Danger Mouse (producer Brian Burton) recorded a performance of Jay-Z’s The Black Album in his 2004 The Grey Album, which challenges traditional notions of individual authorship. He produced The Grey Album by taking an a cappella recording of Jay-Z’s The Black Album and remixing portions of The Beatles’ The White Album as the instrumental backing. Because a mashup is a combination of two or more recordings onto a single track, it can be difficult to decide what type of art the mashup actually is, or what its creator has really done in making it. The Grey Album differs from A+B mash-ups such as Smells Like Booty (which combines Nirvana’s Smells Like Teen Spirit with Destiny’s Child’s Bootylicious) in multiple ways. First, unlike A+B mash-ups, The Grey Album is unequal in its borrowing. The entirety of Jay-Z’s lyrics are preserved, while The Beatles’ music is cut up and reconfigured to fit the lyrics. Second, The Grey Album deliberately obscures the incongruity of its sources. The aim of the album is to reinforce or reinterpret the lyrics, not to use them for comedic effect, and as a result, this borrowing has more in common with art music techniques than with existing popular mash-ups. Because the lyrics are clearly the focus of the album, it is not an independent composition, but rather a performance of The Black Album. Burton’s creative process connects him to the larger tradition of musical borrowing as The Beatles’s music served as Burton’s interpretative tool for his performance of Jay-Z’s album.

Works: Danger Mouse: The Grey Album; Soulwax: Smells Like Booty (8-9); Anonymous: Oops... The Real Slim Shady Did It Again (9); Berio: Sinfonia (11); Greg Gillis/Girl Talk: Feed the Animals (11); John Oswald: Plunderphonic (12).

Sources: Destiny’s Child: Bootylicious (8-9); Nirvana: Smells like Teen Spirit (8-9); Eminem: The Real Slim Shady (9); Britney Spears: Oops! I Did It Again (9); Jay-Z: The Black Album (10-23); The Beatles: The White Album (10-23).

Index Classifications: 2000s, Popular

Contributed by: Sarah Kirkman, Matthew Van Vleet

Celtic punk band the Dropkick Murphys create a hybrid Irish American identity through the appropriation of traditional folk songs and instruments, connecting their real home town of Boston with a fantasized homeland of Ireland. The Dropkick Murphys often perform and record covers of Irish folk songs. Their cover of the ballad The Fields of Athenry, about a man forcibly removed from his homeland, thematically fits in with their original material about the importance of home, family, and nationality, and supports the band’s working-class “underdog” image. Bagpipes, tin whistles, and other elements of traditional Irish folk music are frequently used by the band. In comparison, references to Boston are much more specific in Dropkick Murphys songs. Specific Boston sports teams, public transit lines, music venues, and individuals are mentioned to create a sense of the specific Irish American community of the band’s hometown. The hybrid identity created by the Dropkick Murphys reimagines what it means to be Irish American for a new generation further removed from their familial homeland.

Works: Dropkick Murphys: The Fields of Athenry (24-25), The Wild Rover (25), The Rocky Road to Dublin (25).

Sources: Traditional: The Fields of Athenry (24-25), The Wild Rover (25), The Rocky Road to Dublin (25).

Index Classifications: 2000s, Popular

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

African American composer Ulysses Kay and white librettist Donald Dorr’s 1976 opera Jubilee expresses the early stages of the political ideology of multiculturalism in confronting the history of American slavery in the context of the US Bicentennial celebrations for which it was commissioned. Kay’s use of historical musical forms and quotations reflects the creators’ nuanced approach to the opera’s subject matter. Kay’s early composing career is marked by an adherence to universalism and a denial of the influence of race on his music. This attitude changed with his work on Jubilee, which dealt explicitly with racial politics. The opera’s multiculturalist approach is evident in the lynching scene, modeled on the auto-da-fé in Verdi’s Don Carlo. In this scene, three racially segregated choruses—white planters singing a patriotic song, poor whites singing a chorus based on the folksong Goober Peas, and slaves singing the hymn Flee as a Bird to the Mountain gather to celebrate the Fourth of July and to witness the hanging of a slave woman. No single chorus is dominant over the others and they each reveal complex reactions to the proceedings from different nineteenth-century cultural viewpoints. Jubilee does not shy away from depicting the horrors of slavery, but it also does not demonize white Americans. The final scene offers a different model of multicultural reconciliation and is scored with ragtime music, a genre marked by stylistic fusion between African American and European American traditions. Despite its initial reception as a symbol of healing, Jubilee has not been produced since its initial run. However, the main concern of Jubilee—the ideology of multiculturalism and the challenges of trading cultural uniqueness for social cohesion—is still an ongoing concern in American culture.

Works: Ulysses Kay: Jubilee (397-403)

Sources: Traditional: Rise Up Shepherds an’ Foller (397-99), Goober Peas (401-2), Flee as a Bird to the Mountain (402-3); Verdi: Don Carlo (400-3)

Index Classifications: 1900s

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

The enduring success of Aaron Copland’s 1942 Fanfare for the Common Man owes in part to the tension it holds between jingoistic and progressive politics that today appeals to a wide array of audiences and politicians. In its conception, Fanfare conveyed a leftist progressive message, celebrating the “common man” based on a speech by Vice President Henry A. Wallace. Until the 1970s, the piece was mostly understood by audiences as dramatic rather than political or patriotic. After Copland conducted Fanfare alongside overtly patriotic pieces at the 1979 National Symphony Orchestra Fourth of July concert, a more “American” meaning was attached to it, largely sidelining its progressive aspects. The use of Fanfare by both the Bush and Obama administrations suggests an association with benign American exceptionalism, tempering patriotic celebrations with a non-specific progressive element. This reconfiguration of the meaning of Fanfare is also evident in the large number of popular works (film and television soundtracks in particular) that utilize the Fanfare trope: trumpets (or horns) playing leaping triads in martial rhythms juxtaposed with loud drums. This trope is distinct from a generalized fanfare by slower tempo, more adventurous harmony, and often a texturally distinct solo trumpet. Rather than evoking overt militarism as a traditional fanfare would, the Fanfare trope is used to evoke benign exceptionalism. Examples of the Fanfare trope feature prominently in the scores to Superman (1978) and The West Wing (1999-2006). Recent works challenging this idea of exceptionalism include HBO’s Veep, the title sequence of which uses the Fanfare trope satirically in its comedic depiction of self-serving politicians, and Netflix’s House of Cards, which offers a cynical take on American politics with a stripped-down Fanfare trope in its title sequence. Given the show’s War on Terror theme, the trumpet in the title sequence of Homeland can also be understood as a fractured Fanfare trope. The Trump Administration’s avoidance of Fanfare and Fanfare tropes along with a trend of Fanfare performances following Biden’s election demonstrates the piece’s continued relevance in American politics.

Works: Anonymous: score to Strong (2011 Rick Perry campaign ad) (247); Aaron Copland: Symphony No. 3 (251); John Williams: score to Superman (263-64); W. G. Snuffy Walden: score to The West Wing (263-64); David Schwartz: score to Veep (264-65); Jeff Beal: score to House of Cards (264-65); Sean Callery: score to Homeland (265-66); Jerry Goldsmith: score to Air Force One (267).

Sources: Aaron Copland: Fanfare for the Common Man (247, 251, 263-67).

Index Classifications: 1900s, 2000s, Film

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

Tom Armstrong’s Dance Maze: Variations for Piano, Duos for Trumpet and Piano, and Solos for Trumpet is a trio of closely related pieces initially composed in 1994 as a solo piano piece and later revised in 2008 and 2017 using techniques described by Tom Johnson in Self-Similar Melodies. The reworked Dance Maze can be performed as a piano and trumpet duo, or the two parts can be detached and played as a piano solo or trumpet solo. In reworking the original Dance Maze for solo piano as Duos for Trumpet and Piano, Armstrong uses the technique of overpainting, in which new material alters the structure of existing material. Subsequent revisions, which Armstrong calls reworkings, are based on Johnson’s Self-Similar techniques, including Infinite Automation (based on the transformation n –> n, n + 1, n + 1^9) and Dragon Curve No. 9 (based on a paper folding fractal). Armstrong’s motivation for reworking Dance Maze was to respond to critiques of the original and to explore open compositional structures.

Works: Tom Armstrong: Dance Maze: Variations for Piano, Duos for Trumpet and Piano, and Solos for Trumpet (272-81)

Sources: Tom Armstrong: Dance Maze for Solo Piano (272-81)

Index Classifications: 2000s

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

Louis-Albert Bourgault-Ducoudray’s promotion of ancient Greek modes as a resource for modern French music is deeply entwined with his commitment to the Aryanist philosophy of Émile Burnouf. In his 1876 collection of Greek folk songs, Trente mélodies populaires de Grèce et d’Orient, Bourgault uses both transcription and arrangement to bolster his position as an authority on ancient music, working under the premise that modern Greek folk songs reflect ancient Greek modal theory. In his arrangements of the transcribed melodies, Bourgault exploits this supposed connection to ancient Greece to give authority to his own harmonic innovations. Bourgault’s 1878 suite Carnaval d’Athènes similarly uses explanatory paratext to give the work authority as a reproduction of authentic Greek folk music despite exhibiting Bourgault’s compositional hand. Later composers use Bourgault’s authority to give their orientalist music a sense of authenticity. For example, Alfred Bruneau’s 1887 opera Kérim borrows extensively from Bourgault’s Greek arrangements to express its oriental (Middle Eastern) setting. Critics of the time found Kérim to be too researched and authentic, suggesting a distinction between oriental musical tropes and Bourgault’s “academic” approach. Camille Saint-Saëns also borrowed from Bourgault’s collection in his 1893 incidental music for Sophocles’s Antigone in order to reproduce an “authentic” ancient Greek chorus. Compared to Bruneau, Saint-Saëns was much more liberal in adapting Bourgault’s folk songs, elaborating on Bourgault’s modal arrangements rather than the melodies themselves, and his Antigone score was well received. After the success of his Greek arrangements, Bourgault began collecting folk songs from his native Brittany, resulting in the 1886 collection Trente melodies populaires de Basse-Bretagne. He was also expanding his belief in the common roots of “Aryan” and “Indo-European” music. Bourgault’s 1887 opera Michel Columb (later titled Bretagne) cites two Breton melodies from this collection and otherwise emulates its modal folk style. Bourgault’s 1891 opera Thamara also uses his understanding of Greek modality and borrows from his Breton collection. In doing so, Bourgault more directly articulate his Aryanist, ethnic nationalist ideology, forging a continuity between ancient Greek and modern French music.

Works: Louis-Albert Bourgault-Ducoudray: Trente mélodies populaires de Grèce et d’Orient (139-44), Carnaval d’Athènes (146-48), Michael Columb / Bretagne (160-63), Thamara (165-67); Alfred Bruneau: Kérim (148-55); Camille Saint-Saëns: Antigone (154-59).

Sources: Louis-Albert Bourgault-Ducoudray: Trente mélodies populaires de Grèce et d’Orient (148-59), Trente mélodies populaires de Basse-Bretagne (160-63, 165-67); Guillaume André Villoteau: Description de l’Égypte (149).

Index Classifications: 1800s

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

Throughout his career, Olivier Messiaen extensively used musical borrowing as a compositional technique and described how borrowing fit in his compositional process. By analyzing Messiaen’s career-long borrowing of Debussy material—musical themes, harmonies, programs, and gestures—a more complete picture emerges of Messiaen’s relationship to Debussy’s music and of Messiaen’s borrowing practice in general. Evidence of Messiaen’s borrowing can be found in three areas: the music he composed, the music he analyzed, and his writings. Comparing evidence from these areas allows for the identification of transformed and obscured instances of borrowing. Although much of Messiaen’s borrowing is similar to Ives’s collage and patchwork techniques, his material is made to be unrecognizable in what Messiaen calls a “transforming vision” or “deforming prism.” Debussy held a special place in Messiaen’s music and analytical writings. In Technique de mon langage musical, Messiaen gives many examples of harmonic passages in his music derived from Debussy’s Pelléas et Mélisande and others. Messiaen’s unusual candidness in revealing his sources, combined with his penchant for writing programs for his music, invites deeper hermeneutic readings of many of his works. However, the programmatic meanings of his sources often contrast with the meanings of the works he uses them in. Alternatively, the sources may have only personal significance to Messiaen and no programmatic connection. Aside from harmonic and programmatic borrowing, Messiaen also borrows specific keyboard gestures from Debussy. Messiaen’s use of borrowing as a compositional tool often goes beyond transforming individual sources. In many works, Messiaen combines harmonic or rhythmic material from several sources. In the case of Livre du Saint Sacrement, he borrows from Debussy’s Images as well as plainchants from Paroissien romain (Liber usualis), distorting both through a technique of harmonic litany (a process of repeating a melodic fragment with different harmonization) in order to create music representing transubstantiation. Reassessing Messiaen’s compositional process in light of his prolific musical borrowing allows for an understanding of his music that better situates it in historical context. Whereas critics have questioned Messiaen’s reliance on borrowed material as well as his reliance on compositional formulas, the demonstrated combination of these techniques yields a complex compositional method. Messiaen’s borrowing of Debussy suggests a need to place greater attention on the practice of musical borrowing in modern music.

Works: Messiaen: Visions de l’Amen (703-7, 711-16, 731-36, 740-44, 759-63), Vingt regards sur l’Enfant-Jésus (703-7, 744-46), Cinq rechants (707-11, 746-49), Préludes (719-25, 740-44, 761-65), Poèmes pour Mi (719-25, 725-26, 761-65), Nativité du Seigneur (726-31, 755-60), Rondeau (726-31, 736-40), La Sainte Bohème (726-31), Chœurs pour une Jeanne d’Arc (731-36), Trois petites liturgies de la Prèsence Divine (736-40), L’Assension (740-44), Cantéyodjayâ (740-44), Livre du Saint Sacrement (744-46, 767-74), Harawi (750-52, 752-55), Catalogue d’oiseaux (753-55), Turangalîla-Symphonie (755-60), Messe de la Pentecôte (759-63), Saint François d’Assise (759-63), Chants de terre et de ciel (767-74)

Sources: Rameau: Suite in E (703-7); Debussy: Préludes (707-11, 744-46), Pelléas et Mélisande (718-20, 719-25, 725-26, 726-31, 731-36, 750-52, 755-60), Prélude à l’après-midi d’un faune (737-40), Images (740-44, 746-49, 753-55, 759-63, 761-65, 765-67), Études (744-46), Trois chansons de Bilitis (767-74); Anonymous (transcribed by Joanny Grosset): Jâti ândhri (707-11); Liszt: Après une lecture de Dante (711-16); Massenet: Manon (711-16); André Jolivet: Cinq danses rituelles (746-49); Stravinsky: Les noces (750-52); Anonymous (transcribed by Marguerite Béclard d’Harcourt): Delirio (752-55); Ravel: Daphnis et Chloé (755-60); Plainchant from Paroissien romain (Liber usualis): Quotiescumque manducabitis panem hunc (767-74)

Index Classifications: 1900s

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

Analyzing the music of Billy Strayhorn introduces many issues related to historicizing race, sexuality, and gender identity in the context of mid-century jazz. Two works in particular—Strayhorn’s songs for Federico García Lorca’s The Love of Don Perlimplin for Belisa in Their Garden and Strayhorn and Duke Ellington’s adaptation of Tchaikovsky’s Nutcracker Suite—involve a fictive collaboration with gay figures from the past and address issues of black queer identity and desire. In fall 1953, Strayhorn composed four pieces for a production of Perlimplin by the Artist’s Theatre collective in Greenwich Village. Strayhorn’s music effectively sets the queer topics of Lorca’s text and the Artist’s Theatre production. Strayhorn’s collaboration with Ellington on an arrangement of The Nutcracker Suite to be released as an LP in 1960 also deals with issues of queer aesthetics. For one, working with a removed (dead) collaborator points to the asynchronicity or queer temporality that shaped Strayhorn’s work. Although some critics panned the LP as a crude parody, Strayhorn’s reworking of Tchaikovsky’s music is sophisticated in its relocation and translation of the original text. For instance, in the Arabian Dance movement, Arabesque Cookie, Strayhorn transforms Tchaikovsky’s sonic signifiers of exotica into modern jazz signifiers, akin to tunes like Caravan. Arabesque Cookie can also be likened to the blend of primitivism and stylized modernity of the queer black dandy as well as Afro-Orientalist imagery in Hollywood films. Overall, Strayhorn’s work on Perlimplin and his arrangement of The Nutcracker Suite provide a new queer historical framework for understanding his position in the Ellington Orchestra and the way his personal relationship with Ellington is portrayed in literature.

Works: Billy Strayhorn (with Duke Ellington): The Nutcracker Suite (793-813)

Sources: Tchaikovsky: The Nutcracker Suite (793-813)

Index Classifications: 1900s, Jazz

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

In 2011, the Berlin Philharmonic held an open competition inviting contributors to create remixes of Mahler’s First Symphony using the orchestra’s recording of the work. Such remixes of structurally extended works can be understood through the “Wiki” philosophy of technologically-driven, open communication of ideas. The over 150 remixes submitted fall into four categories: dubstep-style remixes, remixes that only sampled Mahler, Ambient-style remixes, and unclassifiable, idiosyncratic remixes. The tension between the fragmentary nature of the remix material and Mahler’s larger musical structures is a core issue in understanding them. Most of the remixes played with the cuckoo call motif in some form, further fragmenting an already fragmented element of the musical material. The disregard for hegemonic structure found in the remixes reflects Mahler’s own disregard for stylistic convention.

Works: Weiss Schnur: Gustav Mahler First Symphony (131); Pivotal Movement: Symphony No. 1—Mahler—Berliner Philharmoniker (131); Komponists: Mahler Remix 2 (132); jeff_harrington: Mahler vs. Mahler (132, 143); Silvio Palmieri: Mahler-Palmieri (132, 143); TUNEDIN 52: Eternal (132); BpOlar: Bp Mahler rmx (132); Audhentik: Gustav Mahler—Symphony Nr. 1 (132, 143); Maja Bay: Berliner Philly Remix (132); Geck0ne: Jimi’s Version (132); Clangworks: Victim of the Times (143); giuseppe costa: Mix per Mahler (143); NuttyChunks: First Symphony by Gustav Mahler (chopped and changed by Nutty Chunks) (143); ben.harper: Herr Mahler Died Last Night at 150 (143); Marcus Leadley: Mahler–12 Tone remix (143); NOYJ: Meditation on the First Movement of Mahler’s First Symphony (143).

Sources: Mahler: Symphony No. 1 (131-32, 142-43).

Index Classifications: 2000s

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

In the current “post-sampling” era of digitalized popular music production, the practice of sampling exists withing a spectrum of musical practice, and the intermingling of practices has implications for the legal, moral, and aesthetic aspects of sampling. The basic legality of sampling—is a copyrighted recording cleared to use or not—is a technical question, but often the similarity between a musical work and the source of a sample is marginal at best (unlike in examples of plagiarism). Sampling law also favors copyright holders over the musicians whose contribution is sampled. The morality of sampling is discussed by musicians across genres, with significant overlap in how originality and copying are treated in other forms of musical borrowing. Distinctions between legitimate and illegitimate practices are made through generic codes, but there are grey areas to consider. The wide availability of digital sampling has made the sampling aesthetic a significant part of popular music production. The resulting cultural shift in attitudes toward sampling—post-sampling—is widespread but unevenly realized in moral and legal discourse.

Works: The Verve: Bittersweet Symphony (225-26).

Sources: Rolling Stones: The Last Time (225-26).

Index Classifications: 1900s, 2000s, Popular

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

Michael Finnissy’s wide-ranging borrowing of various traditional musics in his Folklore cycle and Unsere Afrikareise from The History of Photography in Sound invite multiple hermeneutical readings revolving around two dichotomies: art versus folk music and Western versus non-Western music. In Unsere Afrikareise, Finnissy juxtaposes fragments of Moroccan, Ethiopian, and Venda traditional music with fragments of Mozart and Schubert dances. Finnissy’s work emphasizes the historical, colonialist link between the African and European traditions, complicating notions of musical otherness. Folklore extends this engagement with the politics of colonialism. A running theme in Folklore is the implication that folk music is often seen as inferior to art music. Finnissy borrows from a wide variety of musical cultures, transforming borrowed material through transcription and arranging it in multi-layered montages. This approach challenges the boundaries between familiar and “foreign” music and invites a personal and subjective approach to different cultures.

Works: Maarten Beirens: The History of Photography in Sound (304-7, 312), Folklore (307-12).

Index Classifications: 1900s

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

John Corigliano’s Symphony No. 1 and its derivative choral chaconne, Of Rage and Remembrance, form a supplementary pair dealing with private and public mourning of the HIV/AIDS epidemic in the 1980s. The symphony is a work of mourning, dedicated to Corigliano’s lifelong friend Sheldon Shkolnik, who died of AIDS just weeks after attending the premiere in March 1990. Mourning and remembrance are musically invoked throughout the symphony. For example, in the first movement (titled “Apologue”), Corigliano quotes Leopold Godowsky’s arrangement of Isaac Albéniz’s Tango in D, a piece frequently performed by Shkolnik. The tango is performed by an offstage piano, emphasizing Shkolnik’s absence. The third movement presents a different approach to memory and mourning by blending a cello improvisation by Giulio Sorrentino with J. S. Bach’s lamenting chorale Es ist genug (Corigliano also alludes to Alban Berg’s use of this chorale in his Violin Concerto). The third movement reaches its climax with a “quilt” of nine interwoven melodies labeled in the score with the names of nine friends of Corigliano’s who were victims of AIDS—a reference to the NAMES Project’s AIDS Quilt memorial begun in 1987. Of Rage and Remembrance, a choral chaconne setting of the third movement of the symphony, makes the mourning explicit by reciting the names of Corigliano’s deceased friends.

Works: John Corigliano: Symphony No. 1 (345-53); Of Rage and Remembrance (353-58)

Sources: Isaac Albéniz (composer), Leopold Godowsky (arranger): Tango in D Major, Op. 165, No. 2 (345-47); Giulio Sorrentino: Giulio’s Song (Improvisation) (348-53); J. S. Bach: Es ist genug from O Ewigkeit, du Donnerwort, BWV 60 (348-50); Alban Berg: Violin Concerto (349-50); John Corigliano: Symphony No. 1 (353-58)

Index Classifications: 1900s

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

Max Reger’s Phantasie und Fuge über den Namen B-A-C-H, Op. 46, was his attempt to balance the expressive values of Bach and Wagner within the fin de siècle anxiety over the future direction of German music. Aesthetic and ideological comparisons between Bach and Wagner were common in Reger’s time, and the two pillars of German music were often described as two dialectic poles with an understanding of one completing the understanding of the other. Along these lines, Reger described Bach as a remedy for the affliction of “Wagneritis,” what he saw as a misunderstanding of Wagner’s true identity. The opening of Phantasie draws heavily on Tristan und Isolde, prominently utilizing the Tristan chord in the opening measure and developing unresolved seventh chords in the same way as Wagner does in the Tristan prelude. The harmonic and polyphonic language Reger (and Wagner) uses is prefigured in Bach’s music. Reger models his Phantasie on Bach’s Fantasy and Fugue in G Minor, BWV 542 (and to a lesser extent, Liszt’s 1870 Präludium und Fuge über B-A-C-H), and the B-A-C-H theme is present throughout the work. Elements of Bach’s harmonic language—common chord tones and leading-tone chromaticism, for two—that are also used by Wagner are highlighted by Reger, who draws on both composers’ work. Reger also alludes to the moment of transfiguration for the morbidly ill protagonist in Richard Strauss’s Tod und Verklärung, further underscoring Phantasie’s purpose of curing the illness of Wagneritis. Through Phantasie, Reger hoped to synthesize and transcend Bach and Wagner, and to proclaim a new era free of pessimism and cultural illness.

Works: Reger: Phantasie und Fuge über den Namen B-A-C-H, Op. 46 (502-14)

Sources: Wagner: Tristan und Isolde (502-9); J. S. Bach: Fantasy and Fugue in G Minor, BWV 542 (506-10); Richard Strauss: Tod und Verklärung (512-14)

Index Classifications: 1900s

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

In electroacoustic music compositions, various types of sound and music borrowing are commonly practiced, and a carefully constructed terminology of borrowing would lay the groundwork for a better understanding of the nuances of these practices. First, within electroacoustic music, there is a difference between borrowing a sound recording and borrowing existing music. Composers of electroacoustic music describe their motivations for borrowing with a breadth of terminology. There is also a variety of specific types of borrowing, including sampling, appropriation, stealing, and so on, and the boundaries between them can sometimes be fuzzy. Layers and lineages of borrowing occur when a piece borrows from a source that itself borrows from an even earlier source. Different durations of borrowed material are also distinguishable, and are relevant to the legalities of borrowing. In electroacoustic music, there are distinctive modification and embedding techniques. For example, borrowed material can be reconfigured (changed in some way), disintegrated (broken up and reorganized), or obliterated (no sense of the original work remains). The terminology of borrowing in electroacoustic music is distinct from other typologies of borrowing, and it provides a framework for understanding the differences in borrowing between electroacoustic and instrumental music.

Works: Åke Parmerud: Necropolis: City of the Dead (143); Louis Dufort: Gen_3 (143, 146); Francis Dhomont: Novars (143, 146); Margaret Schedel: After | Applebox (146); Brahms: Symphony No. 4 in E minor, Op. 98 (146); Pauline Oliveros: Bye Bye Butterfly (149); Vladimir Ussachevsky: Wireless Fantasy (149).

Sources: Wagner: Die Walküre (143), Parsifal (149); Palestrina: Missa Papae Marcelli (143); J. S. Bach: Suite No. 1 in G major, BWV 1007 (143), Nach dir, Herr, verlanget mich, BWV 150 (146); Beethoven: Piano Sonata No. 8 in C minor, Op. 14, Pathétique (143); Francis Dhomont: Novars (143, 146); Pierre Schaeffer: Étude aux objets (143, 146); Machaut: Messe de Nostre Dame (143, 146); Brahms: Symphony No. 4 in E minor, Op. 98 (146); Puccini: Madama Butterfly (149).

Index Classifications: 1900s, 2000s

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

Sonification, a process of transmitting information through sound, requires a listener to understand the four components of data, mappings, musical language, and emotional content in order to understand the transmitted message. Musification describes sonification for artistic purposes and sonification subjected to musical constraints. Musical borrowing offers one (albeit uncommon) solution to the challenges of successfully communicating data through sonification. Pitch shifting or tempo shifting recordings of familiar songs to map onto a dataset requires little context for a listener to understand, but they can be musically crude. Núria Bonet’s Wasgiischwashäsch (2017) is an orchestrated sonification piece that modifies Rossini’s William Tell Overture based on temperature data in order to convey the extent of climate change in Switzerland. The first movement of Wasgiischwashäsch maps average annual temperature in Switzerland data onto pitch, intervals, and harmony in the third and fourth movements of William Tell; rises in temperature result in rising pitches for high registers and descending pitches for low registers. The second movement maps the differences between the average annual temperature in Switzerland and the global average annual temperature to tempo; rises in temperature difference result in slower tempos with the final tempo reaching 40 beats per minute. The two datasets are not absolutely mapped to musical parameters, and some artistic liberties have been taken to emphasize the higher-level meaning of the data. Musical humor and familiarity with the source material are factors in making climate change data tangible through this particular musification.

Works: Nùria Bonet: Wasgiischwashäsch (189-92).

Sources: Rossini: William Tell Overture (189-92).

Index Classifications: 2000s

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

Musical parody in The Simpsons comes in several different forms and is a key component in the show’s function as television’s “king’s fool” or “court jester,” chipping away at authority and risking rebellion. The Simpsons uses music in five main ways: original songs, variations on its title theme, background music cues, references to existing music, and musician guest stars. Danny Elfman’s theme music for The Simpsons draws heavily from 1960s cartoon music, Hoyt Curtin’s theme music for The Jetsons in particular, lending the show a cheeky, self-conscious aesthetic. Frequently, series composer Alf Clausen writes self-deflating genre-parodies of Elfman’s theme for the end-titles, often relating to the content of the episode (for example, aping the 1964 Addams Family theme and adding a theremin for the season 5 Halloween episode, “Treehouse of Horror IV”). Guest stars including Tito Puente and Sonic Youth have also contributed similar end-title parodies. In addition to making fun of itself, The Simpsons parodies music from other TV shows and movies. For example, Cut Every Corner from the season 8 episode “Simpsoncalifragilisticexpiala(Annoyed Grunt)cious” parodies A Spoonful of Sugar from Disney’s 1964 Mary Poppins, deflating the classic film. Guest stars on The Simpsons are also the target of self-parody, with musicians in particular poking fun at their own music. Musical references in The Simpsons are fluid. The characters’ ages are frozen, but their music comes from a wide range of eras. Music in The Simpsons participates in the show’s self-aware tone and jests at the expense of various kinds of authority.

Works: Danny Elfman: The Simpsons main title theme (98-100); Alf Clausen: soundtrack to The Simpsons (99-109); Alf Clausen, Al Jean, and Mike Reiss: Cut Every Corner (102-3); Jeff Martin: Capitol City (104-5).

Sources: Hoyt Curtin: The Jetsons main title theme (98-100), Meet the Flintstones (102); Danny Elfman: The Simpsons main title theme (99-102); Lee Adams and Charles Strouse: Those Were the Days (102); R. M. and R. B. Sherman: A Spoonful of Sugar (102-3); Johyn Kander and Fred Ebb: New York, New York (104-5); John Mellencamp: Jack and Diane (105); Burt Bacharach and Hal David: (They Long to Be) Close to You (106-7); John Williams: score to Star Wars (107); Beethoven: Symphony No. 5 in C Minor, Op. 67 (107); Maurice Jarre: score to Witness (108); Wendy Carlos and Rachel Elkind: score to The Shining (109).

