My two cents worth is that any real-world musical instrument design is an engineering problem with artistic elements. As an engineering problem, there are compromises that need to be done to ensure that the instrument is acoustically efficient enough for human playing, has the appropriate timbre as required for the instrument, is ergonomically constructed for human playing, is relatively easy to put together, and is of an affordable price point.In other news, I have started reading OpenStax College: Organisational Behaviour. I also went for a long walk about the neighbourhood, finding a park that I had never seen before despite living in the same apartment for more than thirty years. It has been an alright day I think.
There are also two competing aspects that we need to take into account---the makers, and the consumers. The makers want to make and sell flutes (maybe with a profit), while the consumers want to buy and use the flutes (hopefully getting the ``best'' for the cheapest). These two perspectives are competitive in nature, so at the risk of offending people, I will say that if the science of musical instrument making is kept sufficiently muddy and vague, the makers will have the competitive advantage here over the consumers, ergo it is better for makers if there is enough confusion about (in this case) whether material of the walls of the concert flute matters or not. The reason for this claim is that makers have more samples from the engineering design space (they make many, many flutes) compared to the consumers (they buy only a few flutes), and even if the science were actually that muddy and vague thanks to the interplay of many complex variables, the makers' empirical understanding is still light years ahead of the consumers, since "making mistakes in understanding and then correcting for them" is just a part of the R&D process of product development, compared to the consumer who only wants to buy that ``one flute for a life-time''.
Now, on to my perspective on the issues of the science.
Part of science, apart from all the testing methodology, is also about coming to a consensus on the terms that are used to describe various phenomena---it is the agreement of the hypothesis space that assists in defining the scientific problem that leads to the various hypotheses that can later be subjected to various methodologies for testing. Already I see terms like ``resonance'', ``bright'', and ``dark'' being bandied about with only the vaguest of consensus on what they actually mean; we also have not come to any consensus on to whom the quality of the flute sound should be measured (player versus audience). This is problematic because it makes the hypothesis space fuzzy enough that anyone who wants to deliberately confuse matters can wade in and throw enough shade to prove/disprove any point they so choose, and for those who are actively trying to have a proper discussion will find it hard to do so as well.
At some level, I think that part of the reason why some consumers (and scientists) are starting to ask harder questions and wanting quantification of various physical aspects of the modern concert flute is due to the heritage we get from Theobald Boehm. He basically ``open sourced'' his flute design, and it is from this design that many of our modern concert flute cousins come from. This heritage of sharing what works (with some empirical explanation) was further extended through Albert Cooper's ``open sourced'' Cooper scale. So in our common concert flute heritage, these types of ``open source'' sharing of empirical experiments on improving our favourite instrument has precedent.
And empirical experiments are just a first step towards a scientific explanation.
Then, does the ``scientific quantification'' degrade our music making on our favourite instrument? I don't think so---if any thing, a deeper understanding of how something affects (or does not affect) the produced tone (and quality) from the instrument actually empowers us as musicians, because it tells us more on how we can control our instrument to achieve our specific artistic goals. It, again at the risk of offending people, gives some control back to the consumer, who can now have a somewhat more objective way of evaluating the suitability of the various concert flutes available out there against the kind of sound that they are looking for in their next flute.
My final two cents on this awkward question of material and instrument is this personal observation: beyond a certain set of material parameters (like stiffness, hardness, and porosity) to contain the air column (that is really what we are controlling when we are playing the concert flute), the key difference in the concert flute that affects its timbre is its geometry. But geometry alone does not explain the timbre of the flute---the geometry only provides a guideline to what the flute is capable of generating, provided that the coupling between the acoustic system of the air column in the flute with that of the player has their impedence matched.
In more layman's terms, geometry is better controlled through workmanship, and the price of the material (to me) is a proxy on the amount of care being put into the workmanship. In the end, that geometry must match the way that I, the flute player, play the flute in order to be the best possible concert flute for me. This includes player-only tangibles like whether the body vibrates (I don't like that), or if there's some kind of high frequency harmonics in the timbre when I want it (I like that), or even if the flute is heavy enough to not wobble (I like that).
Sorry for the essay---these are the thoughts that have gone through my head a few years ago when I was looking towards getting my "final flute".
Here's to tomorrow being a good day also. Till the next update.
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