Melodic Figuration Theory: A New Framework for Understanding Melody
by David Fuentes, Ph.D.
If someone were to ask you, “How is a melody born?,” what would you say?
As for me? In over 35 years of composing, playing, and teaching, I still haven’t found a definitive answer. Some composers improvise over a chord progression. Some of us collect bits and pieces of melody and stitch them together like a quilt. And then there are times when we get so taken up by a certain feeling that we can hardly get the right notes written down before everything dissolves like a mirage.
Still, no matter what method a composer might use, I’ve discovered a common thread: something we all rely on without even realizing it! Here, I’m talking about a shared vocabulary of three- and four-note ‘melodic figures’—patterns so deeply ingrained they weave through every tonal melody from Bach to Bad Bunny.
Melodic Figuration Theory (MFT) offers the first look at these fundamental building blocks, uncovering, categorizing, and explaining how melodic figures behave and interact. MFT isn’t just a theory; it’s a nuanced, comprehensive framework for musical creativity—something solid to stand on when inspiration doesn’t cooperate. This brief introduction explores the four tiers of that framework.
Tier 1: The Vocabulary of Melody will introduce its basic building blocks. Tier 2: Five Dimensions of Melodic Behavior will explore how melodic figures behave in relation to harmony, meter, and more. Tier 3: Melodic Syntax will examine how melodic figures combine to form musical gestures and phrases. Tier 4: Melodic Schemas will look at ways tiers 1–3 combine to build more comprehensive frameworks for melodic development.
TIER #1: The Vocabulary of Melody
Melodic Figuration Theory proposes that all 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 never 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.
[The table’s behavior has been intermittent. If it doesn’t work for you, use this link: https://figuringoutmelody.com/the-building-blocks-of-melody/]
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.
The ability to identify a limited set of melodic elements lets us compare one melodic moment with another. Why does this matter? Because comparison is how every field moves forward. Practical insight doesn’t arise from isolated facts. It comes from lining things up and asking, what’s different? What works better?
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.
Now that we can identify 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 chord. 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.
Imagine a Fortune 500 company with two job openings: one for a CEO and one for grounds maintenance. The applicants all wait together in the same lobby, and it’s not hard to tell who’s there for which position just by how they carry themselves.
Melody works much the same way. When we listen closely, certain notes practically announce their role—some behaving like chord tones, others clearly serving as support or decoration.
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.)
a. The normal harmonic behavior of melodic figures: skeletones.
The distribution of chord tones within figures, then, is based in a sort of intuitive probability, as if melodic figure themselves are built around a framework or skeleton of chord tones. In MFT, we call the foundational harmonic tones within each figure “skeletones.” But skeletones are not only discernable through common sense (as in the previous example) they’ve also been confirmed through observing common practice gleaned through extensive analysis.
Five Sample Melodic Figures with Skeletones Highlighted
The rest of the examples in Tier 2 use the 3-Note Scale to show a variety of harmonic situations: normal behavior, reinterpretation, role reversal, and harmonic divergence. As you can see and hear from the position of skeletones in “Away in a Manger,” all three 3-Note Scale figures use normal behavior.
“Away in a Manger,” by James R. Murray
b. 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.
Now I’ll reharmonize “Away in a Manger.” Originally, the first figure’s skeletones were the 5th and 3rd of F harmony. This time I’ll make them the 7th and 5th of D7. Bar 2 gets a similar reinterpretation. (I’ll explain what happens to the skeletones in bar 3 in the next point.)
“Away in a Manger,” reharmonized
c. Modified harmonic behavior of melodic figures #2: role reversal.
Listen again to the third 3-Note Scale (on “crib for a”) in the previous reharmonization. Normally, F4 and D4 (notes 1 and 3 of the figure) would act as skeletones making the middle note a passing tone. But not here. F4 becomes an appoggiatura to E4 (the only chord tone in the figure), flipping D4 into a passing tone. Although this option is somewhat more aggressive than simply reinterpreting skeletones, reinterpretation and role reversal have an important common tie in that they are both still based in harmony. Not so with the next modified behavior.
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, by resisting and even ignoring the underlying harmony. Let’s zoom in on the first two figures.
The D5 (on “rice”) punches out a 7th—especially poignant because it’s not heard in the supporting E minor chord. What’s more, it also contains a chromatically altered passing tone—C#5 (on “in”)—which adds a Dorian hue. And then comes the 3-Note Scale (on “church”), which sets a 3-Note Scale against the harmony! The outside notes (normally skeletones) 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
So the harmonic divergence “Eleanor Rigby” arises from transposing a 3-Note Scale while holding a single harmony. But in “Breathe,” the melodic figure itself remains steadfast while the harmonies around it change.
“Breathe,” by Holly Lamar and Stephanie Bentley
Some may argue that the two highlighted B4s are appoggiaturas, implying that there’s nothing unusual about the harmony of these 3-Note Scales. I’ll counter that we hear all three 3-Note Scales the same way: as a sort of several note pickup to G4. In MFT, we call this sort of pickup a “ligature,” which I explain in the next section, “Metric Placement.”
Harmonic divergence exposes an essential truth in Melodic Figuration Theory. While melodic figures certainly have the potential to clearly define harmony, composers and improvisors also freely use them purely for their shape. In other words, the elemental patterns of melody have such kinetic integrity that they often sound “right” even when they don’t clearly delineate a clear, stable harmony.
Wrapping up. Melodic Figuration Theory flips the traditional script regarding the relationship between harmony and melody. Rather than taking a note-by-note inventory to separate chord tones from non-chord tones, MFT advocates that skeletones form a harmonic framework for each melodic figure, which offers a more comprehensive understanding of how the notes in a melody interact harmonically cogent ways. And so, we find that melody is not merely supported by harmony, harmony is woven into the very fiber of every melodic figure. At least in most cases. The principle of harmonic divergence adds a new possible explanation for why melody sometimes seems to contradict the prevailing harmony.
[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 placement/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 how the accentuation of important syllables corresponds to the strong beats, making the lyrics easy to grasp. Those familiar with the concept of prosody will recognize that the music in our speech relies on 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. That is, the stepwise motion doesn’t follow through across the beat, but rather leaps. And because the note it leaps to is an appoggiatura, this particular pickup configuration packs quite a wallop. I have more to say about leaping away from stepwise motion in the upcoming section on “Trajectory.”
“The Greatest Show on Earth,” by Victor Young
Finally, the straddled figure that opens “Desperado” encapsulates its central theme: asking a road-weary outlaw why he never seems ready to settle down. This gets intensified through harmonic divergence. The B4 that initiates the gesture belongs to the upcoming G chord, not the current D major. Still, the ear immediately grasps the implications of the unsettled harmony.