Index Classifications: 1900s, 2000s, Film

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

While the musical implications of plainchant tenor quotation have been extensively explored for fourteenth-century Ars nova motets, the same level of attention has not been paid to how composers choose tenors for thirteenth-century Ars antiqua motets. In the conventional historical narrative, motets transformed from a sacred Latin genre to borrowing tenors from vernacular songs by the end of the thirteenth century. However, tenor selection motivated by vernacular song idioms appears even in the earliest thirteenth-century polyphonic manuscripts. Certain tenors were selected for their musical simplicity, which allowed vernacular song practices to be incorporated while preserving the plainchant tradition. Unlike later practices, thirteenth-century motets frequently reworked a small number of short and simple tenors. The differences between the treatment of the Iustus tenor in the Magnus liber organi manuscripts (particularly manuscript W1) and in early motets based on the Iustus tenor (A grant joie/Iustus found in manuscripts W2, N, and as untexted organum in F, and Ja n’ert nus/Iustus found in N) show how composers adjusted plainchant tenors to accommodate song forms. The existence of motets using vernacular models as early as the 1240s (in F) demonstrates an earlier relationship between motets and vernacular models than is typically acknowledged. The many motets based on the Omnes tenor (found in Mo and Ba) further demonstrate the flexibility of simple and repetitive tenors in creating motets with overlying song forms, such as the rondeau form of Ci m’i tient/Haro/Omnes. The popularity of the chant Aptatur as a motet tenor even though it is not present in the Magnus liber organi manuscripts also suggests that tenors were selected for musical reasons over strictly textual reasons. By understanding the blending of motet tenors and vernacular song idioms as a practice common throughout the thirteenth century, the chronological questions present in later motets that quote both polyphonic vernacular songs and plainchant tenors can be resolved. Acknowledging the compositional practice of replacing the bottom voice of a polyphonic vernacular song with a similar-sounding plainchant tenor presents a compelling new hypothesis for the origins of motets like Dame bele/Fi, mari/Nus n’iert ja jolis that blend both traditions. The stylistic and modal similarities of motet tenors commonly used in the thirteenth century illuminate a motet tradition that valued the inclusion of vernacular song forms over developing complex tenor melodies. This adoption of vernacular music in motets contemporary to the Magnus liber organi manuscripts rather than a generation later uncovers a previously unrecognized sophistication in early motet composers.

Works: Anonymous: Magnus liber organi (437-41, 453-54); Anonymous: A grant joie/Iustus (441-44); Anonymous: Ja n’ert nus/Iustus (444-46); Anonymous: Ja pour longue demouree/Hodie (446-49); Anonymous: Ci m’i tient/Haro/Omnes (455-58); Anonymous: Amoureusement mi tient/He amours/Omnes (459); Anonymous: Je ne chant/Talens/Aptatur/Omnes (459-62); Anonymous: Psallat chorus/Eximie pater/Aptatur (463); Anonymous: Aucun se sont loe/A Dieu commant/Super te (466-75); Anonymous: Dame bele/Fi, mari/Nus n’iert ja jolis (475-83); Adam de la Halle: De ma dame vient/Diex, comment porroie/Omnes (453), Entre Adan et Hanikel/Chief bien seantz/Apatur (465), De ma dame vient/Diex, comment porroie/Omnes (471-75)

Sources: Plainchant tenors: Iustus (437-46), Hodie (446¬-49), Omnes (from Viderunt omnes) (452-62, 471-75), Aptatur (459-65), Super te (466-71); Anonymous: Nus n’iert ja jolis (475-83); Anonymous: De ma dame (472-75); Adam de la Halle: A Dieu commant (466-71), Diex, comment porroie (471-75), Fi, mari (475-83)

Index Classifications: Polyphony to 1300

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

A case study of a family of motets based on the Latus tenor demonstrates the multi-directional relationship between musical models and their offspring and highlights the limitations of general theories of chronology when studying thirteenth-century motets. The Latus discant (from Allelulia Pascha nostrum immolatus est) has a strong transmission history in the major “Magnus liber” sources. The two motetus texts conceived for the discant, Radix venie and Ave Maria, exhibit both similarities that suggest a codependent relationship and differences that suggest strongly independent responses to the same musical model. There is also musical evidence suggesting that the Latus discant was reworked in the creation of motets derived from it. The textual revisions in the double motet Radix venie/Ave Maria/Latus suggest that this motet was created by the unusual (but not unprecedented) method of combining two preexisting texts designed for the same musical model. The members of this motet family and their relationships to each other and to the Latus discant unsettle the conventional logic of motet chronology—particularly the assumption that the conductus motet is the earliest motet—and demonstrate the complexity of motet creation.

Works: Anonymous: Radix venie/Radix venie/Latus (162-84), Ave Maria fons letitie/Latus (162-84), Quant l’aloete s’esjoist en mai/Latus (194), Radix venie/Ave Maria/Latus (184-91)

Sources: Anonymous: Latus discant from Allelulia Pascha nostrum immolatus est (154-158, 162-91); Anonymous: Ave Maria fons letitie/Latus (184-91, 194)

Index Classifications: Polyphony to 1300

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

An analysis of two contrafacta in the versified office for St. Donatus Splendor stelle clare lucis (dated circa 1300) demonstrates how musical borrowing can interact with literary borrowing to generate extra-musical meaning in medieval historiae. The text of Splendor draws on multiple sources for the St. Donatus passion and at times quotes related psalm texts to accentuate its themes. The office additionally alludes to the dragon-slaying iconography of St. Michael to glorify its subject. The second responsory of the office of St. Donatus, Luce carens corporali, deals with the healing of Syranna, a pivotal episode in the Donatus office, and is melodically derived from O summe Trinitati, a responsory from the Trinity office. The use of this chant in particular emphasizes the doctrine of the Trinity in the healing of Syranna, which is not emphasized in the text. Only at the invocation of the Trinity was Syranna’s conversion complete. Another significant episode, the miracle of the chalice, is addressed in the responsory Divinum mysterium, appearing in the Night Office of Splendor. Divinum is a contrafact of Accepit Ihesus calcem, a responsory from the Office of Corpus Christi. The melodic source is thematically relevant to the Donatus office by connecting the miracle of the chalice to the chalice bearing Christ’s blood. Because of their thematic relevance to the subject of the office, these two instances of melodic borrowing are extensions of the intertextual network of quotation and allusion that paints a portrait of St. Donatus.

Works: Anonymous: Luce carens porporali from Splendor stelle clare lucis (66-69), Divinum mysterium from Splendor stelle clare lucis (70-72)

Sources: Anonymous: O summe Trinitati (66-69), Accepit Ihesus calicem (70-72)

Index Classifications: Monophony to 1300, 1300s

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

Critics of Mad Men (AMC, 2007-15) have typically understood the show’s use of music in terms of “getting” an advertisement, but there are examples of musical cues that challenge this puzzle-solving experience and force viewers to critically engage with the symptomatology of consumer capitalism the show presents. In the season one episode “The Marriage of Figaro,” excerpts from Mozart’s opera—Cherubino’s aria Voi che sapete in particular—are heard diegetically (on the radio) and non-diegetically as Don Draper films his daughter’s birthday party. The scene creates a parallel between Cherubino and Don’s yearning for true love, even as it only exists in fantasy in the advertising logic Don (and the show itself) dwells on. In the season two episode “The Mountain King,” the musical selection of George Jones’s hymn-like country song Cup of Loneliness reflects the cycle of (religious) guilt and self-loathing experienced by Don’s protégé Peggy and the kitschy Christian imagery of the ad she produces in the episode. In the season five episode “Lady Lazarus,” Don’s (new) wife suggests he listen to The Beatles’ Tomorrow Never Knows before she quits the ad industry. The song plays over a montage showing the emotional emptiness of various characters’ lives, ending with Don violently ripping the needle off the record. Unlike the first two examples, in which the music resonates with particular symptoms of consumer capitalism, Tomorrow Never Knows suggests a countercultural solution to Don’s feeling of emptiness that Don fears and rejects. Rather than directly instilling a message (as advertising does), these three musical moments allow for open-ended critical interpretation.

Works: Matthew Weiner (showrunner): soundtrack to Mad Men (2, 8-33).

Sources: Colin Meloy (songwriter): The Infanta (2); Mozart: The Marriage of Figaro (8-16); George Jones: Cup of Loneliness (16-25); John Lennon and Paul McCartney: Tomorrow Never Knows (25-33).

Index Classifications: 2000s, Film

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

Charles Ives’s Concord Sonata, together with his Essays before a Sonata, can be read through the lens of turn-of-the-century psychologist William James’s work on the functioning of the human brain, yielding new insights into the behavior of Ives’s music. James conceptualizes consciousness as a flowing “Stream of Thought” in which fringe images fill the space between more concrete ideas. Throughout Concord Sonata, Ives constructs a sense of musical vagueness comparable to the Jamesian fringe through uncertain meter and key signatures as well as obscured and distorted musical borrowing. The structure of the sonata is also related to James’s metaphor of “flights” and “perches” in that relatively stable musical phrases emerge from the hazy musical texture. Although Ives does not directly address James’s psychological theories in Essays before a Sonata, he does incorporate many of James’s ideas, which were widespread at the time. Furthermore, James’s cosmological ideas about the multiverse (an extension of his psychological work) are expressed in Ives’s Concord Sonata as well as his Fourth Symphony through their incorporation of borrowed material from many varied musical sources and connections to other works.

Works: Charles Ives: Piano Sonata No. 2: Concord Mass., 1840-1860 (179-84), Symphony No. 4 (189-91)

Sources: David T. Shaw (or Thomas A’Becket): Columbia, the Gem of the Ocean (179-80, 190); Stephen Foster: Massa’s in da Cold Ground (180); Beethoven: Symphony No. 5 in C Minor, Op. 67 (180-81); Traditional: Loch Lomond (183-184); Wagner: Lohengrin (183-84); A. F. Winnemore: Stop That Knockin’ at My Door (183-84); Lowell Mason: Watchman (189), Missionary Hymn (190), Bethany (191); Charles Ives: Piano Sonata No. 2: Concord Mass., 1840-1860 (190), String Quartet No. 1 (190); Oliver Holden: Coronation (190)

Index Classifications: 1900s

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

Ella Fitzgerald and Louis Jordan’s 1945 recording of Stone Cold Dead in the Market, a reworked Barbadian folk song about an abused wife murdering her husband, was able to become a rhythm and blues hit in part because the Caribbean styling produced an exoticized cultural mask which allowed for frank portrayals of taboo subjects. The Barbadian folk song, usually known as Murder in the Market or Payne Dead, has been collected in several versions and was likely known in Trinidad by the 1910s. The first commercial recording of the song was made by calypso artist Wilmouth Houdini in 1939. Houdini’s version, called He Had It Coming, had modified lyrics aimed at an American audience, making it an early example of calypso crossover. Fitzgerald and Jordan’s Stone Cold Dead is a re-recording of He Had It Coming that changes the song in several ways to make it a more popular American hit. Fitzgerald and Jordan’s arrangement is faster than Houdini’s and includes instrumentation (muted trumpet, maracas, and claves) typical of post-war Americanized calypso and “Latin” music. They also modified the lyrical structure of the song, repeating the refrain and title line to create a verse-chorus structure with a clear melodic hook. Some lyrics were also changed to be in first-person perspective, and Fitzgerand and Jordan sing with affected West Indian accents. Several artists recorded cover versions of Stone Cold Dead, occasionally with nods to Houdini’s version or earlier folk variations. Although the song addresses the often-unspoken issue of domestic violence, it does so through stereotyping and exoticizing West Indian culture.

Works: Wilmouth Houdini: He Had It Coming (9-13); Ella Fitzgerald and Louis Jordan: Stone Cold Dead in the Market (13-15); Betty Mays and Her Orchestra: Stone Cold Dead in the Market (He Had It Coming) (15); Grace Berrie: Stone Cold Dead in the Market (15-16); Alan Lomax: Stone Cold Dead in the Market (16); Maya Angelou: Stone Cold Dead in the Market (16).

Sources: Traditional: Murder in the Market / Payne Dead (9-13, 16); Wilmouth Houdini: He Had It Coming (13-15); Ella Fitzgerald and Louis Jordan: Stone Cold Dead in the Market (15-16).

Index Classifications: 1900s, Popular

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

Although the short-lived Celtic Twilight movement in fin-de-siècle Britain was primarily expressed in literature and visual art, Rutland Boughton’s 1912 opera The Immortal Hour exemplified the aesthetics of the movement musically and had a lasting impact on public life in Great Britain. William Butler Yeats defined the Celtic Twilight movement in literature, employing themes of pan-Celtic mythmaking, nostalgia, sexual dissidence, and mysticism. These themes were shared with the broader European movements of Decadence and Symbolism. In music, some Celtic revivalists collected and transcribed Irish folksongs. Others, including Boughton, attached themselves to a Wagnerian aesthetic after Wagner drew on Celtic mythology in Tristan und Isolde. The Immortal Hour was based on an 1899 play by Fiona Macleod (the pen name of William Sharp), loosely based on the Celtic myth “The Wooing of Étaín.” Much of the score has a modal, folk-like character, but Boughton regularly alluded to Wagner’s operas, especially Tristan. Specific allusions include Klingsor’s leitmotif in Parsifal and the Tristan chord. Structural allusions include the way Boughton foreshadows the Faery Song before it is sung complete, which mirrors Wagner’s treatment of the Preislied in Die Meistersinger von Nürnberg. The Winterstürme from Die Walküre also clearly influenced the storm music in the second scene of The Immortal Hour. After the First World War, revival performances of the opera found great success with the British public, and it particularly appealed to the emerging middlebrow sensibility. The spiritualism and communion with the faery world in The Immortal Hour especially resonated with the collective mourning of the British public in the wake of the Great War.

Works: Rutland Boughton: The Immortal Hour (316-21)

Sources: Wagner: Parsifal (317), Die Meistersinger von Nürnberg (317-18), Tristan und Isolde (319-21), Die Walküre (320-21)

Index Classifications: 1900s

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

As a performer and composer, Charles Ives worked in four distinct musical traditions: American popular music, American Protestant church music, European classical music, and experimental music. In his mature music, Ives synthesizes these traditions into a new modernist idiom. Ives initially worked in these four traditions independently, occasionally modeling his compositions on existing works in their tradition; for instance, his First Symphony is modeled on Dvořák’s New World symphony and echoes music by Beethoven, Mendelssohn, Schubert and Tchaikovsky. Later in his career, Ives frequently combined elements from two or more of these four traditions in a single work, often through various musical borrowing practices. In his 1914 song General William Booth Enters Into Heaven, Ives weaves all four musical traditions together. Popular music is evoked by the marching band “street beat” cadence—realized by an experimentalist recreation of drum sounds using dissonant piano chords—and by the paraphrase of James A. Bland’s minstrel song Oh, Dem Golden Slippers. Protestant hymns are evoked by Ives’s borrowing of There Is a Fountain Filled with Blood. Finally, the song itself is constructed as a Romantic art song, meant to convey to the listener a vicarious experience of the text. The variety in Ives’s music should not be understood as a lack of discipline, but as versatility to appeal to a broad range of musical tastes.

Works: Ives: Holiday Quickstep (6-7), Symphony No. 1 in D Minor (12-13), General William Booth Enters Into Heaven (23-29)

Sources: David Wallis Reeves: Second Regiment Connecticut National Guard March (7); Dvořák: Symphony No. 9 in E Minor, From the New World (12-13); William Cowper: There is a Fountain Filled with Blood (24, 26-28); James A. Bland: Oh, Dem Golden Slippers (25-26)

Index Classifications: 1800s, 1900s

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

Masses of the late fifteenth and early sixteenth centuries that are based on polyphonic models and that preserve cantus-firmus structure belong to a distinct genre of imitation mass, related to the fifteenth-century rhetorical concept of imitatio. Johannes Martini—with eleven surviving masses including at least six imitation masses—is particularly important to the history of the imitation mass and to the evolution of musical borrowing in masses in general. Martini’s masses fall into six categories according to the type of model used and (with one exception) the techniques used to elaborate on the borrowed material: plainchant, French chansons, a German lied, Italian songs, instrumental works, and the cuckoo call. Two of the masses based on French chansons (Missa Orsus orsus and Missa Se la sans plus) borrow the least from their models, while the masses on instrumental pieces (Missa Coda di Pavon and Missa La Martinella) borrow extensively from all four voices of their models. With an understanding of Martini’s compositional practices with regard to borrowed material, it is possible to construct hypothetical models that closely approximate the sources Martini must have used for Missa Io ne tengo quanto a te and Missa Dio te salvi Gotterello, neither of which have known surviving models. While the full extent of Martini’s influence is unclear, the available evidence suggests that he was connected with several contemporary composers who were also writing imitation masses, notably Vincenet and Guillaume Faugues. Josquin Desprez, Jacob Obrecht, and Heinrich Isaac, each of whom composed works that borrow from multiple voices of a polyphonic model, also have some potential—if sometimes circumstantial—connection to Martini, his masses, and the idea of musical imitatio. Still, Martini composed the first large body of masses to extensively incorporate several voices from a polyphonic model and his importance for the development of the parody mass was probably very great.

Works: Johannes Martini: Missa Dominicalis (481-82), Missa Ferialis (481-82), Missa Orsus orsus (482-84), Missa Se la sans plus (482-83), Missa In feuers hitz (485-86), Missa Coda di Pavon (486-87, 488-89), Missa La Martinella (486), Missa Ma bouche rit (487), Missa Io ne tengo quanto a te (490-505)

Sources: Plainchant: Domenicalis (481-82), Ferialis (481-82); Anonymous: Or sus, or sus par dessus tous les aultres (482-84), In feuers hitz (485-86); Collinet de Lannoy: Cela sans plus (482-83); Johannes Martini: La Martinella (486); Barbingant: Der Pfoben Swancz (486-87, 488-89); Ockeghem: Ma bouche rit (487)

Index Classifications: 1400s

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

One significant contributing element to musical meaning is the principle of association, which can be modeled in five steps: (1) recognizing familiar elements, (2) recalling other music that uses those elements, (3) perceiving associations the other music may carry, (4) noticing what is new or changed, and (5) interpreting what this means. One method of testing this model is to analyze several pieces whose meaning can in part be derived from their association with military bugle calls. Military calls themselves have specific arbitrary meanings. Hearing a military call can evoke memories that suggest emotional associations. Some music, like Charles Ives’s Decoration Day, uses listeners’ familiarity with certain tunes (in this case, Taps) to convey specific meaning. Other music relies on familiarity with a general melodic shape or style; George M. Cohan’s World War I song Over There uses a figure that is recognizable as a bugle call (perhaps a cross between Taps and Reveille), but is not actually a quotation of a bugle call. Aaron Copland’s Fanfare for the Common Man recalls the familiar timbre and texture of a bugle call, giving the piece an associative meaning of military dignity, nobility, and duty. Alternatively, other meanings for Fanfare for the Common Man arise if one hears it as reminiscent of Richard Strauss’s Also sprach Zarathustra. In absolute music, the generic, formal, or internal conventions of a familiar reference in a piece—a fanfare topic in a Mozart sonata, for instance—can also generate meaning. Meaning related to musical syntax can also be examined with the association model. There are several implications of this associative model of musical meaning: (1) meaning depends on what the listener knows, (2) music acquires meanings through use, (3) the most familiar music is often the most meaningful, (4) meaning depends on context, (5) meaning depends on interpretation, (6) musical meaning can change as listeners learn, and (7) this model provides a framework for communicating about musical meaning.

Works: Ives: Decoration Day (83-84); George M. Cohan: Over There (85); Copland: Fanfare for the Common Man (89-93)

Sources: Anonymous: Taps (83-85), Reveille (85); Lowell Mason: Nearer, My God, to Thee (83-84); Strauss: Also sprach Zarathustra (89-93)

Index Classifications: 1900s, Popular

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

Despite the traditional depiction of Brahms as a musical conservative, he is the single most important influence on twentieth-century classical music in regard to how composers think about music and measure their success. Musical-technical definitions of modernism are inadequate to explain the changing social context of music, particularly in how composers starting with Brahms dealt with the musical past. One example of this is Brahms’s use of the chaconne in the finale of his Fourth Symphony. The movement is modeled on Bach’s Chaconne for solo violin, which Brahms had previously transcribed for piano, and the two pieces share many similarities. The movement is also modeled on Beethoven’s Eroica symphony, particularly its unusual theme-and-variations finale. Both movements are in three sections suggesting a sonata form, and both close with a faster coda that develops the opening thematic material in a new way. By modeling his work on important classical composers, Brahms conspicuously participates in the classical tradition. This dialectic between old and new music, pioneered by Brahms, has been adopted by later modern composers such as Mahler, Stravinsky, and Bartók, and provides the framework for serious music in the twentieth century.

Works: Brahms: Symphony No. 4 in E Minor, Op. 98 (78)

Sources: Bach: Chaconne, from Partita No. 2 in D Minor for Solo Violin, BWV 1004 (78); Beethoven: Symphony No. 3 in E-flat Major, Op. 55, Eroica (78)

Index Classifications: 1800s

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

Charles Ives is as much a part of the European tradition of art music as are his progressive contemporaries in Europe. Ives’s character as a composer was greatly influenced by German Romanticism, which he absorbed through his composition teacher, Horatio Parker. Ives’s connection to the European Romantic tradition can be traced through his use of allusion and quotation throughout his career. Early compositions, up to and including his First Symphony, demonstrate how Ives learned to compose by imitating European models. In his Second Symphony, Ives begins to establish a distinctive voice by emphasizing allusion and quotation of American material. At the same time, the Second Symphony also adopts the elaborate forms of European art music and borrows material from Brahms, Bach, and Wagner. In his Third Symphony, Ives invests American tunes with the seriousness of European art music. The Fourth of July, which culminates with a quotation of Columbia, the Gem of the Ocean, exemplifies Ives’s increasing turn to American subjects and careful use of quotation and texture. While Ives’s importance as an avant-garde composer is certain, he is also a worthy peer of his European contemporaries of international stature.

Works: Ives: Holiday Quickstep (43), Slow March (43), Variations on America (43), Symphony No. 1 in D Minor (44-45), Symphony No. 2 (46), The Fourth of July (48-49)

Sources: Handel: Saul, HWV 53 (43); Johann Christian Heinrich Rinck: Theme and Variations in C Major on God Save the King (43); Dvořák: Symphony No. 9 in E Minor, From the New World (44-45); Wagner: Tristan und Isolde (46); David T. Shaw (or Thomas A’Becket): Columbia, the Gem of the Ocean (48)

Index Classifications: 1800s, 1900s

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

Charles Ives is as much a part of the European art music tradition as are his progressive European contemporaries. Ives’s adoption of European genres, ideal of music practiced for its own sake, penchant for program music, nationalism, and desire to express new things in music all show the influence of European Romanticism, which Ives learned in large part from his composition teacher, Horatio Parker. When analyzing the idea of allusion and quotation through Ives’s compositions in chronological order, a clear pattern of development emerges. Ives began by imitating musical models; for example, his early Polonaise in C is modeled on the sextet from Donizetti’s Lucia di Lammermoor. His First Symphony continues this practice of modeling, but now in the spirit of competition. The second movement theme is an elegant condensation of the second movement theme of Dvořák’s New World symphony, and as such it can be read as a sincere challenge to the famous tune. In his Second Symphony, Ives begins to claim a distinctive voice as a composer by using borrowed material to celebrate American music within the European symphonic tradition. This process of self-assertion continues in the Third Symphony, which includes the first instance of Ives’s new “cumulative form,” borrowing the principles of development that underlie the European tradition. The Fourth of July, a symphonic poem also using cumulative form, exemplifies Ives’s mature style and an extraordinary complexity of quotation used to evoke the process of memory. Still, the nationalism and programmaticism underlying The Fourth of July are rooted in European Romanticism. While Ives certainly deserves his avant-garde reputation, he is also a composer whose music is rooted in the European tradition and a worthy peer to his European contemporaries.

Works: Ives: Polonaise in C (15-18), Ich grolle nicht (19-22), Symphony No. 1 in D Minor (22-26), Symphony No. 2 (26-28), Symphony No. 3 (28-31), The Fourth of July (31-32)

Sources: Donizetti: Lucia di Lammermoor (15-18); Robert Schumann: Ich grolle nicht from Dichterliebe, Op. 48 (19-22); Tchaikovsky: Symphony No. 6 in B Minor, Op. 74, Pathétique (22); Beethoven: Symphony No. 9 in D Minor, Op. 125 (22); Schubert: Symphony No. 8 in B Minor, D. 759, Unfinished (22); Dvořák: Symphony No. 9 in E Minor, From the New World (22-25); Henry Clay Work: Wake Nicodemus (26-27); William B. Bradbury: Woodworth (28-31); C. G. Gläser, Lowell Mason (adapter): Azmon (28-31); David T. Shaw (or Thomas A’Becket): Columbia, the Gem of the Ocean (31-32)

Index Classifications: 1800s, 1900s

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

Musicians use a broad spectrum of practices to make new music out of old: performance, including everything from making performing choices to improvising variants or added material; creating a new version of a piece by arranging it, transcribing it for different media or setting it with a new accompaniment; borrowing material from one or more existing pieces to use in a new one; building a new piece out of schemas, shared routines that can be deployed in endless new combinations; using topics, references to familiar styles and types of music, to delineate form and create meaning through association; and other forms of intertextuality, which encompasses these and other kinds of relationships between and among pieces of music. Borrowing has been a subject of musical scholarship for centuries, and in the past four decades scholars have developed parallel fields of study focused on the others. Each of these approaches is useful, drawing our attention to significant and longstanding practices in our musical tradition and to ways creators shape music and listeners understand it. Moreover, all of these scholarly approaches and musical practices are related, serving to demonstrate how central to our tradition are our many ways of making old music new.

Works: Franz Liszt: William Tell Overture, S. 552 (72); Bob Rivers: Not So Silent Night (72-73, 78); Stravinsky: Pulcinella (73), The Fairy’s Kiss (73); Josquin Desprez: Missa Pange lingua (74); Charles Ives: Symphony No. 2 (74, 78)

Sources: Rossini: William Tell Overture (72); Franz Xaver Gruber (composer), John Freeman Young (English lyricist): Silent Night (72-73, 78); Henry Clay Work: Wake Nicodemus (74); David Walker (composer), Anonymous (lyricist): Where, O Where are the Verdant Freshmen? (78)

Index Classifications: 1500s, 1900s, Popular

Contributed by: J. Peter Burkholder, Matthew Van Vleet

Studies of allusion, modeling, paraphrase, quotation, and other forms of musical borrowing hinge on the claim that the composer of one piece of music has used material or ideas from another. What evidence can be presented to support or refute this claim? How can we know that the material is borrowed from this particular piece and not from another source? How can we be sure that a similarity results from borrowing and is not a coincidence or the result of drawing on a shared fund of musical ideas? These questions can be addressed using a typology of evidence organized into three principal categories: analytical evidence gleaned from examining the pieces themselves, including extent of similarity, exactness of match, number of shared elements, and distinctiveness; biographical and historical evidence, including the composer’s knowledge of the alleged source, acknowledgment of the borrowing, sketches, compositional process, and typical practice; and evidence regarding the purpose of the borrowing, including structural or thematic functions, use as a model, extramusical associations, and humor. Ideally, an argument for borrowing should address all three categories. Exploring instances of borrowing or alleged borrowing by composers from Johannes Martini and Gombert through Mozart, Brahms, Debussy, Ives, Stravinsky, and Berg illustrates these types of evidence. The typology makes it possible to evaluate claims and test evidence for borrowing by considering alternative explanations, including the relative probability of coincidence. A particularly illuminating case is the famous resemblance between the opening themes of Mozart’s Bastien und Bastienne and Beethoven’s Eroica Symphony, discussed by hundreds of writers for more than 150 years. Bringing together all the types of evidence writers have offered for and against borrowing shows why the debate has proven so enduring and how it can be resolved.

Works: Berlioz: Symphonie fantastique (227, 241); Liszt: Totentanz (227); Camille Saint-Saëns: Danse macabre (228); Rachmaninoff: Rhapsody on a Theme of Paganini (228), Symphonic Dances (228); Luigi Dallapiccola: Canti di Prigionia (228); Alban Berg: Lyric Suite (229-30, 233), Warm die Lüfte (237-41); Claude Debussy: Golliwogg’s Cakewalk, from Children’s Corner (229-31, 233-34), Pour la danseuse aux crotales, from Six epigraphes antiques (237-41); Nicolas Gombert: Ave regina celorum (231-33); Mozart: Requiem in D Minor, K. 626 (235-36); Brahms: Symphony No. 4 in E Minor, Op. 98 (237); Ives: Symphony No. 1 in D Minor (235), Violin Sonata No. 4 (242-43); Stravinsky: The Rite of Spring (244-46); Beethoven: Symphony No. 3 in E-flat Major, Op. 55, Eroica (250-65)

Sources: Attributed to Thomas of Celano: Dies irae (227-28, 241); Wagner: Tristan und Isolde (229-31, 233-34); Poissy Antiphonal: Ave regina celorum (231-33); Dvořák: Symphony No. 9 in E Minor, Op. 95, From the New World (235); Bach: Chaconne, from Partita No. 2 in D Minor for Solo Violin, BWV 1004 (237); Ravel: Gaspard de la nuit (237-41); William Howard Doane: Old, Old Story (242-43); Mozart: Bastien und Bastienne (250-65)

Index Classifications: 1500s, 1800s, 1900s

Contributed by: J. Peter Burkholder, Matthew Van Vleet

Juxtaposing disparate styles is a defining characteristic of Ives’s music. Analyzing The Alcotts from the Concord Sonata, Larry Starr showed how styles ranging from diatonic tonality to three distinct post-tonal styles delineate the form, and argued that Ives was exceptional in embracing “stylistic heterogeneity” as a basic principle. Yet Ives’s practice fits well in the tradition of musical topics described by Leonard Ratner and others, especially the coordination of contrasting styles to provide variety and articulate the form. A topical approach also reveals how using styles that carry particular associations creates expressivity and mean- ing. Ives uses as topics numerous traditional styles, beginning in his early tonal music, as well as modernist stylizations of familiar styles. Often, these musical topics overlap considerably with Ives’s use of borrowed musical material. For example, in The Alcotts the hymn topic contains material derived from Missionary Hymn and the pounding chords of the Hammerklavier topic explicitly evoke Beethoven’s Hammerklavier sonata. Understanding Ives’s stylistic heterogeneity as the use of topics allows a deeper and more comprehensive analysis of The Alcotts and other works and links his practice to that of past composers such as Mozart.

