly shaping and timing registral slope, establishing different isolated zones, or marking a clear registral boundary—only to vault past it for maximum drama.”

[5] CONTOUR.

Melodic contour refers to how notes trace out an aural shape—much like a sparkler traces glowing, glittering shapes in the night air.

Typically, teachers treat contour as a single, large-scale line, offering students a handful of basic templates—ascending, descending, arch—t to help them steer clear of a fatal flaw in composition: melodies that wander aimlessly.

Six common melodic shape templates

“Jarabe Tapatío” seems like a perfect example to demonstrate these basic shapes. At a glance, we can easily recognize its overall contour as an inverted arch built from two straight lines.

“Jarabe Tapatío” (Mexican Hat Dance), by Jesús González Rubio

However, if this is all we notice, we miss the key element that gives the melody its pizzazz. When we zoom in, we notice that it descends differently from the way it ascends. The descending line is not a simple, straight slide; it has a “serrated edge” created by a series of Auxiliary figures. In contrast, the response ascends in a more direct path built from driving 3-Note Scales. Why 3-Note Scales rather than one long stream of notes? Partly because of the meter, but even more because of the pattern set up by the Auxiliary figures.

“Jarabe Tapatío” with melodic figures marked

This distinction gets to the heart of how MFT understands contour: as a layered process shaped by motion at three interconnected levels. The “inverted arch” analysis is just the beginning of the story.

1. Macro motion (phrase and section): the dramatic arcs that structure a melody’s large-scale shape.
2. Mezzo motion (figure and gesture): the pattern-rich level where melodies gain their personality and drive.
3. Micro motion (note-to-note): the fine details—like the chromatic inflections in the first two Auxiliary figures that “tighten up” the mezzo motion.

Listen what happens when we keep the macro shape of Jarabe Tapatío intact but use matching figures throughout. The macro contour follows the traditional guidelines perfectly, but the melody loses its zing.

Alternate versions of “Jarabe Tapatío”

a. Contour as a means to contrast and continuity.

Composers across all eras have used contour as a way to contrast one melodic gesture with another. In fact, in some cases, we even find identical pairings, as the Arpeggio + Double 3rd combinations below.

“Allegro molto,” from Symphony #40, by Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart

“Sidewalks,” by The Weekend

Of course, contour can also provide a means of continuing (i.e., repeating) gestures. The two similar figures in this song are frequently heard together.

“Itsy Bitsy Teenie Weenie Yellow Polka Dot Bikini,” by Brian Hyland

b. Melodic tailoring.

“Itsy Bitsy Teenie Weenie” is a prime example of “melodic tailoring,” a key compositional technique MFT can offer helpful instructions for. There are two kinds of melodic tailoring.

1. Adaptable tailoring. Say your friend suffers from anisomelia (a condition in which two paired limbs differ in length), and so he routinely takes new trousers to the tailor. A professional-looking alteration is one where no one notices. Composers can face a similar situation when repeating melodic ideas, as we hear in “Itsy Bitsy Teenie Weenie.” The composer adjusts intervals, hoping the alterations will blend in seamlessly. We call this “adaptive tailoring.”

Naturally, when we adjust intervals, we often end up changing melodic figures. Yet there are always several figures that share the same contour. Once again, the table of melodic building blocks provides a handy resource. For example, here are three contour types with three figures that meet their criteria.

Some similar contours found among melodic figures

2. Anti-formulaic tailoring. Often, it’s possible to repeat/continue a melodic idea exactly or nearly so, but the results sounds too formulaic.

3. Expressive tailoring. Sometimes a composer will choose to repeat a melodic gesture more emphatically the second time around. We call this “expressive tailoring.” In expressive tailoring, we preserve the contour but make it “bigger.” In melody, this either means translating steps into leaps, or making small leaps larger. (Using the previous analogy, imagine your friend got his trousers back only to find that the tailor made them into bell bottoms!)

Altering the registral span to achieve expressive tailoring.

Fogerty’s melody for “Oh, boy!” shows that expressive tailoring doesn’t need to be drastic to make a dramatic impact.

c. Nested figures.

Beyond repetition or contrast, MFT reveals a deeper kind of correspondence—one that’s often felt but rarely noticed. I’m talking about nested figures: subtle patterns that recur beneath the surface, creating subtle familiarity—a sort of musical déjà vu—from the inside out.