As for rhythm and meter, the last two syllables, “ra-do,” are both syncopated, but not in the same way. The first arrives early, the second comes late, such that the melody itself resists any notion of putting down roots. 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 draws 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, again, most centering 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, a powerful model for understanding functional harmony, the magnetism of voice leading, and the logic of large-scale forms. According to this prevalent view, the “surface” of a piece—its individual notes and rhythms—derives its coherence from how it connects to and elaborates a “deep architecture” of structural tones and foundational harmonies. Yet, for all its explanatory power, this structuralist paradigm has often treated rhythm and meter as secondary, organizing a pre-existing pitch structure rather than being a generative force in their own right. As a result, these theories can struggle to fully explain the visceral sense of propulsion—the impression that even an unaccompanied melody can move forward under its own steam. This perceived momentum stems not from rhythm alone, but from the complex interplay of melodic patterning, harmonic implications, and metric force.
It is precisely this gap that Melodic Fluency Theory (MFT) seeks to fill. Without denying the reality of tonal music’s multi-layered structure, MFT shifts the focus to the dynamic behavior of melodic figures and their intricate interaction with musical meter. In this framework, every note is a full and equal member of a melodic figure, regardless of its harmonic status. Each figure possesses a unique gestalt, a significant part of which is its particular manner of moving: both through its interior motion (the relationships between the notes within the figure) and its forward motion (the combined energy and direction that propels the melody toward the next figure).
Examples of different sorts of interior and forward motion within melodic figures
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 confident and 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)
The angular structure of Handel’s melody makes 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.
In MFT, a “link” refers to the connection from the end of one melodic figure to the beginning of the next figure, dyad, or single tone. Links consist of precisely three notes: the last two notes of the initial figure plus the first note of the next. Here, I’ve circled different types of links: step-step, leap-step, leap-leap, and repeated-note connections. Each combination has its own norms, alternatives, and expressive effects. Our focus in this brief introduction will only cover stepwise connections.
Notice that all of the links above occur across the beat, taking advantage the normal course and flow of metric gravity that plays such a significant role in making melody feel cohesive. In other words, we expect continuity from the end of one beat into the next, and normally, melody obliges. This is especially true with stepwise motion.
When stepwise motion between the last two notes of a melodic figure continue moving by step directly into the next beat it makes a seamless link. By contrast, an accented linkinterrupts 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” expressive 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. More 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 appreciate the differences, I urge you to sing along with the video. The cross-beat leaps not only sound wrong, 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 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
[5] 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.
On the table of melodic figures, the Bounce appears as a 3-note figure; but in “Danny Boy” it has four notes. In all 3 note figures except the 3 Note Scale and the Auxiliary, the figure’s first three notes form its torso, to which we may add 4th note.
Part II of the eBook gives instructions for setting up a framework for counterpoint, then shows how to embellish that framework to create interesting textures, harmonic tension and release, nuanced cadences, and imitative counterpoint. So why is a workbook necessary?
So glad you asked!
The workbook breaks things down even further than the eBook, starting with basic drills before jumping into broader applications. In addition, the exercises will challenge you to use each skill in a variety of ways—ways you probably wouldn’t think up on your own.
126 exercises; 6 analysis projects; 7 composition projects; scores for 8 inventions and 5 fugues; 185 pages
It’s easy to read the eBooks and feel that you understand everything. Maybe so, but probably not. As wise old Benjamin Franklin once said, “Tell me, and I forget. Show me, and I remember. Involve me, and I learn.”
That’s why I urge you to pick up the workbook! It’s full of exercises, analyses, and projects that will make you try out the skills and apply the concepts. It’s the best way to get involved.
I designed everything in the workbook to make you master mechanics and stretch your imagination. An answer key in the back of the workbook lets you know right away whether you’re on the right track. Besides solutions, there is commentary that explains any “tricky” spots in the exercises.
This volume draws on your expertise in solo melody to help you compose professional-sounding counterpoint (two melodies played at the same time) – an essential skill for any composer.
Six chapters cover “counterpoint basic training,” but in a new way. Traditional methods for writing counterpoint are based on intervals. But tonal counterpoint is not based on intervals, it’s based on harmony. Figuring Out Melody is the first method to show how to use chord tones to write counterpoint.
The rest of the book breaks down several of the most sophisticated compositional forms into step-by-step instructions.
In the end, your counterpoint skills will transform all the music you compose: piano music, chamber music, choral music, pop songs, art songs, film scores, EDM, video gaming, and sound design!
This volume covers the basic principles of melodic figuration in a straightforward, practical way.
In Chapter One, you’ll learn a simple way to sketch and revise a melody. You’ll never be stuck for a melodic idea again. You’ll learn how to control melody’s harmonic and metric properties. You’ll learn formulas for making melody sound predictable (straightforward) and indirect. And you’ll discover strategies for balancing the two.
And that’s just in the first three chapters! (12 more to go in this volume)
You’ll also learn how to use “tendency tones” to add expression to your melodies; how to make one melody sound like two people are playing; the trick to working with arpeggio figures; dozens of ways to vary and develop your tunes; a new, foolproof way to modulate, and more!
The violin theme you just heard is the musical depiction of Scheherazade, an alluring, clever, woman who was a masterful storyteller. “Bedtime stories took on a new meaning for Scheherazade. Her husband, the Sultan, had the nasty habit of marrying a woman at night and killing her in the morning. So Scheherazade thought up a plan. Every night she would tell him a story and leave it hanging. 1001 captivating stories later, he decided to keep her.” [from “’Scheherazade,’ 1001 Arabian Nights Retold in a Symphony”] Scheherazade’s story begins with a hypnotic sustained tone, eventually descending predictably and gradually before a sudden dash skyward, starting the whole sequence again, and again, always ending on the same note, which never quite feels like an ending.
[1] The straight line. There are three ways that a melody can move in one direction.
[2] The wavy line. A wavy line changes direction several times within a tight registral space. In each of the examples above, the span from the highest to the lowest notes is a 4th.
[3] Big swoops. By “swoop,” I mean a large up and down motion.
[4] Little loops. A melody makes little loops when it reuses a few adjacent notes in close succession
[5] Holding still. Many lines that hold still contrast a sustained tone with some sort of motion before or after.
[6] On and off. Once you get the hang of “perforating” a melody, you’ll won’t believe how many melodies use this technique.
[7] Traveling patterns. A more common name for “traveling patterns” is a “sequence,” though many sequences are made of longer patterns (over 3 notes).
[8] Floor to ceiling. The gap between the high and low registers can be smaller or larger than the octave gap shown here.
