The Theremin

Posted in Music, Television with tags , , on November 9, 2017 by telescoper

The other day I was listening to the radio and heard a demonstration of someone playing the Theremin, an early example of an electronic instrument that can be played without touching it. Here’s the inventor Leon Theremin (who patented the device in 1928) showing what it can do:

I reckon it would be fun thing to show this to a group of physics students to ask them to figure out how the Theremin works! If you want  to know the answer to that question you can find it here. It’s a simple idea based on the idea that when the operator of the instrument movers his or her hands it changes the effective capacitance between them and the aerials.

Anyway, anyone who has ever watched the detective series Midsomer Murders will (perhaps unwittingly) have heard a Theremin. Here is how the theme tune  is played:

 

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Unprofessional Astronomy – arXiv:1711.02090

Posted in Harassment Bullying etc, The Universe and Stuff with tags , , , on November 8, 2017 by telescoper

It is essential to the way that science works that published results are challenged by independent scrutiny and by confrontation with rival analysis. New facts and new theoretical explanations are often established and previously existing misapprehensions eliminated through this form of critical dialogue. More often than not this process of claim and counter-claim is carried out in a collegiate spirit because all parties are mindful that this kind of debate is part and parcel of the scientific method. To behave otherwise as a scientist is unprofessional.

Regrettably, however, sometimes scientists overstep the mark and engage in behaviour which falls short of this expectation, particularly when it is by a senior scientist directed towards a junior colleague because then unnecessarily aggressive criticism can take on the mantle of bullying.

Today I saw a paper on the arXiv by Bouwens et al. that contains criticism of a previous paper by Livermore et al. (2017) (arXiv version here) which I think oversteps the mark in this way, especially because the lead author of the first paper, Rychard Bouwens, is an established (male) academic and the first author of the second, Rachael Livermore, is a (female) postdoctoral researcher.

Two footnotes from the Bouwens et al. paper suffice to give a flavour of the tone. This is footnote 8:

This is footnote 9:

There are a number of inappropriate aspects of these comments (and others made elsewhere in the paper). I’ll mention just two.

First, note the highlighted `claimed sample’ in Footnote 8. The only way I can read this phrase is as an insinuation that the Livermore et al. sample has somehow been fabricated. In other words, it is a snide allegation of research misconduct. This may not be what Bouwens et al intended to say, but that’s certainly how it reads. And the phrase `claimed sample’ appears more than once in their paper. If they don’t mean it that way then I strongly suggest they edit the paper to clarify, as it is potentially extremely defamatory.

Second, note that the Livermore et al. results are published in the Astrophysical Journal. That means that they have therefore passed peer review and are in the public domain. That does not mean that they cannot be challenged, of course, but note that in Footnote 8, Bouwens et al. refer to an article that is not public, not refereed and not even finished.  I don’t think this it is fair to include this in the current paper as the evidence to back up the criticism is simply not available. Note also the implication in Footnote 9 that the referee of this paper did not understand the issues presented in the paper, either.

Now I don’t know who (if anyone) is right about the luminosity function results in these papers. Luminosity function determinations are difficult, being prone to all kinds of selection biases and other problems. I am not going to side with either set of authors on the technicalities. I just think it’s extremely regrettable that Bouwens have adopted this tone towards another group of authors whom they should regard as colleagues. It is perfectly reasonable to criticise the work of another group in the literature, but in my experience this usually only happens after the two teams have discussed the issues in private and failed to reconcile their differences. That can and does happen, but here there does not seem to have been any attempt to sort this out amicably before going on the offensive. I find that deeply regrettable.

By the way, this is the AAS Policy on Professional and Ethical Standards for its journals (including the Astrophysical Journal, to which the Bouwens et al. paper has been submitted):

 

 

 

 

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Dead Lock

Posted in Biographical, Cardiff with tags , , on November 7, 2017 by telescoper

Well, as if I didn’t have enough to do these days, yesterday I managed to lock myself out of my house. Monday not being one of my regular work days (I work part-time at the moment), I had a leisurely morning in, eventually toddling around to the corner shop (Pontcanna Stores) to buy a newspaper and use the Post Office (which is inside the store) to send some correspondence overseas. 

I locked the front door as I left the house, which I always do. The door is fitted with a dead lock so it can be neither locked nor unlocked without using the key. That means I can’t lock myself out by leaving the key inside the house.

