A tempo change can jolt you from familiar comforts to the unknown. Just as you found your footing in the rhythm of a project or your life, a subtle change can disrupt it without warning. Tempo changes aren’t all bad. They can signify a shift in status: offline, away, busy, available. Tempo changes can demonstrate emotional turns. Our heart beats vary based on external and internal stimuli—project deadlines, falling in love, real or imagined threats.
In my architectural practice, the tempo can vary from andante (76-108 BPM) to prestissimo (>200 BPM). These changes happen due to work load, deadlines, client requests, zoning changes, and so on. In our office we have a major deadline on Monday, one involving the schematic design and zoning analysis for eight multi-family affordable housing projects in Brooklyn.
The NYC zoning resolution changed recently, allowing our original four story buildings to become eight stories. Yay more housing! But it also required us to completely redesign of most of the sites. Four story buildings don’t need elevators—six story buildings do. It wasn’t a simple redesign. All units need to comply with ADA and HPD design guidelines. My typically stoic boss repeatedly shared how “nervous” he was about the team completing all of the work in time. There’s only three of us working on this big project, and one team member is brand new.
Thankfully, it looks like the redesigns are almost all worked out, and I am really proud of the work I did this week. I am hopeful that these projects will move forward, and I will have made a marginal impact on our local housing crisis. It wasn’t without a lot of stressful days toiling over layouts, requirements, and setbacks at my desk. My new pimples mark the tempo change. Prestissimo!
In day to day life, tempo changes can be unwelcome reminders that we’re subjects to the whims of the universe. In music, I can reclaim my tempo authority. In my music practice, tempo is crucial. Some songs don’t feel complete without the right BPM. Some songs need more than one tempo. A tempo change is warranted when the lyrics or melody call for a sudden shift. The first song on my record Hex Sign, follows this pattern.
“The Glacier” begins with the simple sound of wind, piano, guitar, and vocals. No beat is apparent until the sound of tap shoes emerges at 00:44 seconds. The lyrics describe a glacier cracking and melting in summertime its “cold, hard surface” resurfacing.
Then, at 01:50, you’re jolted into a fervent new world. The tap shoes are gone, the soft guitar now distorted—racing drums take you under. The tempo is uncomfortably fast, then slow, then fast again. Without your tempo bearings, you are forced to submit or switch the song off.
It is a song about falling in love. Really? Yeah.
"The Glacier" Bri Barte
I submerged a towel to see what it would do
It was heavy and slow, a glacier
Melting over time
In these days when summertime does not fall away
With its tan lines that linger
And hot, sweating bodies pray
To remain in the comfort bringer
The glacier cannot resist
Cracking in summer
I imagined myself drowning
Heavy beside you
Submitting with devotion
Suspended, I could see
How the sun, relentless
In her summer heat, softened you
Your cold, hard surface resurfaced
Under pressure
Submitting with salted-tears
I submerged further
Heavy and slow
At your mercy
At your mercy
At your mercy
At your mercy
At your mercy