To many, it will sound like I’m describing motives. In part, that’s because there’s a great deal of confusion around the term motive, which is understandable because it can refer to three different things. (1) Most musicians take it to mean any short “idea” (group, cell, figure, segment, etc.) within a melody. Truth is, except for some theorists, very few people outside of MFT use precise terms for the small parts of melody. (2) A slightly more specific way to use the term motive is organizational: to mark corresponding gestures when analyzing musical phrases, as in this example.

“Alouette,” a Quebecois children’s song

(3) Finally, some composers use motives as generative devices: creating new themes, transitions, accompanimental components, and more—from a single seed. Beethoven’s 5th Symphony is the archetype of this technique. Here’s its first theme section, analyzed to show its melodic figuration basis.

“Fifth Symphony,” by Ludwig van Beethoven

Nested figures, by contrast, are covert; not meant to be noticed. In fact, most composers don’t even know they’ve written them. Every 4-note figure contains at least one 3-note figure hiding inside. Here are a few examples of 3-note figures that keep showing up, quietly enfolded into their 4-note hosts.

Some examples of nested figures.

And now for a real life example. The opening gesture of “Always on My Mind” (on “Maybe I”) is sung to a consonant 3-Note Scale. The “I” hangs alone, vulnerably so. The response (on “quite as often”) is sung to a Return figure, which, because it contains a 3-Note Scale, makes it feel like a repetition of the first gesture. But not so fast.

The “extra” note (E4) at the end of “often” not only marks a departure, it also sits uneasily against the B minor harmony beneath it. That friction deepens the sense of regret—musically expressing what the lyrics only hint at. We do and don’t hear the same thing twice. And there’s the rub.

“Always on My Mind,” by Wayne Thompson, Mark James, and Johnny Christopher

This next country song is also tangled up in mixed feelings about love. Its matter-of-fact opening gesture captures Eddie Dean’s boredom with his wife. In contrast, the second gesture—where Dean sings about his mistress—unfolds with a more compelling contour and opens up a wider registral space. And yet the contrast isn’t as stark as it first seems. The second gesture grows organically from the first, thanks to a shared nested figure—an LHP, circled in red.

The second phrase (bars 5–8) “merely transposes” the first phrase (bars 1–4) up a step. Or does it? Mostly, yes—but then again, no.

Eddie Dean’s transposition breaks at “heartaches,” the emotional centerpiece of the verse. Like the first three gestures, this one also contains a nested LHP figure—but three features set it apart:

(1) The others begin with a descending third; this one ascends.
(2) This LHP is chromatically inflected, adding a sharply-felt constriction at “heartache.”
(3) It’s the only one that ends the gesture rather than continuing upward with another step.

“One Has My Name the Other Has My Heart,” by Eddie Dean

So why did I put scare quotes around the word “merely transposes” earlier? To flag the transposition “One Has My Name” as modified. In normal transpositions, the melody and harmony rise or fall together. But here, only the melody in bars 5–7.5 moves up a step; the harmony essentially stays put. And despite my marking G4 in bar 5 as the 9th, the Roll (on “one I’ll remain”) is far better understood as a case of harmonic divergence. Given the singer’s story, it’s hard not to hear the disconnect between melody and harmony as a tell.

Among composers and musical experts, “melodic development” has long been the gold standard of compositional mastery. Melody can be “developed” in many ways—through variation, reharmonization, phrase extension, fragmentation, sequence, to list a few. MFT adds a new method to the list: nested figures—covert, fully organic, brimming with expressive consequence. In both “Always on My Mind” and “One Has My Name,” for example, nested figures intensify the singers’ inner conflicts by having the story and melody develop in tandem.

Wrapping up. Prevalent approaches to melodic contour have treated its smaller details as largely insignificant, much like a state map that flattens a scenic country road into featureless lines and curves. That’s why following the prevalent advice about melodic shape often yields melodic equivalent of a stick figure. But Melodic Figuration Theory treats contour as a multi-layered topography, with macro, mezzo, and micro motions working both together and independently. In “Jarabe Tapatío,” for instance, we heard how the two gestures mirror each other at the macro level while contrasting subtly in their mezzo motion. It’s just this sort of complexity that’s easy to miss when we fail to explore the full range of profiles and techniques available within melodic figures. Finally, contour plays a structural role in melody, establishing clear continuity or contrast through tailoring, nesting, and correspondence.