Works: Ives: Memories (177-81), Symphony No. 2 (181-83), Luck and Work (186-89), Piano Sonata No. 2: Concord, Mass., 1840-60 (189-97)

Sources: Stephen Foster: Gentle Annie (178-81), Massa’s in de Cold Ground (183) Anonymous: Pig Town Fling (181-83); Schubert: Gretchen am Spinnrade (186-76); Robert Robinson: Come, Thou Fount of Ev’ry Blessing (187-88); Wagner: Lohengrin (191-92); A. F. Winnemore: Stop That Knocking at My Door (192); Lowell Mason: Missionary Hymn (192-94); Beethoven: Piano Sonata No. 29 in B-flat Major, Op. 106, Hammerklavier (192-97), Symphony No. 5 in C Minor, Op. 67 (193-94)

Index Classifications: 1800s, 1900s

Contributed by: J. Peter Burkholder, Matthew Van Vleet

Many elements of Charles Ives’s compositional technique, including some that seem to be his most radical, can be traced back to his early career as a church organist. Although pieces for solo organ make up a small part of Ives’s output, there are several pieces (including movements of symphonies 2, 3, and 4 and A Symphony: New England Holidays) that Ives reworked from now lost organ pieces. Four aspects of organ performance influence Ives’s later music, even when the organ itself is not especially prominent: improvisation, virtuosity, multiple keyboards with contrasting timbres, and mutation stops. Additionally, three characteristics of organ literature, fugue, pedal point, and elaboration of hymns, influenced the new directions Ives took in his music. For example, Ives links organ fugue and hymn practices in a lost organ fugue that was adapted into his String Quartet No. 1 and Symphony No. 4. The subject of this fugue was the first phrase of Missionary Hymn and the countersubject was a phrase of Coronation. In Symphony No. 4, both the fugue and hymn tunes evoke the extramusical “formalism and ritualism” of Ives’s program. Elements of Ives’s cumulative form are also anticipated in organ music introducing and accompanying hymns. Mendelssohn’s Organ Sonata No. 1 in particular anticipates several elements of Ives’s cumulative form practice, including adapting a hymn tune as a theme, stating the theme at the end, and developing variants of the tune before the tune itself. While organ music gives a foundation for many of his compositional techniques, Ives’s willingness to extrapolate from the organ tradition makes him unique among modernist composers.

Works: Ives: Sonata No. 2 for Piano, Concord, Mass., 1840-60 (264), Four Transcriptions from “Emerson” (264), String Quartet No. 1 (290-92), Symphony No. 4 (290-92), Sonata No. 4 for Violin and Piano (292-93); Mendelssohn: Organ Sonata No. 1 in F Minor, Op. 65, No. 1 (304-6)

Sources: Ives: Emerson Overture for Piano and Orchestra (264); Lowell Mason: Missionary Hymn (290-92); Oliver Holden: Coronation (290-92); William Hovard Doane: Old, Old Story (292-93); Claudin de Sermisy: Was mein Gott will, das g’schel’ allzeit (304-6)

Index Classifications: 1800s, 1900s

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

The use of existing music is one of the most characteristic facets of Charles Ives’s music. What has been broadly described as musical “quotation” is in fact fourteen distinct procedures that Ives uses: modeling, variations, paraphrasing, setting, cantus firmus, medley, quodlibet, stylistic allusion, transcribing, programmatic quotation, cumulative setting, collage, patchwork, and extended paraphrase. Analyzing Ives’s use of existing music through these procedures allows for a clearer understanding of Ives’s compositions, the discovery that most of these procedures can be traced back to existing practices in the European tradition, and the tracing of a logical development in Ives’s practice from common types of musical borrowing to highly individual methods. The development of Ives’s use of existing music largely corresponds to six periods in Ives’s career: youth (to 1894), apprenticeship (1894-1902), innovation and synthesis (1902-8), maturity (1908-18), last works (1918-27), and revising (1927-54).

In his early career, Ives, like countless other composers, often modeled compositions on existing works to learn from the masters and develop his own voice. At the same time, Ives honed his skills at paraphrasing existing melodies (particularly hymn tunes) for use in classical idioms. Ives’s First and Second Symphonies represent the height of his use of modeling and paraphrase; the First Symphony demonstrates Ives’s command of the symphonic tradition, and the Second demonstrates his ability to bend American vernacular material to fit the symphonic form, paraphrasing American tunes as themes and adapting transitional passages from European compositions. Between 1907 and 1920, the most common form in Ives’s concert music was cumulative setting, a distinctive form in which a borrowed or paraphrased theme is first heard in fragments, gradually accumulating until the entire theme is heard at the end of the movement, often with a countermelody that accumulates in a similar way. Cumulative setting is based on techniques that have precedents in various musical traditions. Ives’s synthesis of these ideas served several musical and extramusical functions, celebrating American melodies and hymn tunes in a new, thematically-driven form. In other mature compositions, Ives uses conventional borrowing techniques in novel ways, such as alluding to a style or genre (often through a specific piece) as a means of commenting on it. Two extensions of paraphrase technique—patchwork, in which a melody is stitched together from fragments of multiple tunes, and extended paraphrase, in which the main melody of an entire work is paraphrased from an existing tune—also became important compositional techniques for Ives. Programmatic quotation, in which a tune is explicitly quoted for a clear extramusical purpose, is uncommon is Ives’s music, but the technique is used in works where the program involves listening to a musical event. Among the most extraordinary uses of borrowed music in Ives’s works are his orchestral collages, which blend several compositional techniques (modeling, paraphrase, cumulative setting, programmatic quotation, and quodlibet) and many borrowed tunes to create a stream-of-consciousness effect representing the process of memory. By systematically analyzing Ives’s increasing use of borrowed music throughout his career, the prevailing “crazy-quilt” view of Ives’s borrowing—that old and new material are stitched together without discrimination—can be replaced by a more accurate assessment that Ives drew on traditional techniques and developed new ones to give expression to his American culture within his own musical language.

Works: Ives: Holiday Quickstep (14-16), Polonaise in C (17-20), Variations on “America” (21-22, 43-46), Turn Ye, Turn Ye (23-24), Ein Ton (25-27), Ich grolle nicht (27-31, 33-34), Feldeinsamkeit (27-28, 31-34), The Celestial Country (34-36), Fantasia on “Jerusalem the Golden” (38-41), March No. 1 in F and B-flat (41-43), String Quartet No. 1 (49-75, 86-87), The Side Show (76-79), Fugue in Four Keys on “The Shining Shore” (80-81, 162-64), Religion (82-83), Evening (83-84), String Quartet No. 2 (84-85, 348-50), Symphony No. 1 in D Minor (88-102), Symphony No. 2 (102-36), Symphony No. 3 (139-54, 238-40), Violin Sonata No. 3 (139, 142, 154-61, 166, 174-78, 206-12, 243), The Camp-Meeting (149-50), Violin Sonata No. 1 (163-72, 201-6, 241-42, 250), Violin Sonata No. 2 (165, 170-74, 197, 200, 242, 315-16), Violin Sonata No. 4 (167-68, 177-84, 189, 193-94), Thanksgiving and Forefathers’ Day from Holidays Symphony (168-69, 185-86), His Exaltation (174), Piano Sonata No. 1 (187-93, 212-14, 243-44, 248-49), At the River (193-94), Adagio cantabile (The Innate) (194-95, 196), Piano Sonata No. 2, Concord, Mass., 1840-1860 (195-200, 350-57), Ragtime Dances (212-14), The Rockstrewn Hills Join in the People’s Outdoor Meeting from Orchestral Set No. 2 (214), “Pre-First” Violin Sonata (236-38), General William Booth Enters into Heaven (253-62), From Hanover Square North, at the End of a Tragic Day, the Voice of the People Again Arose from Orchestral Set No. 2 (262-66), Waltz (268-70), Grantchester (277-78), On the Counter (278-80), The One Way (279-80), Serenity (281-86), The Rainbow (287-89), The White Gulls (291-94), The Last Reader (301-5), The Things Our Fathers Loved (306-11), Old Home Day (311-12), Lincoln, the Great Commoner (312), In Flanders Fields (313), He Is There! (313-15), An Elegy to Our Forefathers from Orchestral Set No. 2 (316-17), The “St.-Gaudens” in Boston Common (Col. Shaw and his Colored Regiment) from Three Places in New England (317-22), The Housatonic at Stockbridge from Three Places in New England (327-30), Down East (330-33), West London (333-39), Yale-Princeton Football Game (342-43), Calcium Light Night (343), The Gong on the Hook and Ladder (343), The General Slocum (343-44), Central Park in the Dark (344-45), Decoration Day from Holidays Symphony (345-46), The Celestial Railroad (357-60), The Pond (Remembrance) (360-63), Requiem (363), Tom Sails Away (363-64), Trio for Violin, Cello, and Piano (373-74), The Fourth of July from Holidays Symphony (376-82), Washington’s Birthday from Holidays Symphony (383-85), Putnam’s Camp from Three Places in New England (386-89), Country Band March (386-87), Overture and March “1776” (387-89), Symphony No. 4 (389-411); George M. Cohan: The Yankee Doodle Boy (322-24, 325-26)

Sources: David W. Reeves: Second Regiment Connecticut National Guard March (14-16, 346, 373-74); Donizetti: Lucia di Lammermoor (17-20); Johann Christian Heinrich Rinck: Variations on “God Save the King” (21-22); Josiah Hopkins: Expostulation (23-24); Peter Cornelius: Ein Ton (25-27); Robert Schumann: Dichterliebe, Op. 48 (27-31, 33-34); Brahms: Feldeinsamkeit (27-28, 31-34), Symphony No. 1 in C Minor, Op. 68 (126-30, 132-33), Symphony No. 3 in F Major, Op. 90 (127), Vier ernste Gesänge (128), Symphony No. 2 in D Major, Op. 73 (349); Horatio Parker: Hora novissima (34-36); Alexander Ewing: Jerusalem the Golden (38-41); Anonymous: The Year of Jubilee (41-43); Attributed to John Bull (composer), Samuel Francis Smith (lyricist): America (43-46, 312-13); Attributed to Asahel Nettleton or John Wyeth: Nettleton (50-52, 61-70, 73-74, 86-87, 105-7, 115, 194-95, 196, 197, 200, 306-11, 349-50, 390-92, 392-401, 402-10); John R. Sweney: Beulah Land (52-55, 61-70, 73-74, 86-87, 99-101, 111-14, 207-12, 392-401); George J. Webb: Webb (55-57, 73-74); Oliver Holden: Coronation (55-57, 71-74, 402); George F. Root: Shining Shore (56-70, 73-74, 80-83, 86-87, 99-101, 162-63, 164-65, 168-69, 170-72, 185-86, 291-94), Tramp, Tramp, Tramp (236, 241-42, 250, 314, 359-60, 377-82, 386-89, 392-401), The Battle Cry of Freedom (236, 306-11, 313, 314, 315-16, 317-22, 377-82, 386-89), There’s Music in the Air (239); Lowell Mason: Missionary Hymn (71-74, 402), Bethany (81-85, 301-5, 330-33, 349-50, 390-92, 402-10), Watchman (201-6, 301-5, 390-92), Work Song (202-3, 205-6); J. S. Bach: Toccata and Fugue in D Minor (“Dorian”) BWV 538 (71, 402), Three-Part Invention in F Minor BWV 795 (126-27), Fugue in E Minor from The Well-Tempered Clavier, Book 1 (128-30); Pat Rooney: Is That You, Mr. Riley? (76-79); Tchaikovsky: Symphony No. 6 in B Minor, Op. 74, Pathétique (76-79, 95-97, 101-2, 349), Symphony No. 4 in F Minor, Op. 36 (130-31); C. G. Gläser, Lowell Mason (arranger): Azmon (80-83, 140-41, 143-46, 151-54, 162-64, 240, 404, 408); Dvořák: Symphony No. 9 in E Minor, From the New World (89-95, 101-2, 130-31); Beethoven: Symphony No. 9 in D Minor, Op. 125 (97-98, 101-2, 349), Symphony No. 5 in C Minor, Op. 67 (195-200, 350-60), Piano Sonata No. 29 in B-flat Major, Op. 106, Hammerklavier (195-200, 350-60); Schubert: Symphony No. 8 in B Minor, D. 759, Unfinished (98-99, 101-2); Stephen Foster: Massa’s in de Cold Ground (104-7, 115, 122-24, 316-22, 357, 383-85, 386-89, 392-401), De Camptown Races (115-22, 359-60, 383-85, 392-401), Old Black Joe (122-24, 316-22, 359-60, 392-401), My Old Kentucky Home (306-11, 373-74, 386-89), Old Folks at Home (383-85); Anonymous: Pig Town Fling (107-8, 373-74, 383-85, 392-401); David T. Shaw (or Thomas A’Becket): Columbia, the Gem of the Ocean (108, 116-24, 312, 313, 314, 348-49, 355, 359, 364, 376-82, 386-89, 392-401); Henry Clay Work: Wake Nicodemus (108-9), Marching Through Georgia (312-14, 317-22, 345, 348-49, 359-60, 373-74, 377-82, 386-89, 392-401), Kingdom Coming (377-82); George A. Minor: Bringing in the Sheaves (109-10, 213-14, 243-44); David Walker (composer), Anonymous (lyricist): Where, O Where Are the Verdant Freshmen? (110-11); Gregorian chant, Lowell Mason (arranger): Hamburg (110-11); Johann G. Naegeli, Lowell Mason (arranger): Naomi (110, 238-40); Samuel A. Ward: Materna (112-15); Charles Zeuner: Missionary Chant (115, 123, 195-200, 402-10); Thomas Haynes Bayly: Long, Long Ago (120, 373-74, 392-401); George Washington Dixon or Bob Farrell: Turkey in the Straw (121-24, 315, 348-49, 383-85, 392-401); Handel, Lowell Mason (arranger): Antioch (123-24, 402, 402-10); Anonymous (bugle calls): Reveille (124, 257, 312-13, 314, 377-82, 392-401), Assembly (312, 377-82), Taps (313, 345-46, 360-63); Wagner: Tristan und Isolde (127); William Bradbury: Woodworth (140-41, 143-51, 153, 240), Jesus Loves Me (168, 181-84, 316-17); Charles Converse: Erie (141, 151-54, 188-89, 192-93, 239-40); Robert Lowry: Need (142, 154-61, 207-12, 243), The Beautiful River (166, 174-77, 189, 193-94, 195, 196, 392-401), Where Is My Wandering Boy? (249); François-Hippolyte Barthélémon: Autumn (165, 170-74, 237); Ira D. Sankey: There’ll Be No Dark Valley (166, 174-78); William H. Doane: Old, Old Story (167, 178-81); George E. Ives: Fourth Fugue in B-flat (167, 178-81); John Hatton: Duke Street (168-69, 185-86); Henry K. Oliver: Federal Street (168-69, 185-86); George Kiallmark: The Old Oaken Bucket (170, 236, 241-42, 250, 363-64); John Zundel: Lebanon (187-92, 244, 249); Charles Zeuner: Missionary Chant (195-200, 402-10); Simeon B. Marsh: Martyn (195-200, 355-56, 358-60, 392-401, 402-10); Anonymous: Happy Day (213-14, 243-44); Lewis Hartsough: Welcome Voice (213-14, 243-44, 402); William G. Tomer: God Be With You (236, 359-60, 392-401); Walter Kittredge: Tenting on the Old Camp Ground (236, 313-14); Anonymous: Sailor’s Hornpipe (236, 315, 373-74, 377-82, 383-85); Anonymous: Money Musk (236, 315, 383-85); Anonymous: The White Cockade (236, 315-16, 377-82, 383-85); Anonymous, Lowell Mason (arranger): Fountain (238-40, 254-62, 333-39, 373-74); Andrew Young, Lowell Mason (arranger): There Is a Happy Land (238-40, 392-401, 402-10); James P. Webster: In the Sweet Bye and Bye (262-66, 306-11, 373-74, 390, 392-401); Michael Nolan: Little Annie Rooney (268-70); Debussy: Prélude à “L’après-midi d’un faune” (277-78); Ives: A Song—for Anything (278-80), Country Band March (313, 355, 359-60, 386-87, 392-401), Piano Sonata No. 2, Concord Mass., 1840-1860 (357-58, 392-402), Old Home Day (377-82), Overture and March “1776” (387-89), Violin Sonata No. 1 (390-92), The Celestial Railroad (392-401), String Quartet No. 1 (402), String Quartet No. 2 (406); Oley Speaks: On the Road to Mandalay (279-80); William V. Wallace: Serenity (282-86, 288-89); Ludwig Spohr: Cherith (301-5); Henry W. Greatorex: Manoah (301-5); Alexander R. Reinagle: St. Peter (301-5); Paul Dresser: On the Banks of the Wabash, Far Away (306-11); William Steffe (composer), Julia Ward Howe (lyricist): Battle Hymn of the Republic (311-12, 312, 314, 377-82, 386-89); H. S. Thompson: Annie Lisle (311-12); Anonymous: Arkansas Traveler (311-12, 386-89); Anonymous: The Girl I Left Behind Me (311-12, 377-82, 386-89); Anonymous: Garryowen (311-12, 377-82, 383-85, 392-401); Anonymous: Saint Patrick’s Day (311-12, 373-74, 377-82, 385, 392-401); Anonymous: Auld Lang Syne (311-12); Philip Phile: Hail! Columbia (312, 348-49, 377-82, 386-89, 392-401); John Stafford Smith (composer), Francis Scott Key (lyricist): The Star-Spangled Banner (312, 314, 386-89); Claude Joseph Rouget de Lisle: La Marseillaise (313, 314); Henry S. Cutler: All Saints New (313); George M. Cohan: Over There (314, 364); Dan Emmet: Dixie (314, 348-49, 373-74, 377-82); Anonymous: Yankee Doodle (314, 377-82, 386-89, 392-401); James Ryder Randall: Maryland, My Maryland (314); Isaac B. Woodbury: Dorrnance (327-30, 402-10); Nelson Kneass: Ben Bolt (344); Ellen Wright: Violets (344); Joseph E. Howard: Hello! Ma Baby (344); John Philip Sousa: Washington Post March (344, 392-401), Semper Fidelis (386-89); William Crotch: Westminster Chimes (349-50, 390-92, 392-401, 402-10); Edward S. Ufford: Throw Out the Life-Line (359-60, 392-401); Frederick Crouch: Kathleen Mavourneen (361-63); Handel, Anonymous (arranger): David (361-63), Christmas (402); Mendelssohn, Anonymous (arranger): Hexham (361-63); William G. Harris (arranger): A Band of Brothers in DKE (373-74); George Morris: Few Days (373-74); Anonymous: The Worms Crawl In (373-74); Anonymous: That Old Cabin Home Upon the Hill (373-74); Anonymous: The Campbells Are Coming (373-74, 383-85); Henry J. Sayers: Ta-ra-ra Boom-de-ay! (373-74); Anonymous: Hold the Fort, McClung in Coming (373-74); William Gooch: Reuben and Rachel (373-74); Anonymous: Fisher’s Hornpipe (377-82, 383-85); Anonymous: London Bridge (377-82, 386-89); Anonymous: Katy Darling (377-82); Henry R. Bishop: Home! Sweet Home! (383-85, 392-401); Edwin P. Christy: Goodnight, Ladies (383-85); Anonymous: For He’s a Jolly Good Fellow (383-85); Anonymous: Irish Washerwoman (383-85, 392-401); Anonymous: The British Grenadiers (386-89); Theodore E. Perkins: Something for Thee (391-401, 402-10); Arthur Sullivan: Proprior Deo (391-92, 402-10); Anonymous: Crusader’s Hymn (391-92); Justin Heinrich Knecht, Edward Husband (arranger): St. Hilda (402-10)

Index Classifications: 1800s, 1900s

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

Charles Ives’s extraordinarily diverse musical output can seem daunting, but by studying the historical and artistic context surrounding his compositions, listeners can gain an appreciation for and better understanding of Ives’s music. One of the most salient features of Ives’s music is its variety. In his collection 114 Songs, Ives apparently hoped that everyone could find something to like in it, and even sampling just a few of the songs demonstrates its breadth of musical style. During his youth, Ives encountered the four musical traditions that would shape his compositional career: popular music, Protestant church music, European classical music, and experimental music. As Ives studied under Horatio Parker at Yale, he based several compositions (including his First Symphony) on European classical models. Starting with his First String Quartet, Ives began incorporating American tunes into European forms, and in his Second Symphony he completely integrates European and American music. With his Third Symphony and four violin sonatas, Ives developed cumulative form, a new form in which fragments of a borrowed tune (in these pieces, a hymn) are developed before the complete tune is heard at the end of the movement. Around the same time, he began to compose the four movements of A Symphony: New England Holidays, which celebrate American holidays through music associated with them and evoke memory through musical collage. Ives’s two Orchestral Sets use similar procedures to evoke American historical events, and, like the Holidays Symphony, combine elements of popular music, Protestant church music, European classical music, and experimental music. One of Ives’s best-known pieces, his Concord Sonata, conveys his impressions of four American Transcendentalist writers. In his Second String Quartet and his Fourth Symphony, Ives conveys two similar transcendent journeys, both culminating in the hymn tune Bethany (“Nearer, my God, to Thee”). In 1922, Ives self-published 114 Songs, a collection of old and new songs that, along with the Concord Sonata, brought him to the attention of the classical music community. It was not until after Ives stopped composing new music in 1926 that he began to be recognized as a major American composer.

Works: Ives: Down East (20-21), General William Booth Enters into Heaven (21-24), Holiday Quickstep (32-35), Variations on “America” (39-43), Feldeinsamkeit (58-61, 63), Ich grolle nicht (58-60, 61-63), Symphony No. 1 in D Minor (63, 65, 69-71), The Celestial Country (81-82), String Quartet No. 1 (82-89), Yale-Princeton Football Game (93-96), Central Park in the Dark (117-19), Symphony No. 2 (125-44), Symphony No. 3: The Camp Meeting (149-58), Sonata No. 4 for Violin and Piano: Children’s Day at the Camp Meeting (158-63), Sonata No. 3 for Violin and Piano (158-60, 163-66), Sonata No. 2 for Violin and Piano (158-60, 166-67), Sonata No. 1 for Violin and Piano (158-60, 167-68), Washington’s Birthday from A Symphony: New England Holidays (173-81), Decoration Day from A Symphony: New England Holidays (173-76, 181-85), The Fourth of July from A Symphony: New England Holidays (173-76, 185-90), Thanksgiving and Forefathers’ Day from A Symphony: New England Holidays (173-76, 190-93), Orchestral Set No. 1: Three Places in New England (195-209), Orchestral Set No. 2 (210-15), Piano Sonata No. 2: Concord, Mass., 1840-1860 (217-42), String Quartet No. 2 (249-56), Symphony No. 4 (257-68), On the Counter (273), Watchman! (273-74), At the River (273-74), His Exaltation (273-74), The Camp-Meeting (274, 275-76), Slow March (274-75), In Flanders Fields (276), He Is There! (276-77), Tom Sails Away (277), The Greatest Man (278), The White Gulls (278-79), Evening (278), The One Way (282), Three Quarter-Tone Pieces (282-83)

Sources: Lowell Mason: Bethany (20-21, 184-85, 249, 254-56, 258, 259-61, 266-68, 279), Missionary Hymn (84-85, 257, 265-66), Work Song (168), Watchman (168, 257, 260-61, 273-74); James A. Bland: Golden Slippers (23); Anonymous, Lowell Mason (arranger): Fountain (23-24, 154-55); David Wallis Reeves: Second Regiment Connecticut National Guard March (34, 95, 183-85); Attributed to John Bull (composer), Samuel Francis Smith (lyricist): America (39-43, 276, 283); Brahms: Feldeinsamkeit (59-61), Symphony No. 1 in C Minor, Op. 68 (132, 134, 136, 138), Symphony No. 3 in F Major, Op. 90 (133), Vier ernste Gesänge (136), Symphony No. 2 in D Major, Op. 73 (254); Robert Schumann: Ich grolle nicht from Dichterliebe (61-63); Dvořák: Symphony No. 9 in E Minor, From the New World (63, 65, 69-70); Tchaikovsky: Symphony No. 6 in B Minor, Pathétique (63, 70, 254); Beethoven: Symphony No. 9 in D Minor, Op. 125 (63, 65, 70, 254), Symphony No. 5 in C Minor, Op. 67 (223-28, 230, 232-34, 236, 241), Piano Sonata in B-flat Major, Op. 106, Hammerklavier (224-28, 241); Schubert: Symphony No. 8, D. 759, Unfinished (63, 70); George F. Root: Shining Shore (70-71, 86-87, 89, 167-68, 191-93), The Battle Cry of Freedom (166-67, 168, 184, 188, 201-2, 205, 276-77, 283), Tramp, Tramp, Tramp (168, 188, 262-63, 276-77); John R. Sweney: Beulah Land (70-71, 86-87, 89, 134-35, 163-64, 262-64); Anonymous (bugle calls): Taps (71, 183-85), Reveille (138, 188, 276); David T. Shaw (or Thomas A’Becket): Columbia, the Gem of the Ocean (71, 132, 136, 138, 144, 186-89, 237, 253, 254, 263, 276-77); Horatio Parker: Hora novissima (81-82); J. S. Bach: Toccata and Fugue in D Minor (“Dorian”) BWV 538 (85), Prelude in B Minor BWV 869 from The Well-Tempered Clavier, Book 1 (131), Three-Part Invention in F Minor BWV 795 (132, 136), Fugue in E Minor BWV 855 from The Well-Tempered Clavier, Book 1 (137-38); Oliver Holden: Coronation (85, 87-88, 89); Asahel Nettleton or John Wyeth: Nettleton (87, 135, 167, 210, 254, 262-63); George J. Webb: Webb (88); Karl Langlotz (composer), Harlan Page Peck (lyricist): Old Nassau (94-95); Anonymous: Hy-Can Nuck a No (94-95); Anonymous: Harvard Has Blue Stocking Girls (94-95); Carl Wilhelm (composer), Anonymous (lyricist): Bright College Years (Dear Old Yale) (95); Philip Bliss (composer), Anonymous (lyricist): Hold the Fort, McClung Is Coming (95); Nelson Kneass: Ben Bolt (118); Ellen Wright: Violets (118-19); Joseph E. Howard: Hello! Ma Baby (118); Anonymous: The Campbells Are Coming (118-19, 178-79); John Philip Sousa: Washington Post March (119), Semper Fidelis (204-5), Liberty Bell March (204-5); Stephen Foster: Massa’s in de Cold Ground (131-32, 135, 137-38, 141-43, 178-79, 201-2, 205, 210, 214, 240-41, 254), De Camptown Races (136-37, 178, 263, 264), Old Black Joe (137-38, 142-43, 201-2, 210), Old Folks at Home (177-78, 180); Anonymous: Pig Town Fling (131-32, 137-38, 179); Henry Clay Work: Wake Nicodemus (132-34, 142), Marching Through Georgia (184, 187-89, 201-2, 205-6, 253, 254, 262, 264, 276-77); George A. Minor: Bringing in the Sheaves (133-34, 168, 210); David Walker (composer), Anonymous (lyricist): Where, O Where Are the Verdant Freshmen? (133-34); Gregorian chant, Lowell Mason (arranger): Hamburg (133-34); Johann G. Naegeli, Lowell Mason (arranger): Naomi (133-34, 154-55); Samuel A. Ward: Materna (134-35); Wagner: Tristan und Isolde (135), Lohengrin (227); Charles Zeuner: Missionary Chant (135, 224-28, 266-67); George Washington Dixon or Bob Farrell: Turkey in the Straw (137-38, 166-67, 178-79, 253, 264); Carl Gotthelf Glaser, Lowell Mason (arranger): Azmon (153-54, 156-57, 267); Charles Converse: Erie (153-54); William B. Bradbury: Woodworth (154, 156-57, 274, 275-76), Jesus Loves Me (161-62, 210); Andrew Young, Lowell Mason (arranger): There Is a Happy Land (155); William H. Doane: Old, Old Story (161); Robert Lowry: The Beautiful River (162, 164-65, 273-74), Need (163-66); Ira Sankey: There’ll Be No Dark Valley (164-65); François-Hippolyte Barthélémon: Autumn (166, 273-74); Anonymous: College Hornpipe (Sailor’s Hornpipe) (166-67, 178, 188); Anonymous: Money Musk (166-67, 178-79); Anonymous: The White Cockade (166-67, 178, 188); George Kiallmark: The Old Oaken Bucket (168, 277); Henry R. Bishop: Home! Sweet Home! (177-78, 180); Anonymous: For He’s a Jolly Good Fellow (178); Anonymous: Fisher’s Hornpipe (178-79, 188); Anonymous: Irish Washerwoman (178-79, 188); Anonymous: Garryowen (178-79, 188); Anonymous: Saint Patrick’s Day (178-79, 188); Edwin P. Christy: Goodnight, Ladies (179, 180); John Francis Wade: Adeste fideles (183-85); Walter Kittredge: Tenting on the Old Camp Ground (184, 276-77); William Steffe (composer), Julia Ward Howe (lyricist): Battle Hymn of the Republic (184-85, 187-89); Philip Phile (composer), Joseph Hopkinson (lyricist): Hail! Columbia (188, 205, 253, 254, 263); Anonymous: The Girl I Left Behind Me (188); Anonymous: London Bridge (188); John Hatton: Duke Street (191-93); Henry K. Oliver: Federal Street (191-93); Anonymous: The British Grenadiers (203-6); Ives: Overture and March “1776” (203-4), Country Band March (203-4, 236, 264, 276), Ragtime Dances (210, 283), Emerson Overture (218, 228-29), Orchestral Set No. 1: Three Places in New England (236, 264, 276), Sonata No. 1 for Violin and Piano (257, 273-74), The Celestial Railroad (257, 258), Piano Sonata No. 2: Concord, Mass., 1840-1860 (257, 258, 263), String Quartet No. 1 (257, 265-66), String Quartet No. 2 (257, 267), A Song—for Anything (273), Sonata No. 4 for Violin and Piano (273-74), Sonata No. 2 for Violin and Piano (273-74), Symphony No. 3: The Camp Meeting (274, 275-76); Anonymous: Arkansas Traveler (205); Anonymous: Yankee Doodle (205, 264); John Stafford Smith (composer), Francis Scott Key (lyricist): The Star-Spangled Banner (206, 276); Isaac B. Woodbury: Dorrnance (207-9, 266-67); Edward S. Ufford: Throw Out the Life-Line (210, 262, 263); Anonymous: Happy Day (210); Lewis Hartsough: Welcome Voice (210, 266); James P. Webster: In the Sweet By-and-By (211-14, 260, 262-63); Simeon B. Marsh: Martyn (224, 236-7, 262, 263-64, 267); Anonymous: Loch Lomond (227); A. F. Winnemore: Stop That Knocking at My Door (227); Dan Emmet: Dixie (253, 276-77); William Crotch: Westminster Chimes (255-56, 260, 266-67); William G. Tomer: God Be With You (262); Handel, Lowell Mason (arranger): Antioch (Joy to the World) (266); Handel: Saul (274-75); Claude Joseph Rouget de Lisle: La Marseillaise (276, 283); Anonymous (composer), James Ryder Randall (lyricist): Maryland, My Maryland (276-77); George M. Cohan: Over There (277); Oley Speaks: On the Road to Mandalay (282)

Index Classifications: 1800s, 1900s

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

The popularity of the cake walk in early-twentieth-century Paris introduces complex layers of cultural signifiers and meaning both within and outside of constructions of race. The Parisian public was introduced to cake walks in 1900 by Sousa’s band, whose aura of civility and control challenges the dance’s assumed primitivism in current scholarship. The physical, spectacular, and participatory nature of the cake walk dance as described in the 1900s French press further runs counter to the expectations of a solely primitivist understanding. Filmmaker Georges Méliès’s combination of cake walk with early film splicing technique (as in his 1903 Le Cake Walk Infernal) adds an uncanny association to Parisian cake walks. Debussy’s quotation of Tristan und Isolde in Golliwogg’s Cake Walk is typically understood as a lighthearted critique of Wagner and Wagnerism. Lawrence Kramer reads these inclusions as quotations of absence—the harmonic substance of the Tristan chord is stripped away and rendered trite. However, a more nuanced reading of this quotation comes from taking seriously the irony inherent in the cakewalk genre: black plantation slaves parodying the mannerisms of their white masters. The theatricality and excess in Debussy’s score can further be identified with the modernist fixation on clowns. This interpretation takes into account the complexity of cultural signifiers in the cake walk genre and its appropriation in modern Paris.