Notice that there are three 3-Note Scale figures (3NS) in this excerpt (four, if we include the “torso”—the first three notes—of the Return figure). They each have a different rhythm. This emphasizes the idea that the same figure can produce unlimited gestures, depending on the rhythmic values, number of repeated notes, metric placement, etc.
the 24 Universal Melodic Figures (the building blocks of melody)
The table is interactive! Click on a figure to see and hear examples.
the 3-Note Scale
At the heart of the 3-Note Scale lies the most resonant sound in music: the harmonic third. Thirds form the harmonic foundation of music throughout the world. We rely on them to construct chords, contrast emotions, and harmonize songs around a campfire with our friends. What does this have to do with the 3-Note Scale? The 3-Note Scale takes this most crucial element of harmony and turns it into a little melody.
“But,” you protest, “it’s so boring. Step-step up; or step-step down. How can I write an interesting melody from such a nothing?”
That’s like asking how so much astounding architecture can arise from combining rectangles, or how so many life forms from the carbon atom. Wherever we look in our universe, we find that the most crucial building blocks are also the most humble.
The excerpts I’ve chosen barely scratch the surface of what the 3-Note Scale can do—the incredible variety of emotions and ideas it can produce. You’ll hear a folk song that captures our common desire for meaning followed by its polar opposite: a cocky, flirtatious strut. Finally, the piano concerto theme feels immensely personal, like something between a dream and a diary entry.
“Blowin’ In the Wind,” by Bob Dylan
“Cool,” by the Jonas Brothers “Piano Concerto #3,” by Sergei Rachmaninoff
the Auxiliary
In general use, the term “auxiliary” refers to something that adds to or extends the capabilities of something else. So when you add a printer to a computer, the printer becomes an auxiliary device.
And so it is with the melodic figure dubbed the Auxiliary. We hear its main note, a chord tone, two times: once at the beginning, then again at the end. The add-on note – the auxiliary portion of the figure – is an upper or lower neighbor note.
“Silent Night,” by Franz Xavier Gruber As far as “extending the capabilities” of the chord tone we turn into an auxiliary, take a moment to try to imagine the melodies below with repeated notes rather than the auxiliary tones the composers heard fit to include.
“Bad Romance,” by Lady Gaga
“Toreador Song,” by Georges Bizet
the Arpeggio
To create an arpeggio, we perform the notes of a chord one at a time rather than simultaneously.
Groups of notes written first as a chord, then an arpeggio
Now there’s no rule that says we must begin at the bottom and run through the notes in order or the top and cascade down. In fact, there are many different patterns you can make with nothing but chord tones. And that’s why we have so many types of arpeggio figures. But when we do perform the notes of a chord in order without changing direction, we get the simplest of all the arpeggios, the Arpeggio.
“Ring of Fire,” by Johnny Cash
“Sesame Street,” by Franz Xavier Gruber
“On the Beautiful Blue Danube,” by Johann Strauss Jr.
the Run
The word “run” is already in use in music. It either refers to a long scale or a somewhat fancier bit of melodic fluster (sometimes called a “riff.”) At FiguringOutMelody.com, the melodic figure we call the Run is exactly four notes long, and those notes always form a scale.
Of the many ways to use a Run, one easily comes out ahead of the rest. The Run often paints in broad or medium-long strokes. Sometimes these gestures join together to cover a large amount of registral space (as in “Penny Lane”). Other times, they don’t move very far but sway over a secure foundation (as in “As Time Goes By”) But Runs can also have a far nimbler side as we hear in “Wachet Auf.”
“As Time Goes By,” by H. Hupfeld
“Overkill,” by Colin Hay
“Wachet Auf, Ruft Uns Die Stimme,” by J.S. Bach
the Trill/Oscillator
Here’s a case where we have two very similar figures that count as one. (The other instance is the Parkour figures.)
The Trill. Outside of FOM, a trill is a melodic embellishment produced by rapidly alternating two notes a step or semitone apart. And the term trill also applies to the way that speakers of certain languages roll their R’s (always with great gusto). We include it as a melodic figure because so many melodies use a slowed-down version of the alternating stepwise action.
The Oscillator. When we say that something oscillates, we mean that it swings back and forth in a steady motion. If you hope to cool an entire room with a small fan, get one that oscillates. The difference between a Trill and an Oscillator is that every other note in a Trill is a neighbor note, while every other note in an Oscillator is another chord tone. The three samples here show two possible effects of the Trill. “A Modern Major General” uses the alternating notes to create interest during what is essentially a rap. The Trill figure in “Iron Man” resembles a true embellishment, though of course, slower. The third excerpt is an example of an Oscillator.
“A Modern Major General,” by Gilbert & Sullivan, with new lyrics by Randy Rainbow
“Iron Man,” by Black Sabbath
“Over the Rainbow,” by Harold Arlen
the Arc
There are a lot of different types of arpeggio figures. If you hope to keep them straight, watch for two things. First, each type of arpeggio figure has a unique shape. (The one we’re looking at now, is shaped like an arch.) Second, that shape results from calculating the direction of each leap. To produce an Arch, we leap twice in one direction and once in the opposite direction. Or once in one direction, then change direction for the last two leaps. The size of the leaps doesn’t matter, though when all the leaps are roughly the same size (as in the first two figures), we get a more balanced arch. By far, most arch figures equally-proportioned leaps, as reflected in the excerpts below.
“I’ll Fly Away,” by Albert E. Brumley “Royals,” by Lourde “Surprise Symphony,” by Franz Joseph Haydn
the 3NP
3PN stands for a “3-Note Pentatonic” scale. Or more accurately, a 3-note slice of a pentatonic scale, because as you probably know, pentatonic scales (in either their major or minor versions) contain five notes, not three. Notice that the pentatonic scale is a little wonky, what with its odd gaps every few notes. (Most “scales” move by step.) We can divide a pentatonic scale into five different 3-note groups. When we do, four of those groups include one of the gaps illustrated above. Note the similarities between the 3NP and its more symmetrical cousin, the 3NS (3-Note Scale). Whereas the 3-Note Scale always spans a third from first to last note, the 3NP always spans a 4th.
“Youngblood,” by 5 Seconds of Summer “La Donna È Mobile,” from Rigoletto by Giuseppe Verdi “Girl from Ipanema,” by Antonio Carlos Jobim
the Pivot
To pivot means to swivel or turn; to change direction. Picture a footballer using fancy footwork to drive the ball toward the goal. Don’t just “picture it.” Try to feel its kinetic momentum: moving one direction, then darting off in the opposite direction.
"Up Where We Belong" uses Pivot figures to get us to feel we are at the upper limits of what is possible.
“Up Where We Belong,” by Will Jennings, Buffy Sainte-Marie, and Jack Nitzsche
Don't miss the irony as Billy Joel sets the word "honesty" to an evasive melodic gesture.
“Honesty,” by Billy Joel
It's hard to express melancholy without sounding sentimental. Yet Rachmaninov pulls it off here by starting each Pivot figure as a strong dissonance.