TIER 3: MELODIC SYNTAX

Just as speakers and writers form sentences by arranging words into clauses, and clauses into phrases, composers and performers form melodies by arranging figures into gestures, and gestures into phrases. This section takes a close look at this process: making and responding to melodic gestures.

[1] FROM MOTION TO MEANING: THE EXPRESSIVE POWER OF THE MELODIC GESTURE

No doubt you’ve noticed that I’ve been using the word gesture rather than the more common terms—fragment, segment, cell, or motive. But why? Because the standard terms reduce the smaller parts of a melody to materialist abstraction.

In contrast, a gesture is a kinetic force. A gesture harnesses motion to convey meaning with immediacy. We wave our hands to say “Stop!” “Slow down!” or “Come closer!” We put a finger to our lips to ask for silence. Yet the majority of the gestures we make throughout each day don’t carry specific messages: instead, they capture and convey the conviction and feeling beneath our words. Likewise, as the notes in a melody move, they trace out sonic shapes that embody the same emotional energy as the gestures we make with our hands and bodies when we talk.

a. From figure to gesture: how motion becomes expression.

A figure, on its own, isn’t yet a melody. It doesn’t go anywhere or do anything. To bring a melodic figure to life, a composer must add rhythm to set it in motion, to bring it to life. In this way, the gesture—not the figure—is the smallest intact unit of melody.

And a melodic gesture can be conceived in either of three ways. Sometimes we start with a melodic figure and rhythmicize it—stretching one note, repeating another, shifting accents to create momentum or hesitation. Other times, we begin with rhythm (for example, the rhythm of lyrics) and “figure-ize” it, finding just the right shape to make the words really sing. And yet other times, often actually, both emerge at once—spontaneous and inseparable—the way they do in improvisation.

b. Each melodic figure can produce an unlimited number of melodic gestures.

To demonstrate, I’ll show several melodies that begin with a Leaping Auxiliary. But first, I’ll show why the Leaping Auxiliary is so flexible. Each Leaping Auxiliary has two defining components:

1. A chordal leap, which can be any size and move up or down.
2. A three-note auxiliary configuration, where the neighbor tone can move in either direction. ppp

What’s more, either the leap or the auxiliary configuration can come first—doubling the number of possible ways this figure can unfold.

All possible arrangements of a Leaping Auxiliary based around C4, E4, and G4

And once rhythm enters the equation, the number of possible gestures explodes into infinity. Here are but a few.

Some melodies that begin with a Leaping Auxiliary figure

[2] NOT JUST ONE THING AFTER ANOTHER: THE RESPONSIVE LOGIC OF MELODY.

Whenever you or I compose a melody, we intuitively do two things that feel so natural we barely notice them.

In other words, each melody unfolds like a conversation. Something gets “said.” Then something else gets “said” in response.

And here’s the heart of it: there are only three ways to respond to any gesture (or phrase, or section). We can (1) repeat it, (2) vary it, or (3) contrast it. These are the same options we have when talking. One person says something; the other agrees, adds a twist, or says something contrary or new.

In this example, I apply all three options to respond to the first gesture in “Twinkle, Twinkle.”

Now, within these three basic responses lies a vast range of possible behaviors. I’ve cataloged 25 distinct ways to repeat a melodic gesture, 25 ways to vary it, and 25 ways to contrast it. (75 OPTIONS IN ALL!) Each response creates a different effect—and each can be learned.

In the subsections that follow, I offer a few representative examples of each type of response. As I do, I’ll spotlight aspects of MFT that come into play.

a. Three ways to continue (repeat) a gesture.

Picture a typical day in your studio. You stumble upon an opening gesture you like, but you’re not crazy about any of the follow-up responses that first come to mind. So you look through MFT’s catalogue of 25 continuation responses and choose a few to try.

Repetition #1: Respond with a chordal arpeggiation sequence.

[drawing upon: harmony melody, contour, and adaptive tailoring]
A “chordal arpeggiation” sequence keeps the same harmony while repeating its gesture starting on a different chord tone each time. As a result, the size of some intervals will change from gesture to gesture, just as they do when we invert chords. (E.g., in figured bass: 5‑3, 6‑3, and 6‑4).