However, returning back to my house, I attempted to open the lock with my key only to find, to my dismay, that, although the cylinder within the lock seemed to rotate correctly, the door didn’t unlock. I tried dozens of times to no avail. I was stuck outside with no obvious way to get into the house. I didn’t have access to any tools, and didn’t have my phone either so I was at a loss to know what to do. Eventually I decided to return to the shop to ask if I could use a phone to call a locksmith. 

The shopkeeper (Mr Patel) would have none of it, arguing that a locksmith would cost me a fortune, and instead mobilised his handyman, Mike, who was working upstairs in the flat above the shop. Mike came with me to my house and, after quite a struggle, he managed to get the door open without having to damage the door or frame. I was mightily relieved. I might add that he also refused my offer of payment…

Looking at the lock it after removing it from its door it became obvious what had happened. Something had gone wrong with the mechanism inside the lock which meant that, although the key rotated the action, it didn’t engage the bolt fully which resulted in the bolt not being properly withdrawn from the rebate on the hinge. It’s an old lock so it was probably just internal wear and tear, and, the likelihood being that it would recur every time I used it, I had no choice but to remove the lock so I could try to find a replacement. There is another lock on the door, so it would be fairly secure until I fitted another dead lock, the old dead lock being dead.

Mike suggested I take it to the local hardware shop to find another lock that matched. I did so but he didn’t have an exact fit. Also I had – stupidly – omitted to take the plate from the front of the lock which had the name of the manufacturer written on it. He offered to sell me a new lock (c. £15) and fit it for £20. That seemed a pretty good deal, but he did suggest trying a specialist shop (not far from where I work). Putting a replacement lock into the space vacated by removal of the old one would be much easier than cutting a bigger hole in the door to hold a lock of different size. The man in Cardiff Lock and Safe Co Ltd managed to identify an identical lock but didn’t have one in stock. He ordered one that I can collect tomorrow, and I should be able to mend it then.

I’m posting this not so much because of the little crisis about the dead lock, but to say thanks to all those who helped me out yesterday. It makes a big difference living in a friendly community where people help each other out. Sadly, though, Mr Patel is selling up the business he has owned for over 30 years and it is being taken over by the Coop as yet another mini supermarket.

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The Black Square

Posted in Art with tags , , on November 6, 2017 by telescoper

Kazimir Malevich, The Black Square, 1915, oil on linen, 79.5 x 79.5 cm, Tretyakov Gallery, Moscow.

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How to help Cardiff’s homeless this Christmas

Posted in Uncategorized on November 5, 2017 by telescoper

If you live in Cardiff, please spare a thought for the many homeless people in.the city and consider donating something this Christmas.

admin's avatarWe Are Cardiff

Over the past couple of years, the incredible Project Shoebox has gathered hundreds of boxes from you generous people to gift during the cold winter months. This year Project Shoebox isn’t running again, HOWEVER, some charities that support homeless and vulnerable people are running their own collections. So you can still donate and support.

There’s plenty to show the number of homeless people in Cardiff and across the UK is increasing. The Wallich publish figures of the number of people they support on a monthly basis, and while this isn’t an absolute figure, you can see the rough trend.

You can find out more and donate money to the Wallich here: https://thewallich.com/donate/

If you would like to donate money to Women’s Aid, you can do so here: https://www.justgiving.com/cardiffwomensaid

You can also donate directly to The Huggard Centre: http://www.huggard.org.uk/how-you-can-help/donate/

Llamau are collecting gifts and care packages. Gifts can be dropped…

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Dublin, by Louis MacNeice

Posted in Poetry with tags on November 4, 2017 by telescoper

Grey brick upon brick,
Declamatory bronze
On sombre pedestals –
O’Connell, Grattan, Moore –
And the brewery tugs and the swans
On the balustraded stream
And the bare bones of a fanlight
Over a hungry door
And the air soft on the cheek
And porter running from the taps
With a head of yellow cream
And Nelson on his pillar
Watching his world collapse.

This never was my town,
I was not born or bred
Nor schooled here and she will not
Have me alive or dead
But yet she holds my mind
With her seedy elegance,
With her gentle veils of rain
And all her ghosts that walk
And all that hide behind
Her Georgian facades –
The catcalls and the pain,
The glamour of her squalor,
The bravado of her talk.

The lights jig in the river
With a concertina movement
And the sun comes up in the morning
Like barley-sugar on the water
And the mist on the Wicklow hills
Is close, as close
As the peasantry were to the landlord,
As the Irish to the Anglo-Irish,
As the killer is close one moment
To the man he kills,
Or as the moment itself
Is close to the next moment.