Works: Debussy: Golliwogg’s Cake Walk, from Children’s Corner (288-89, 308-11)

Sources: Wagner: Tristan und Isolde (288-89, 308-11)

Index Classifications: 1900s

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

Three late thirteenth-century, refrain-form conducti that interpolate French refrains offer insight into the compositional processes of Latin conducti that engage in the rare practice of cross-genre and cross-linguistic borrowing. The interplay of musical and textual borrowing suggests that the unknown composers of these conducti conceived the music and text in tandem. Veni sancte spiritus spes, copied in GB-Lbl Egerton 274 (ca. 1275), adapts the text of the sequence of the same name and the melody of a French refrain En ma dame ai mis mon cuer et mon panser (vdB 662). The vdB 662 melody also appears in several motets, chansons, and a rondeau (with some variation), complicating its chronology. The form and scansion of Veni sancte spiritus spes draws on both the sequence and the refrain, creating a hybrid work with no clear distinction between borrowed and new material in both text and music. The northern French manuscript F-Pn lat. 15131 contains no musical notation, but the musical identity of the included Latin poems can be derived from the appearance of French and Latin refrains in their rubrics. The incipits Marie preconio and Superne matris gaudia demonstrate identifiable textual borrowing from sequences transmitted in other sources. The two incipits also have poetic scansion in common with French refrains, suggesting musical borrowing as well. Marie preconio is in this sense a “contrafact” of the refrain Amez moi douce dame amez (vdB 117) and Superne matris gaudia a “contrafact” of Par defaus de leaute (vdB 1476). The relationship between the scansion of Superne matris gaudia and its refrain source suggests that the composer adapted the Latin sequence to align with the French refrain form and rhyme scheme. These and many other examples of vernacular song citations in Latin conducti reveal an intertextual and intermusical borrowing practice that brings disparate “voices” into harmony.

Works: Anonymous: Veni sancte spiritus spes, GB-Lbl Egerton 274 (138-54), Superne matris gaudia, F-Pn lat. 15131 (169-71), Marie preconio, F-Pn lat. 15131 (171-74).

Sources: Anonymous: En ma dame ai mis mon cuer et mon panser, vdB 662 (138-54), Amez moi douce dame amez et je fere voz voulentez, vdB 117 (169-71), Par defaus de leaute que j’ai en amour trove me partire du pais. contra in latino, vdB 1476 (171-74).

Index Classifications: Monophony to 1300

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

The long-standing appeal of the Fulget dies refrain in twelfth- and thirteenth-century hymns, through the Counter-Reformation, and into nineteenth-century Catholic hymnals is linked to its association with liturgical time and relationship with multiple feasts, seasons, offices, and chants. The Fulget dies refrain originated sometime in the twelfth century within a family of contrafact tropes on Benedicamus Domino, each related to a different feast. By 1220, the refrain was found in hymns as well, as illustrated by its appearance in at least five hymns found in the Worcester Antiphonal. By 1300, the refrain had made its way to Hungary, Spain, Norman Sicily, France, and England. While Fulget dies appears in a variety of musical and liturgical contexts, it generally functions as a marker of festivity. Even after many office and mass tropes fell out of favor, Fulget dies lived on as a refrain in fourteenth- and fifteenth-century hymnals. The Feast of Corpus Christi hymn O salutaris hostia and the Marian hymn Matrem per integerrimam illustrate its continued association with important feasts and the ways in which the text and melody of Fulget dies gradually changed over time. In sources from the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, the refrain was transmitted only in ordinals which did not contain notated music, just text. Here, Fulget dies became primarily associated with the Christmas season. Two sources, the thirteenth-century Worcester Antiphonal and a sixteenth-century Hungarian ordinal, document the erasure of the Fulget dies refrain from hymn transmission. Through the sixteenth century, Fulget dies had a degree of stability attached to three Christmas hymns, most often to Fit porta Christi pervia, with both the text and music demonstrating a high degree of similarity. Accounting for its longevity as a refrain, the text of Fulget dies (the day shines forth . . . this day shines forth) exhibits both poetic brevity and flexibility to engage with any number of theological cycles from daily rituals to the cycles of seasons.

Works: Anonymous: Iam lucis orto sidere (91-97, 114-16, 120-23, 138, 141-42), A solis ortus cardine (107-11, 120, 126-27, 133-25, 142), Nunc sancta nobis spiritus (107-11), O salutaris hostia (117-20, 125), Matrem per integerrimam (117-20), Ordinarius Stringoniensis (122), Deus tuorum militum (125-26), Enixa est puerpera (126-32), Fit porta Christi pervia (126-32), Venez vos gens chantez Noé (132); Willaert: Enixa est puerpera (131-32), Fit porta Christi pervia (131-32, 142-43); Orlando di Lasso: Enixa est puerpera (131-32), Fit porta Christi pervia (131-32)

Sources: Anonymous: Fulget dies from tropes on Benedicamus Domino (91-144), A solis ortus cardine (126)

Index Classifications: Monophony to 1300, 1400s, 1500s, 1600s, 1700s, 1800s

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

The three pasticci that debuted at the Theater nächst der Burg in Vienna in 1750, Andromeda liberata, Euridice, and Armida placata, were created as a result of complex interactions among librettists, performers, and many composers who borrowed and adapted music from Vienna and beyond. These three works were the only pasticci to appear at the Theater under the direction of Rocco Lo Presti during a short-lived resurgence of opera seria in Vienna. Between them, there are twenty-three borrowed arias composed between 1734 and 1750 (twenty of which have been identified). Local composer Georg Christoph Wagenseil probably coordinated the music in all three pasticci with various local librettists providing new text. Many of the borrowed arias were included by way of the singers who had performed them in other theaters, were associated with the original productions, or had access to prints of the arias. Two of Johann Adolph Hasse’s arias borrowed in Euridice show no connection to the local singers, but instead come from older operas that had been adapted and staged in Vienna decades prior. Andromeda liberata contains the highest proportion of borrowed arias, with some arias even appearing without any text changes. As a rule, however, the texts were rewritten, preserving the verse structure but changing the content, sometimes quite drastically. The musical changes are by comparison more difficult to ascertain, as complete scores for some sources exist in multiple versions or are missing entirely. In most cases, arias are unchanged if they are associated with a particular singer. Some arias were transposed or melodically adjusted to fit the range of the new singer. Arias by Girolamo Abos sung by Maria Masucci were recomposed to emphasize her apparent technical ability, with repeated coloratura passages and longer ritornellos. These pasticci were created as a result of historically contingent and pragmatic decisions dependent on the music and musicians available to Lo Presti’s theater.

Works: Georg Chrisoph Wagenseil (music coordinator): Andromeda liberata (11-13, 16-17, 19-21), Euridice (15, 17, 19-21), Armida placata (11, 13, 18, 21-22)

Sources: Baldassare Galuppi: Evergete (11, 13, 20); Georg Christoph Wagenseil: La clemenza di Tito (11); Johann Adolph Hasse: Arminio (12), Semiramide riconosciuta (13), Il natal di Giove (12, 16, 19-20), Attilio Regolo (12, 17-18), Il Sesostrate (15), Gerone tiranno di Siracusa (15); Niccolò Jommelli: Ezio (13, 18, 21), Merope (13, 19-21); Domenico Sarro: Ezio (13); Andrea Bernasconi: Bajazet (13); George Frideric Handel: Arianna in Creta (13, 20); Girolamo Abos: Pelopida (13, 21-22), Arianne e Teseo (13, 17)

Index Classifications: 1700s

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

Merce Cunningham’s early choreography, particularly his collaborations with John Cage and fascination with the music of Erik Satie, demonstrates an interdependence of life and work as well as a marriage between music and dance that are fundamental to understanding his modernist divorce of choreography from music and narrative. The first Cage-Cunningham collaboration, Credo in Us (1942), reflects Cage’s unhappy marriage and blames the bourgeois conventions of American society and their insistence on maintaining the appearance of a happy heterosexual marriage. Cage’s score suggests this with a dismissive call for bourgeois favorites “Beethoven, Sibelius, Shostakovich, or whatever” to be played on a phonograph. Other early Cunningham choreographies, including Cage collaboration Four Walls and his Revivalist solo for Appalachian Spring, also deal with themes of marriage and exhibit clear relationships between dance and music. As Cunningham’s choreography began to meaningfully diverge from its accompanying music, his settings of Satie’s music and collaborations with Cage—for example, Idyllic Song (1944) choreographed to Satie’s Socrate—were still thematically “married” to the music and linked to Cunningham’s erotic dance. When Cage and Cunningham worked to choreograph the remainder of Socrate in 1969 as Second Hand, Satie’s publisher refused performance rights for Cage’s arrangement. Instead, Cage composed a derivative work, Cheap Imitation, that preserved the meter, rhythms, and at times intervallic distance of Socrate while transposing the pitches by consulting the I Ching. The new score was not entirely generated by this procedure, however, as there are clear instances of Cage composing in musical cues for Cunningham’s dance. This relationship between dance and music is clearly different from other Cunningham works such as Split Sides (2003), produced after Cage’s death, in which the dance is entirely independent from the music. Although Cage and Cunningham remained for the most part silent about their sexuality and relationship, analyzing the formal structures of their professional collaborations in light of their personal relationship helps to reveal a fuller understanding of the couple’s life and work.

Works: John Cage (composer) and Merce Cunningham (choreographer): Credo in Us (448-51), Idyllic Song (456, 484-90), Second Hand (496-508); John Cage: Cheap Imitation (496-508); Merce Cunningham (choreographer): Septet (490-94), Split Sides (509-11)

Sources: Erik Satie: Socrate (456, 484-508), Trois morceaux en forme de poire (490-94); Sigur Rós: ba ba ti ki di do (509-11); Radiohead (Colin Greenwood, Jonny Greenwood, Ed O’Brian, Philip Selway, Thom Yorke): Untitled (509-11)

Index Classifications: 1900s, 2000s

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

C. P. E. Bach’s final composition, C. P. E. Bachs Empfindungen, a chamber sonata arrangement of his Free Fantasia in F-sharp Minor, Wq. 67/H. 200, can be understood through the philosophies of sympathy posed by Bach’s contemporaries. This reading emphasizes the added violin as an integral figure in the work: the sympathetic reader. Across disciplines, notions of sympathy can be described as a “common thought pattern” in eighteenth-century Germany, and Bach’s own writings suggest he was at least familiar with these ideas as they related to his music. While Bach’s solo fantasias had the character of intimate diary entries, the accompanied sonata was a genre that favored sociability. This can be seen musically in how the violin interacts with the keyboard in Empfindungen. The keyboard part remains basically unchanged from the solo Fantasia for the majority of Empfindungen while the violin sympathetically reinforces the harmonic motion and motives, never duplicating the keyboard part. Empfindungen proceeds to adapt another Bach sonata for its conclusion, the unpublished Sonata in B-flat, Wq. 65.45/H. 212. Throughout the work, Bach demands a great deal of attention and sympathetic listening between performers, exemplifying his ideas on musical performance expressed in Versuch. The relationship between composer, performers, and audience modeled in Empfindungen not only mirrors ideas of literary sympathy, but also suggests a change in the way composers relate to their public.

Works: Carl Philip Emanuel Bach: C. P. E. Bachs Empfindungen, Wq. 80/H. 536 (22-31)

Sources: Carl Philip Emanuel Bach: Free Fantasia in F-sharp Minor, Wq. 67/H. 300 (22-26), Andenken an den Tod (24-26), Keyboard Sonata in B-flat Major, Wq. 65.45/H. 212 (26-28)

Index Classifications: 1700s

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

Mozart’s quotations of three opera buffa melodies in the Tafelmusik scene of Don Giovanni are generally understood to be jokes for his audience and colleagues. However, if the quotations are treated seriously as sources of intertextual meaning, they might serve a greater dramatic purpose than simply giving listeners the delight of recognition. The first quotation comes from Vincente Martin y Soler’s Una cosa rara, an opera with superficial plot similarities to Don Giovanni. Specifically, Mozart quotes the chorus from the Act I finale of Cosa rara, which depicts a falsely joyful conclusion, mirroring Don Giovanni’s premature dinner celebration. The next quotation comes from Giuseppe Sarti’s Fra i due litiganti il terzo gode, a farcical story of three men vying for the affection of a serving-maid. The quoted aria, “Come un agnello,” comes from one of the suitors (prematurely) boasting about winning the hand of his beloved, much like the ever-cocky Don Giovanni. The opening line of the quoted aria, “Like a lamb which goes to the slaughter,” has been interpreted by previous scholars as referring to Don Giovanni’s conquests, Don Giovanni himself, or (as Steffen Lösel argues) as an allusion to the Last Supper. The final quotation, from Mozart’s own The Marriage of Figaro, comes from Figaro’s aria “Non più andrai,” in which Figaro tells Cherubino his days as an “amorous philanderer” are over, foreshadowing Don Giovanni’s fate. Mozart’s choice to quote his own opera—and to have Leporello recognize the tune—creates what John Kirby describes as a “double rhetorical situation,” inserting Mozart’s compositional persona (if not the man himself) into readings of the opera text. As a unit, the quick transitions between the Tafelmusik quotations reflect Don Giovanni’s shifting musical (and social) identity. They also ironically affirm the opera buffa conventionality before Mozart subverts convention in the next scene. One final function of the Tafelmusik quotations is to blur the line between the world of the opera and the world of the audience, welcoming the audience to engage with the characters and lessons of Don Giovanni on a more personal level.

Works: Mozart: Don Giovanni (8-29)

Sources: Vincente Martin y Soler: Una cosa rara (8-16, 16-19, 25-29); Giuseppe Sarti: Fra i due litiganti il terzo gode (8-16, 19-21 25-29); Mozart: The Marriage of Figaro (8-16, 21-25, 25-29)

Index Classifications: 1700s

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

Four-hand piano transcriptions are arguably the most important medium for the dissemination of concert repertory in the nineteenth century and played a destabilizing role by breaking down the geographic boundaries between public and private spheres of music. Before the recording era, piano transcriptions were the primary means of disseminating concert music and four-hand transcriptions in particular struck a balance between practicality and verisimilitude. Advocates of the medium praised it as the ideal way to understand and personally connect with the music while detractors lamented the piano’s limited timbre. Arrangers took different approaches to adapting orchestral textures to the piano. Carl Czerny’s arrangement of Beethoven’s Seventh Symphony strictly adheres to the orchestral doubling and range of the Beethoven’s score while Hugo Ulrich drastically pares down the texture. Additionally, there were many critical debates over which composers could and could not be faithfully translated to four-hand piano. Contemporary to the four-hand transcription craze, the process of lithography was developed which allowed historical artworks to be similarly reproduced and owned by the masses. Thus, the debates over the aesthetics of the domestication of art extended from music to visual art and largely defined reception histories of the nineteenth century. One understudied aspect of four-hand transcriptions is the effect the practice had on listening habits, particularly as a way for the public to practice dedicated, sustained listening and appreciation for orchestral music that facilitated the Romantic symphonic aesthetic. This, along with the visceral experience of playing four-hand transcriptions, contributed to the breakdown of barriers between the public and private music spheres.

Works: Carl Czerny: le Symphonie en Ut arrangée pour le Piano à quatre mains par ch. Czerny et composée L. Van Beethoven (270-72); Hugo Ulrich: Symphonien von L. Van Beethoven für Pianoforte zu vier Händen arrangirt von Hugo Ulrich (272-75)

Sources: Beethoven: Symphony No. 7 in A Major, Op. 92 (270-75)

Index Classifications: 1800s

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

The first season of Mitchell Hurwitz’s television sitcom Arrested Development, scored by David Schwartz, extensively uses musical humor that falls into six categories: rendering characters’ personalities, comic Othering, comic seriousness, snarky commentary, hidden cultural references, and diegetic ambiguity. Developing a taxonomy of musical humor reveals the complex role music plays in the show’s comedic tone and the subtlety of Schwartz’s musical comedy. Comedy in general and music comedy in particular are relatively unexplored by scholars. Arrested Development, which ran for three seasons in 2003-2006 before a 2013 revival, offers a case study of musical comedy rife with in-jokes, call-backs, and cultural references catalogued by a dedicated online fanbase. One way music is used for comedic effect is by establishing consistent themes for each character that prompt audiences for their typical style of joke. Another type of comedy the show uses is musical exoticism, often exaggerated or ironically commenting on the tropes of exoticism. For instance, a hodge-podge of “Latin” musics (such as mariachi and Spanish guitar) accompanies the Colombian character Marta, an ironic commentary on other characters’ ignorance about the differences between specific Central and South American cultures. A third comedic effect is juxtaposing serious music (classical, folk, or film noir) with the characters’ ineptitudes. A fourth is that pop songs are frequently used to punctuate situations with overtly literal interpretations of their lyrics. A fifth is the use of music to underscore in-jokes that run throughout the series. Finally, the show often blurs the line between diegetic and non-diegetic music, as in a gag in the pilot where a rimshot is played after a joke (as an apparent nondiegetic stinger) and a character on screen turns to look at the off-screen drummer (as though it were diegetic). The art of musical comedy relies on the clever subversion of expectations, and David Schwartz’s musical contribution to Arrested Development deserves acknowledgement for its artistry.

Works: David Schwartz: score to Arrested Development: Season One

Sources: Captain and Tennille: Love Will Keep Us Together (21, 27); Al Green: Free At Last (21, 27); Irving Berlin: I’m a Bad, Bad Man (21); Leroy: Gonna Get Together (21); Britney Spears: I’m Not That Innocent (21, 27); Europe: Final Countdown (21); Johann Sebastian Bach: Italian Concerto, BWV 971 (24); Arlo Guthrie: Alice’s Restaurant (25); Burt Bacharach and Hal David: Raindrops Keep Falling on My Head (27); Turner Overdrive: Taking Care of Business (28); Harold Arlen and Yip Harburg: Over the Rainbow (29)

Index Classifications: 2000s, Film

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

Tony Britten’s 2008 television adaptation of Verdi’s Falstaff reconfigures the opera into a British situation comedy, a radical treatment that suggests a new path for opera films as transformation through remediation. While performances of operas are not a new phenomenon, they tend to capitalize on television’s aesthetic. Britten’s adaptation, however, strips Falstaff of nearly all of its operatic signifiers with its cast of non-opera singers and Britten’s updated English libretto and chamber arrangements of the score. In a context of British television, Falstaff, a television actor in Britten’s adaptation, reads as a familiar kind of sitcom character embodied by Tony Hancock of Hancock’s Half-Hour (1956-60) or more recently David Brent of The Office (2001-3). An example of the changes Britten makes to Verdi’s score is the removal of the textual return at the end of Falstaff’s aria Quand’ero paggio, which minimizes its operatic conventionality. Verdi’s mannered musical style associated with Fontana is justified in Britten’s film through the cinematic trope of the Godfather; Fontana’s overly Italianate scoring is rendered televisually with Italian mobster stereotypes. Britten’s television opera concept works particularly with Falstaff, as it highlights the unique strengths of Verdi’s score. Britten’s chamber arrangement—pared down to nine players and no core string section—still captures Verdi’s textures and mannerisms. The discontinuities and speech-like patter in Verdi’s score are readily adapted into the fast-paced medium of television. Although not all operas would benefit from Britten’s approach to televisual realism, the novelty of his remediation of Falstaff could serve as a model for opera adaptation in the digital age.

Works: Tony Britten (director and arranger): score to Falstaff (486-513)

Sources: Giuseppe Verdi: Falstaff (486-513)

Index Classifications: 2000s, Film

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

The production of printed stock arrangements of jazz music in the 1920s and 1930s has typically been downplayed in jazz history compared to improvisation, but it is no less important to the dissemination of jazz. Stock arranger Archie Bleyer is remembered by black and white musicians alike as producing some of the finest jazz stocks of the era. By the late 1920s, stock arrangements produced by large publishing houses had developed a consistent formula and allowed dance bands to quickly incorporate new popular tunes into their repertoire. Bleyer, who went on to have a long industry career as a bandleader and arranger, produced many influential stock arrangements and is credited with being one of the first arrangers to regularly add sixths to chord voicings. His stock arrangement of Business in F, an original composition, exemplifies his incorporation of stylistic elements from both black and white jazz bands. His stock for Maceo Pinkard and Mitchell Parrish’s Is That Religion was another popular selection recorded by several different bands. In his arrangement, Bleyer adapts the faux-gospel Tin Pan Alley song into a hot jazz orchestration, adding spaces for solos and syncopated riffs. The three recordings of Is That Religion by Billy Cotton, Duke Ellington, and Cab Calloway realize the same arrangement in radically different ways, again highlighting the dynamic relationship between arrangement and improvisation in early jazz music.

Works: Archie Bleyer (arranger): Is That Religion? (153-58)

Sources: Maceo Pinkard and Mitchell Parrish: Is That Religion (153-58)

Index Classifications: 1900s, Jazz

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

Since 1945, musical quotation of European classical music, opera in particular, has become a significant trend in contemporary American art song as exemplified by the works of William Bolcom, Tom Cipullo, and Benjamin C. Moore. Bolcom’s George, from volume 2 of his Cabaret Songs, tells the story of a drag performer who is murdered while singing Un bel di from Puccini’s Madama Butterfly. Throughout the song, Bolcom quotes Un bel di three times in the voice and piano, with the final quotation harmonized as a rich, dissonant lament. In his song Another Reason Why I Don’t Keep a Gun in the House, which deals with the frustration of a neighbor’s constantly-barking dog, Cipullo quotes several Beethoven symphonies—including the Eroica funeral march and Ode to Joy—in presenting its facetious revenge fantasy. Moore’s Content to be Behind Me satirizes the rivalry between singers and accompanists by juxtaposing quotations of Schubert’s lied Die Forelle with Rachmaninoff’s Second Piano Concerto, a much more interesting piece for the pianist. Sexy Lady (for mezzosoprano) and I’m Glad I’m Not a Tenor (for baritone) both quote several famous arias for soprano and tenor respectively, providing a humorous outlet for their less prestigious voice parts. Each of these examples uses existing music in unexpected ways to connect to audiences increasingly detached from classical music.

Works: William Bolcom: George (282); Tom Cipullo: Another Reason Why I Don’t Keep a Gun in the House (283-84); Benjamin C. Moore: Content to be Behind Me (284-85), Sexy Lady (284-85), I’m Glad I’m Not a Tenor (285-86).

Sources: Puccini: Madama Butterfly (282), Tosca (285), Turandot (285-86); Beethoven: Symphony No. 1 in C Major, Op. 21 (283), Symphony No. 3 in E flat Major, Op. 55 (283-84), Symphony No. 5 in C Minor, Op. 67 (283), Symphony No. 7 in A Major, Op. 92 (283), Symphony No. 9 in D Minor, Op. 125 (283); Schubert: Die Forelle (284-85); Rachmaninoff: Piano Concerto No. 2 in C Minor, Op. 18 (284-85); Handel: Giulio Cesare (284); Mozart: The Marriage of Figaro (284); Richard Strauss: Der Rosenkavalier (284-85); Bizet: Carmen (285).

Index Classifications: 1900s

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

The practice of sound recycling, defined as the repurposing of sonic material, challenges and reconfigures the psychological models used to understand sound perception, Audio Scene Analysis in particular. Auditory Scene Analysis posits that in the perception of auditory information, complex sounds are parsed into segregated streams arising from distinct sources. The track Do While from Oval’s 1995 album 94 diskont provides a case study for discussing how sound recycling works in terms of sound perception. Do While, an example of “deconstruction electronica,” is composed of uncredited borrowed sound material and technological traces of a skipping CD. By using the frameworks of rhizome and assemblage (both adapted from network theory), the borrowed material is recontextualized into new forms. The resulting collage renders acoustic symbols of the medium (CD album) ambiguous. Technological listening, or the awareness of technological process over musical meaning, also affects works like 94 diskont and Vladimir Ussachevsky’s Wireless Fantasy (1960), which alters a recording of Wagner’s Parsifal with the distinctive soundscape of short wave radio. When considered through these frameworks, musical borrowing challenges the model of ASA by introducing a fluid relationship between the awareness of sound and the awareness of the technology mediating sound.

Works: Oval: Do While (159-161); Vladimir Ussachevsky: Wireless Fantasy (161).

Sources: Wagner: Parsifal (161).

Index Classifications: 1900s

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

Franz Liszt’s Deux Polonaises provide a case study demonstrating the combined interpretive power of and dynamic interplay between intertextuality and multiple subjectivities. These two piano works are intertextually related to other musical works (especially other polonaises) and to a literary work: Liszt’s biography F. Chopin. Throughout F. Chopin, Liszt develops a narrative of Polish music and culture leading up to Chopin, who fully embodies the Polish character. Liszt’s Deux Polonaises relate to F. Chopin’s narrative and alludes to many different styles, genres, and composers through multiple subjective voices. The opening of Polonaise I has clear similarities to Chopin’s Polonaise in E-flat Minor, Op. 26, No. 2, and throughout the work there are stylistic allusions to Chopin and Michał Kleofas Ogínski. The subjective voices in Polonaise I are the musical narrator, the musical subjects (militaristic style and the sentimental style), and the performer, who all interact to construct a history of the genre in the manner of F. Chopin. In Polonaise II, Liszt suggests the subjectivities of soloist and orchestra. These voices are also related to the construction of Polish history by way of funeral march references. In particular the concept of Polish messianism, the believe that Poland was an innocent victim of foreign powers that will rise again, plays out in the soloist perspective winning out against the orchestral. Again, this reading is suggested by an intertextual connection to F. Chopin. The combination of intertextuality and subjectivity in Deux Polonaises reveals how abstract musical drama is developed in nineteenth-century piano music.