Repetition #2: Respond with an “adaptable sequence.”

[drawing upon: harmony melody, contour, adaptive tailoring, and expressive tailoring]
An “adaptable sequence” has much in common with an arpeggiated sequence. Both repeat their segments while allowing for intervallic adjustments whenever the melodic segments and harmonic progression don’t move in tandem, as they do in a standard sequence (e.g., a circle of 5ths sequence).

For example, look at the first beat of the first two segments of the sequence below. The melody proceeds down a step (from C4 to B3), but the harmony drops a 4th (from C major to G major). That means we can’t simply transpose directly but need to tailor the second iteration so the Leaping Auxiliary fits the chord tones to most closely resemble the original. It’s the kind of thing that happens all the time—yet I’ve never seen it named, let alone taught.

You’ll also notice that I used a different sort of repetition for the last iteration. Rather than continue with “adaptive tailoring” I switched to “expressive tailoring” for the last iteration—a very common strategy in this situation. While we’re here, this example helps us better understand the difference in intent between adaptive and expressive tailoring. The former seeks to repeat without the listener noticing any changes (as in bars 1-6); the latter intentionally varies the repetition for expressive purposes (as in bars 7‑8).

Repetition #3: Respond by repeating part of the gesture.

[drawing upon: nested figures]
Here, repeating just the second half of the first gesture creates a new figure: the Trill.

Pretty good, but it doesn’t pique your imagination. So you try repeating bar 2 two more times (as you just did), but this time, using different notes for each repetition. You notice that it’s possible to create a Run while repetiting the 2-note gesture.

Repetition #3 (alternate): Respond by repeating the ending on different notes.

b. Two ways to vary a gesture.

We can use the Building Blocks of Melody table as a catalog for generating variations. Here’s one of the most basic sorts. Start with an outline target notes and “connect the dots.” As I showed in the discussion of connections (A.3.a), we can approach any target note taking a direct or indirect path.

Variation #1: Respond by adding figuration.

[drawing upon: direct and indirect connections and the Building Blocks of Melody table]

The highlighted notes show that both the proposition and the response use the same melodic outline.

Variation #2: Respond by varying the metric placement.

[drawing upon: metric placement]

In this example, I’ve chosen to vary the length of the initial gesture.

Variation #3: Respond by varying the gesture length.

[drawing upon: the MFT formula for making gestures]

c. Two ways to contrast a gesture.

Musicians are surprised when I say that it’s actually hard to come up with a good way to contrast a gesture just relying on your own ingenuity. I draw this conclusion from my own work as well as working with students for over 30 years. So the final stop on this brief tour of melodic syntax will demonstrate the power of the “5 Dimensions of Melodic Behavior” to help a composer find something different to do.

Contrast #1: Contrast simplicity with complexity..

[drawing upon: melodic contour]

Contrast #2: Contrast the registral span.

[drawing upon: melodic register and melodic span] Here, the response not only inhabits a smaller registral space than the proposition, it’s also in a higher tessitura.

TIER 4: MELODIC SCHEMAS

In Tier 1, we met the vocabulary of melody—melodic figures—a set of building blocks that make up every tonal melody. Melodic figures offer something we’ve long lacked: the ability to make precise melodic comparisons between one musical situation and another. Armed with this new capability, Tier 2 broadened our view of five key dimensions of melodic behavior: harmony, metric placement, trajectory, register, and contour. Along the way, we saw that melodic figures aren’t just generic patterns—each carries distinctive capabilities that animate those dimensions from within.

Tier 3 showed how each melody unfolds like a conversation—a conversation between melodic gestures. Something gets “said” (the composer puts forth a melodic gesture) then something else gets “said” in response (the composer repeats it, varies it, or contrasts it). As far as creating melodic gestures themselves, I offered MFT’s basic formula: a melodic figure + rhythm = a melodic gesture. But MFT offers detailed instructions to turn inert melodic patterns into vibrant musical gestures; also for how to combine those gestures into phrases.

This brings us into the world of musical schemas, which we explore in this section.

An overview of musical schemas.

