Using Color Music, we can actually see the pattern of consonant and dissonant intervals. And without a doubt, the connection between complementary colors and tritones is awesome. But we can see even more. For example, check out the gradation bar below. It highlights exactly what’s going on:

As the colors approach the red tonic (1), they have higher levels of red … while the colors that approach the green tritone (b5) have higher levels of green. Get it? The complementary colors illustrate opposite tritons. And, at the same time, the colors in between actually highlight the whole spectrum of intervals.

This pattern is even easier to see in a circular format. Again, the keys (or notes) that are closer to the tonic have higher levels of that color, while the more dissonant ones have increasingly higher levels of the dissonant tritone. Just like before, the connection between color and music is like magic!

To use an analogy, the tonic is like the life source … full of strong, consonant blood. But as you move in the direction of the dissonant tritone, it’s gradually bled dry. (Whoa.) Of course, this “red blood” analogy is convenient for describing the key of C, which happens to be red. But this same idea works for all 12 keys.

Another analogy is that the consonant tonic and its dissonant tritone are like the polar opposites of a single magnet. The more consonant keys are drawn to the tonic, while the more dissonant keys are repelled … gravitating toward the tritone. Which mean’s the keys/notes exactly in between—the major-sixth (A) and minor-third (Eb)—are neutralized, with equal allegiance to both extremes.

And … I could go on about the parallels with Star Wars, the force, and Luke Skywalker’s struggle to reconcile his affinity for Jedi principles and the temptation of turning to the dark side, in favor of some powerful paternal affection … but I won’t.

Anyway, you can see why I was geeking out with Ben, right? When we really looked at these patterns, it was amazing. And now, we can write better songs that sound good—much faster. So you really shouldn’t judge me, my friends. Because, if you’ve been following along, then you know it’s cool, too. (Happy songwriting!)

With Color Music, our spectrum of consonant and dissonant intervals starts to click. In the key of C, for example, we get a much better view of what this pattern is all about.

Of course, these colors may seem random at first. But as you look closer, some really cool stuff pops out. And I mean cool. The first is pretty obvious. Notice anything special about the red tonic (C) and its green tritone (Gb)?

Yep, the are complementary colors. Which happens to be a perfect analogy. In the world of color, complementary colors are complete opposites. And in the world of music, the tonic (1) and its tritone (b5) are complete opposites. So it only makes sense that these patterns overlap. (In fact, it’s even spooky cool.)

But then it gets even better. Because Color Music shows us so much more….

But the colors alone can’t do the job. Which is why we need the note shapes, too. In Color Music, the squares and circles play an equally important role. Like an unsung hero, this shape code totally supports the color code.

It’s simple, really. For example, imagine we got rid of the alternating shapes and used only 12 colors. While the colors look nice, they don’t really show us any useful patterns.

Without the alternating note shapes, it’s almost impossible to tell each note apart. And that means we can’t see any connections between the notes either. All we get is 12 colors that look an awful lot alike.

But when we use squares and circles, everything suddenly pops. In a flash, we immediately can see which note is which. There is no need for guesswork. We just have a clear view of 12 separate notes.

In fact, these shapes even speed up our thinking. By highlighting musical intervals, the squares and circles help us see how the notes relate. And they show us much more than the basic whole-steps and half-steps.

For example, if a certain tonic note happens to be a square, then we already know the scale degrees of the other note shapes. Those squares must be notes M2 … M3 … #4/b5 … b6 … and b7. Easy!

Likewise, the circle notes must be b2 … b3 … 4 … 5 … 6 … and 7. (And this works the same way with all square tonic notes.)

Of course, the reverse is also true when the tonic note is a circle. The circles must include the 1 … M2 … M3 … #4/b5 … b6 … and b7.

And the squares include b2 … b3 … 4 … 5 … 6 … and 7.

Just as we’d expect, the note shapes help us quickly see every interval and pattern. So no matter what we play, Color Music does the trick. Tirelessly working to help our eyes and minds run at full speed.

Looking at music through the letters and numbers is like wearing a pair of opaque glasses. If you can’t really see through the lenses, then what is the point?

Ahhh … but this is where Color Music comes in. Because it finally solves our problem. Like a pair of x-ray goggles, it cuts through the clutter and reveals the patterns that are really at play. And it does this by using a special pattern of colors.

Like music, colors are also cyclical. They aren’t linear like letters and numbers. Which means they actually follow the same repeating patterns of music. In fact, the connection is so seamless it’s sort of spooky.

Not only that, but Color Music also outperforms both letters and numbers in the jobs they were supposed to do. You might even say it’s a double whammy. Like the letters, each color shows us which note is which. And at the same time, the colors show us how the notes relate better than the numbers ever could. It’s an unfair competition.

Of course, I could go on about the benefits of Color Music. But I think you get my point. Numbers and letters are a mere band-aid on an age-old problem. Instead of helping musicians master their craft, they throw up a roadblock to creativity.

Color Music, on the other hand, gives us a clear solution. It follows the logic that “nature loves simplicity.” And it’s a powerful new way to see sound. Which means we can easily play scales, chords, and progressions … faster than ever before.

So finally, we have a choice. Slog through an outdated system from the dark ages … or truly master music at the speed of light. It’s your choice. Enjoy!

So, I’m kind of curious … what is your native language? These days, we have a lot of readers in different countries. Which means I’m guessing some of you speak English … or Spanish … or French … or German, Japanese, Dutch, Polish, Italian … or one of many other languages out there.