Works: Franz Liszt: Polonaise I (121-23, 126-35), Polonaise II (124-25, 135-45), Polonaise brillante (135-36)

Sources: Chopin: Polonaise in E-flat Minor, Op. 26, No. 2 (122, 126-27), Polonaise in A Major, Op. 40, No. 1 (124, 135-37); Michał Kleofas Ogínski: Polonaise No. 10 in D Minor (127-128), Polonaise in A Minor (128-29); Carl Maria von Weber: Polacca brillante (135-36); Liszt: Polonaise brillante (135-36), Funérailles (139-40)

Index Classifications: 1800s

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

Folk songs have long been a vehicle for political activism, and quotations of traditional American protest songs in contemporary art music can serve the same call-to-action function, as exemplified by Frederic Rzewski’s 1979 solo piano ballad Which Side Are You On?. Many of Rzewski’s compositions are explicitly political in nature, expressing outrage toward abuses of power and an affinity for Marxist ideology. Which Side Are You On? is a setting of the union song from the 1930s about the violent struggle to unionize coal mines in Harlan County, Kentucky. Rzewski’s setting opens with disjointed fragments of the tune (at least 205 in total) presented in all twelve keys. At the midpoint of the piece, the fragments begin to rhythmically (but not tonally) join in larger portions of the tune. After that, the performer is instructed to begin improvising in a “sudden radical change” for the same duration as the notated music, representing the other “side” of the struggle, the failure to collectively organize. An eight-measure statement of the entire folk tune in its original key of B minor concludes the piece, creating a clear musical symbol for the power of unionization and solidarity. Through his skillful use of folk tune quotation, Rzewski is able to communicate a political message in an accessible, distinctive way.

Works: Frederic Rzewski: Variations on “¡El Pueblo Unido Jamás Será Vencido!” (56), Long Time Man (56), Which Side Are You On? (62-66).

Sources: Traditional: El Pueblo Unido Jamás Será Vencido (56), It Makes a Long-Time Man Feel Bad (56); Florence Reece (lyricist): Which Side Are You On? (62-66).

Index Classifications: 1900s

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

The music of seminal Los Angeles hardcore punk band Black Flag is a (sometimes tenuous) testament to the fluctuating nature of racial identities and communities and has potential to rouse its listeners from complacency with racial hegemony. Black Flag’s song White Minority, first recorded in 1978, is an example of the complicated nature of racial politics in LA punk. Lyrically, the song expresses racist paranoia, attracting critiques of racism in the LA punk scene. However, the band has claimed that the song is meant to be sarcastic and darkly ironic, a reading supported by the fact that the two singers who recorded the song for Black Flag were Jewish and Puerto Rican respectively. Other songs more directly express the band’s anti-authority politics. Black Flag’s rewrite of rock song Louie Louie, released in 1981, sonically voices a multiethnic and multiracial resistance to white supremacy. The strained and painful vocal performance by the band’s third singer, Dez Cadena (who soon after quit the band due to vocal stress), can be read as a metaphor for straining against the limitations faced by nonwhite youth in a situation of white ethnic dominance. The original recording of Louie Louie, with lyrics about Jamaican sailors and inverted cha-cha-cha rhythm, is itself emblematic of the hybridity inherent in rock and roll. Black Flag’s version dramatically rewrites the love song into an antisocial rant performed with an air of ambivalence. The verses use completely new text, and the organ solo is recast as a harsh, atonal guitar solo. In adapting the rock and roll classic, Black Flag continues a tradition of boundary crossing and dialogue between white, black, and brown working-class rock musicians. The new direction of Black Flag’s sound in the mid-1980s further expresses an ethic of boundary crossing and resistance with the band’s adoption of elements of free jazz.

Works: Black Flag: Louie Louie (73-78)

Sources: Richard Berry: Louie Louie (73-78)

Index Classifications: 1900s

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

Two motets composed by Heinrich Isaac around 1500—Inviolata integra et casta es Maria and Alma redemptoris mater—exemplify compositional techniques used by Isaac and his contemporaries to combine newer styles of imitative polyphony with the older cantus firmus practice. Between the two motets, three approaches to the cantus firmus are demonstrated: canonic cantus firmus, long-note cantus firmus, and chant paraphrase. The structure of Inviolata is based on modules comprising the canonic cantus firmus and other repeated melodies. The cantus firmus is a light paraphrase of the original sequence. The strict, regular module structure allows for the recreation of the missing contratenor 2 part with very little free counterpoint. Isaac also uses a module structure for Alma redemptoris mater, the cantus firmus of which alternates between paraphrase and long-note treatment. In this case, most modules come in the form of chunks of four-voice music repeated exactly, repeated and transposed, or cadential formulas. Non-imitative modules of paired voices are also used. In addition to these modules, Isaac uses non-modular compositional techniques such as stretto fuga. Beyond these small-scale compositional devices, both motets exhibit large-scale formal structures through repetition. By extrapolating Isaac’s possible compositional process from the modular construction of these two motets, it can be concluded that his process of composing with a cantus firmus is very similar to his composing without a cantus firmus.

Works: Heinrich Isaac: Inviolata integra casta es Maria (235-46), Alma redemptoris mater (246-63).

Sources: Anonymous: Inviolata integra casta es Maria (235-46), Alma redemptoris mater (246-63).

Index Classifications: 1500s

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

Rumel Fuentes’s cover of Doug Sahm’s song Chicano authenticates the original through Allan Moore’s typology of authenticity. Moore proposes a three-part typology of authenticity in popular music, consisting of first-, second-, and third-person authenticity that is constructed by the act of listening. Sahm, born in San Antonio of German descent, speaks in the first person in Chicano, which raises concerns about his capacity to speak for the Chicano community. In Moore’s typology, Sahm’s performance of Chicano is inauthentic in the first-person (authenticity of expression) and third-person (authenticity of execution) senses. The history of American popular music is full of racial crossing, so Sahm’s adoption of a Chicano persona is not unprecedented. Fuentes, also a Texas native and heavily involved in the Chicano movement of the 1970s, recorded a cover of Chicano in 1972 (although it was not released until 2009). Fuentes modifies some of the original lyrics to declare his Chicano identity more assertively, including adding an additional verse. He also alters the rhythm section to use a traditional conjunto line-up rather than the hybrid instrumentation of Sahm’s band. The gritos (screams) in Fuentes’s vocal delivery further add to his cover’s working-class aesthetic. Fuentes’s cover lends Sahm’s Chicano a greater sense of second-person authenticity (authenticity of experience) by validating that Chicano resonates with the experiences of Mexican-American audiences.

Works: Rumel Fuentes (performer), Doug Sahm (songwriter): Chicano (87-91).

Sources: Doug Sahm: Chicano (87-91).

Index Classifications: 1900s, Popular

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

Golliwog’s Cakewalk from Claude Debussy’s Children’s Corner (1908) appropriates a complex set of signifiers related to American slavery mediated through a French colonial context and thus becomes an uncanny (in Freud’s sense) cultural commodity. One signifier of slavery adopted by Debussy is the Golliwog doll, which has its roots in minstrelsy and represents a commodification of black bodies. The cakewalk dance follows a similar trajectory, originating as a plantation dance and eventually imitated in minstrel shows and by white Parisian socialites. Debussy’s conspicuous quotation of Wagner’s Tristan und Isolde has been understood as a grotesque representation of Wagner’s music in the supposed “primitive” form of the cakewalk. It can also be read as Debussy’s humorous expression of the incompatibility of refined Western culture (represented by Wagner) and the primitive Golliwog. Together, these signifiers represent Freud’s notion of the uncanny, bringing to light the violent history of American slavery and French colonialism in a seemingly trivial, modern cultural product.

Works: Debussy: Golliwog’s Cakewalk, from Children’s Corner (23, 27-29)

Sources: Wagner: Tristan und Isolde (23, 27-29)

Index Classifications: 1900s

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

Martin Scorsese’s directing and editing work in his 1995 film Casino, with its compiled score firmly integrated into the film’s structure, can be understood as music composition in the manner of a sample-based DJ. The film is scored for 129 minutes of its 178-minute runtime and contains eighty-three discreet musical cues drawn from sixty-one cleared tracks. The enormity of this musical project was aided by Scorsese utilizing digital editing tools for the first time, allowing the soundtrack and film footage to be manipulated simultaneously. Although Scorsese claimed to strictly select period-appropriate music in a 1996 interview, the actual compiled score is drawn broadly from music of the 1950s, 1960s, and 1970s, at odds with the film’s stated timeline of 1973-1983 and suggesting no musical chronology. Instead of establishing the film’s setting, the score dictates the pace and tone of the edit. Scorsese frequently cues contrasting tracks back-to-back, sonically supporting the film’s constructed dialectic between the glittery appearance of Las Vegas and the dark reality of its mob rule. Scorsese uses voice-over narration to move the plot along throughout the film, and several musical cues take on the narrative function. To achieve this effect, Scorsese meticulously edited the dialogue, film, and soundtrack to allow the score to “speak” for the characters. Musical style also serves to delineate the two narratives of Casino. Rock music scores the violent mob scenes, and classic pop scores the marriage in decline. Despite the volume and variety of music in the film, the characters are portrayed as decidedly un-musical and rarely if ever engage with music in a meaningful way. There is also no clear correlation between the music scoring a character and the style of music that character might be expected to listen to or enjoy diegetically. Instead, the musical cues and their construction into a compiled score reflect Scorsese’s voice as a curator and composer, reflecting his personal taste in music and making Casino a profoundly musical film.

Works: Martin Scorsese: compiled score to Casino (287-312)

Sources: J. S. Bach: St. Matthew Passion, BWV 244 (292); Paulo Citarella and Louis Prima (songwriters), Louis Prima (performer): Angelina / Zooma Zooma (292, 295-97); Al Bell (songwriter), The Staple Sisters (performers): I’ll Take You There (292, 294); Stanley Adams and Maria Grever (songwriters), Dinah Washington (performer): What A Difference a Day Makes (294, 304); Irving Gordon (songwriter), Dinah Washington (performer): Unforgettable (304); Charles Tobias (songwriter), Jerry Vale (performer): Love Me the Way I Love You (294); Elsa Byrd and Paul Winley (songwriters), The Paragons (performers): Let’s Start All Over Again (294); Mick Jagger and Keith Richards (songwriters), The Rolling Stones (performers): Sweet Virginia (294), (I Can’t Get No) Satisfaction (302-3), Can’t You Hear Me Knocking (310); Edgar De Lange, Will Hudson, Irving Mills, and Morris Stoloff: Moonglow (296-27); Billy Page (songwriter), Ramsey Lewis (performer): The In-Crowd (297-98, 300); Billy Page (songwriter), Dobie Gray (performer): The In-Crowd (297-98); Gene McDaniels (songwriter), Les McCann and Eddie Harris (performers): Compared to What (298); Willie Dixon (songwriter), Muddy Waters (performer): Hoochie Coochie Man (298-302); Ginger Baker (songwriter), Cream (performers): Toad (302); Georges Delerue: Theme de Camille (302, 307); Ned Washington and Victor Young (songwriters), Ray Charles (performer): Stella by Starlight (305-7); Jimmie Crane and Al Jacobs: Hurt (307); Traditional, The Animals (performers): The House of the Rising Sun (309-10); Willie Dixon (songwriter), Jeff Beck (performer): I Ain’t Superstitious (310-12)

Index Classifications: 1900s, Film

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

A taxonomy of musical borrowing practices in acousmatic music, addressing material sampling and cultural citation in particular, is useful in understanding the genre. Material sampling involves repurposing an object in a new context and can be further broken down into remix, appropriation, and quoting/sampling. The recognizability of the source material is a key concern in interpreting musical borrowing. Cultural citation is a more nuanced concept than material sampling as it borrows abstract ideas. Intertextuality and intermediality are two concerns in cultural citation that can consciously or unconsciously connect different text or media. Franco Degrassi’s Variations of Evan Parker’s Saxophone Solos (2018) offers a reflexive look at a compositional process involving borrowing. The piece remixes the tracks of Evan Parker’s Saxophone Solos CD (2009, originally released in 1976) via MIDI control and digital looping. Variations is a second remediation of Parker’s live musical performance, the first being the initial studio recording done in 1975. Further investigation into cultural citation and material sampling in acousmatic music, especially as they relate to other forms of media, would yield a more complete understanding of the genre.

Works: Pierre Henry: Beethoven’s Tenth Symphony (196), The 10th Remix (196), Par les grèves (196), Dracula, ou La musique trouve le ciel (196); Luc Ferrari: Strathoven (197); John Cage: Imaginary Landscape No. 5 (197); Bruno Maderna: Ritratto di città (197); Denis Dufour: 2007, PH 27-80 (197); Stockhausen: Telemusik (197-98), Hymnen (197-98); Franco Degrassi: Variations of Evan Parker’s Saxophone Solos (201-2).

Sources: Debussy: Prélude à l’après-midi d’un faune (196); Wagner: Der Ring des Nibelungen (196); Iannis Xenakis: Persepolis (196); Evan Parker: Saxophone Solos (201-2).

Index Classifications: 1900s, 2000s

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

James MacMillan’s use of quotation and allusion in his Fourth Symphony parallels the liturgical order of the Pauline Mass and reflects MacMillan’s approach to Catholic liturgy. The various plainchant and mass movement quotations and allusions MacMillan uses generally follow the order of the mass. The symphony opens with the plainchant introit Os justi meditabitur, which occurs three times throughout the symphony representing the entrance procession, the offertory procession, and the Communion procession. MacMillan quotes the Gloria, Credo, and Sanctus of Robert Carver’s 1506-1513 Mass Dum sacrum mysterium, which MacMillan frames as a touchstone of Scottish Catholic culture against the destructive influence (in MacMillan’s assessment) of the Reformation. The Liturgy of the Word is represented in the symphony by allusions to liturgical-chant formulae punctuated by the Gospel Acclamation Alleluia. For the Liturgy of the Eucharist, MacMillan quotes his own St. Luke Passion, connecting the Passion narrative to its re-enactment in the Mass. MacMillan concludes this self-quotation with an allusion to Wagner’s Tristan und Isolde, a work that MacMillan also alluded to in several earlier compositions. In doing so, MacMillan reads Tristan as a religious work expressing the theme of transcendence of death through self-sacrifice. Despite MacMillan’s public insistence that the symphony is not programmatic, the quotations and allusions from various Masses provide a clear programmatic structure to the work and demonstrate MacMillan’s subjective reactions to the liturgy.

Works: James MacMillan: Symphony No. 4 (640-65), Piano Sonata (661), Symphony No. 2 (661).

Sources: Anonymous: Os justi meditabitur (640-44), Eucharistic Doxology (643, 648), Missa Deus Genitor alme (643-44, 648-49), Missa de Angelis (647-48), Missa Orbis factor (649-51); Robert Carver: Mass Dum sacrum mysterium (645-51); James MacMillan: St. Luke Passion (656-59); Wagner: Tristan und Isolde (659-63).

Index Classifications: 1900s, 2000s

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

In his most famous piece, Rhapsodie nègre (1918), composer and white supremacist activist John Powell utilizes the language of primitivist modernism to create a sonic version of Jim Crow racial hierarchy. Primitivist modernists in Europe fixated on depictions of “African” savages closely related to the contemporary pseudoscience of social Darwinism. Powell’s detailed program notes for Rhapsodie outline a primitivist narrative as applied to Black Americans. Musically, Rhapsodie is constructed from five themes used to mark a distinction between blackness and whiteness. The first three themes use ragtime idioms constructed in a repetitive and often disjunct manner to represent Powell’s belief that blackness constitutes a primitive, sexual threat. The fourth theme, a setting of the spiritual Swing Low, Sweet Chariot, begins a dramatic shift in the tone of the piece to one of control and beauty. Powell fills this section with markers of sonic whiteness building to a grand orchestral texture with precisely balanced phrases only to end in a jarring anticlimax. By setting Swing Low in this ostentatious and performative manner, Powell conveys his belief that Black spirituals were ultimately inferior imitations of white Protestant camp songs. The fifth theme is also based on a spiritual: I Want to Be Ready. Unlike the previous section, Powell uses ragtime and proto-jazz textures and harmonies to set the tune, which Powell describes in his program notes as suggestive of the violent sexuality he associates with blackness. The extent of Powell’s racist politics—and consequently the ways his politics shape the caricature of Black music in Rhapsodie—were largely unknown to critics and audience in the 1920s, who generally understood the piece in terms of primitivist modernism and the later symphonic jazz trend, both of which also have problematic relationships with Black music and musicians. The reason that audiences did not hear Powell’s deep-seated racism in Rhapsodie was that modernist art itself was grounded in conceptions of racial hierarchy.

Works: John Powell: Rhapsodie nègre (399, 401, 408-416)

Sources: Anonymous: Swing Low, Sweet Chariot (399, 401, 408-14), I Want to Be Ready (401, 414-16)

Index Classifications: 1900s

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

The largely forgotten history of the folk song M.T.A. (most famously recorded by the Kingston Trio in 1959) reveals how music can be used as a political tool to popularize radical ideas and how popular culture can purge these radical ideas of their intended meaning. M.T.A. was written in 1949 by the Boston People’s Artists (Sam and Arnold Berman, Al Katz, Jackie Steiner, and Bess Hawes, née Lomax) in support of Massachusetts Progressive Party leader Walter O’Brien Jr. in his campaign for Boston mayor. One of O’Brien’s major positions was a rollback of the fare increase that funded creation of the Metropolitan Transit Authority (M.T.A.) in 1947. While Steiner wrote most of the lyrics, M.T.A. borrowed its tune from The Train That Never Returned by Hawes’s earlier group, The Almanacs, which itself was based on Henry Clay Work’s 1865 song The Ship That Never Returned and Vernon Dalhart’s 1924 song The Wreck of the Old 97. Although O’Brien’s campaign was ultimately unsuccessful (he received just 1% of votes cast in the election), M.T.A. outlived its origins as a campaign song to become a folk standard. The first of a new generation of folk singers to revive M.T.A. was Will Holt, who recorded the song in 1957 and soon after saw it dropped from radio rotation for glorifying the “communist” O’Brien. The Kingston Trio recorded M.T.A. in 1959, adding a spoken introduction, making minor lyric changes, and replacing the reference to the real-life Walter O’Brien with fictional George O’Brien. This new version saw significant commercial success and positive press attention for the Kingston Trio, and it cemented M.T.A. as a folksong classic, especially in Massachusetts. It has since been used by such disparate performers as Celtic punk band the Dropkick Murphys and Republican governor Mitt Romney.

Works: Dropkick Murphys: Skinhead on the M.T.A. (4); Boston People’s Artists, Jackie Steiner (lyricist): M.T.A. (12-16); Almanac Singers: The Train That Never Returned (13-14); Will Holt (performer): M.T.A. (24-26); The Kingston Trio (performers): M.T.A. (26-27)

Sources: Boston People’s Artists, Jackie Steiner (lyricist): M.T.A. (4, 24-27); Almanac Singers: The Train That Never Returned (12-16); Henry Clay Work: The Ship That Never Returned (13); G. B. Grayson and Henry Whitter (songwriters), Vernon Dalhart (performer): The Wreck of the Old 97 (13)

Index Classifications: 1900s, Popular

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

In composing Canada’s national anthem, O Canada, Calixa Lavallée used multiple musical models including the March of the Priests from Mozart’s Magic Flute, crafting a patchwork of paraphrased segments to convey the national spirit. Lavallée, who was born near Montreal but spent much of his musical career performing in the United States, composed O Canada in 1880 on a commission from the Congrès Catholique Canadiens Français. Around 1936 it began to be used as Canada’s semi-official national anthem, and it was officially recognized as such in 1980. Critics have long noted the similarities between the opening eight measures of O Canada and March of the Priests, with the two prevailing positions being that this is a case of unintentional borrowing or a coincidental use of a common musical figure. The identical first three notes, the strikingly similar harmony and contour, and the thematic relevance of Mozart’s tune to a national anthem together make a strong case that Lavallée deliberately chose to use Mozart as a model. Liszt’s Festklänge (1853) also appears to be a source for Lavallée as it too uses the same triadic opening as well as a distinctive transition phrase sharing both contour and function. A model for the second eight bars of O Canada can be identified as well. This passage closely resembles Wach auf from Wagner’s Die Meistersinger (1868) in melody and pedal point. While it is difficult to know for sure that Lavallée was familiar with Festklänge and Wach auf, both pieces were readily available and popular in their own right, and Lavallée was a well-traveled musician with contemporary taste. The final section of O Canada also closely resembles another popular tune: Matthias Keller’s Speed Our Republic (or The American Hymn). In constructing a new composition out of paraphrases of several sources, Lavallée created a patchwork, a fact that should not diminish his anthem’s importance as a musical symbol of Canada.

Works: Calixa Lavallée: O Canada (12-22)

Sources: Mozart: The Magic Flute (12-16); Liszt: Festklänge (16-18); Wagner: Die Meistersinger (18-20); Matthias Keller: Speed Our Republic (20-22)

Index Classifications: 1800s, Popular

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

The music of Nicolas Collins, in particular Still Lives (1992) and its orchestration Still (After) Lives (1997), can be understood through the lens of post-humanism as an entanglement between humans, musical material, and machine agents. In Still Lives, Collins hacks a portable CD player to create short skipping loops from a recording of Giuseppe Guami’s Canzon La Accorta a Quattro, emphasizing the accumulated digital errors. Still (After) Lives is an orchestration of Still Lives for chamber ensemble that imitates the CD artifacts acoustically. This transformation adds additional layers of technological engagement, exploiting the limitations of musical notation as a technology. Both versions end with a recitation of a passage from Nabokov’s Speak, Memory that evokes the fluid nature of memory in the technological failures and mishearing of Guami’s Canzon. The blurring between human and technological agency in the composition of Still Lives and Still (After) Lives invites other composers to more closely scrutinize borrowed material.

Works: Nicolas Collins: Still Lives (78-79, 81-83), Still (After) Lives (79-83).

Sources: Giuseppe Guami: Canzon La Accorta a Quattro (78-79, 81-83); Nicolas Collins: Still Lives (78-79).

Index Classifications: 1900s

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

Donizetti’s turn toward gothic opera subjects in the late 1830s included a spate of self-borrowing, a compositional practice that resembles gothic concepts of corporeality and reanimation of the dead. Two operas from 1838, Maria de Rudenz and Gabriella di Vergy, exemplify this gothic attitude as both plots deal with the hidden or supernatural forces that animate our bodies. In the finale of Maria de Rudenz, after being stabbed, the title character appears to her rival as (he assumes) a ghost, accompanied by eerie musical signifiers of the supernatural. As she reveals herself to be alive and exacts her revenge, Donezetti uses the unusual technique of rewriting (reanimating) the cantabile melody in the cabaletta, blurring the lines between life and death, love and revenge. Gabriella, written in about a month after a cool reception to Maria, repurposes musical material from the earlier opera, including Maria’s cabaletta from the finale. In the final scene of Gabriella, the titular heroine discovers the still-warm heart of her lover in his funeral urn and sings a reworking of Maria’s cabaletta. In contrast to Maria embodying the supernatural, Gabriella is placed in a dialogue with the supernatural. Supernatural elements resonate throughout the finale with echoes of earlier music in addition to the resurrected cabaletta from Maria. The gothic trope of echoes and repetition becomes a way to understand Donizetti’s self-borrowing outside of a purely utilitarian framework.

Works: Donizetti: Gabriella di Vergy (99-106)

Sources: Donizetti: Maria de Rudenz (99-106)

Index Classifications: 1800s

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

Supernatural metaphors are often used to describe the practice of phonographic sampling in hip-hop music in both complimentary and critical ways. By studying magic as performance by stage magicians (such as Penn and Teller) rather than as supernatural phenomena, new parallels emerge between how the two practices create their effect. Both hip-hop musicians and stage magicians rely heavily on the manipulation of time to command the attention of their audiences. The structure of an effective magic trick and hip-hop sampling are also similar in how they turn ordinary materials into something extraordinary. For example, several tracks by acclaimed producers J Dilla and Madlib introduce a relatively unmodified sample before demonstrating their skill in manipulating the sample. Exerting control over music recordings (which in turn exert a kind of magical control over sound) is recognized by hip-hop producers and audiences alike as a kind of “magical” effect. Stage magic scholars categorize subgenres based on the relationship between methods (materials), effects, frames, and the contract with the audience. Hip-hip sampling can be similarly categorized, particularly when considering the affordances of different sampling technologies. Phonographs allow for “real” documentary capture of sounds, multitrack recordings allow for “hyper-real” sonic illusions, and sampling technologies allow for “meta-real” juxtapositions of illusions. Examples of “meta-real” practice include tracks that create the illusion of live turntablism, which in turn creates illusions by juxtaposing “hyper-real” music recordings. It is perhaps the creation of impossible soundscapes through sampling that makes hip-hop so moving. The experience of conflict between rational belief and experiential “alief” (to use Szabo Gendler’s term) is crucial to the magical quality of hip-hop music.

Works: Gang Starr (producer DJ Premier): Code of the Streets (36), Deadly Habitz (36); J Dilla: Lightworks (37); Madlib (as The Beat Konductah): Filthy (Untouched) (37); KRS-One and Marley Marl: Musika (43-44)

Sources: Melvin Bliss: Synthetic Substitution (36); Monk Higgins: Little Green Apples (36); Beside: Change the Beat (36); Steve Gray: Beverly Hills (36); Raymond Scott: Lightworks (37); Vivien Goldman: Launderette (37); Thom Bell: A Theme for L.A.’s Team (43-44)

Index Classifications: 1900s, 2000s, Popular

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

George Gershwin’s opera Porgy and Bess exists as a concert piece in several arrangements, but the most popular is Robert Russell Bennett’s Symphonic Picture, composed under the direction of Fritz Reiner and shaped by his involvement in the project. Gershwin’s own five-movement Suite from Porgy and Bess was prepared and performed between 1936 and 1937 to promote upcoming productions of the opera. However, Gershwin’s Suite was virtually unknown between in 1937 and 1959, when it was “rediscovered” and renamed Catfish Row. Symphonic Picture on the other hand was a project developed by Reiner, who selected the excerpts and order of the medley and engaged Bennett, a work-for-hire arranger and long-time Gershwin associate, to orchestrate Picture in 1942. In its orchestration, Picture presents an arrangement more agreeable to symphonic standards, with Bennett removing the instrumental doubling associated with commercial orchestration. Bennett also adds significantly more transition material between sections than Gershwin’s Suite contains. Furthermore, Picture was arranged with recording specifically in mind; Reiner’s outline specified a duration of twenty-four minutes to fit on three twelve-inch 78-rpm discs. The popularity of Picture over the Suite is also apparent in the performance, recording, and reception histories of each piece.

Works: George Gershwin: Suite from Porgy and Bess / Catfish Row (104-10); Robert Russell Bennett (arranger): Symphonic Picture (104-7, 110-21)

Sources: George Gershwin: Porgy and Bess (104-21)

Index Classifications: 1900s

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

In his Opus 59 string quartets, Beethoven juxtaposes learned styles and Russian folk styles in a self-conscious critique of highbrow Viennese music. This reading is informed by the German reception of Russian folksongs and Count Andreas Razumovsky’s cosmopolitan persona. The common argument that Beethoven parodies Russian folk music by misrepresenting the lament Ah, Whether It’s My Luck, Such Luck is less clear-cut than it is often presented. Beethoven’s use of the Russian tune as a fugue subject in the finale of Op. 59, No. 1 suggests a playful juxtaposition of high and low art while the coda presents the tune as the ultimate goal of the movement and quartet. Many critics read the quasi-fugal setting of the hymn tune Slava in Op. 59, No. 2 similarly as a parody of Russian music. However, the dissonant counterpoint can be read as referencing the sublime in the manner of Mozart’s “Jupiter” symphony. Thus, Beethoven’s use of folk music as the basis for strict counterpoint calls attention to the artifice of counterpoint itself. Furthermore, given Russia’s political position at the turn of the nineteenth century, the inclusion of specifically Russian folk music should be understood as a political act. Beethoven’s setting reflects the persona of his patron Razumovsky, a “European Russian” who negotiated between two cultural worlds: old Russia and cosmopolitan Vienna. Op. 59, No. 3 is unlike the other two quartets in the set as it does not contain a marked thème russe, posing the question of whether a folk song is included. A possible Russian folk song source for the Andante movement of Op. 59, No. 3 is an arrangement of Ty wospoi, wospoi, mlad Shaworontscheck printed in a July 1804 issue of Allgemeine musikalische Zeitung (translated as Singe, sing’ein Lied). The movement shares its key, meter, and tempo with the printed arrangement and the opening bars of the movement paraphrase the opening melody and bass line. This rendition of Ty wospoi continues the work of the first two quartets in engaging with a cosmopolitan blend of Russian folk music with learned styles.

Works: Beethoven: String Quartet No. 7 in F Major, Op. 59, No. 1 (78-80, 81-92), String Quartet No. 8 in E Minor, Op. 59, No. 2 (79, 92-112), String Quartet No. 9 in C Major, Op. 59, No. 3 (112-16)

Sources: Traditional: As, Whether It’s My Luck, Such Luck (78-80, 81-92), Slava (Uzh kak slava Tebe Bozhe) (79, 92-112), Ty wospoi, wospoi, mlad Shaworontscheck (Singe, sing’ein Lied) (112-16)

Index Classifications: 1800s

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

Isadora Duncan’s dances set to the music of Beethoven and other German composers greatly dismayed the German musical press, who saw her appropriation of classical music as threatening the barriers between high musical art and common vaudeville entertainment. When Duncan performed in Germany from 1902 to 1904, she achieved great public success and enthusiasm for her barefoot dancing style. Duncan’s aim of elevating the art of dance was often met with derision in certain press circles who framed her work as pretentious. Theater composer Oscar Straus’s contribution to the vaudeville dance-satire Die Tugendglocke lampoons Duncan’s intrusion into classical music spheres. His parody became so popular that he created a piano arrangement of the scene, titled Isadora Duncan: Musikalische Parodie. Several famous themes from great (mostly German) composers are deformed and combined with a simplistic “eins, zwei, drei” dance theme. The understanding of this parody necessitates the audience knowing of Duncan’s dances as well as the backlash she received in critical circles. Duncan was particularly vilified in the German classical music press—among her harshest critics was composer Max Reger—for her use of Beethoven’s music, often described in the sexist terms of “corrupting” the masculine ideal of German high art. This reaction underscores the transgressive nature of Duncan’s dance.