“Adagio,” from Symphony #2 in E minor, by Sergei Rachmaninov
Little Holy Phillip
Nature abhors a vacuum. So does melody.
Any figure that ends opens up a gap (especially a leap of a third) invites the next note to fill up the little hole. So in the example below, versions A and B show the most predictable outcome for a melodic figure ending with a small leap. Versions C and D show how this same 3-note link can occur within one figure—namely, the “Little Holy Phillip” (L.H.P.)
So, about the name. A main principle in melodic figuration is that we make melody by connecting figures together. The end of one figure with the beginning of the next.
Now imagine that we could take a stop-frame video of the melodic motion between figures. Wouldn’t that help explain why some melodies feel continuous and others don’t?
THWANK! Stop imagining. We CAN INDEED observe the ways that figures link up, and no special equipment is required. Just track the steps and leaps to discover us all we need to know.
“Imagine,” by John Lennon
“Harry Potter Theme,” by John Williams
“Symphony No.8” II, by Ludwig van Beethoven
the Return
The Return figure gets its name from its proclivity to return to its starting note, as shown in the example below.
Outcome A below shows the most predictable destination of the Return figure: note #1 = note #5 (with note 5 being the first note of the next figure).
Outcome B shows another (less-) predictable path: note #5 = note #3. In other words, using this second option, the figure “returns” to the “middle” note, counting note #3 as “home.”
In the first two melodies below, the Return takes the most predictable outcomeas described above (outcome A). But in the third exceprt, the Strauss melody, we the Return doesn’t return. It LEAPS! The Return is one of many figures that is sometimes used for its smooth-as-silk behavior, and other times—when its natural connection is broken—to add a bit of complexity.
“Senorita,” by Shawn Mendez
“Bohemian Rhapsody,” by Freddie Mercury
“Voices of Spring,” by Johann Strauss, Jr.
the Crazy Driver
While the names of most melodic figures serve as mnemonic devices, “Crazy Driver” one is a contender for the most quirky. How can a melodic figure act like a Crazy Driver? Here's an illustration.
The designation “crazy” has absolutely nothing to do with how this figure sounds. There’s hardly a better choice for making smooth, gentle waves, as in the first two examples below. The third example shows quite a different sound, using the Crazy Driver as an ornate pickup to kick off a bit of syncopation.
“Joshua Fit the Battle of Jericho,” a Negro Spiritual “Every Breath You Take,” by Sting
“Minuet” from the String Quintet in E Major by Luigi Boccherini
the Little Dipper
The bulk of this figure is an arpeggio. The “plus” note is a passing tone or neighbor note, most often added at the end to make a smooth bridge to the upcoming note or figure (though occasionally, the non-chord tone can come at the front).
“Come Sail Away,” by Styx (Dennis DeYoung)
“Ring, Ring the Banjo,” by Stephen Foster
“Morning” from Peer Gynt, by Edvard Grieg
the Parkour
The term “Parkour” comes from the French word “parcours,” meaning “the way through,” or “the path.” If you take this to imply “moving along a logical path to find the quickest way from point A to point B,” you’re missing a key element of Parkour the sport. The Parkour practitioner intentionally looks for obstacles to jump, bounce, or scoot over, around, or under. And those who use the barriers to execute the flashiest and most difficult stunts earn greatest respect among their peers.
Melody doesn’t always take the most logical route from point A to point B, either. We can sense a strong gymnastic spirit in the two versions of the Parkour figures illustrated below. In each case, the first and third notes are always chord tones, and there’s a clear and direct route between them. That direct route is indicated by a shadowed notehead.
As you study the Bounce and the Pounce, don’t just try to memorize the formulas. No, no, no! Instead, picture yourself crouching and leaping, or leaping then shuffling your feet to regain your balance.
“My Favorite Things,” by Rogers & Hammerstein
“I Love You,” by Billie Eilish
“Triumphal March,”from Aida, by Giuseppe Verdi
the Vault
The Vault has two things in common with the two Parkour figures (the Bounce and the Pounce) 1. It’s a 3-note figure that takes an indirect route between the two outer notes, typically chord tones.* and 2. It contains a step and a leap, though not always in that order. The main difference from the Parkour figures (the Bounce and the Pounce) is that the Vault’s step lies inside the outer notes of the figure.
“Hush, Little Baby,” by Carolina folk song
“The Swan,” by Camille Saint-Saens
“Maria,” from West Side Story by Leonard Bernstein
*At least the outside notes are usually two chord tones. Remember, with figuration, we focus on shape, which means that sometimes, chord tones and non-chord tones can get redistributed.
the Roll
The Roll has two component parts: a 3-Note Scale plus a leap of a 3rd in the opposite direction to the 3-Note Scale. The result is a figure where the first and last note of the Run always match, whether the 3-Note Scale comes at the beginning or end of the figure.
“Hava Nagila,” an Hassidic folk tune
“Stand By Me,” by Ben E. King, Jerry Lieber, and Mike Stoller
“The Cancan,” from Orpheus in the Underworld, by Jacques Offenbach
the Double Neighbor
The Double Neighbor figure gets its name from tabulating the number of non-chord tones present. We hear one “main note”—a chord tone—twice: at the beginning and the end.
The two notes in the middle are both neighbor notes—one higher than the chord tone; one lower. This creates a little “illegal” hole in the middle. Why is it illegal? Because one of the primary rules in melody forbids leaping between non-chord tones. But here is an immensely popular figure that does just that! Perhaps this is why the Double Neighbor figure is one of the only patterns that is already universally recognized as a melodic figure? Theorists figured they’d better proactively name one of the only acceptable exceptions to one of their staunchest rules.
“Mona Lisa,” by Nat King Cole
“If I Can’t Have You,” by Shawn Mendes
“Waltz” from the Swan Lake Ballet by Pyotr Il’yich Tchaikovsky
the Double Third
The Double 3rd figure gets its name from the way it melodicizes a common method for harmonizing a simple scale in thirds. But rather than playing the thirds simultaneously, they are stretched out in time.
“Invention #1,” by Johann Sebastian Bach
“Cherish,” by Terry Kirkman
“Sidewalks,” by The Weekend
the Pendulum
The pendulum has two notes that move (or “swing”) by step as if swinging from a middle “fixed” note.
“Norwegian Wood,” by Lennon & McCartney
“Eastside,” by Benny Blanco, Halsey, and Khalid Robinson
“Juliet’s Waltz,” by Charles Gounod
the Leaping Scale
The Leaping Scale is a 4-note figure made from two elements: a 3-Note Scale plus a leap to a different chord tone. (if the isolated chord tone matched the first note of the figure it would be a Roll.) Either the scale or the leap can come first. The leap can be small or large. And the direction of the leap can match the direction of the scale or contradict it.