But the nice thing is that Color Music makes complete sense no matter what you speak. After all, music is a universal language … which means it works the same way for everybody. And of course, so does color.

Sure, we have different names for red, orange, yellow, green, and so on. But everybody everywhere knows exactly what each one means. I don’t care if you’re from China or Chile—we all can see the exact same patterns.

In fact, one of the main reasons Color Music is so powerful is that it easily breaks the language barrier. Because both color and music are so basic to life, the connection between them is easy to understand. As humans, our brains just “get it.”

(… continued from “Color Code, part 2“)

When we apply numbers to music, the poor fit becomes obvious. While the musical pattern repeats seamlessly, the number labels look choppy and awkward.

And it gets worse because letters have this same problem. Like the number line, the alphabet is also a linear pattern. So when musicians apply letters to music, we hit the same dead end. Again, these symbols can’t truly illustrate the cyclical pattern of music. So, combined, letters and numbers cannot lead to real understanding. As they say, two wrongs don’t make a right.

But what can we expect? After all, traditional symbols are just a crude, medieval system. So we get what we get, right? In fact, looking at music through these symbols is like wearing a pair of opaque glasses. If you can’t really see through the lenses, then what is the point?

The old, medieval system of notation was sloppy … at best. The reason, my friends, has to do with the difference between linear and cyclical patterns. (Yes, that sounds geeky and technical. But it actually makes a lot of sense.)

You see, music is really all about cyclical patterns. Or patterns that repeat and cycle over again and again. Think of any composition by Bach and you know what I mean. Swirling, cascading patterns that have no beginning and no end. Just limitless, fluid strands of music that weave in and out, clean and symmetrical. This cyclical nature is a hallmark of music.

We can actually see this pattern on a piano keyboard. It’s just the same 12 keys repeated from low notes on the left … to high notes on the right.

Because this pattern is cyclical, we can easily wrap these notes into a circle, like this:

See what I mean? Music is just a repeating pattern—plain and simple.

The trouble starts when we throw letters and numbers into the mix. Because—unlike musical notes—these symbols are linear. So they can add more confusion than clarity.

A perfect example is the basic number line. (It’s even called a “line,” which means it is linear.) From left to right, this pattern rises from very low numbers to very high numbers. It’s like a long railroad track—straight and rigid.

Of course, we can try to wrap these numbers into a circle, like we did with the piano keyboard pattern. But we get a very different result. And it’s definitely not a cyclical pattern. Instead, what we get is something like an ordinary clock.

We start at a low number (1) and then work our way up to a high number (12) … only to drop back down to a low number (1) again. It’s a weird and unnatural pattern. And when we apply these numbers to music, the poor fit becomes even more obvious. While the musical pattern repeats seamlessly, the number labels look choppy and awkward.

!!! Warning: Music nerdery ahead !!!

Okay, so I’ve already said that traditional notation is confusing. And that standard music symbols are too complicated. But the truth is, there’s even more to it. Because the letters and numbers musicians use aren’t just inconvenient—they are fundamentally flawed. And that’s why students continue to struggle.

In fact, letter and number symbols have haunted musicians since the Middle Ages, when a few monks started using them as a way to  “see” music. Since sound was invisible, these little labels seemed like a good solution to a nagging problem. The letters were used to describe each note … while the numbers explained the relationships between notes.

At the time, those monks were pretty proud of themselves. And everybody assumed this fancy system did the trick. Yet modern students still get confused and discouraged. Why? Because the old, medieval solution was sloppy … at best.

The reason, my friends, has to do with the difference between linear and cyclical patterns. (Yes, that sounds geeky and technical. But it actually makes a lot of sense….)

The key to learning music is to understand note patterns first—then the language of a musician. That way, we can truly understand how to make music. No confusion or distractions with strange words or terminology. Just pure immersion into what music is really all about—simple patterns.

And what’s nice is these patterns are super simple. So tackling the language of music isn’t far behind. We just soak in the note patterns of scales, chords, and progressions, and then absorb the vocabulary of music. It’s a powerful one-two punch!

Of course, if Color Music is really as simple as it looks, then it should make sense to anyone, right? Even a kid. I mean, if you’ve been reading this blog for even a little while, then you know music ain’t rocket science. In reality, it’s just child’s play.

When you think about it, building a song is fairly easy. We just repeat a few parts … and organize each section into a nice, logical order. Usually, our songs will have a couple of different melodies—like a verse and  chorus—that keep things moving forward. And together, these sections create a whole that is greater than the sum of its parts.

In fact, music is structured like any other art form. We arrange songs in the same way a playwright organizes a play or an architect designs a building. The same basic elements of beginning, middle, and end are used to give a song meaning and shape.

In other words, the way we construct a song isn’t random. Usually, our music is built with a sense of balance between unity and variety. Which means our songs include both repetition and change.

Unity satisfies the listener’s need for stability … while variety provides something new and unexpected for more interest. Together, these two sides support each other—and make the other stand out. You ear will usually tell you what sounds good. Too much repetition or too much change can get boring. So musicians try to strike a balance between the two.

To see what I mean, imagine the classic yin yang symbol. With a strong balance of both unity and variety, our music can be like this—full of energy and life. But when we have an imbalance of parts, everything bleeds into one another. And all we end up with is a bland, gray circle. Too much unity or too much variety isn’t nearly as cool. Which is why all the best musicians keep listeners engaged with a good dose of structure and balance.

Anyway … so, now that we’ve been trained in some ancient Chinese philosophy(!), let’s move on, shall we? I mean, it’s good to know how music is structured and all. But it gets even better when we add some style to our songs….