When I first encountered intervals in my early days of learning guitar, I was presented with a table — just a dry list of numbers and terms. If you Google "intervals in music", that same lifeless table still pops up with a varying number of columns as the icing on the top.
The differing numbers of columns and varying terms only add to the confusion. Sure, a few of the technical terms see some use, but mostly in a simplified form and usually only among seasoned musicians.
Intervals are one of the most important topics in music. In fact, they are music.
That needs a tiny bit of correction.
Music comprises two elements, notes, and rhythm (sur and taal), and cannot 'come into play' unless both the elements are present.
Even a beam of sound has a rhythm to it!
We're talking about the notes (sur) side of the story here and taking rhythm for granted.
To emphasize the radical nature of 'intervals,' I may even modify and reiterate my previous statement: Music comprises two elements: intervals and rhythm.
Individual notes can't give context on their own, I'm dwelling into Alan Watts and his philophies now but it seems right 'in this context'!
One can only know with respect to others.
With all the context now I can guilt-free state that intervals are indeed 'music' itself.
The most real-life example — recall listening to faint music from far away or over a phone with a bad connection.
Regardless of the sound quality the listener 'feels' and that is due to intervals.
No matter the distance, the quality of the speaker, mic, or setup—music cuts through it all. If it reaches you, it resonates and stirs something inside.
Intervals — the reason is you...
All art forms have one thing in common and that is context.
Most people have seen those classic science experiments where a series of pictures, when rapidly flipped, creates the illusion of motion — like a flipbook animation or an early movie reel.
This effect works because of a phenomenon known as persistence of vision, where our brain briefly retains each image it sees. This residual image creates a seamless transition to the next, so instead of seeing individual still frames, we perceive continuous movement.
Similarly, when we hear sounds in quick succession, our brains don’t reset immediately, allowing us to experience a fluid blend of sounds or images rather than distinct pieces.
First note — the root note, therefore is of high essence.
The root, often called 'unison' in interval terms, isn’t just a starting point — it’s essential for defining the tonal center of a piece.
As long as you can identify the root, or the note with the strongest 'gravitational pull,' your musical choices — like deciding where to move on a guitar fretboard will sound cohesive.
This understanding is also key when figuring out chords by ear for any song.
Going back to Alan Watts — one can only know with respect to others... the philosophical interpretation of this is out of context here but the 'guitar' interpretation or rather 'music' interpretation is very strongly demonstrated in both the forms of Indian classical music.
'Sa' — the root note in Indian classical is assigned to whatever the starting point is and unlike Western music notes do not have absolute names.
This is among one of the biggest differences between the Western and Indian approaches. Well if we are talking about differences, it's worth mentioning that Indian classical never had any concept of harmony or chords — in simpler words, chords don't officially exist in Indian classical but I digress...
One might argue that this approach could feel tedious, especially for songs that change scales frequently. And yes, I feel you.
However, in Indian classical music, each piece is often considered its own scale, or raga, and it’s common practice to rehearse the scales and sounds without lyrics before performing the full piece.
This is because the emphasis is on mastering the execution of intervals and nuances within the raga, rather than just the lyrics. This foundational practice helps to deepen the performer’s command over the nuances of the raga.
In Western music, the names of scales and chords are consistent and straightforward. For example, in an A major scale or an A major chord, the name reflects both the root note (A) and the quality (major).
This naming convention clearly defines both the tonal center and the character of the scale or chord.
Perhaps the concept of chords in Indian music was lost in translation, as the tradition primarily relied on the guru-shishya (teacher-disciple) method of teaching rather than written notation or sight-reading.
This oral tradition emphasized direct transmission and personal guidance over written musical structures, which may have limited the formal development of chords as seen in Western music.
Bridging the gap between Indian and Western music is literally already making me feel lighter... phew!
I suppose it'll help musicians collaborate better.
To get back on track, the table I mentioned earlier — though seemingly lifeless — demonstrates the distances from a starting note to each of the 12 possible notes.