Over the past few decades, musical scholars have begun identifying “schemas”—recurring patterns or frameworks that composers, improvisers, and performers recognize instinctively—and then draw on to create or interpret melodies. These schemas act as a kind of musical shorthand, capturing the essential structure, behavior, and feel of common musical situations. Some key characteristics include:

Recognizable Patterns. From the very first lesson, teachers point out core formations (V⁷–I, jazz ii–V–I, sonata form) again and again until those structures move from conscious study into second-nature hearing.
Cognitive Efficiency. Schemas speed up real-time decisions. An improviser doesn’t think “measure 1, chord I; measure 5, chord IV”—they just “sense” the twelve-bar blues structure and play.
Flexible Application. Schemas beg to be toyed with. Why else would so many composers still write concertos for orchestra? Masses? String quartets? Why else would so many singer-songwriters still follow the time-tested frameworks that offer and reorder intros, verses, choruses, pre-choruses, and bridges?
Cross-Genre Validity. Many schemas transcend styles. The circle-of-fifths progression underpins everything from Baroque chorales to jazz standards, to country, contemporary pop, and more. Modal interchange fuels both jazz reharmonizations, classical symphonies, and rock fusion.

In sum, the more we explore how music works, the more we find that every element follows a familiar pattern, framework, or mental template. In large part, learning music means learning schemas—by book or by ear.

And if Melodic Figuration Theory seeks to accomplish anything, it’s to shine a light on overlooked facets of melody—recurring patterns, frameworks, behaviors, and mental templates—mainly to fill in significant gaps between theory and practice, but also to uncover a trove of new schemas once passed over. Because other approaches don’t account for melodic figures, their behavior across five dimensions, or their implications for melodic syntax, MFT has much to offer in deepening our understanding of schemas. In this section, we’ll briefly explore four ways MFT can harness schemas to spark imaginative ideas as composers return to their studios day after day.

[1] MFT-Specific ways to integrate melodic figures with standard musical schemas

Melodic figures pair instinctively with familiar musical schemas—whether in their basic form or through one of their modified applications. For instance, take the cadential 6/4 formula, whose melody is often built around a 3-Note Scale. By applying the principle of nested figures, we get new elaborations.

Using nested figures to elaborate a common 6/4 melodic formula

[2] MFT-SPECIFIC WAYS TO USE EACH MELODIC FIGURE

Each of the 24 melodic figures brings its own signature normal and modified behaviors—abilities it excels at plus common ways to stretch or alter those behaviors. Take the Crazy Driver for example.

This traffic graphic illustrates two reasons for the Crazy Driver’s mnemonic name. Both represent its most common behaviors, yet as you’ll soon see, there’s another that’s even crazier. These two options here are normal because they move as directly to their targets as possible. That said, moving to a goal a 3rd away is even normal-er than swerving around the same note.

Now, in actual contexts. First, the Crazy Driver traveling to a target a 3rd away.

“Joshua Fit the Battle of Jericho,” Negro Spiritual

Next, the Crazy Driver returning to the original pitch.

“Toreador Song” from Carmen, by Georges Bizet

This final Crazy Driver schema creates an accented link (covered in the Trajectory section). The ossia shows that a seamless link is available. But Harburg engineers his melody so that every other downbeat (D, B, G, and D) gets a noticeable bump. This hypermetric syncopation is an effect he borrowed (knowingly?) from Bach. In any event, we find a third schema for connecting the swerving Crazy Driver: the two in the previous examples glide as they land; this third option catches a little pothole.

“If I Only Had a Brain,” by xxx

[3] MFT-SPECIFIC APPLICATIONS USING ANY OF THE FIVE DIMENSIONS OF MELODIC BEHAVIOR

For this demonstration, we’ll explore how metric placement can control a gesture’s metric gravity.

Most melodies launch squarely on beat 1 of bar 1. But “My Funny Valentine,” uses the “Anda-2 schema,” which shifts the gravitational center to the upcoming strong beat, which feels like “beat 2” in hypermeter (notated in the analysis).

“My Funny Valentine,” by Richard Rogers

Now imagine that the composer of “Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star” loved her figure combinations but wasn’t wild about their overall flow. So, she reconfigures it to fit the Anda-2 metric schema.

“Twinkle, Twinkle,” adapted to the Anda-2 metric schema

And while she was at it, she worked in the expressive outburst from “My Funny Valentine.” Both came from applying an MFT technique called the “radical note”—an intentionally abrupt disruption, a kind of melodic plot twist. MFT includes 15 schemas for creating a radical note, and radical notes themselves are just one of 75 melodic technique schemas in the system. Melodic techniques are a whole other facet of MFT—one we’ll have to save for another time.