She is not an Irish town
And she is not English,
Historic with guns and vermin
And the cold renown
Of a fragment of Church latin,
Of an oratorical phrase.
But oh the days are soft,
Soft enough to forget
The lesson better learnt,
The bullet on the wet
Streets, the crooked deal,
The steel behind the laugh,
The Four Courts burnt.

Fort of the Dane,
Garrison of the Saxon,
Augustan capital
Of a Gaelic nation,
Appropriating all
The alien brought,
You give me time for thought
And by a juggler’s trick
You poise the toppling hour –
O greyness run to flower,
Grey stone, grey water,
And brick upon grey brick.

by Louis MacNeice (1907-1963)

 

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The Emerson Quartet

Posted in Biographical, Music with tags , , , , , on November 3, 2017 by telescoper

It’s been an enjoyably rich week for me in terms of cultural pursuits, rounded off in fine style last night with a visit to the Royal Welsh College of Music and Drama for a concert by the Emerson String Quartet of music by Purcell, Britten and Beethoven. On Wednesday I made the mistake of going to a concert without having had any food, so this time I sampled the bar menu at the College before the performance. Very nice fish and chips, with very prompt service.

The first half of the concert consisted of three pieces by Henry Purcell, the Chacony in G Minor and two Fantazias (in D Minor and G Major, respectively). The Chacony (from the Spanish `Chacona’ via the French `Chaconne’) is a set of variations over a ground bass, while the Fantazias have a much freer structure with the instruments often mimicking vocal lines. This was followed by the String Quartet No. 2 in C by Benjamin Britten, the last movement of which includes a Chacony as a deliberate homage to Purcell (whose music Britten admired enormously). It was actually written to commemorate Purcell’s death (on 21st November 1695). Overall, though, this is more reminiscent of the approach of Britten’s friend Dmitri Shostakovich. It is full of jagged figures emerging from a background that alternates between dark and frenetic.

After the interval wine break, it was time for one of my favourite pieces in all music, the sublime String Quartet No. 15 (in A minor) by Ludwig van Beethoven (Opus 132). I’ve loved this piece for many years and it became even more special to me five years or so ago when I was recovering from illness. Until last night, though, I had never heard it live.

This is a long work, taking over 40 minutes to perform, dominated by the central third movement, which is headed with the words

Heiliger Dankgesang eines Genesenen an die Gottheit, in der lydischen Tonart

I take the liberty of translating the first two words, using my schoolboy German, as “A Holy Song of Thanksgiving”; Beethoven wrote the piece after recovering from a very serious illness which he had feared might prove fatal. The movement begins in a mood of quiet humility but slowly develops into a sense of hope and deeply felt joy. The most remarkable  thing about this movement to me, though,  is that the music seems to possess the same restorative powers that it was written to celebrate. I certainly found it extremely therapeutic when I was unwell.

Hearing the whole piece live has a much greater impact than hearing one movement on record, and I have to admit I found last night’s performance quite overwhelming. Judging by the rapturous applause from the audience in the Dora Stoutzker Hall, I think a great many people realised that they had just heard something very special.

Music from three very different periods, by three very different periods, all played beautifully with great passion and imagination. What more could you ask for?

Well, we did get something extra – an encore in the form of one of Dvorak’s Cypresses (No. 7 to be precise):

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The Hallé at St David’s

Posted in Biographical, Music with tags , , , , , , on November 2, 2017 by telescoper

Last night, as part of an ongoing effort to enjoy as much culture as I can while I still have the chance, I went to St David’s Hall in Cardiff for a concert of music by Ravel, Debussy and Mussorgsky given by the Hallé Orchestra under the direction of Sir Mark Elder. It was a wonderful programme of music, performed with all the colour and verve and professionalism you’d expect from the Hallé.

First up we had the Rapsodie Espagnole, one of Ravel’s first compositions for the full orchestra (although in the original version was for two pianos, he orchestrated it a year after that version was published). For a piece of only about 15 minutes duration its four movements are full of changes of mood, tempo and tonality, which makes it a great piece to warm up both orchestra and audience.