For example, starting from A, it shows the distances to A#, B, and so on, alongside the interval names that describe these distances.
Naming these intervals is helpful because songs are combinations of different intervals, and as musicians become more familiar with the emotional qualities of these sounds, their understanding of musicality and expression deepens.
However, simply knowing the names of intervals alone won’t improve musicality—it’s the experience within these sounds that truly matters.
Feeling intervals — and I emphasize feeling rather than simply learning them — can take years, even decades, for some people.
For others, however, it may come more naturally; it’s something I’ve observed in many of my students.
I remember one particular student who, although untrained, had a remarkable instinct for intervals. Her mother was deeply immersed in Indian classical music, and perhaps that exposure played a role.
Whether this ability was an inherited trait or just a coincidence, it highlighted how naturally some individuals connect with musical intervals.
There are interactive exercises available on apps and websites that play different interval sounds for practice, and while they can be helpful for beginners, I’m not sure they’re always that effective for progressing beyond the basics. Here's one for you guys!
For me, they didn’t quite bridge the gap to an intermediate level.
In my experience, the most effective way to practice intervals is by picking a song and working it out on the guitar.
This approach puts you face-to-face with various combinations of intervals as they appear naturally in music, challenging your ear with sequences that flow in real time.
In contrast, many interactive ear-training exercises play intervals one at a time, which can be too basic and disconnected from real-life musical situations.
I often explain intervals to my students by introducing the major scale, which most people recognize from the familiar sound of do-re-mi or sa-re-ga-ma.
Many beginners, even those new to music, can often figure out the major scale on a single string by ear. Because of its familiarity, the major scale can be a good starting point before diving into intervals, and this approach can help build a foundational ear for music.
Once you're comfortable with the major scale and can identify the notes, you might also come across ways to describe it, such as: R-W-W-H-W-W-W-H
or
R-T-T-S-T-T-T-S
Both of these formulas represent the intervals in a major scale, even though they use different terms.
It's helpful to remember that terms like 'half step, and 'semitone' are synonyms — just as 'whole step' and 'tone'.
Once you're comfortable with the major scale—both theoretically and practically, and you've trained your ear to recognize it—understanding intervals becomes a lot easier.
Here’s a question: how many unique notes are there in a major scale? The answer is seven, with the eighth note being the octave, or the same note as the starting pitch but one octave higher.
Knowing these seven notes lets you better communicate with other musicians. For example, in a jam session, you might hear, “Flatten the sixth for the solo,” or “Sharpen the fourth.”
This shorthand is often more practical and widely used than the technical interval names and is something we touched on earlier.
Think of it like this: the major scale is called "major" because it uses all the major intervals.
There are, however, a couple of exceptions: the fourth and fifth intervals. These are unique and often referred to as “perfect” rather than “major.”
Musically, they stand out in a way that makes them kind of like two narcissists, holding a special place among the other notes. We’ll dive into why that is later on.
So, we have the major scale, which is "major" because it consists mostly of major intervals, with two exceptions—the “narcissist” intervals, the fourth and fifth, which are called “perfect.”
Now, you can modify these intervals by flattening or sharpening them. When you flatten a note from the major scale, it becomes "minor."
For the perfect fifth, flattening doesn’t make it minor; instead, it's called “diminished.”
Perfect fourth can't be flattened, why?
Now, about sharp notes—if either of the two "perfect" intervals, the fourth or fifth, is raised (made sharp), it’s then called "augmented."
You might be wondering: why the special terminology? Why do these intervals get unique names? And what happens if other notes are sharpened? Those are all fair questions!
But for now, especially if you're just getting started (or even as an intermediate player), diving too deep into the “why” could be a bit of a detour.
Focus on getting familiar with these terms first—they’ll make more sense as you go.
For starters, the naming scheme is actually pretty straightforward, and you’ll get used to it quickly.
From there, dive into intervals practically — start creating simple melodies by ear. Begin with one-string melodies and then explore some basic four-chord songs.
All that being said, go learn the intervals table now.
Say Bye!
Anubhav Kulshreshtha
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