[4] MFT-SPECIFIC WAYS TO BUILD PHRASE SCHEMAS

Given that every element of music follows a familiar pattern, framework, or mental template, isn’t it odd that we have just two schemas for building complete phrases: the musical period and the musical sentence? Yet countless phrases don’t fit neatly into either category. In fact, many share traits that could justify adding new phrase types to our toolkit someday.

What I want to explore here is how to use MFT’s tools to build “one-off phrase schemas:” imprinting the behaviors of one phrase onto new melodic materials. To demonstrate, I’ll derive an MFT phrase schema from a Beatles tune I just caught on the dad-rock station while driving home from grocery shopping. “Lady Madonna” is a musical sentence, but not “just” a sentence (if there’s any such thing?). By analyzing the syntactical behaviors MFT emphasizes, several distinctive traits emerge.

“Lady Madonna,” by Lennon & McCartney

Now I’ll use these distinctive traits as a schema, reworking the melodic figures of “Twinkle, Twinkle.”

Wouldn’t you know it? I hit one snag right off the bat. “Twinkle” starts with a perfect fifth, already too wide to qualify as a small‐span gesture (which describes the first gesture of “Lady Madonna”). Yet that opening perfect fifth is part of a Leaping Auxiliary, which contains a nested Auxiliary figure which offers several options.

I wrote three options (A–C) using “Lady Madonna’s” rhythm. (Even though preserving the rhythm is not a necessary part of adapting a schema to new figures, it can yield some cool results.) Yet since I’ve chosen the minor mode, this rhythm feels a bit too energetic to me today. So I decided to simplify it, hence versions D–F. Still nothing I like. So I tried related figures, and found the Double Neighbor has two nested auxiliary figures, which, after some chromatic alchemy (H), I love.

“Twinkle, Twinkle,” adapted to Lady Madona’s phrase schema

Schemas for breaking schemas.

Composers tend to be leery of schemas, seeing models, templates, and formulas as crutches that stifle creativity. This attitude takes root early in a musician’s training. When a teacher shows “the right way” to do something (exam conditions aside), it’s usually with a tacit understanding: “First you learn the rules; then you break them.”

But do we really “break the rules” at random? With no intended effect? No regard for context? This common wisdom starts to sound simplistic upon closer inspection.

The point is: there are schemas for breaking schemas.

Composers across periods, styles, and genres have taken the same “detours” to achieve the same melodic effects. This is what has made it possible to contrast “normal” and “modified” behavior throughout this Brief Introduction. It’s also what makes Melodic Figuration Theory so exceptionally well-equipped to map out every highway, side street, and back alley you’ll need to continue exploring the vast melodic landscape with insight and delight.

I greatly value any and all interaction about this post!

A Brief Introduction to Melodic Figuration Theory

TIER #1: The Vocabulary of Melody

the 3-Note Scale

the Auxiliary

the Arpeggio

the Run

the Trill/Oscillator

the Arc

the 3NP

the Pivot

Little Holy Phillip

the Return

the Crazy Driver

the Little Dipper

the Parkour

the Vault

the Roll

the Double Neighbor

the Double Third

the Pendulum

the Leaping Scale

the Leaping Auxiliary

the Pendulum Auxiliary

the Funnel

the Cambiata

the Zigzag

Single Notes

Stepwise Melodic Dyads

STEPWISE DYADS

“Yesterday,” by Paul McCartney

“Allegro,” from Piano Sonata #13, K.333 by Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart

“Mellow Yellow,” by Donovan Leitch

“September,” by Earth, Wind, and Fire

“All I Have to Do is Dream,” by Boudleax Bryant

“Get Back,” by Lennon & McCartney

VOICE LEADING

“Bye, Bye Love,” by Boudleaux and Felice Bryant

“Waltz of the Flowers” from The Nutcracker, by Pyotr Tchaikovsky

Leaping Melodic Dyads

“London Symphony #104 in D,” I, by Frans Joseph Haydn

“Colonel Bogey March,” by Lieutenant F. J. Ricketts

“The Gambler,” by Kenny Rogers

“Somewhere,” by Leonard Bernstein

“Got to Get You Into My Life,” by Lennon & McCartney

SOME FINE PRINT