Works: Edmond Diet, Julius Einödshofer, Curt Goldmann, Max Schmidt, O. Translateur, and Oscar Straus: Die Tugendglocke (90); Oscar Straus: Isadora Duncan: Musikalische Parodie, Op. 135 (90-99)

Sources: Edmond Diet, Julius Einödshofer, Curt Goldmann, Max Schmidt, O. Translateur, and Oscar Straus: Die Tugendglocke (90); Wagner: Tannhäuser (93-99); Gluck: Orfeo (93-99); Chopin: Polonaise in A-flat Major, Op. 53 (93-99); Beethoven: Piano Sonata in C-sharp Minor, Op. 27, No. 2 (“Moonlight”) (93-99); Johann Strauss: On the Beautiful Blue Danube (93-99)

Index Classifications: 1900s, Popular

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

Max Reger developed an aesthetic of historicist modernism that placed J. S. Bach as the primary model. With the introduction of the Neue Bach-Gesellschaft and similar events around 1900, the nineteenth-century trend viewing Bach as the embodiment of the German musical spirit intensified. Part of this trend included emphasizing Bach’s melodic art, which was held to be more useful to modern composers than his counterpoint. Reger was an active participant in this trend of Bach discourse in several areas, including producing many arrangements of Bach’s music. Reger’s form of modernist historicism also manifests in his prolific composition of organ works and avoidance of symphonic poems and music dramas. Reger’s 1895 First Organ Suite, Op. 16, dedicated to the memory of J. S. Bach, draws on several historical models. Most notably, Reger borrows several chorales famously set by Bach, but he alludes to Brahms’s Fourth Symphony and Joseph Rheinberger’s Organ Sonata No. 8 as well. Variations and Fugue on a Theme of Bach, Op. 81 (1904), offers a more complex form of historicism, but one still rooted in the music of Bach. For its theme, Reger uses the opening ritornello of the aria “Sein’ Almacht zu ergründen” from Bach’s Cantata Auf Christi Himmelfahrt allein, BWV 128. Throughout the fourteen variations, Reger develops the theme in two styles: strict–past and free–present with the fugue combining these styles. The work represents Reger’s nuanced awareness of historical time and documents his historicist modernism.

Works: Reger: Suite for Organ in E Minor, Op. 16 (301-307), Variations and Fugue on a Theme of Bach, Op. 81 (308-12)

Sources: J. S. Bach: Passacaglia and Fugue in C Minor, BWV 582 (303), O Mensch, bewein dein Sünde gross, BWV 622 (303), Aus tiefer Not from Clavierübung, BWV 686 (305), Auf Christi Himmelfahrt allein, BWV 128 (308-12); Rheinberger: Organ Sonata No. 8, Op. 132 (307); Brahms: Symphony No. 4 in E Minor, Op. 98 (307)

Index Classifications: 1800s, 1900s

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

There is no straightforward way to assign operas as “nationalist” or “non-nationalist” when considering the categorization of Russian operas, and methods that attempt to do so are unreliable or based on mystification. Instead, the older concept of “local color” should be revived in scholarly discourse. There are six categories of assigning Russianness in music: by intention, by reception, by interpretation, by association, by blood or culture, or by school. Assigning Russianness by culture or by school can lead to conflicting claims about many operas as well as scholarly misconceptions. An example of this is Rosa Newmarch’s misreading of the Minstrel’s Song from Tchaikovsky’s Maid of Orleans as a Ukrainian tune that would be incongruous to the French setting, rather than the French song it actually is. To nineteenth-century Russian opera composers like Rimsky-Korsakov, the concept of local color was both familiar and important to the construction of their work. Operas taking place outside of Russia or dealing with universal themes often avoided Russian coloring. Tchaikovsky in particular developed a sophisticated sense of period coloring in The Queen of Spades, quoting appropriate French and Russian anthems. Approaching Russian opera through the lens of local color, disparate “nationalist,” “non-nationalist,” and “symbolist” operas can be compared side-by-side.

Works: Tchaikovsky: The Maid of Orleans (117-18), The Queen of Spades (129)

Sources: Anonymous: Les belles amourettes (117-18); André Grétry: Richard Coeur-de-lion (129); Eustache de Caurroy: Vive le Roi Henri IV (129); Osip Kozlovsky: Grom pobedy razdavaysya (129)

Index Classifications: 1800s, 1900s

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

The legality of sampling in hip-hop and other musical genres has been understood through two models of copyright law: the “pure market substitute” model and the “market enhancement” model, which better serves the goal of copyright law. Sampling case law in US federal courts hinges on the applicability of fair use, the right to use copyrighted material without permission, which in turn is decided primarily by looking at market harm and transformative use. In hip-hop, the cultural importance of sampling as signifying is at odds with copyright law and the system of licensing, both of which favor copyright holders. Campbell v. Acuff-Rose Music (1994) applied a transformative use test to rap group 2 Live Crew’s parody of Roy Orbison’s Oh, Pretty Woman and found it to be fair use. Since then, some courts have used the pure market substitute model, ruling that fragments of sound recordings are protectable derivative elements. Other cases have taken a broader view on fair use, ruling that audiences for different musical genres (hip-hop and jazz in the case of Abilene Music v. Sony Music Entertainment, 2003) are distinct enough that market harm is mitigated. The market enhancement model shifts away from this framework. Some courts have ruled that sampling can enhance the marketability of the original work by exposing it to a new audience. A broader adoption of the market enhancement model would relax strict copyright laws for musicians and other media producers who frequently borrow material. Potential drawbacks of expanded fair use include misuse by large corporations at the expense of artists and minimizing an artist’s ability to claim moral harm. Despite these imperfections, the market enhancement model would help achieve a legal balance between expressive freedom and commercial incentives.

Works: 2 Live Crew: Pretty Woman (600-601); Public Enemy: Fight the Power (602); LMFAO: Party Rock Anthem (609, 612); Ghostface Killah, Raekwon the Chef, and the Alchemist: The Forest (610).

Sources: Roy Orbison: Oh, Pretty Woman (600-601); Rick Ross: Hustlin’ (609, 612); Bob Thiele (as George Douglas) and George David Weiss (songwriters), Louis Armstrong (performer): What a Wonderful World (610).

Index Classifications: 1900s, 2000s, Popular

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

Despite the prevalence of nonsense syllable singing in a broad range of genres in music traditions around the globe, there is little in terms of aesthetic theory on the phenomenon. The eeph trope and eephing as a practice, found in several genres of American music in the early twentieth century, is one phenomenon that can help contextualize the larger practice of nonsense syllable singing. Unlike other nonsense syllables (such as fa-la-la), the phrase eepha-soffa-dill has a reported, albeit murky, origin with the blackface vaudeville duo Williamson and Stone in the 1890s. The phrase (in several spelling variations) first appeared in a 1902 recording by the Kilties’ Band of Canada, listed without a composer. It first appeared in sheet music in 1903, attributed to Harry Von Tilzer, Andrew Sterling, and Bartley Costello and dedicated to “the original Epha-A-Sof-A-Dill,” Frank Williamson. Five Tin-Pan-Alley songs published between 1903 and 1922 employ the eeph trope, demonstrating a fairly consistent lyrical and melodic convention. The phrase’s later appearance in Broadway tunes still suggests its origins with blackface vaudeville acts through its connotations of stuttering and baby-talk associated with offensive stereotypes of African Americans. Gene Greene’s recorded versions of King of the Bungaloos connect the eeph trope to a budding eephing practice, associating the eeph phrase with mouth percussion sounds. Imitations of Greene’s eephing style appear in several disparate recordings through the 1930s as the eephing practice diffuses into other musical genres. Jimmy Riddle’s 1963 country hit Little Eefin Annie demonstrates how Greene’s eephing practice is absorbed by country music’s nonsense syllable tradition. Riddle’s version of eephing drops the eeph phrase and attaches Greene’s eephing mouth percussion to similar syllables. Although the eephing tradition is similar to the scatting tradition in that they are both nonsense syllable practices, conflating the two practices diminishes the significance of both. The development of the eeph trope into an eephing tradition from the 1890s onwards provides the context for the broader development of scat singing as an approach to vocal jazz.

Works: George M. Cohan: Cohan’s Rag Babe (347-348, 350, 353, 355), The American Ragtime (349, 353); Maurice Abrahams (music), Grant Clarke and Edgar Leslie (lyrics): When the Grown Up Ladies Act Like Babies (347-349, 357-58); Cliff Friend (music) and Billy Rose (lyrics): You Tell Her, I Stutter (349, 357-58, 362); Irving Berlin (as performed by Gene Greene): From Here to Shanghai (361); Jimmy Riddle: Little Eefin Annie (360-64)

Sources: Kilties’ Band of Canada (no listed composer): Ephasafa Dill (Iffa Saffa Dill) (1901-1902) (346); Nick Brown: Iffa-Saffa-Dill (A Negro Oddity) (346); Harry Von Tilzer (music), Andrew Sterling and Bartley Costello (lyrics): Ephasafa Dill (346-47); Charles Straight (music) and Gene Greene (lyrics) (as performed by Gene Greene): King of the Bungaloos (354-357); Butter Boy (performer): Old Aunt Dinah (363); Harmonica Frank Floyd: Swamp Rock (363)

Index Classifications: 1900s, Popular

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

Ruggero Leoncavallo’s account of the creation of his most famous opera, Pagliacci (1892), distorts and obscures the work’s history in order preserve its legacy against charges of overt influence, borrowing, and plagiarism. In the “Appunti,” his incomplete autobiography dictated in 1915, Leoncavallo misrepresents several aspects of the genesis of Pagiacci, including its initial presentation to impresarios and the source of the libretto. Leoncavallo additionally obfuscates earlier fragments of an abandoned opera based on De Musset’s La Coupe et les lèvres. Several passages composed for La Coupe were reused in Pagliacci. The most apparent case is Leoncavallo’s reuse of the cantabile “Esprits! Si vous venez m’annoncer ma ruine” from La Coupe as “Sperai, tanto il delirio accecato m’aveva” in Pagliacci. Moreover, it is evident that Leoncavallo had planned to use “Espirits” in the final scene of Pagliacci while planning the libretto. However, Leoncavallo consistently ignores this self-borrowing and emphasizes originality in his own history of the opera. It is probable that this avoidance was a way for Leoncavallo to preemptively deny charges of plagiarism, a standing concern in Italian opera. In another act of self-historicizing, Leoncavallo attached Pagliacci to the verismo tradition in order to preserve his legacy as a composer.

Works: Leoncavallo: Pagliacci (240-49)

Sources: Leoncavallo: fragments from La Coupe et les lèvres (240-49)

Index Classifications: 1800s

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

The 1570 revisions to the Missale Romanum as a result of the Council of Trent forced a complex process of updating the music in the Graduale Romanum to conform to the new liturgy. These musical changes were overseen at the local level, introducing an as-yet unrecognized textual and musical diversity within the newly regulated liturgy. On December 4, 1563, the Council of Trent ordered the creation of restored versions of several liturgical missals, and to execute this decree a papal monopoly was declared for certain printers. However, corresponding revisions to the plainchants in the antiphoner and gradual were not considered until 1577. The project to centralize musical practice was soon abandoned, leading to many different revisions of the Graduale Romanum published by different printers without papal oversight. Each edition of the revised Graduale took a slightly different approach to modifying existing chants to fit the new missals and five foundational sources demonstrate this variety: Leichtenstein 1580, Gardano 1591, Giunta 1596, Medici 1614/15, and Ciera 1621. For certain chants, editors of these sources cut different melodic segments and recreated cadences differently for newly excised repeated text. Added text was also set to different music in each edition. In a few cases, editors of the new Graduale editions revised chant melodies even when portions of the text were unchanged. These revisions were transmitted locally, leading to the creation of several branches of Graduale revisions clustered around the foundational publications. The true influence that the Council of Trent had on the chant repertoire was not a top-down revision of chant melodies but an invitation for many sources to edit the repertoire. Therefore, the scholarly convention of labeling graduals printed after 1587 as “Post-Tridentine” should be expanded to include the musical and textual diversity of this period of revision introduced in the early 1570s.

Works: Liechtenstein (publisher): Graduale Romanum (Venice, 1580) (342, 344-48, 350-52, 362-6); Angelo Gardano (publisher), Andrea Gabrieli, Ludovico Balbi, and Orazio Vecchi (editors): Graduale Romanum (Venice, 1591) (341-47, 348, 350-52, 355-60, 362-65); Giunta (publisher): Graduale Romanum (Venice, 1596) (342, 344-48, 350-55, 357-59); Medici (publisher), Felice Anerio, Francesco Soriano, et al. (editors): Graduale Romanum (Rome, 1614/15) (341-46, 348, 353-59, 365); Ciera (publisher): Graduale Romanum (Venice, 1621) (344, 353-59)

Sources: Giunta (publisher): Graduale Romanum (Venice, 1499/1500): Iubilate deo omnis terra (340-43), Iubilate deo universa terra (340, 343-49), Dextera domini (349-53), Iustitiae domini (353-60), Insurrexerunt in me (360-65)

Index Classifications: 1500s

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

French literary translator Mimi Perrin’s vocalese songs for her vocal jazz group, Les Double Six, offer a unique perspective on the interrelationships between music, language, and culture through her adoption of literary translation aesthetics in a musical practice. Vocalese is a vocal jazz practice in which a singer sets lyrics to an instrumental solo and transforms it into a song. While this practice was not invented by Perrin, what sets her versions apart is the careful way she writes her lyrics so that the vocal sounds produced by the singers mimic the instrumental sounds of the source material. Perrin composed her vocalese by first translating instrumental sounds into phonemes: saxophone attacks become labiodental fricatives, brass attacks become alveolar plosives, and so on. The semantic meaning of the text is secondary to the process of translating instrumental sounds into French phonology. In translation terms, what Perrin does is a kind of homophonic intersemiotic translation, approximating the sounds of a non-linguistic text but not necessarily its meaning. This contrasts with contemporary American vocalese composer Jon Hendricks, who begins with a semantic connection to the instrumental pieces he sets rather than a phonemic connection. To non-French-speakers, Perrin’s translations provide a sonic experience somewhere in between hearing (but not understanding) a French text and hearing nonsense scat syllables. The aesthetics of literary translation further inform what Perrin does with her music. In order to capture the rhythmic feel of swing, Perrin modifies her French with an unusual number of elisions and monosyllabic words, even to the point of confusing some French speakers. Beyond their importance as metaphorical translations of instrumental music, Perrin’s vocalese songs exemplify the cross-cultural translation and adaptation at the heart of global jazz culture.

Works: Mimi Perrin (lyricist and arranger): Blues in Hoss’ Flat (93), Doodlin’ (94), La complainte du bagnard (94-95), Les quatre extra-terrestres (96-97), A Night in Tunisia (99) Un tour au bois (99-100); Jon Hendricks (lyricist and arranger): Doodlin’ (93), Moanin’ (95); Four Brothers (97)

Sources: Count Basie Orchestra: Blues in Hoss’ Flat (93); Horace Silver: Doodlin’ (93); Bobby Timmons: Moanin’ (94-95); Jimmy Giuffre: Four Brothers (96-97); Dizzy Gillespie: A Night in Tunisia (99); Quincy Jones: Walkin’ (99-100)

Index Classifications: 1900s, Jazz

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

Vaporwave, a genre of surreal music built on collages of background music and highly processed vocals that is popular in online forums, produces an audio-visual aesthetic of remembering for the sake of remembering that can be understood through theories of nostalgia and catharsis. The music of vaporwave artist 18 Carat Affair and discussions of vaporwave music on Reddit forums provide a case study. Vaporwave music is characterized by repetitive structure, slow speed (70-90 beats per minute), self-conscious sampling, and heavy reverb effects. It emerged in the early 2010s as one of many genres of heavily intertextual electronic music circulating exclusively in online networks. The main aesthetic of vaporwave music is memory play through compensatory nostalgia, or nostalgia dealing with fuzzy memory in a landscape of media saturation. The music of 18 Carat Affair exemplifies the vaporwave aesthetic, sampling music from late 1980s and early 1990s consumer entertainment (such as the 1992 Sega Mega Drive videogame Streets of Rage II) and using digital processing to add a veil of lo-fi reverb. There is a deliberately liminal quality to vaporwave’s presentation with artists obfuscating the origins of sampled material and confabulating the sonic past. Vaporwave also often deals with memory play and nostalgia associated with cultural trauma. By digging up the waste products of consumerism—old VHS tapes, advertisements, corporate training videos, and similarly disposable media—vaporwave processes the chronic obsolescence and emptiness of consumer culture. At the heart of vaporwave is the extensive repurposing of Muzak to evoke the lingering unease of the artistically “dead” consumerism often associated with the brand. Vaporwave extends the modernist modes of fractured memory and collage present in the Dada and Surrealist movements of the early twentieth century. The visual style of vaporwave art mimics the collage techniques of Dada, Surrealism, and subversive Video Art from the 1950s-1970s. The visual and musical collage aesthetics of vaporwave constitute a process of remembering deformed by the collective trauma of the collapse of memory in corporate capitalist society.

Works: 18 Carat Affair: Home Box Office (105), New Jack City II (105)

Sources: Bill Conti: Theme from Dynasty (105); Yuzo Koshiro: Soundtrack for Streets of Rage II (105)

Index Classifications: 2000s, Popular

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

The soundtrack of indie video game hit Untitled Goose Game (2019, House House) is a dynamic music system that adapts pre-recorded performances of six Debussy Préludes to react in real-time to players’ actions in the game, borrowing aesthetic language from silent film to create a novel approach to video game music. In Untitled Goose Game, the player controls an unruly goose wreaking havoc in an English-style village. The game’s slapstick humor sensibilities, in particular the ways that the music interacts with on-screen action, were inspired by both silent film music and Carl Stalling’s cartoon scores for Disney and Warner Bros. Debussy’s Préludes were selected for the soundtrack because they sounded like early twentieth-century silent film music to the developers, and the dynamic music system was meant to sound like a pianist Mickey-Mousing the player’s actions. To create this effect, the game’s composer, Dan Golding, recorded both “high energy” and “low energy” performances of six Préludes and split them into single-beat stems (the longest only 478 milliseconds). Depending on the players’ actions, either the “high energy” or “low energy” stem could be triggered in succession, rendering virtually infinite possibilities. While the soundtrack for Untitled Goose Game was inspired by cinema and animation, the technical possibilities of video games allowed it to take a different approach to musical adaptation.

Works: Dan Golding: soundtrack to Untitled Goose Game (9-14).

Sources: Debussy: Préludes Book 1, No. 12, Minstrels (9-14); Préludes Book 1, No. 5, Les collines d’Anacapri (9-14); Préludes Book 2, No. 9, Hommage à S. Pickwick Esq. P. P. M. P. C. (9-14); Préludes Book 1, No. 9, La serenade interrompue (9-14); Préludes Book 2, No. 19, Feux d’artifice (9-14).

Index Classifications: 2000s, Film

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

Fryderyk Chopin’s Prelude in A Minor, Op. 28, No. 2 contains musical material borrowed from two songs by Franz Schubert, which can be contextualized by the role of the Parisian salon and Schubert’s reception in France. The subject of Chopin’s Prelude is a song without words, depicting two personas (the singer and the piano) who struggle and ultimately fail to recapture a distant song. As Chopin made his entry into Parisian salon culture in the 1830s, Schubert’s music was also being discovered in Paris thanks to the efforts of Franz Liszt and opera singer Adolphe Nourrit, both of whom Chopin associated with. One of the earliest Schubert lieder to reach French salons was Nacht und Träume, D. 827 (published 1825). The textural layout of Chopin’s Prelude strongly resembles the opening of Nacht und Träume, specifically the phrase “Heil’ge Nacht” (holy night). Chopin augments the dissonance of the model, inverting Schubert’s poetic “dream.” Chopin also borrows from another Schubert lied: Der Wanderer, D. 489 (published 1821). Specifically, Chopin borrows the tune of the phrase “mein geliebtes Land” (my beloved land). A second brief motive could also relate to the phrase “wenig froh” (little joy). In alluding to these two Schubert songs in a convoluted manner in his Prelude, Chopin evokes the realm of dreams, a frequent theme in his music. The dream analogy helps to explain the two performer personas in the piece as existing within the mind of the dreamer. The narrative of a troubled performance can further be read as a metaphor for a wanderer’s journey toward an imaginary homeland. The Prelude’s harmonic journey toward (but failing to reach) the “Polish key” of A major supports this reading. A “program” for the Prelude can be created by superimposing the text of the borrowed Schubert songs onto Chopin’s song without words. It is possible that, given the culture of musical reworking in Parisian salons, listeners would have recognized Chopin’s borrowed material and genre bending. Rather than treating the Schubert fragments as quotations, Chopin recontextualizes them to create a multi-layered musical and metaphorical narrative.

Works: Chopin: Prelude in A Minor, Op. 28, No. 2 (12-32)

Sources: Schubert: Nacht und Träume, D. 827 (12-15, 25-26), Der Wanderer, D. 489 (17-20, 25-32)

Index Classifications: 1800s

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

Richard Strauss and Hugo von Hofmannsthal’s 1924 “reform and modernization” of Beethoven’s Die Ruinen von Athen invokes the mythology of Beethoven and classical Greece as ideals that need to be restored in post-war German culture. Before Ruinen, Strauss and Hofmannsthal had collaborated on numerous ballet projects, blending Hofmannsthal’s philosophy of dance as regeneration and Strauss’s connection of dance with nostalgia. The collaborators’ reworked Ruinen von Athen developed as an amalgamation of Beethoven’s 1801 ballet Die Geschöpfe des Prometheus and incidental music for the play Die Ruinen von Athen, two works about the loss of art and culture. Strauss’s largest compositional contribution to the project comes in the melodrama, in which Strauss quotes Beethoven’s Third and Fifth Symphonies. The melodrama presents Beethoven as interpreted by Strauss, who emphasizes a heroic, Nietzschean interpretation of Beethoven. Strauss explored similar ideas of metaphysical longing in earlier works such as Eine Alpensinfonie, and the philosophical underpinnings of these works and Ruinen continued to be relevant throughout Strauss’s career. Despite its commercial failure, Die Ruinen von Athen represents an important aspect of Strauss’s artistic philosophy, calling for the rebirth of German culture in the spirit of Beethoven and ancient Greece.

Works: Richard Strauss and Hugo von Hofmannsthal: Die Ruinen von Athen (636-653)

Sources: Beethoven: Die Geschöpfe des Prometheus, Op. 43 (637-39), Die Ruinen von Athen, Op. 113 (637-39), Symphony No. 3 in E-Flat Major, Op. 55 (637-39, 645-53), Symphony No. 5 in C Minor, Op. 67 (637-39, 645-53)

Index Classifications: 1900s

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

Joseph-Marie Lo Duca’s 1952 sonorized version of Carl Theodor Dreyer’s 1928 silent film La Passion de Jeanne d’Arc has been widely criticized for its alterations to Dreyer’s negatives, but its soundtrack, constructed primarily from recordings of Baroque music, has received considerably less attention. Much of the soundtrack was taken from two commercial LPs that championed the music of Tomaso Albinoni (including the fraudulent Adagio in G Minor). Some inclusions—particularly Alessandro Scarlatti’s Passion According to St. John, the only piece to be recorded exclusively for the film—have a clear resonance with the themes of the film. Others, like the three Bach organ chorale preludes, have a less clear textual motivation. Two apparently improvised organ pieces in Baroque style are also included in the soundtrack. From these recordings, Lo Duca separated out individual movements and rearranged the material to create a nearly continuous soundtrack. Other than a recitative used in the opening scene, Scarlatti’s Passion is only heard in the final fifteen minutes of the film, although there is no consideration for the text of particular movements. Most of the music is not closely related to the action on screen, highlighting common issues with using metrically predictable Baroque music in a film context. Some scenes, however, exhibit a more overt relationship between sound and visuals. For instance, the Agnus Dei chant is used diegetically during a ceremony of Eucharist. While Lo Duca’s methodology gives up control of fine-grained integration of sound and image, it does exemplify the phenomenon of aleatoric synchronization, whereby unanticipated correlations emerge between sound and image due to the ambiguity and “stickiness” of musical signifiers. This is demonstrated by the two scenes containing Albinoni’s Adagio in G Minor (actually composed by Remo Giazotto). Despite the film not being cut to the music, there are many close correspondences between the rhythm of the edit and the rhythm of the music during the courtroom scene. In a later scene in which guards mock Jeanne, the portentous Adagio creates tonal friction with the comedic visual tone, rendering it ironic rather than sympathetic. This aleatoric synchronization challenges the notion that a film’s visuals always outweigh the music and suggests a more complex relationship between the two domains.

Works: Joseph-Marie Lo Duca (compiler): soundtrack to La Passion de Jeanne d’Arc (30-42, 43-46); Peter Weir (director): soundtrack to Gallipoli (39)

Sources: Remo Giazotto (composer), Tomaso Albinoni (attributed to): Adagio in G Minor (30-33, 36-42, 43-46); Alessandro Scarlatti: Passion According to St. John (31-32, 43-46); Bach: Ich ruf’ zu dir, Herr Jesu Christ, BWV 639 (31-32, 43-46), Nun komm’ der Heiden Heiland, BWV 659 (31-32, 43-46), O Mensch, bewein’ dein’ Sünde gross, BWV 622 (31-32, 43-46); Anonymous (plainchant): Agnus Dei XVI (31, 33, 43-46); Vivaldi: Concerto for Two Violins and Two Cellos in G Major, Op. 4, No. 1, RV 575 (33, 43-46), Concerto in G Major, RV 275 (35, 43-46); Tomaso Albinoni: Sinfonia in G Minor, Op. 2, No. 6 (43-46), Concerto à 5 in D Major, Op. 5, No. 3 (43-46), Concerto for Oboe in B-flat Major, Op. 7, No. 3 (43-46); Francesco Geminiani: Concerto Grosso in G Minor, Op. 3, No. 2 (43-46); Giuseppe Torelli: Concerto à 4 in G Major, Op. 6, No. 1 (43-46); Giovanni Battista Sammartini: Sinfonia in G Major, J-C 39 (43-46)

Index Classifications: 1900s, Film

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

The physical act of practicing and performing “Obsession,” the first movement of Eugène Ysaÿe’s Sonata No. 2 for Solo Violin, uncovers meanings in the work related to both an obsession with Bach’s music and a physical possession by a demonic Bach in the vein of the devil-violin trope of virtuosity. The performed obsession with Bach begins in the opening figure of Ysaÿe’s sonata, a quotation of the opening to Bach’s E-Major Partita. From there, Ysaÿe continues into a rapid passage resembling the contour of Bach’s partita but one semitone off, suggesting an attempt to wrestle the musical line away from Bach. Ysaÿe continues to quote figures from Bach’s violin music throughout the movement. The obsessive effect of these quotations relies more on the muscle memory a seasoned violinist gains with Bach’s violin music than strictly mental memory. The piece feels like Bach more than it sounds like Bach, representing a more subtle and insidious influence from the venerated composer. Performing “Obsession” also calls to mind the history of the demonically possessed virtuoso violinist, most directly through frequent quotation of the Dies irae. Ysaÿe first quotes the Dies irae in a bariolage texture, evoking the physical sensation of playing Bach’s distinctive bariolage passages without sonically evoking Bach. In combination, the aural quotations of the Dies Irae and the physical quotations of Bach’s violin music can create the experience (in performance) of being demonically possessed by Bach. The irreverent nature of the Bach quotations further evokes this “rock-star” virtuoso feeling. This kind of embodied musical analysis underlines the importance of considering the body when theorizing about music.

Works: Eugène Ysaÿe: Sonata No. 2 for Solo Violin, Op. 27 (65-76)

Sources: J. S. Bach: Partita for Violin No. 3 in E Major, BWV 1006 (66-70, 72-76), Sonata for Violin Solo No. 2 in A Minor, BWV 1003 (69-70); Attributed to Thomas of Celano: Dies irae (71-76)

Index Classifications: 1900s

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

Ralph Vaughan William’s Seventh Symphony, Sinfonia Antartica, is a reworking of his score to the 1948 film Scott of the Antarctic, and this connection reveals the relationship between the complex national mythology of Captain Robert Falcon Scott’s ill-fated 1910–1913 Antarctic Expedition and the diverse musical influences of Vaughan Williams’s late compositions. Sketchbooks suggest that Vaughan Williams began developing the score to Scott of the Antarctic before shooting on the film began, drawing on the popularity of the Scott Expedition during the Second World War and its strong association with English nationalism. Shortly after the film’s premiere, Vaughan Williams discussed reusing material from the score to create a symphony, which eventually premiered as Sinfonia Antartica in 1953. Sinfonia Antartica straddles the line between absolute and programmatic content, confounding some critics. Structurally, the five movements are framed in balanced symmetry centered around the third movement, “Landscapes.” Several cues from the film score are reworked into Sinfonia Antartica, giving their original narrative functions deeper spiritual purpose. The addition of the organ particularly works to elevate the Antarctic environment and the story of Scott’s expedition to metaphysical significance. The icy landscape draws people toward it but is ultimately desolate and empty, mirroring the existential crisis of faith in English art following World War II.

Works: Ralph Vaughan Williams: Sinfonia Antartica (118-34)

Sources: Ralph Vaughan Williams: score to Scott of the Antarctic (118-34)

Index Classifications: 1900s

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

The organ works of Johann Ludwig Krebs borrow pervasively but subtly from his organ teacher, J. S. Bach. The resemblance between the free organ works of Krebs and their Bach models is readily apparent and commented upon by editors of their critical editions. Krebs borrows fugue subjects, pedal work, and other figurations from Bach, although Krebs’s prelude and fugue pairs typically use different models. In the case of Krebs’s Prelude and Fugue in C Minor, the choice of Bach elements that are left out is also notable; Bach’s stylus fantasticus sections are absent from Krebs’s work. Despite Krebs’s reliance on Bach models, he does differ from the style of his teacher on several fronts, most notably in his treatment of counterpoint. While Krebs’s borrowing of Bach’s music has played a role in limiting his own influence, there is still much to enjoy in performing the works of J. L. Krebs.

