There is a interesting paper that states with analytical evidence, that popular modern musical scales are based on the divisions between the natural frequency shifts in human voice during conversational speech. This finding, it’s stated, is the reason why we relate to music so readily. It’s because, by simply putting notches in it at varying intervals and wrapping it in string, we managed to teach a piece of wood to speak with the emotional clarity of a human.
The neighbour’s cat, who only occasionally sparks inspiration for reverse engineering, was in the house, again, as per usual. If it’s voice could be analysed in much the same way as a human’s in the aforementioned research, it could be possible to take this information, these gaps in relative tonal frequency of speech, and create a scale to match a feline’s natural communicative response. A spark, a light bulb moment, a feline’s scale, capable of manipulating the tender black emotions of precious pretty kitties.
Excited with the findings and rather chuffed in the idea of making music which would resonate on a personal level with dear emotionally stunted Romeo the hard work was put in and the project was put into action. Until it was realised that when Romeo spoke, he was actually trying to mimic humans. Cats don’t really talk much in the wild and usually learn how to meow with their best human accent simply because it gets a human’s attention. Cats generally, much like the rest of us, like getting what they want and are willing to put on a funny voice to make it happen.
All the work done, all the hours wasted. It barely even resonates with Australian cats named Romeo who get about Brunswick a little too freely, but the horrible horrible racket created was still a breakthrough and surely worthy of a celebratory cuddle.