Two factors make the Leaping Scale harmonically vivid. First, the outer notes of the 3-Note Scale are chord tones. And second, the leap occurs between two chord tones. Typically, this means that each Leaping Scale contains a root, third, and fifth.
“Old Town Road,” by Lil’ Naz
“Prelude,” from Suite #2, for unaccompanied ‘cello by J.S. Bach, bars 26-31
“The Raiders March,” by John Williams
the Leaping Auxiliary
The color-coding on the table of 24 common melodic figures shows three main categories of figures: scale, neighbor, and arpeggio. But as you look and listen closely to each of the 24 figures, you’ll hear some scale figures that include one or more leaps; You’ll notice that at least one neighbor figure contains a 3-note scale; And you’ll discover a fair bit of neighbor motion in figures that are mostly arpeggios.
In short, many of the melodic figures on the table are hybrids. But because hybridism is so rampant, there’s not much point in treating it as anything special.
So how do we decide whether to put a melodic figure in one category or another? There are two things to look for. (1) Majority rules. Is most of the figure a scale, neighbor, or arpeggio? and (2) Behavior. Does the figure act as a scale, neighbor, or arpeggio?
The Leaping Auxiliary (L.Aux.) is 3/4 neighbor figure, plus a chordal leap. The auxiliary or the leap may come first or last. The leap can be in any direction relative to the auxiliary. Here are but a few possible combinations.
“Breakdown,” by Tom Petty
“Sittin’ on the Dock of the Bay,” by Otis Redding
“Pavane,” by Gabriel Fauré
the Pendulum Auxiliary
The Pendulum Auxiliary is an amalgamation of two 3-note figures: the Auxiliary and the Pendulum.
“What’s Goin’ On,” by Marvin Gaye, Al Cleveland, and Renaldo Benson
“Hold Me Now,” by Tom Bailey, Alannah Curie, and Joe Leeway
“The Hallelujah Chorus,” by George Frideric Handel
the Funnel
The Funnel offers some of the most convincing evidence that composers imagine shapes as we compose. How else can we explain the ever-narrowing series of leaps that make up this figure? Perhaps as a backward extension of the Little Holy Philip? Keep that in mind as you listen to “Someday My Prince Will Come,” where the pattern stretches back even further.
We classify the Funnel as an arpeggio because it leaps until it runs out of room, not because it spells any particular harmony. In fact, the Funnel has the most ambiguous harmonic structure of all the figures, which is to say that it doesn’t fit into any particular harmony. Even if we find a way to separate chord tones from non-chord tones in one instance of the Funnel (and good luck with that!), it's not likely to work out the same way in other appearances.
“Someday My Prince Will Come,” by Larry Morey & Frank Churchill
“Dreams,” by Stevie Nicks
“Great is Thy Faithfulness,” by William Runan and Thomas Chisholm
the Cambiata
Most of the names for the 24 Universal Melodic Figures have a mnemonic function. The name tells you something about the figure that not only helps you remember it but use it. Not so with the Cambiata figure. The figure traces back to 17th-century Italy and derives its name from an Italian verb meaning “to change.” If it were clear to anyone what sort of change occurs within this figure, that might end up being helpful. But no such luck. I only use the name Cambiata because that’s what other people call it, which brings up an interesting point about figure names.
The Cambiata is one of two figures that use standardized names. The other figure is the Double Neighbor, which sometimes goes by the name “changing tone” (in English). Why do none of the other 22 melodic figures have names? Likely because they are so ubiquitous that nobody thinks they deserve special recognition.
The behavior that merits special recognition in the Cambiata (and also the Double Neighbor) has to do with the “hole” in the middle of each figure. Music theorists have never known how to explain how a figure that leaps to and from dissonant notes can sound so graceful. So they simply provide guidelines for how to handle it, never bothering to elaborate on the “broken rules.”
We won’t go into the strict guidelines for using the Cambiata in classical styles here. More important is that the attractiveness of this figure comes from the way it goes “too far” (passing its destination) before returning to the intended goal. It’s a routine we’ve encountered in the L.H.P. and the Double Neighbor.
“There Goes My Life,” by Kenny Chesney there-goes-my-life
“Cheek to Cheek,”by Irving Berlin
“The Washington Post March,”by John Phillip Sousa
the Zigzag
The Zigzag figure changes direction after every note, making it the most indirect way to arrange the notes of a single harmony. Now typically in figuration, the more times a melodic figure changes direction within itself, the more complicated it sounds and feels. This is certainly true of the other two figures that change direction after every note: the Double Neighbor and the Double Third. But for some reason, the Zigzag figure usually makes a melody sound more playful than elaborate.
“Your Smiling Face,” by James Taylor
“Trumpet Concerto in Eb Major,” III by Franz Joseph Haydn “Die, Die, Die,” by the Avett Brothers
Single Notes
In melodic figuration, we find only three ways to use single tones: [1] as a Pickup (P), [2] as a Long First Note (LFN), and [3] as a final tone, which we call a Terminus (T). THE PICKUP A pickup is a metrically weak note or notes that lead(s) into the first true downbeat of a melodic gesture or phrase. Pickups can range in length. Some pickups consist of but a single tone. It’s such pickups that we label “K,” especially when the pickup anticipates (pre-repeats) the upcoming note on the strong beat. “The Stars and Stripes Forever,” by by John Philip Sousa
When the pickup steps or leaps to its upcoming destination, we have a choice to either label it as a simple pickup (“K”) or as a melodic dyad, in ligature alignment. “My Bonnie Lies over the Ocean,” traditional Scottish folk song
THE LONG FIRST NOTE (LFN) A great many melodies don’t start off with a melodic figure or even a pickup. Instead, they begin by holding out or repeating a single tone that isn’t part of the melodic figure (or Terminus) that ensues thereafter. It’s this factor—not being fully integrated with the melodic figure that follows—and not length that makes an LFN and LFN. it-is-well-single-notes “Let’s Stay Together,” by Al Green
An LFN needn’t be held out to count as a long first note. “Money,” by Roger Waters
A song can have a pickup to a LFN. “I Walk the Line” contains all three types of single tones: a Pickup, a Long First Note, and a Terminus (which I explain next).That leaves only one actual melodic figure (the Roll) in this phrase. “I Walk the Line,” by Johnny Cash
THE TERMINUS A terminus is any note that ends a melodic gesture that is not part of the figure or dyad that precedes it. “It is Well With My Soul,” by Phillip Bliss
Stepwise Melodic Dyads
Among the nine possible melodic dyads: (1) Five melodic dyads move by step. (2) One type of dyad, “voice leading,” can move by step or leap. (3) Three melodic dyads move by leap.
These distinctions will serve as an outline for our brief introduction. Why do we need more detail to recognize (2-note) melodic dyads than (3- to 4-note) melodic figures? Try for yourself. Look at the first 6 dyads on the chart above. They all move by step. What’s to distinguish one from another?