Works: Johann Ludwig Krebs: Praeludium und Doppelfuge in F Minor (28), Double Fugue in D Minor (29), Prelude and Fugue in C Minor (28), Prelude and Fugue in A Minor (28-29), Fugue in A Minor, BWV Anh. 181 (29)

Sources: J. S. Bach: Prelude in B Minor, BWV 544 (28), Prelude and Fugue in E Minor “The Wedge,” BWV 548 (28-29), Passacaglia in C Minor, BWV 582 (28), Toccata and Fugue in F Major, BWV 540 (28), Prelude and Fugue in C Minor, BWV 549 (28), Fugue on a Theme of Legrenzi, BWV 574 (28), Prelude and Fugue in C Minor, BWV 546 (29)

Index Classifications: 1700s

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

A phenomenology of musical borrowing as an intentional compositional act can be used to trace the tradition through Western art music history and uncover what musical borrowing is in itself. Borrowing (and related terms) generally implies a sense of ownership, which in turn invokes normative concepts of musical materiality, aesthetic idea, and compositional originality. Two repertories in Western art music stand out for their borrowing practices and different approaches to composition: medieval polyphony and musique concrète. Medieval polyphony lacks the commitment to the aesthetic notion of compositional originality found in modern music. Instead, the Medieval concept of auctoritas, or relying on existing authority to legitimate one’s work, holds that no music originates from one person alone. The relationship between Binchois’s chanson De plus en plus and derivative works such as Leonel Power’s motet Anima mea liquefacta est and Ockeghem’s Missa De plus en plus demonstrates this concept. The different understanding of musical materiality in the Medieval worldview also precludes ownership in the modern sense. Half a millennium later, musique concrète held a similar approach to musical materiality, where the work of a composer is to elaborate on pre-existing material. Pieces like Pierre Schaeffer’s Ètude aux chemins de fer can be construed as “musical borrowing” if the aesthetic potentiality of sound objects is considered. By comparing acts of musical borrowing across history, a more fundamental understanding of the aesthetic and ethical considerations of the phenomenon can be reached. Instead of being seen as a compositional anomaly, musical borrowing should be promoted as a cultivation of a musical community.

Works: Leonel Power: Anima mea liquefacta est (178-79); Johannes Ockeghem: Missa De plus en plus (178-79); Pierre Schaeffer: Ètude aux chemins de fer (180-81).

Sources: Gilles Binchois: De plus en plus (178-79).

Index Classifications: 1400s, 1900s

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

After the Met’s infamous one-night-only premiere of Richard Strauss’s Salome in 1907, a fad for stage and song representations of Salome and her Dance of the Seven Veils (dubbed “Salomania” by the New York Times) hit America. The reception of Salome in America was contextualized by an earlier fascination with “exotic” Egyptian dancing on display at the 1893 Chicago World’s Fair as well as a trend of Salome-themed vaudeville acts. Because of this earlier exposure, songwriters during the Salomania craze tended to be more aware of the inauthenticity of Orientalist dancing and poked fun at the scandalous opera and vaudeville interpreters alike. A popular theme was the artifice of Salome’s exotic seduction. Many Salome songs used the Salomy [sic] melody, a minor-key tune built from a 1–flat 7–5 core that came to be associated with pseudo-oriental dancing. The earliest known examples of the Salomy melody appear in Mariutch Down at Coney Isle (1907) and I’m Going to Get Myself a Black Salome (1908), although it is likely these songs quote an unknown earlier tune. Moreover, songs about a black Salome are likely referencing a real individual, vaudeville dancer Aida Overton Walker, who attempted to perform a restrained Salome as a springboard to artistic legitimacy but was rejected by audiences. After Strauss’s Salome returned to American opera houses in 1909, Salomania reached its peak and interest began to decline. Clarice Vance’s 1909 parody routine “Salome” and others like it lampooned the Salome craze itself. In the aftermath of Salomania, the Salomy melody receded into a general orientalist trope, used indiscriminately to evoke exoticism but not Salome herself.

Works: Harry Von Tilzer: Mariutch Down at Coney Isle (642, 647, 659-60); Stanley Murphy and Ed Wynn: I’m Going to Get Myself a Black Salome (658-64); Ben M. Jerome and Edward Madden: The Dusky Salome (660, 663-65); Archibald Joyce: Vision of Salome (660, 677-80); Jimmie V. Monaco and Joe McCarthy: Fatima Brown (661, 682-84); Abner Silver and Alex Gerber: Becky from Babylon (661, 683-85); Richard Howard: When They Play That Old ‘Salomy’ Melody (661, 686-88); Gus Kahn and Bud De Sylva: Moonlight on the Nile (661, 688-89); Ted Lewis and Frank Ross: Queen of Sheba (661, 688); Sigmund Romberg: Fat, Fat, Fatima (661, 688); Orlando Powell and John P. Harrington: Salome (671-74)

Sources: Unknown: Salomy melody (659-65, 677-88); Harry Von Tilzer: Mariutch Down at Coney Isle (659-60, 676); Felix Mendelssohn: Lieder ohne Worte, Op. 62, No. 6 (Spring Song) (673-74); Richard Strauss: Salome (677-81); Georges Bizet: Carmen (688); Edvard Grieg: In the Hall of the Mountain King from Peer Gynt (688)

Index Classifications: 1900s, Popular

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

The 2011 viral music video Rebecca Black—Friday, the widespread derision aimed at the video and Black herself, and the later success of “cover” videos that alter Black’s contribution to the song are part of a larger phenomenon in digital pop culture that sees “girlhood” as a problem. The music video, performed by thirteen-year-old Rebecca Black and produced by Ark Music Factory in 2010, first garnered widespread attention in March 2011 after it was posted to sites like the Daily What and Reddit and mocked by users. By the end of March, legacy media outlets were reporting on the trend and the original YouTube video received a record-breaking 1.192 million dislikes. The hyperbolic criticism the video attracted online—its designation as bad music—is due in part to a mismatch between the intent of the performer and the appraisal of the online audience resulting in an instance of what media theorists call context collapse. Much of the abuse was aimed directly or indirectly at Black’s feminine voice, which mirrored gendered critiques of contemporary popular music as vapid, inauthentic, and feminine. Fueled by YouTube’s “Recommended Videos” feature, a body of reaction and cover videos circulated alongside the original. The most successful covers of Friday are genre-reset covers, which effectively aim to solve the problem of the song’s girlishness by erasing or replacing Black’s voice. The reactions to these masculinized cover versions, even when engaging in ironic humor, overwhelmingly regard the song as improved or redeemed with the removal of Black’s vocals. In the aftermath of the song’s viral success, the initial scorn towards Friday has softened to ambivalence and even begrudging affection, and the process by which this happened reveals how girlhood and pop music fit within 2010s viral internet culture.

Works: @Toxin08 (YouTube channel): Rebecca Black—Friday [DUBSTEP Remix] (228-29); @dannydodgeofficial (YouTube channel): Death Metal Friday (229-30); @HeyMikeBauer (YouTube channel): Rebecca Black—Friday, as performed by Bob Dylan (230); Stephen Colbert, Jimmy Fallon, and The Roots, featuring Taylor Hicks: Friday (233); Adam Anders and Peer Astrom (arrangers), Glee (TV) cast: Friday (232-33)

Sources: Clarence Jey and Patrice Wilson (performed by Rebecca Black): Friday (227-33)

Index Classifications: 2000s, Popular

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

Aaron Copland’s Old American Songs are a window into his career-spanning struggle with the nature of American music in the evolving Cold War political landscape. The earliest sketches for Old American Songs are dated to 1941, during a period in Copland’s career largely defined by his political engagement with the leftist Popular Front, but the two sets were not published until 1950 and 1954 respectively. The ten songs Copland selected for Old American Songs come from somewhat diverse origins: three Protestant hymns, three minstrel songs, two children’s songs, a campaign song, and an Anglo-American ballad. However, the songs are considerably more focused on white Anglo-Saxon traditions than the pluralist aesthetic of the Popular Front. In sketches, Copland also included John Henry, a ballad about the African American folk (and labor) hero that was widely performed by Popular Front-affiliated musicians. Copland removed John Henry from Old American Songs prior to publication, apparently for political reasons. The two late additions to Old American Songs, Zion’s Walls and The Little Horses, also support the idea that Copland was distancing himself from the Popular Front by the 1950s; Zion’s Walls in particular was drawn from a collection published by George Pullen Jackson, a major figure in the reactionary White Top Folk Festival. Copland also made numerous musical and textual changes throughout the set, softening any (left leaning) political lyrics and removing the dialect and references to African American traditions from the reworked minstrel songs. Through the presentation of a white, Anglo-Saxon American past and the omission of class and racial tensions from the source material, Old American Songs represents Copland’s retreat from populist causes in the face of Cold War politics and the threat of McCarthyism.

Works: Aaron Copland: Old American Songs (318-39)

Sources: Dan D. Emmett: The Boatman’s Dance (319-23, 337-39); Traditional, John A. Lomax and Alan Lomax (editors): The Dodger (319-23, 328-30, 335-37), The Little Horses (319-23, 325-27, 334-35); George Pope Morris (lyricist) and Charles Edward Horn (arranger): Long Time Ago (319-23, 331); Elder Joseph Brackett, Edward D. Andrews (editor): Simple Gifts (319-23); Traditional: I Bought Me A Cat (319-23), The Golden Willow Tree (319-23), Ching-a-Ring Chaw (319-23, 331-33, 338); John G. McCurry: Zion’s Walls (319-23, 325-27); Rev. Robert Lowry: At The River (319-23)

Index Classifications: 1900s

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

Reflexive parody is a genre of musical comedy that can, through the musical and comedic devices it employs, both honor and satirize an artist or genre of music. Comedy in music often employs musical borrowing, either in small-scale interjections or in large-scale musical structures like quodlibets, medleys, and parodies. Reflexive parodies are distinct in that they re-examine genre conventions by transposing song into a disconnected musical genre. Heavy metal and rat pack swing are two genres often paired together in reflexive parody, creating a vehicle for comedic points about virtue, vice, and masculinity. Richard Cheese (created by Mark Jonathan Davis) and Bud E. Luv (created by Robert Vickers) are two characters that perform “swankified” heavy metal music with an exaggerated rat pack lounge singer persona. In doing so, they strip away the imagery of hegemonic masculinity inherent to heavy metal and replace it with another form of exaggerated masculine imagery associate with 1950s swing. By poking holes in the self-seriousness of heavy metal, Davis and Vickers uncover the underlying musical quality of heavy metal. Humor is created in their acts in several ways. Recognition of the source material is treated as part of the joke, as are interjections of other familiar tunes. Lyrics are not usually altered, as the dissonance of a clean-cut lounge singer voicing brazen profanity is also comedic, but occasional in-character changes are made. Musical quotations from genres beyond heavy metal or swing can also heighten the comedic absurdity. For example, Richard Cheese’s version of Closer by Nine Inch Nails includes snippets of the theme to Sesame Street, Linus and Lucy, and Old MacDonald Had a Farm. Reflexive parody is different from genre reinterpretations in that it relies on the comedic mediator or buffer of the comedian’s persona. Self-reflexive humor, along with the interpretive space it opens up, emerges from the sum of its musical parts.

Works: Beatallica: Sandman (63); “Weird Al” Yankovic: Angry White Boy Polka (63); Tom Lehrer: The Elements (63); Tim Minchin: Beelz (64), Rock and Roll Nerd (64); Barenaked Ladies: Grade 9 (64); Robert Vickers (as Bud E. Luv): Iron Man (70), Paranoid (70), Whole Lotta Love/Free Bird (70); Mark Jonathan Davis (as Richard Cheese): I’m Only Happy When It Rains (70), Enter Sandman (70), Bust A Move (70), People Equals Shit (70-71), Welcome to the Jungle (71), Girls, Girls, Girls (71), Closer (71-72); Lee Presson and the Nails: Mr. Crowley (71).

Sources: The Beatles: Taxman (63); Metallica: Enter Sandman (63, 70); System of a Down: Chop Suey (63); Disturbed: Down With the Sickness (63); Arthur Sullivan (composer), W. S. Gilbert (lyricist): I Am the Very Model of a Modern Major General from The Pirates of Penzance (63); Charlie Daniels: The Devil Went Down to Georgia (64); Rush: Tom Sawyer (64); Led Zeppelin: Stairway to Heaven (64); Garbage: I’m Only Happy When It Rains (70); Nacio Herb Brown (composer) and Arthur Freed (lyricist): Singing in the Rain (70); Pat Ballard: Mr. Sandman (70); Slipknot: People Equals Shit (70-71); Guns N’ Roses: Welcome to the Jungle (71); Solomon Linda: The Lion Sleeps Tonight (71); Mötley Crüe: Girls, Girls, Girls (71); Van Morrison: Brown Eyed Girl (71); Ozzy Osbourne Mr. Crowley (71); Europe: The Final Countdown (71); Nine Inch Nails: Closer (71-72); Joe Raposo (composer), Jon Stone, Bruce Hart, and Joe Raposo (lyricists): Can You Tell Me How to Get to Sesame Street (71-72); Vince Guaraldi: Linus and Lucy (71-72); Thomas d’Urfey (composer), Frederick Thomas Nettlingham (lyricist): Old MacDonald Had a Farm (71-72).

Index Classifications: 1900s, 2000s, Popular

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

The poetic trope of distance is central to philosophical definitions of Romanticism as well as Robert Schumann’s music criticism and composition. Schumann’s Papillons, Op. 2, was influenced by the ideas of romantic distance and the sublime in Jean Paul’s novel Flegeljahre, which often uses musical metaphors in conceptualizing the sublime. An example of Schumann’s musical aesthetic of distance is the Aria movement of his Piano Sonata in F-sharp Minor, adapted from his earlier song An Anna, which itself borrows from Carl Gottlieb Reissiger’s Heimweh. The aria is presented as a purely instrumental song without words, but it is descended from song and echoes the aesthetics of vocal music. Schumann expresses a more personal form of distance and memory with his quotation of Clara Schumann’s Valses romantiques in both Carnaval and multiple numbers in Davidsbündlertänze. Similarly, Schumann’s Fantasie, Op. 17, evokes the imagery of romantic distance present in Beethoven’s An die ferne Geliebte through veiled melodic references. In the Im Legendenton movement of the Fantasie, Schumann again appropriates Clara’s music, this time her Romanza variée. The musical exchange between Robert and Clara Schumann can be read as a way of musically closing the distance between them. In closing the distance between lover and beloved, Schumann also closes the distance between music and language.

Works: Robert Schumann: An Anna II (83-91), Piano Sonata in F-sharp Minor, Op. 11 (86-91), Davidsbündlertänze, Op. 2 (100-9), Carnaval, Op. 9 (102-9), Fantasie, Op. 17 (113-126), Novelletten, Op. 21 (126-31)

Sources: Carl Gottlieb Reissiger: Heimweh (83-91); Robert Schumann: An Anna II (86-91); Clara Schumann: Valses romantiques, Op. 4 (102-9), Romanza variée, Op. 3 (121-24), Soirées musicales, Op. 6 (126-31); Beethoven: An die ferne Geliebte, Op. 98 (113-19)

Index Classifications: 1800s

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

Duke Ellington’s and James P. Johnson’s concert jazz compositions of the 1930s and 1940s embody an urban-entertainment vision for racial uplift developed a generation earlier that promotes the high art potential of Harlem’s popular music. Ellington’s 1935 concert film Symphony in Black: A Rhapsody of Negro Life exemplifies the glorified entertainment aesthetic and symphonic jazz idiom developed in Tin Pan Alley and Harlem musical theater in the 1920s. An early example of symphonic jazz emerging from entertainment circles is Will Marion “Dad” Cook’s 1924 stage revue Negro Nuances. The production (which predates Gershwin’s Rhapsody in Blue) presents a version of the Africa-to-Dixie-to-Harlem narrative later used by Ellington in Black, Brown, and Beige. Musically, Negro Nuances is a pastiche of recycled material—some by Cook himself—arranged for Cook’s twenty-five-piece orchestra. The vaudeville aesthetic of the late 1920s and early 1930s was also influential in establishing stylistic formulas for arranging spirituals and vernacular music for an orchestral idiom. J. Rosamond Johnson’s choral arrangements of W. C. Handy’s St. Louis Blues for a 1929 short film of the same name and Rhapsody in Blue for the 1931 review Rhapsody in Black: A Symphony of Blue Notes and Black Rhythms exemplify the shifting textures and spectacle of musical theater arranging. For Ellington and James P. Johnson, both of whom worked in the entertainment space, the leap to symphonic jazz works was relatively small. James P. Johnson’s Mississippi Moan: Symphony Poem, Drums: Symphonic Poem, and Ellington’s Symphony in Black all closely adhere to the production number model and incorporate the sonic tropes of the Harlem stage. A critical understanding of these symphonic jazz works in terms of Afrological vernacular modernism highlights their artistic value and cross-cultural exchange.

Works: Will Marion Cook: Negro Nuances (330-333); Spencer Williams: Moan, You Moaners! (Fox Trot Spirituelle) (336-37); J. Rosamond Johnson: score to St. Louis Blues (337-42), Rhapsody in Blue from Rhapsody in Black: A Symphony of Blue Notes and Black Rhythm (345-47); Duke Ellington: The Blackberries of 1930 (344-45); James P. Johnson: Mississippi Moan: Symphonic Poem (347-51)

Sources: James P. Johnson: Runnin’ Wild (330-333); Anonymous: Deep River (336-37); W. C. Handy: St. Louis Blues (337-42); Stephen Foster: Swanee River (344-45); George Gershwin: Rhapsody in Blue (345-47); Perry Bradford and James P. Johnson: Echoes of Ole Dixieland (348-49), Mississippi River Flood (348-51); James P. Johnson: Yarnekraw: A Negro Rhapsody (350)

Index Classifications: 1900s, Jazz, Popular

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

The use of library music (also called production music or stock music) in contemporary travel television shows as analyzed at the level of episode, series, and genre is complex in its communication of meaning, engaging with notions of celebrity and location. A case study of library music in the first season of British travel series Travel Man (Channel 4, 2015-) demonstrates the production process of using library music and offers conceptual tools for its analysis. The conceit of Travel Man is that the host, comedian Richard Ayoade, does not actually like traveling. Most of the music in the show is licensed from Audio Network, a leading British music library company specializing in recorded (as opposed to synthesized) music. After a library track is selected for a particular scene based in part on metadata tags supplied by Audio Network, editors select one of several mixes provided by Audio Network and manipulate the track to fit the specific timing of the scene. The Audio Network track Travelling Circus, composed by Bob Bradley, Adam Dennis, and Chris Egan, is used in several episodes of Travel Man covering trips to Paris, Naples, Brussels, Oslo, Madeira, Ljubljana, and Milan. Travelling Circus is often used in combination with voiceover to signify a broad sense of “travel” rather than any specific location, despite one section containing a stereotypically French accordion melody. In another comedic travel program, Jack Whitehall: Travels with My Father (Netflix, 2017-), this accordion section is used to comedically signify the “French-ness” of a French colonial resort in Vietnam. Throughout the first season of Travel Man, much of the library music, especially tracks used in opening/closing and transitional scenes, falls within the “vintage orchestral” genre, which draws on the style of light orchestral music and studio era Hollywood film scores. In tourist activity scenes, the genres used are much more varied, highlighting Ayoade and his celebrity guest over the location. Another Audio Network track, Paris Afternoon (composed by Joachim Horsley), is used many in British television programs spanning several genres, but its repeated use in travel shows is an example of how the “vintage orchestral” genre has come to signify travel as well as travel show. The self-aware foregrounding of library music as a parody of travel programs in Travel Man demonstrates that the use of library music can be an aesthetic strategy, not just an economic necessity.

Works: Nicola Silk (series director): soundtrack to Travel Man (7-16); Rupert Clague (story producer): soundtrack to Jack Whitehall: Travels with My Father (12)

Sources: Bob Bradley, Adam Dennis, and Chris Egan: Travelling Circus (7-12); Joachim Horsley: Paris Afternoon (16-17)

Index Classifications: 2000s, Film

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

When the Ku Klux Klan was revived in the early twentieth century, music co-opted from Protestant hymns, patriotic songs, folk songs, and popular music became an important tool for recruitment and entertainment. Klan songs, published professionally or at home, most frequently addressed topics of patriotism and Klan fraternalism. Many Klan songbooks printed patriotic songs and Christian hymns unaltered. Retexted versions of hymns with Klan symbols inserted were also frequently printed. For example, the little brown church depicted in The Church in the Wildwood is transformed into a burning cross in a Klan derivative, The Fiery Cross in the Vale. Secular music was often co-opted as well with lyrics changed to reflect the Klan’s anti-immigration, anti-Catholic, and anti-Semitic stances. The Ballad of Casey Jones and tunes by Stephen Foster proved especially popular in this regard. Original songs, printed both with and without overt Klan imagery on the cover, were also published. Surprisingly, African Americans are underrepresented as targets in Klan songs. There are even at least ten examples of Ku Klux Klan blues songs, capitalizing on the genre’s popularity to reach a wider audience. In all, over one hundred songs were co-opted by the Klan for propaganda and profit.

Works: Dora C. Goodwin: The Fiery Cross in the Vale (369-70); Anonymous: The Immigrant (372-73); Claudia P. Randolph: contrafactum on The Sidewalks of New York (373); W. R. Rhinehart (publisher): The Klansman’s Friend (374-75), Junior Boys Klan Chorus (375)

Sources: William S. Pitts: The Church in the Wildwood (369-70); Percy Wenrich and Edward Madden: The Red Rose Rag (372-73); Charles B. Lawlor and James W. Blake: The Sidewalks of New York (373); Eddie Newton, Wallace Saunders, and T. Lawrence Seibert: Casey Jones (374-75); William Charles Fry: Lily of the Valley (375)

Index Classifications: 1900s, Popular

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

Tributism, describing the continuing phenomenon of tribute bands, does not engage historically with its musical sources, but instead presents them atemporally, challenging our ability to locate and validate music. Beginning in Australia during the 1970s, tributism is primarily a “live” phenomenon rather than recorded one, springing from the absence of the original or real musical act. This is different from cover or cabaret bands who perform music by other artists in the presentation of a tribute band as a surrogate for the original without a performing identity of their own. Tribute bands are most successful when emulating the recorded material of their source, creating new “live” versions of a recording. Consequently, bands like The Rolling Stones, who are more famous for their concerts than their albums, do not get as many tribute band as groups like The Beatles, who are most famous for their albums and did not tour for much of their career. Tributism can affect the way an audience views a “real” act as well. Large music festivals, where guests are not inclined to participate with the performance as intimately, can cause re-formed and comeback bands to be received as effectively their own tribute band. Even original bands like Oasis, who co-opt the position and image of The Beatles rather than their music, get mired in tributism. Ultimately, tributism is not self-referential but rather representational, challenging traditional postmodern reading of the phenomenon. The audience of a tribute band effectively becomes more important to the performance than the performers themselves.

Index Classifications: Popular

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

Lin-Manuel Miranda’s engagement with the history, culture, and aesthetics of hip hop in Hamilton: An American Musical contributes meaningfully to its retelling of the Founders story and its role in the ongoing struggle to define American identity. The reception of Hamilton as a hip hop musical is vitally important to its widespread appeal, but Miranda borrows from a broad swath of American popular music styles to create a diverse sound. In the musical, the character of Alexander Hamilton undergoes a rags-to-riches arc similar to how many hip hop artists present themselves. Hamilton is differentiated musically by his polysyllabic flow, similar to rappers like Big Pun and Rakim. In addition to stylistically borrowing from various hip hop artists, Miranda explicitly references specific lines from famous tracks. For example, the “Ten Duel Commandments” number in Hamilton is modelled on and borrows the opening countdown from the Notorious B.I.G. track “Ten Crack Commandments.” In interviews about this number, Miranda commented on the similarities between Hamilton and Notorious B.I.G. both rapping about the unwritten rules of illegal activity, framing the hip hop “hustler” trope as the embodiment of American enterprise. The intersection of hip hop, multiracial casting, and framing of American history in Hamilton is further contextualized by the neoliberal politics surrounding its creation and premiere. By focusing on politics of diversity and largely ignoring class and economic politics in favor of a message of success following hard work, Hamilton was able to appeal to liberals and conservatives alike. While its message of diversity gained urgency during the Trump administration, Hamilton remains uncritical of neoliberal power structures.

Works: Lin-Manuel Miranda: Hamilton: An American Musical (468-76)

Sources: Mobb Deep: Shook Ones, Pt. 2 (473-74); Notorious B.I.G.: Ten Crack Commandments (474)

Index Classifications: 2000s, Popular

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

Mahler’s Third Symphony not only programmatically represents the dichotomy between winter and summer but also documents the interconnected urban and rural spheres of fin-de-siècle Austria-Hungary. This interpretation of Mahler’s symphony positions Vienna as the mid-point in Mahler’s working year and connects it to the arrival of summer. Mahler’s visits to Vienna in 1895 and 1896 coincided with local political upheavals concerning the election of Christian Social mayor Karl Lueger. While Mahler typically eschews politics, the mob section of the first movement of the Third Symphony does suggest the mobs in Vienna. A political reading of the symphony is further suggested by the similarities between the opening theme and Wir hatten gebauet ein stattliches Haus by August Von Binzer, which originated with Vormärz liberalism and became associated with socialists in the 1870s. The political valence of the opening theme and the mob section gives moments like the recapitulation extra significance as well: the opening funeral march regains control over the mob. The third movement of the symphony reworks Mahler’s own Ablösung im Sommer and its use of birdsong. Within the symphony, the lines between urban and rural are blurred, suggesting a halfway point between Mahler’s rural composing retreats in Steinbach and the urban polyphony of his professional life. The interruption of the Ablösung material by the post horn fanfare represents not only an intrusion of civilization on nature, but also (in a more literal sense) the arrival of communication (the mail). Personal resonances with Mahler’s biography can also be heard in the symphony. Nature cannot be a true escape from urban life as it is itself a construct of modern society. The true significance of the journey through nature in the symphony is the journey itself.

Works: Mahler: Symphony No. 3 in D minor (388-90, 407-11, 414-20, 420-21)

Sources: August von Binzer (lyrics): Wir hatten gebauet ein stattliches Haus (388-90); Mahler: Ablösung im Sommer (407-11, 420-21); Albert Hiller: Das große Buch vom Posthorn (414-20)

Index Classifications: 1900s

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

Turntablism in DJ battles subverts the intended function of musical recordings and demonstrates how users can shape recording technology instead of the other way around. Turntablism is a performative act of manipulating music recordings using a DJ turntable and has its roots in the beginnings of hip-hop. One modern practice of turntablism is DJ battles, in which two DJs taking turns demonstrating their turntable skills, with the crowd determining a winner based on technical and artistic ability. The origins of DJ battles are informal contests in the 1970s in the Bronx; by the mid 80s, formal competitions were organized by groups like the DMC (Disco Mix Club). Modern DJ battles are racially diverse, but are mainly dominated by young men. Despite the metaphorical violence of a “battle,” DJs battles are a safe space for young men to express themselves creatively. There is competition between contestants, but overall the performance and audience participation are more central to the activity. While there is no open discrimination of women in DJ battles, the lack of female participation is an issue. Underlying misogyny in rap music (indirectly related to DJ battles) and the battles themselves (dismissing opponents as “bitches,” for example), as well as a pervasive view of recording technology as gendered male, contribute to the relative lack of female battle DJs.

Index Classifications: 1900s, Popular

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

Liszt’s two-piano arrangements of his symphonic poems, composed during his tenure as Kapellmeister of the Grand-Ducal court in Weimar, exhibit new techniques and a meticulous approach to reworking orchestral material into the two-piano medium. Starting with his 1853 two-piano arrangement of Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony, Liszt was at the forefront of the development of the medium. However, even at the height of their popularity from the 1880s through the 1910s, two-piano arrangements were far less common than four-hand arrangements. Liszt’s two-piano arrangements were primarily performed by a circle of professional pianists at private gatherings arranged by the composer to promote his orchestral music. Liszt uses a variety of distinctive techniques to craft faithful reworkings of orchestral music, not simple reproductions. For instance, the distribution of musical material between the two pianos is used to recreate subtle timbral differences in orchestration in passages of both Les Préludes and Eine Symphonie zu Dantes Divina Commedia. Liszt also adds virtuosic figurations which often relate to the program of the piece, as in his arrangement of Mazeppa. The two-piano rendering of Hunnenschlacht uses several techniques to highlight the battle between the Huns and Romans. Hand crossings and dissonances give visual and aural flair to the Huns’ theme. The addition of a chromatic scale-passage to the Romans’ theme not only renders the ominous timpani roll in a pianistic way, but also juxtaposes the two pianos against each other, creating an impression of a continual battle that is not present in the original. Liszt’s two-piano arrangements were an important part of his development as a prominent arranger and composer in Weimar and demonstrate a complementary approach to fidelity and creativity.