Following that, we had the gorgeous Première Rhapsodie for orchestra and clarinet soloist by Claude Debussy. Written just a couple of years after the Ravel, and inhabiting a similarly impressionistic sound world, this was originally as a test piece for clarinettists at the Paris Conservatoire. The solo part was played with great agility and feeling by young Spanish musician Sergio Castello López. I’d never noticed before how similar the way the clarinet ends this piece is to the opening statement of Gershwin’s Rhapsody in Blue, written about 14 years later…

And then it was time for Ravel’s little inspiration, Boléro, which is easily his most famous composition despite the fact that, as Ravel himself put it, `it has no music in it’. What he meant by that is that it doesn’t have any variation or thematic development or invention, but was written deliberately as an experiment to see how far he could get in writing a work that was entirely based on rhythm and repetition. The result was a smash hit and earned him a very great deal of money, but he grew to resent the fact that it was so much more popular than the other works he himself thought were much better. I know some people who hate this piece, but I think it’s great fun and always enjoy hearing it. Last night was no exception.

The composition of Boléro is so simple that even a non-musician like me can play it. It’s basically written in a slow 3/4 time signature on which is superimposed the following figure:

The second part is basically a repeat of the first, with the last two eighth notes replaced with triplet. The whole pattern consists of 24 notes. I once tried to count how many times it is repeated in a performance of Boléro, but gave up when I got to 100. I think it must be over 200 times.  This figure is introduced first on a single snare drum, which carries on playing it for the duration, i.e. for about 15 minutes in total. As the piece develops the same pattern is picked up by various other instruments, either alone in combination. A second snare drum joins in too. The key to the piece is to keep this all very strictly in tempo, as the piece gradually gets louder.

As I’ve mentioned before on this blog, my Father was a (jazz) drummer. I remember once borrowing his snare drum and attempting to play along with a recording of Boléro. The pattern shown above is not that hard to play in itself, but it’s not as easy as you probably think to keep in tempo as you play it louder and louder. At the start it’s fine: you begin by tapping the sticks on the skin of the drum very close to the rim. To increase the volume you gradually move the point of impact closer to the centre of the drum, which naturally makes it louder. However, to get louder still you have to increase the distance the sticks move, and that makes it tougher to keep to tempo. Playing along at home is one thing, but playing the percussionist playing this in an orchestra must leave the drummer feeling very exposed. One mistake, any speeding up or slowing down, and the whole performance will be ruined.  Percussionists very often have little to do for long passages in an orchestral work, but this takes it to the opposite extreme. It requires constant concentration, but no variation or embellishment is allowed.  I suppose professional musicians just get into the zone and don’t think about the possibility of screwing up. Last night, Principal Percussionist David Hext looked as relaxed as anyone I’ve ever seen starting this piece and seemed even to be enjoying it too, thoroughly deserving the warm applause he got at the end of the performance.

The bolero rhythm is just one element of the composition, of course. There is a melody, in two parts. The first simple and catchy, the second bluesier and a bit syncopated. Each part is played twice, passed around the instruments of the orchestra, first individually and then in combinations. Sometimes the melodic line is doubled, but there are no complicated harmonies and the piece stays in C major throughout, apart from a sudden change of key near the very end. The second part of the melody allows the musicians to release their inner jazz a bit, playing behind or across the beat to generate the feeling that the tune is trying to escape the confines of the incessant rhythm. As is the case in jazz, this sense of tension only works if the basic rhythm is kept strictly in tempo as the crescendo builds

The third element of the composition is the simplest of all, but I feel that it is very important in determining whether a performance of Boléro really rocks. That is a rhythmic pulse based on the three beats of the underlying 3/4. When they’re not playing the melody or shadowing the bolero pattern, the orchestra play this figure and it ends up being boomed out by the timpani in tremendous style but also as the piece progresses the stress shifts between the three beats as different instruments contribute.

I know it’s a familiar piece but I really enjoyed last night’s performance. I’ll also reiterate that as well as making a great sound, a full symphony orchestra playing during a piece like this is a tremendous thing to watch, especially with the percussion section giving it some good old-fashioned welly.

Anyway, after the ensuing wine break interval we resumed with Mussorgsky’s Pictures at an Exhibition (as orchestrated by that man Maurice Ravel).  I remember studying this in music lessons at school,as it was one of the teacher’s approved works. He never told us, however, that the `pictures’ concerned were not large-scale canvases but tiny drawings and design sketches done by one Victor Hartmann, whose sudden death led to the exhibition in question but also affected his friend Mussorgsky very deeply and inspired him to make a musical tribute based on the artwork displayed therein. Mussorgsky thus wrote the piano version which was then subsequently orchestrated by Maurice Ravel.

This is another extremely popular piece, also for good reason. It’s a set of ten movements linked by a `Promenade’ theme that represents the viewer walking around the exhibition (in different moods determined by the pictures). It ends with the most famous section, the magnificent Great Gate of Kiev which provided a suitable finale to a most enjoyable and varied evening of music.