So glad you asked!
STEPWISE DYADS
We use three factors to tell one stepwise dyad from another.
Harmony. One note will be a chord tone. The other note will be a non-chord tone. The fact that either can come first is why we have several designations. The reference point for stepwise dyads is always the consonant note: whether it comes first or last; whether it is accented or unaccented.
Metric placement. One note will be “accented”—metrically stronger—than the other note. So the question becomes: Does the first note of the dyad move “into” the second note? Or does the second note “spring out from” the first?
Direction. One note will be higher than the other—by one step (or half step). The question is: Does the dyad step up or step down?
1. The Appoggiatura (App) An accented dissonant note resolves downward by step, at least 93.2475% of the time.
“Yesterday,” by Paul McCartney
The very last appoggiatura in this next excerpt resolves upward.
“Allegro,” from Piano Sonata #13, K.333 by Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart
2. The Fall Normally, descending stepwise motion that starts on a strong beat creates an appoggiatura. But not when the first note is a chord tone. The Fall starts with an accented chord tone descends by step to an unaccented non-chord tone or b7th.
“Mellow Yellow,” by Donovan Leitch
3. The Doit (pronounced “doyt”): a stepwise lift AWAY FROM (after) an accented chord tone.
“September,” by Earth, Wind, and Fire
4. The Plop A unaccented stepwise fall TO (before) an accented chord tone, making the Plop a type of pickup.
“All I Have to Do is Dream,” by Boudleax Bryant
5. The Scoop (Sc) An unaccented stepwise pickup from below, making the Scoop a type of pickup.
“Get Back,” by Lennon & McCartney
VOICE LEADING
The term “voice leading” refers to how each “voice” or “part” in one chord moves smoothly (which is usually the goal) to its corresponding “voice” or “part” in the upcoming chord. Anyone who has studied traditional “part writing” in a music class will be familiar with S-A-T-B (soprano-alto-tenor-bass) exercises. Here are three chords voiced smoothly in S-A-T-B part writing.
What does this have to do with melody? Some melodic dyads result when the top voice of one chord moves to the top voice from a different chord. That means that both notes of the melodic dyad are consonant. This, above metric placement (whether or not both notes of the melodic dyad are accented, unaccented, or one of each) is the factor that qualifies a dyad as “voice leading.”
“Bye, Bye Love,” by Boudleaux and Felice Bryant
“Waltz of the Flowers” from The Nutcracker, by Pyotr Tchaikovsky
Leaping Melodic Dyads
We need but one factor to tell leaping dyads apart: the harmonic nature of the leap.
Traditional melodic practice has two buckets for separating harmonic leaps: consonant and dissonant. As far as dissonant leaps, melodic figuration treats them the same way as traditional practice. Leaps of a 7th or 9th, as well as all augmented or diminished leaps all end up in the dissonant bucket.
However, we split the consonant bucket into two compartments: (1) solid leaps (of a perfect interval) and (2) resonant leaps (of a major or minor interval). The designations “solid” and “resonant” describe the effects of such leaps. Once you hear the difference, you can’t unhear it.
1. The Solid Leap (SL) Perfect intervals—unison, fourth, fifth, and octave—have a grounded, open, and secure quality that contrasts with the sonorous, shimmering resonance of thirds and sixths. The term "perfect" reflects a blend of mathematical, philosophical, and theological ideas that evolved over centuries, but another fitting term for these intervals might be "solid." Their harmonic simplicity and lack of tension make them feel sturdy and stable, as if anchoring the music. This solidity is evident in genres like power rock, where chords often omit thirds, leaving only the root and fifth to create a raw, robust sound.
Another common place to hear solid intervals is in music that uses “horn calls,” though power rock and fanfares are hardly the only occasion for including something solid in a melody.
“London Symphony #104 in D,” I, by Frans Joseph Haydn
2. The Resonant Leap (RL) As mentioned previously, 3rds and 6ths have a more sonorous, gentle quality than 5ths or 8ves.
“Colonel Bogey March,” by Lieutenant F. J. Ricketts
"The Gambler" uses solid and resonant leaps to offer advice about playing poker. The first phrase urges, “If you get got good cards, stand your ground.” And the last two words of that phrase, "hold 'em," are sung over a solid leap. The second phrase admits, “You gotta know when to quit.” So the words "fold 'em" are sung over a resonant leap, emphasizing the don’t-sweat-it attitude toward letting go.
“The Gambler,” by Kenny Rogers
3. Dissonant Leap (DL) It’s amazing that songwriters find so many great ways to use supposedly “dissonant” leaps that are far more expressive than harsh.
“Somewhere,” by Leonard Bernstein
“Got to Get You Into My Life,” by Lennon & McCartney
SOME FINE PRINT
2-note pickup, or 3-note ligature? Some dyads are not really dyads. It’s best to think of 2-note pickups as part of a 3-note ligature figure. (Remember that ligature alignment puts the last note of a figure on the upcoming beat. We label it by putting a forward slash / after the figure label.) In other words, the 2-note pickup grabs the first note of the upcoming figure to make a 3-note figure that places its last note on a beat. Compare the two options in “What a Wonderful World.”
“What a Wonderful World,” by George David Weiss and Bob Thiele
Perforated melody You’ll notice that I’ve also marked version B above not as melodic dyads, but as melodic figures that get separated by rests. (Put them back together again and you’ll hear “Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star”.) This is an effective technique to remember; one of many that are possible by playing with single notes and melodic dyads.
Each of the 24 Universal Melodic Figures can appear in many different versions. For example, here are just a few ways we might encounter the 3-Note Scale.
To keep the table simple, the figures are written as prototypes—something much like the root position of a triad. Each figure on the table starts on the root of C major harmony, without rhythmic variation or repeated notes, with small rather than large leaps, and in ascending order (with one exception).
EXERCISE FOR EFFECT #6: EXPRESSIVE MISDIRECTION
If this rhythm template looks familiar, it’s because you already used it for exercise #2. With new instructions, you’ll produce a new melody—or at least a significant variation.
Engineer a hard connection between bars 3 & 4 or bars 4 & 5. Remember, to make a hard (expressive) connection, leap “away” from the 3-Note Scale. If your 3-Note Scale goes up, leap down. If your 3-Note Scale goes down, leap up.
If you’re feeling ambitious, write a second version that makes hard connections between bars 3 & 4 AND bars 4 & 5. Key: F Major. The first notes already establish the key so you are free to begin bar 3 as you wish
You have three 3-Note Scales to work with for each phrase. Arrange at least two of those 3-Note Scales to stretch out into a scale. Depending on how you connect to the other figure, your scale might be six, seven, or nine notes long.
Key: C major. Start with a 3-Note Scale that uses C-D-E or E-F-G (ascending or descending).
There are two phrases in this exercise. Both open in the same way. You’ll run three 3-note scales in an overlapping sequence. That means that the middle note of each 3-Note Scale becomes the first note of the following 3-Note Scale. Use the examples in the lesson as a model if you have trouble.
Notice the two single pickup notes. (One is a pickup to bar 3; the other to bar 7.) You can match the upcoming note, repeat the previous note, choose some new note, whatever. Experiment! And look for more lessons on pickup notes from FOM.
Just to be clear, in bar 3, you need to spread a 3-note scale across a 4-note rhythm. (You did something similar in exercise #1.) Make sure to try several options before locking into one.
Key: D minor. Start with a 3-Note Scale that uses D-E-F or F-G-A (ascending or descending).
Each phrase already starts with a 3-Note Scale. To create a “treadmill” effect, repeat the first 3-Note Scale several times in a row. How many times? That’s up to YOU! There are several great solutions. After you stop repeating the initial figure, find a compelling way to finish each phrase.
Choose one 3-Note Scale to use for bars 3-4. If your 3-Note Scale ascends in bar 3, make those same three notes descend in bar 4 (or vice-versa). You’ve made an “up & down 3-Note Scale pair.”
Now that you’ve established some “registral boundaries,” it’s time to break them!
At bar 5, start the 3-Note Scale on a note that was not one of the boundary notes in bars 3-4. (It can be a new note—a note that isn’t part of the up & down pair of 3-Note Scales. Or you can start on the middle note of your up & down pair of 3-Note Scales.)
The second phrase (starting in bar 9) works the same way as the first. It’s common for a second phrase to repeat all or most of the first. If you’d rather try something different, variations might include transposing the second phrase (most commonly up or down a step) or writing a new gesture for part or all of the second phrase.
Key: F Major. The first notes already establish the key so you are free to begin bar 3 as you wish.
Each exercise has “ghost notes” that indicate the rhythm for the 3-Note Scales you’ll compose. For example, this:
becomes this:
Begin each exercise with a 3-Note Scale that spans the Root & 3rd or the 3rd & 5th of the home chord of the key. After the first figure, feel free to start your 3-Note Scale on any note you wish. Use your ear. If a 3-Note Scale sounds harsh or wonky, replace it with one that sounds better. Precise (intentional) harmonic treatment is not necessary to make these exercises sound great.
Your 3-Note Scales can ascend or descend.
You can connect to the next 3-Note Scale by step or leap (though some exercises request a specific connection).
Keep working on each exercise until it sounds good enough to play for a fellow musician.
In the first melody you write, most of the rhythms have three notes, so you can just plug in a 3-Note Scale, and you’re good to go. But notice the two 7-note rhythms. You’ll have to repeat some notes within the 3-Note Scale. But which ones? Here are just a few common ways to spread a 3-Note Scale over this rhythm.
Key: G major. Start with a 3-Note Scale that uses G-A-B or B-C-D (ascending or descending).
Variation: Put the 3-note rhythms in the upper register and the 7-note rhythms in the lower register. Or vice-versa.
Now for this second melody, you have fewer 3-Note Scales to write. So why not compose at least three different solutions? Using a different strategy each time will make each one unique. Strategy? The variation for the previous exercise gives an excellent example of a strategy.
Key: D major. Start with a 3-Note Scale that uses D-E-F# or F#-G-A (ascending or descending).
3-Note Scale Exercises - General directions.
Each exercise has “ghost notes” that indicate the rhythm for the 3-Note Scales you’ll compose. For example, this: becomes this:
Begin each exercise with a 3-Note Scale that spans the Root & 3rd or the 3rd & 5th of the home chord of the key. After the first figure, feel free to start your 3-Note Scale on any note you wish. Use your ear. If a 3-Note Scale sounds harsh or wonky, replace it with one that sounds better. Precise (intentional) harmonic treatment is not necessary to make these exercises sound great.
Your 3-Note Scales can ascend or descend.
You can connect to the next 3-Note Scale by step or leap (though some exercises request a specific connection).
Keep working on each exercise until it sounds good enough to play for a fellow musician.
For a printable pdf of all the exercises click here.
For MIDI files (for use in a DAW or notation program) click here.
Here are three factors that combine to make the music reinforce the meaning of the words in the bridge of “Hard Days Night.”
1) Routine. Both 4-bar phrases use the same pair of 3-Note Scales (G-F#-E; E-F#-G) to set up the final note. The first time through, the phrase ends on F#, the inner note the 3-Note Scale. The F# feels comfortable and secure. But then the second phrase breaks this routine by landing on a foreign note.
2) Register. The note A is the highest in the melody, which as a general rule, flags it as a goal. But it feels it feels audaciously high here because it breaks the boundary set TWICE by G: once as the “ceiling” of the opening gesture of the phrase, and again as the top note in the up & down pair of 3-Note Scales.
3) Rhythm. Hear the overt delay before the word “tight.”
I wouldn’t be a genuine Beatles nerd if I didn’t pull up the song “Piggies” at this point. The main figure in “Piggies” is not the 3-Note Scale, but the Roll. The Roll is a 4-note figure built on 3-Note Scale chassis. The 4th note returns to (or restates) the first note.
“Piggies,”by George Harrison
To me, moving (transposing) each Roll figure down a step doesn’t create the same “confined space” effect that the up & down 3-Note Scale pairs do. I can’t yet put my finger on exactly why. How about you? What do you think?
a-little-help-from-my-friends-first-attempt
The purpose of this variation exercise is to give you a sense for “playing around” with 3-Note Scales, not to produce a masterpiece. “Playing” with melodic building blocks is an essential part of composing. If you’re not happy with many of the melodies you write, could it be because you haven’t yet learned to play? (I don’t mean to sound insulting, but what if I’m right? Let’s see how you feel at the end of the lesson?)
Keep the rhythm of the Beatles’ original song. Use nothing but 3-note scales to write two more variations, much the same as I did in the lesson.
[your first version]
[your second version]
A note for readers of the Figuring Out Melody eBook
My study of melodic figuration began over 30 years ago. Part of this involved finding, naming, and cataloging figures. As one might expect, that early work would likely need some revision at some point. Surprisingly, all of the categories and names I assigned figures in the eBook still apply, with some slight modifications. 1. My earliest estimate held at 21 figures until just recently. After more extensive archeology during the past two years, that number now stands at 24. The new total is the result of both additions and consolidations. 2. Arpeggio figures now have names. 3. The Similar Leap and Contrary Leap scale figures have been consolidated into one parent figure: the Leaping Scale. However, you will do well to use the original names alongside the parent name. 4. Similarly, the Quasi-dot and Back-kick auxiliary figures have been consolidated into one parent figure: the Leaping Auxiliary. 5. This last point doesn’t manifest in the Table of 24 Common Melodic Figures, but you will notice “unusual metric placements” as you peruse the examples. What do I mean by “unusual metric placements?” In the Figuring Out Melody eBook, all figures begin on a beat. The eBook deals primarily with instrumental music. While finding ways to apply my figuration techniques to vocal music, it became clear that all 24 figures sometimes begin before, on, or after a beat. The simplest way to explain how and why this is so is that lyrics form phrases that coincide with a figure shape.