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The Cherry Orchard

Posted in Theatre with tags , , , , , , , , on November 1, 2017 by telescoper

Last night I found a way of avoiding the trick-or-treaters by spending the evening at the Sherman Theatre in Cardiff (which is just round the corner from my place of work) for a performance of an updated and adapted version of Anton Chekhov’s last play, The Cherry Orchard.

Simon Armstrong (Gabriel) with Hedydd Dylan (Valerie)

Picture credit here.

Chekhov’s masterpiece was written in 1903 at a time of social and economic upheaval in Russia, as the power and wealth of the old aristocracy faded and the abolition of serfdom gave rise to a new middle class. This remarkably compelling production translates basically the story to rural West Wales (Pembrokeshire, to be precise) in the era of the Thatcher government (1982 to be precise). The overall structure of the original is kept, but the number of characters is reduced (by eliminating and merging some roles) and the text substantially changed. What emerges remains faithful to Chekhov’s intention to combine comedy with tragedy. This version is witty in a way that’s a bit gentler than the original, and is frequently extremely funny, but the undertone is always one of of impending loss and heartbreak. And it’s not just the sale of the orchard to pay off debts and the general decline of the aristocratic lifestyle that affects the family at the centre of the play, it’s also the tragic death of a young boy in the past that brings back memories that they have tried to forget and provides – appropriately enough for Hallowe’een – an element of a ghost story.

The plot revolves around the Mother, Rainey (cf. Madame Lyubov Andreievna Ranevskaya of the original), who returns to Bloomfield farm just as the orchard is about to sold off to pay the farm’s debts. In this production. Played by Denise Black, Rainey is a bitter, drunken woman with a capacity for cruelty to family and strangers alike. Gradually, though, we come to feel some sympathy for her as it becomes clear that beneath her acerbic exterior there is a deep sorrow (caused by the death of her son years previously). It’s an utterly convincing performance.

Other characters are engagingly drawn too. Richard Mylan is Ceri, an unemployed leather-clad `anarcho-socialist’ who forms a relationship with Rainey’s rather posh daughter, Anya (Morfydd Clark). Their romance provides a number of memorable comic moments. Gabriel (Simon Armstrong) the eccentric and clueless `uncle’, at one point proposes to the maid Dottie (Alexandria Riley) who is the most sensible character in the play and who gives him very short shrift. Matthew Bulgo is Lewis, a former ditch-digger, who hits on the idea to buy the orchard and chop down the trees so he can build houses on the land. The other character is Hedydd Dylan as Valerie (Rainey’s adopted daughter) who seems to be in charge of keeping the struggling farm going, and who is in a strange kind of relationship with Lewis whose nature is never really elucidated.

This a great production that manages to be extremely inventive at the same time as being very real, brought vividly to life by a great ensemble performance by the cast. Well done to everyone involved for a thoroughly superb night at the theatre!

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The Zurich Letters

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , on October 31, 2017 by telescoper

Just time for a quick post following up my previous piece on the Bullying Scandal at ETH Zurich.

As pointed out in a comment on that post, a letter of support for one of the named Professors (Marcella Carollo) has been signed by a number of astronomers, including some prominent senior professors. That letter can be found here (PDF).

A version of that letter which has been annotated by Chris Lintott to draw attention to some of its shortcomings can be found here. I won’t add much to Chris’s comments, but will mention that a dropout rate of 30% of students funded by the UK  Science and Technology Facilities Council would lead to financial penalties on the institution responsible. Moreover, ETH Zurich is a prestigious institution with a highly selective admissions policy for postgraduate students and a high level of funding. It is not unreasonable to expect a high completion rate under these circumstances.

Other than that, the two main messages of the first letter seem to be (a) `some people did well so it must all be OK’ and (b) `the ends justify the means’. I can’t agree with either of these points. Reaction I have seen on social media to the letter have been overwhelmingly negative, to the extent that Prof. Bryan Gaensler has drafted an alternative letter, in support of the ETH Researchers, and is collecting signatures. You can find that letter here, where you can also find a list of more than 300 nearly 700 signatories across all walks of astronomical life. You can add your name to this letter at any time until 2359 UTC on Wednesday November 1st, after which the letter and list of signatories will then be delivered to the researchers affected by this sorry affair.

P.S. I’ll just mention that as well as attracting a very large number of visitors (hopefully not all of them lawyers), my original post on this matter is the first I have written to generate over a hundred comments. The previous record was 98.

UPDATE: There’s an item about the second letter here.

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