If you are unclear about what a melodic figure is, I introduce them in other videos and blogs. In particular, you may wish to begin with these:
Here are some songs contained in the 24 melodic figures table
“Imagine” by John Lennon
“Blowin In the Wind,” by Bob Dylan
“Old Town Road,” by Lil’ Naz
“Harry Potter Theme,” “The Raiders March,” and the “Imperial March,” by John Williams
“There Goes My Life,” by Kenny Chesney
“Senorita” and “If I can’t Have You,” by Shawn Mendez
“Girl from Ipanema,” by Antonio Carlos Jobim
“Toreador Song” from Carmen, by Georges Bizet
“Ring of Fire,” by Johnny Cash
“Cool” by the Jonas Brothers
“Silent Night,” by Franz Xavier Gruber
“Bad Romance,” by Lady Gaga
“Can You Tell Me How to Get to Sesame Street,” by Joe Raposo
“My Favorite Things,” by Rogers & Hammerstein
“Joshua Fit the Battle of Jericho,” a traditional Negro spiritual
“I Love You,” by Billie Eilish
“Up Where We Belong,” by Will Jennings, Buffy Sainte-Marie, and Jack Nitzsche
“Penny Lane,” by Lennon & McCartney
“La Donna È Mobile” frim Rigoletto and the “Triumphal March” from Aida, by Giuseppe Verdi
“As Time Goes By,” by H. Hupfeld
“Every Breath You Take,” by Sting
“Hush, Little Baby,” a Carolina folk song
“I’ll Fly Away,” by Albert E. Brumley
“Royals,” by Lourde
“Youngblood,” by 5 Seconds of Summer
“Honesty,” by Billy Joel
“Bohemian Rhapsody” by Freddie Mercury
“Piano Concerto #3” and “Adagio,” from Symphony #2 in E minor, by Sergei Rachmaninoff
“On the Beautiful Blue Danube” and “Voices of Spring,” by Johann Strauss, Jr.
“Cello Suite #2, Prelude,” “Cello Suite #3, Allemande,” and “Wachet Auf” by J.S. Bach
“Sittin’ on the Dock of the Bay” by Smoky Robinson
“Breakdown,” by Tom Petty
“Pavane,” by Gabriel Fauré
“Knockin’ on Heaven’s Door,” by Bob Dylan
“Iron Man,” by Black Sabbath
“Sidewalks,” by The Weekend
“Boy,” by Charlie Puth
“Juliet’s Waltz,” by Charles Gounod
“Feeling Groovy,” by Paul Simon
“The Cancan” from Orpheus in the Underworld, by Jacques Offenbach
“Hava Nagila,” Hassidic folk tune
“Stand By Me,” by Ben E. King, Jerry Lieber, and Mike Stoller
“Mona Lisa,” by Nat King Cole
“Swan Lake Waltz,” by Pyotr Il’yich Tchaikovsky
“Your Smiling Face,” by James Taylor
“Die, Die, Die,” by Avett Brothers
“Morning” from “Peer Gynt, by Edvard Grieg
“Goodbye Yellow Brick Road,” Elton John
“Cheek to Cheek,” by Irving Berlin
“Washington Post March,” by John Phillip Sousa
“Someday My Prince Will Come,” by Larry Morey and Frank Churchill
“A Modern Major General,” by Gilbert & Sullivan
“This Old Man,” a children’s counting song
“Dreams,” by Stevie Nicks
“Surprise Symphony,” “Gypsy Rondo,” and “Trumpet Concerto in Eb Major,” by Frans Joseph Haydn
“Symphony #3,” “Symphony #6,” and “Symphony No.8,” by Ludwig van Beethoven
“Over the Rainbow,” by Harold Arlen
How deliberate are a composer’s figure choices?
People who can write great melodies possess an intuitive sense for melodic figures, the basic vocabulary of melody. They’re like master improvisers who seem to create endless, effortless streams of new ideas. (I checked, and it’s ok to secretly hate such people.) Here’s a little secret. The improviser’s endless, effortless streams of new ideas are hardly new! Master improvisers draw from pre-existing patterns and reassemble them. So do master songwriters and symphonic composers.
And remember, an unconscious choice is still a choice.
Now, if you cannot currently compose as well as you want to, I can tell you precisely what your #1 problem is. You’re not tapping into your underlying knowledge of the melodic vocabulary. Rather than working with the 24 common figures that everyone else uses, you construct each melody from scratch, writing one or two notes at a time. Not only is this a big waste of time and energy, but the melodic material you create in this way also doesn’t sound “musical.” (And that’s why you don’t like some of your original music.)
Now the good news. Learning the 24 common melodic figure patterns will uncover what lies buried way back in the recesses of your musical subconscious and bring it forward where you can use it. You’ll be able to use figures deliberately, which is fantastic when you get stuck or want to fix a humdrum melody. But even more importantly, it won’t take long for the figure patterns to become automatic responses – unconscious choices. In other words, you’ll work more like a master composer. You’ll rely on a richly-trained intuition most of the time, and shift into a more conscious mode as needed.
We offer:
blogs and videos on the materials and mechanics of melody.
the Figuring Out Melody eBook and Workbook (available for purchase).
the Practical Glossary of Melodic Terms [in development]
the Field Guide to Melodic Figures [in development].
links to articles, books, and websites about melody.
private coaching.
The Director of Figuring Out Melody is Professor David Fuentes. Dr. Fuentes brings over 30 years of teaching experience from institutions that include Berklee College of Music, the University of Iowa, Brandeis University, and Calvin University.
Fuentes left academia to devote full time to composing and taking Figuring Out Melody as far as possible. He composes music for the classical concert stage, theater and musical theater, television, art installations, popular music genres, and the church. A published author and speaker, Fuentes has written and spoken on film music, songwriting, musical theater, vocation and the arts, and the place of music in human flourishing.
You can find samples of his music and writing on his personal website: davidfuentesmusic.com, which also provides a longer bio.
Here is where we’re headed.
The Field Guide to Melodic Figures will begin to appear by summer of 2023, first for free, and eventually as part of a subscription service.
We plan to offer an online course in early 2024.
We plan to identify collaborators tin incorporate FOM with AI applications.
The FOM subscription service will include an online community for feedback and encouragement on each others’ melodies.
Watch for periodic blogs and videos on topics of interest, including spotlight studies of songs and artists of note. (Suggestions and requests welcome!)