Works: Liszt: Les Préludes, two-piano version (310-11), Eine Symphonie zu Dantes Divina Commedia, two-piano version (311-13), Mazeppa, two-piano version (313-15), Hunneschlacht, two-piano version (315-22)

Sources: Liszt: Les Préludes (310-11), Eine Symphonie zu Dantes Divina Commedia (311-13), Mazeppa (313-15), Hunneschlacht (315-22)

Index Classifications: 1800s

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

The final two movements of Mahler’s Fifth Symphony are deeply interrelated and can understood in light of his techniques of integrating song and symphony and his interest in the aesthetics of polarity. The use of the Adagietto of Mahler’s Fifth in Visconti’s film Death in Venice colors its reception as it is used to underscore the isolation of the film’s central character, fictional composer Gustav von Aschenbach. However, the similarities between the Adagietto and Mahler’s setting of “Ich bin der Welt abhanden gekommen,” composed just before the Adagietto, challenges this reading. When understood as a song without words (as Adorno describes the movement) based on “Ich bin der Welt,” the distancing from the world and isolation is cast in a positive light as the sanctuary of the inner self. The falling seventh motif in the Adagietto also has a musical affinity to the glance motive in Wagner’s Tristan und Isolde. The relationship between the Adagietto and the other movements of the symphony, particularly the Rondo-Finale, also suggests a deep integration of the movements of the Fifth Symphony. The integrated aesthetic and fugal writing of the Adagietto and Finale correspond to similar double perspectives in Die Meistersinger. In opposition to what Adorno perceives as a “brokenness” in Mahler’s music, the integrated, dialectical relationship between the Adagietto and the Rondo-Finale represents the unity in Mahler’s symphonic forms.

Works: Mahler: Symphony No. 5

Sources: Mahler: “Ich bin der Welt abhanden gekommen” from Rückert-Lieder (234-247), “Lob des hohen Verstandes” from Des Knaben Wunderhorn (262-63); Wagner: Tristan und Isolde (250-51)

Index Classifications: 1900s

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

Composer and transcriber Ferruccio Busoni valued arrangements and new compositions equally, and his compositions mixed borrowed and new musical material even as transcriptions became aesthetically undesirable in the early twentieth century. In his writings, Busoni blurs the line between composition and arrangement with his philosophy that composers do not create music, but rather capture and represent heavenly music already in existence. In many of his transcriptions and arrangements, Busoni “corrects” the original scores in order to conform more closely to his vision of the ideal piece. In the case of Busoni’s unsolicited arrangement of Schoenberg’s Klavierstück, Op. 11, No. 2, this license provoked a negative response from Schoenberg. In his compositional process, Busoni begins with an abstract, non-musical Idee, which is transformed into an abstract musical concept, or Einfall. This must then go through the process of Transkription and Arrangement to translate it into a musical work. Many of his original compositions, such as Fünf kurze Stücke zur Pflege des polyphonen Spiels (1923), mix arrangement, transcription, and composition in unique ways. His edition of Liszt’s Grande Étude de Paganini No. 6 included Paganini’s original Caprice No. 24, Liszt’s two versions of the work (1838 and 1851), and original conflations of the three. An unpublished arrangement of Mozart’s Piano Concerto in G Major, K. 453, demonstrates Busoni’s attempt to modernize and perfect Mozart’s score. Occasionally, Busoni describes his work as Nachdichtung, or the assimilation of an older style into a modern idiom. This includes his Fantasia nach J. S. Bach, which combines altered renditions of several Bach chorale compositions. While Busoni’s approach is comparable to contemporary virtuosos creating their own performance arrangements, his idiosyncratic approach to transcription, arrangement, and composition—especially in a musical culture praising originality above all—made him one of the most original thinkers of the early twentieth century.

Works: Ferruccio Busoni: arrangement of Schoenberg’s Klavierstück, Op. 11, No. 2 (228-30), Fantasia Contrappuntistica (234), Fünf kurze Stücke zur Pflege des polyphonen Spiels (238), Doktor Faust (239-40), edition of Liszt’s Grande Étude de Paganini No. 6 in A Minor (243-51), arrangement of Mozart’s Piano Concerto in G Major, K. 453 (252-54), Fantasia nach J. S. Bach (256-60)

Sources: Schoenberg: Klavierstück, Op. 11, No. 2 (228-30); J. S. Bach: The Art of the Fugue, BWV 1080 (234), Christ der du bist der helle Tag, BWV 766 (256-60), Gottes Sohn ist kommen, BWV 703 (256-60), Lob sei dem allmächtigen Gott, BWV 602 (256-60); Mozart: The Magic Flute (238), Piano Concerto in G Major, K. 453 (252-54); Ferruccio Busoni: Nocturne Symphonique (239-40); Liszt: Grande Étude de Paganini No. 6 in A Minor (243-51); Paganini: Caprice No. 24 (243-51)

Index Classifications: 1900s

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

Gustav Mahler’s significant revisions to Bruckner’s Fourth Symphony amount to what Harold Bloom calls “creative misprision,” demonstrating Mahler’s self-understanding of Bruckner’s influence on his work. Publicly and privately, Mahler had a complicated relationship with the older Bruckner. Mahler’s conducting score and the orchestral parts used for his performance of Bruckner’s Fourth Symphony reveal significant changes to the text that went far beyond the standard of the time. He started with Bruckner’s 1888 final version and throughout the work altered orchestrations and cut around fifteen minutes, including nearly one third of the final movement. Major moments in Bruckner’s score were also altered or removed entirely, including both appearances of the fortissimo theme in the finale—precisely the section with the greatest stylistic influence on Mahler. These revisions can be understood by Bloom’s theory of influence, particularly the concept of misprision: the act of alleviating the anxiety of influence by creatively altering earlier works. Other indications of Mahler’s anxiety of Bruckner’s influence include his unease at charges of the similarity between his music and Bruckner’s. The similarities between passages in the scherzos of Mahler’s Symphony No. 1 and Bruckner’s Symphony No. 3, as well as the similarities between the opening themes of the Adagios of Mahler’s Symphony No. 9 and Bruckner’s Symphony No. 9, suggest a creative influence that Mahler was intent on publicly minimizing. Acknowledging this influence helps to recontextualize both Mahler’s and Bruckner’s positions in music history.

Works: Bruckner, Mahler (revisor): Symphony No. 4 in E-flat Major, WAB 104 (367-98, 416-425); Mahler: Symphony No. 1 in D Major (407-8), Symphony No. 9 (409-11), Symphony No. 5 (411-12)

Sources: Bruckner: Symphony No. 4 in E-flat Major, WAB 104 (367-98, 416-425), Symphony No. 3 in D Minor, WAB 103 (407-8), Symphony No. 9 in D Minor, WAB 109 (409-11), Symphony No. 5 in B-flat Major, WAB 105 (411-12)

Index Classifications: 1800s, 1900s

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

John Philip Sousa performed many orchestral transcriptions, leading both his professional band and the US Marine Band before that, but only a handful of these transcriptions still exist today. Despite the lack of material, a number of features of Sousa’s transcriptions become apparent, including keeping wind and percussion parts generally intact, writing for choirs of instruments, using clarinets like orchestral violins, and shifting scoring even when the original doesn’t change. Most of the transcriptions performed by the Sousa Band were written by Sousa’s assistants and copyists, not by Sousa himself. Only five orchestral transcriptions in full score in Sousa’s hand remain today: Grieg’s Peer Gynt Suite No. 1, Wagner’s Overture to The Flying Dutchman, Elgar’s Salut d’Amour, Massenet’s “Angelus” from Suite No. 4, and Leo Sowerby’s Comes Autumn Time. One significant addition not in Sousa’s hand is Wagner’s Overture to Tannhäuser, which does not share the same scoring practices of Sousa’s own transcriptions. Other existing transcriptions come from keyboard music, for example Liszt’s Hungarian Rhapsody No. 2.

Works: Sousa: transcriptions of Grieg’s Peer Gynt Suite No. 1 (214–34), Wagner’s Overture to The Flying Dutchman (235–61), Elgar’s Salut d’Amour (262–66), Massenet’s “Angelus” from Suite No. 4 (267–77), and Leo Sowerby’s Comes Autumn Time (278–87).

Sources: Grieg: Peer Gynt Suite No. 1 (214–34); Wagner: Overture to The Flying Dutchman (235–61); Elgar: Salut d’Amour (262–66); Massenet: “Angelus” from Suite No. 4 (267–77); Leo Sowerby: Comes Autumn Time (278–87).

Index Classifications: 1800s, 1900s, Popular

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

Soviet director Grigory Aleksandrov and composer Isaak Dunayevsky’s third musical comedy film, Volga-Volga (1938), successfully balances entertainment and the ideological demands of Socialist Realism in large part through its music. The main conflict of the film is a feud between a folk music ensemble and a classical orchestra that culminates in a joint performance of the film’s theme song, Song about the Volga. During the opening meeting between the two leads, Strelka (folk musician) and Alyosha (classical musician), Alyosha tries to convince Strelka of the grandeur of classical music by performing an excerpt of Wagner’s Tristan und Isolde, which Strelka finds boring. Likewise, Alyosha does not immediately accept Strelka’s folk song, Song about the Volga. During a later “divertissement,” various classical and folk ensembles chase a city official around town, eager to demonstrate their musical ability so that they may be selected to represent the town at the upcoming Olympiad. Throughout the film, the performances by Alyosha and Strelka dramatize the apparent divide between high art and low art, a central concern of 1930s Soviet music. Ultimately, the film’s thesis is presented in the final performance of Song about the Volga presented with full orchestral accompaniment, modeling an ideal blend of classical, popular, and folk music traditions that spoke to audiences and Socialist Realist critics alike.

Works: Isaak Dunayevsky: score to Volga-Volga (542-43, 546-47, 549-53, 554)

Sources: Wagner: Tristan und Isolde (542-43); Mozart: Rondo alla turca from Piano Sonata No. 11 in A Major, K. 331 (546-47); Traditional: Samara (546-47), Shire krug (546-47); Iz-za ostrova na strezhen (546-47), Ei ukhnem (Song of the Volga Boatmen) (546-47), Zhil-bïl u babushka serekiy kozlik (546-47); Rossini: William Tell Overture (546-47); Dunayevsky: Molodezhnaya (546-47, 549-53); Schubert: Moment musical No. 3 in F Minor, D. 780 (549), Tchaikovsky: Eugene Onegin (554)

Index Classifications: 1900s, Film

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

Hungarian composer Ernst von Dohnányi’s American Rhapsody has previously been analyzed as his tribute to America. However, interpreting the rhapsody in the context of his compositional oeuvre reveals more about his conservatism and critical reception. American Rhapsody was commissioned by Ohio University and premiered in 1954. Throughout the work, popular American tunes chosen from Margaret Bradford Boni and Norman Lloyd’s Fireside Book of Folk Songs (1947), including On Top of Old Smokey, I Am a Poor Wayfaring Stranger, and Turkey in the Straw, are used as melodic material. This use is similar to Liszt’s use of folk tunes in his Hungarian Rhapsodies. While a few tunes are heard only in passing, Dohnányi develops the Wayfaring Stranger material, recalling the texture of his earlier Symphonic Minutes, which quotes a Hungarian church song. The use of folksong in Rhapsody also recalls the irony in Dohnányi’s popular Nursery Variations, evoking children’s music alongside more serious orchestral music. After facing accusations of anti-Semitism and war crimes from some US newspapers soon after he arrived in the US in 1948, Dohnányi largely avoided politics in his American period; American Rhapsody was the most political work of his late career. While American Rhapsody can be understood as a musical tribute to his new home, it also represents Dohnányi taking a retrospective look at his own compositional career.

Works: Ernst von Dohnányi: American Rhapsody (203-15)

Sources: Traditional, Margaret Bradford Boni and Norman Lloyd (editors): On Top of Old Smokey (203-4, 212-15), I Am a Poor Wayfaring Stranger (203-4, 206-10), The Riddle (203-4, 212-15), Turkey in the Straw (203-4, 212-15); John A. Stone: Sweet Betsy from Pike (203-4, 215); Kenneth S. Clark: Alma Mater Ohio (203-4); Ernst von Dohnányi: Symphonic Minutes (208-10), Nursery Variations (212-15)

Index Classifications: 1900s

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

During the first decade of Calvin’s Reform of Geneva, the Consistory ecclesiastical court targeted indecent singing, reflecting the Reformed belief in the power of song to influence behavior. The Consistory and the Genevan Small Council repeatedly issued proclamations and ordinances against illicit singing. Court records show over one hundred cases involving illicit singing in Calvinist Geneva. Some cases were solely about singing indecent songs, while others connected musical crimes to other crimes such as dancing and gambling. Many people charged with illicit singing defended themselves by claiming they were singing a different, legal song, often a patriotic song or a devotional contrafact of a would-be illicit tune. One of the biggest cases involving illicit song was brought against Jerome Bolsec, a former Carmelite who publicly argued against Calvin’s doctrine of predestination. During his imprisonment, Bolsec composed a contrafactum on Marot’s Psalm 23 in the Geneva Psalter that quickly made its way into the popular song repertoire. In making his theological argument in the song, Bolsec carefully preserves the poetic meter of the original and makes intertextual references to “David” and “lambs” from the psalm. A supporter of Bolsec, Jean de Cortean, was charged with (among other crimes including fornication) singing Bolsec’s contrafactum, for which Cortean was imprisoned. For the Calvinists, singing indecent songs was an attack on the Reformed social body and as such required strict disciplining through the Consistory.

Works: Jerome Bolsec: Complainte de Hierome Bolsec en prison en Geneve sur le chant du psalme: Mon Dieu me paist soubz sa puissance haulte (31-38)

Sources: Clement Marot: Mon Dieu me paist, Psalm 23 (31-38)

Index Classifications: 1500s

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

The contrafacta of popular war songs printed in the Girls Scouts of the USA magazine Rally during World War I reflected two narratives of wartime girlhood: one connecting girls to common domestic feminine roles and another placing girls at the center of the narrative as soldiers. Music, including creating parodies of Girl Scout songs, has been a part of the Girls Scouts program since its founding in 1912 even though the specific uses of music are difficult to pin down in extant sources. Contrary to other early-twentieth-century girls’ clubs and lingering ideas of womanhood, Girl Scouts of the USA embraced equality with men. In the contrafact Scouts Yankee Doodle, domestic actions (cooking, growing food, making bandages) are framed in a military call to action (“the stars and stripes bugle call”). Anna Nelson’s contrafact of George M. Cohan’s Over There calls on fellow Girl Scouts to join in and do their parts “over here,” directly paralleling the heroic rhetoric of Cohan’s lyrics. The Rally contrafact of I Didn’t Raise My Boy to Be a Soldier subverts the pacifist sentiment of the original in the manner of other response songs such as America, Here’s My Boy, asserting that the Girl Scouts are “ready to do or die.” These Scout songs exist within the context of contrafacta as a means of organized protest music, a practice common in the Temperance, Suffragist, and Labor movements of the time. Contrafacta of Civil War tunes are particularly meaningful in turn-of-the-century American protest movements, and the Girl Scouts participate in this tradition as well. Adding to their protest nature, the rhetoric of active militarism in the Girl Scouts songs run counter to the passive “angel of the house” trope of girlhood present in published war music. Through these contrafacta, the women and girls in the Girl Scouts engage in a safe form of protest, recasting themselves as active agents in the home front of the war in opposition to their prescribed domestic roles.

Works: Unattributed (lyricist): Scouts’ Yankee Doodle (376, 380-82); Anna Nelson (lyricist): Over Here (Over There) (380, 382-84); Unattributed (lyricist): Why Don’t You Raise Your Girl to Be a Girl Scout (I Didn’t Raise My Boy to Be a Soldier) (384-85); Lois Henderson (lyricist): We’ll Do Our Bit for Our Country (Marching Through Georgia) (380, 389); Henry W. Roby: Marching Together (Marching Through Georgia) (391-92), Woman’s Rights in Dixie (397-98); Minnie B. Horning: Contest Song (392-93); Antoinette Arnold Hawley: Under the Star Spangled Banner (393-94); L. May Wheeler: November Twenty-Two, 1883 (394); Lillian Sunden (lyricist): And Thus We Stand United (Dixie) (394-96)

Sources: Anonymous: Yankee Doodle; George M. Cohan: Over There (382); Alfred Bryan and Al Piantadosi: I Didn’t Raise My Boy to Be a Soldier (384-85); Arthur Lange and Andrew B. Sterling: American, Here’s My Boy (384-85); Henry Clay Work: Marching Through Georgia (389-94); Dan Emmett: Dixie (394-98)

Index Classifications: 1900s, Popular

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

The soundtrack for Easy Rider (1969), compiled by director/writer/actor Dennis Hopper and producer/writer/actor Peter Fonda, illustrates the complexity of rock compilation soundtracks and their potential to generate both inter- and intratextual meaning. When used as film music, rock and popular songs behave differently from traditional underscoring in that they are not easily manipulated and tend to create audiovisual “set-pieces.” Throughout Easy Rider there is a tight integration of song lyrics and images, suggesting a conscious intertextual negotiation by the filmmakers. For example, the shots that accompany Wasn’t Born to Follow by the Byrds mirror the forest imagery and “clear and jeweled waters” presented in the lyrics. This kind of deliberate intertextuality through citation and reference is a hallmark of New Hollywood cinema, of which Easy Rider is an early example. The rock soundtrack also resonates with the countercultural themes and social consciousness of the film. The soundtrack generates meaning through intratextual means; the musical set-pieces interact with the narrative structure of the film as well as each other. For example, in one segment, Fraternity of Man’s country-styled Don’t Bogart Me, accompanied by shots of a bucolic countryside, is interrupted sonically by Jimi Hendrix’s If 6 Was 9 and visually by shots of Louisianan imagery: a river bridge, grand Southern homes, and African American workers, the only black faces in the film. The sonic elements of the soundtrack also mirror the geographical progression of the film West to East, starting in Los Angeles with electric rock (Steppenwolf), then shifting to country rock (The Byrds), faux-country music (Fraternity of Man), and finally ending in Louisiana with blues-tinged electric rock (Jimi Hendrix). The central tragedy and theme of the film—that the idealism of the 1960s was doomed to be corrupted by its commodification—is expressed through song lyrics and is heightened by the self-awareness exemplified in its compiled rock soundtrack.

Works: Dennis Hopper (director), Peter Fonda (producer): compiled soundtrack to Easy Rider (303-28)

Sources: The Byrds: Wasn’t Born to Follow (303-5, 317-19); Fraternity of Man: Don’t Bogart Me (305-6, 313, 316-17); Electric Prunes: Kyrie Eleison (306); Steppenwolf: Born to Be Wild (306, 312-13), The Pusher (313, 323-25); The Jimi Hendrix Experience: If 6 was 9 (313, 315-17); Bob Dylan (songwriter), Roger McGuinn (performer): It’s Alright Ma (I’m Only Bleeding) (325); Bob Dylan and Roger McGuinn (songwriters), Roger McGuinn (performer): Ballad of the Easy Rider (325-26)

Index Classifications: 1900s, Popular, Film

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

The impetus for Boris Thomashefsky’s 1904 adaptation of Richard Wagner’s Parsifal at the People’s Theater, a fashionable Yiddish theater in New York City, was a convergence of the opera’s reputation as a serious, highbrow work of art with a movement in American Jewish circles toward staging more refined and edifying entertainment. In the years around 1900, Yiddish theater was central to the cultural lives of immigrant Jews, and broadly appealing musical productions (characterized as shund or “trash” by intellectuals) were in high demand. Around this time, playwright Jacob Gordin led a reform movement of Russian-Jewish socialists and anarchists seeking to replace the shund programming in Yiddish theaters with more uplifting and edifying works, a goal that was in line with the broader Progressive Era democratization of high art. In this intellectual context, director Thomashefsky, dramaturg Leon Mantel, and an unidentified chorus master of the Met adapted Parsifal, the quintessential edifying work in 1900s America, for the Yiddish theater. The text was translated into vernacular Yiddish, and the plot was likely simplified to be performed with a combination of spoken dialogue and vocal music. While details about the performance are scarce, according to reviewer Max Smith, a selection of random tunes from the opera were cobbled together and performed as “soft music” at various points without regard for which scenes the music originally accompanied. It is unclear to what proportion various factors led to its short run of just ten performances. Lack of interest in high culture, discomfort with a Christian topic, and poor production quality all likely played a part in the closure of this unusual opera adaptation.

Works: Leon Mantel (dramaturg), Boris Thomashefsky (director), anonymous (arranger): Parsifal (163-68)

Sources: Wagner: Parsifal (163-68)

Index Classifications: 1900s

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

The Afro-Creole folk song tradition of Louisiana, as disseminated in concert adaptations, presents distinctive challenges and rewards for singers. The language of these folk songs, Afro-Creole patois, was constructed by African slaves brought to Louisiana in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries and differs from standard French. While many Afro-Creole melodies have been preserved in instrumental music by such composers as Louis Moreau Gottschalk, the vocal sources are less familiar. Piano-vocal arrangements of Afro-Creole folk songs show different approaches to adapting the music for concert singers. Dansé, Conni Conné, arranged by Camille Nickerson, adapts a traditional bamboula dance song. At times, the accompaniment rises to become an equal partner of the vocal line. Maud Cuney Hare’s Dialogue d’Amour, also known as Z’Amours Marianne, is an arrangement of canlinda dance song, and features a rare brief modulation from minor to major. W. T. Francis’s arrangement of Zozo Mokeur (The Mockingbird) contains several highbrow, operatic touches. Julien Tiersot’s arrangement of the call and response counjaille, Aurore Bradère, features a sparse accompaniment, highlighting the simple melody. Afro-Creole folk songs have been neglected in performance, but offer a rich cultural tradition for singers to explore.

Works: Camille Nickerson: Dansé, Conni Conné (485); Maud Cuney Hare: Z’Amours Marianne (486); W. T. Francis: Zozo Mokeur (486-89); Julien Tiersot: Aurore Bradère (489-90).

Sources: Traditional: Bamboula (484-85), Dialogue d’Amour (486), Zozo Mokeur (486-89), Aurore Bradère (489-90).

Index Classifications: 1800s, 1900s

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

Throughout his career, Franz Liszt frequently revised and recomposed Marche hongroise d’après Schubert, the second movement of Mélodies hongroises d’après Schubert (1838-39), Liszt’s arrangement of Schubert’s Divertissement à l’hongroise (1825). Over four decades, Liszt published nine different notated versions of the piece. Liszt’s continued engagement with Schubert’s Viennese approximation of Hungarian music introduces many complications with regard to Liszt’s Hungarian identity. Four transcultural readings of Marche hongroise illustrate the complex relationship between national identities and politics surrounding Liszt’s career-long engagement with the work. The first transcultural reading concerns Schubert’s adoption of Hungarian folk style in his Divertissement and Liszt’s reclamation of the Hungarian style through his transcription in Mélodies. In transcribing Schubert’s Divertissement, Liszt asserts his authority as a Hungarian musician by amplifying the idiomatic effects marking a Hungarian style. The addition of verbunkos and militaristic effects further frames Liszt as correcting Schubert’s Viennese style hongrois and revealing the heroic nature of Hungarian music. The second transcultural reading places Liszt’s work in the context of republican heroic marches. Since the French Revolution, the heroic march genre was often linked to republican and revolutionary politics. This context combined with Liszt’s own political leanings suggests a republican reading of the Marche hongroise. The third transcultural reading contextualizes Marche hongroise with Liszt’s cultural identity as a performer in Vienna. Performing variations on Schubert’s Divertissement was a way to reconcile his Hungarian identity with the critical culture of Vienna, which prized German musical style above others. Liszt’s orchestral version of Marche hongroise, recast in German as Ungarischer Marsch, allowed him to frame his Hungarian music as a Schubert transcription, which was more palatable to the Viennese establishment. Finally, the fourth transcultural reading places Marche hongroise in the context of transcultural modernism. In his orchestral Ungarischer March (1870 version), Liszt adopts a modern chromatic idiom, creating a stylistic hybrid of Hungarian and New German music. The changing musical trends also prompted Liszt to create new piano versions of Marche hongroise based on the orchestral version: Franz Schuberts Märsche (1880) and the Troisième edition of Marche hongroise (1883). Although we can never truly know what Liszt was thinking when he recomposed Marche hongroise in 1883, applying these four transcultural perspectives to his lifelong engagement with Marche hongroise reveals the complex associations attached to the piece and how it could represent (in Lachmund’s words) “the noblest Hungarian spirit.”

Works: Liszt: Mélodies hongroises d’après Schubert (423-40, 447-49), Ungarischer Marsch (454-64), Franz Schuberts Märsche (464-65), Marche hongroise: Troisième édition et augmentée (465-68)

Sources: Schubert: Divertissement à l’hongroise (423-40); Liszt: Mélodies hongroises d’après Schubert (454-68), Ungarischer Marsch (464-68)

Index Classifications: 1800s

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

Johanna Beyer’s prominent quotations of Mozart’s Die Zauberflöte in her String Quartet No. 2 are notable for several reasons: for quoting a tonal piece in the context of ultramodern dissonant counterpoint, for demonstrating the lasting impact of ultramodern compositional practices in the late 1930s, and for exemplifying the way musical borrowing carries extramusical meaning for women composers in particular. In the first and fourth movements of String Quartet No. 2, Beyer borrows the melody from Papageno’s aria “Ein Mädchen oder Weibchen” but sets it against dissonant counterpoint in the vein of ultramodern composers such as Charles Seeger and Ruth Crawford. The contrast between the quoted material and the ultramodernist aesthetic is more than just sonic; the use of a tonal melody by Mozart flouts the ultramodernist rejection of European musical tradition. The particular quotation of an aria about Papageno’s desire for a wife introduces another layer of interpretive meaning to the quartet. Beyer composed in an era where the structures of musical modernism were especially misogynist. Unmarried women like Beyer faced further hardships during the Depression. Around the time Beyer composed String Quartet No. 2, she proposed an arranged open marriage to Henry Cowell so that they may reap the social benefits. This arrangement never materialized, but one detail linking the quartet to the idea of marriage is Beyer signing the manuscript “Persephone,” the wife of Hades from Greek mythology. The subversion of gendered tropes is a common theme with modernist women artists. Reading Beyer’s quotation of “Ein Mädchen oder Weibchen” in this context sets the free, ultramodern counterpoint of the upper lines against the fixed cello line that repeats Papageno’s tune through the whole first movement. The content of the aria, Papageno’s desire to marry any woman at all, provides further analytical material, as this perspective is tied to the rigid cello, never achieving the freedom of the upper strings. Borrowing Papageno’s aria allows Beyer and her audience to think subversively about marriage and gender roles. Examining the connections between musical borrowing and gender opens up a rich array of analytical possibilities.

Works: Johanna Beyer: String Quartet No. 2 (306-13, 320-32)

Sources: Mozart: Die Zauberflöte (306-8, 313, 320-32)

Index Classifications: 1900s

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

The musicological “war” over the interpretation of Shostakovich’s Symphony No. 5 as an expression of political dissidence has over time generated alternative facts, adversarial rhetoric, and cynical apathy among scholars, all of which get in the way of fully analyzing the music. Setting aside the prominent, polarized interpretations, the symphony illustrates the simultaneous presence of multiple layers of meaning and purposeful ambiguity in Shostakovich’s music. By fusing abstract musical structures with specifically meaningful references, Shostakovich may have created his own kind of alternative fact, making his symphony both provably dissident and provably not dissident. In his extensive Shostakovich scholarship, Richard Taruskin’s main concern seems to be debunking the image of “dissident” Shostakovich as inaccurate. Despite this position, Taruskin identifies a “near citation” of the Orthodox requiem hymn Vechnaya pamyat in the third movement. While the passage does not actually contain a “near citation,” this claim has been repeated by other scholars, becoming an alternative fact. A full quotation of the hymn would likely have been dangerous to include in the Stalin era, but Vechnaya may possibly be referenced in motivic fragments throughout the entire symphony. Three motives—three ascending steps in equal, long note value; three repeated notes in equal, long note value; and three steps ascending or descending half-step to whole-step—are musically significant throughout the symphony and are present in the Vechnaya melody. The three-note ascending motive is especially prominent in the principal theme of the fourth movement. At various points in the third movement, the exact motives, rhythms, and timbre of Vechnaya are present and audible, lending credence to an intentional reference on the part of Shostakovich. The half step-whole step variation of the three-note ascending motive may also be (as Taruskin suggests) a reference to Shostakovich’s setting of Vozrozhdeniye (rebirth), which was composed immediately prior to the symphony and is directly quoted elsewhere in the symphony. The motive of three repeated notes also appears throughout the symphony in a few forms. The repeated short-short-long form could also remind listeners of the (arguably funereal) second movement of Beethoven’s Symphony No. 7. The meaning of these three motives can be multivalent without being mutually exclusive; the motives could reference Vechnaya or Vozrozhdeniye, convey a dead-end feeling, or simply be repeated rhythmic and scalar patterns. Although the nature of truth or meaning in a work of art differs from truth in other fields, musical “data” (the notes on the page) are like any other data, open to different analysis and contextualization by people with different goals and perspectives.

Works: Shostakovich: Symphony No. 5 in D Minor, Op. 47 (90-107)

Sources: Anonymous: Vechnaya pamyat’ (90-107); Shostakovich: Vozrozhdeniye (98-101)

Index Classifications: 1900s

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

The relationship between music and image, particularly understood through the idea of melodic connection, is central to Samuel Beckett’s late works. This relationship is predicated on two observations about Beckett’s work. First, deconstruction is used as a tool for constructing meaning, not as an end in itself. Second, Beckett viewed music as an “ideal art,” therefore musical form is used as an end in itself. In Beckett’s 1953 novel Watt, singing makes several appearances. In one instance, the character Watt recalls a frog concert in which a trio of frogs croak in a rhythmically organized pattern which is remarkably similar to a scene in Jean-Philippe Rameau’s opera Platée. Music also plays a major part in Beckett’s 1982 television play Nacht und Träume, which includes barely audible hummed and sung excerpts of Franz Schubert’s lied of the same title. By removing the harmonic context, Beckett emphasizes the melodic essence and references Schopenhauer’s philosophy of Zusammenhang (connection), or the idea of temporal coherence connecting moments to form a continuity of conscience. The music in Nacht und Träume, along with other aspects of the play, depicts a standpoint “from within” as opposed to the “from without” standpoint of the earlier Watt.

Works: Samuel Beckett: Nacht und Träume (396-405)

Sources: Franz Schubert: Nacht und Träume (396-405)

Index Classifications: 1900s

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

The 1948 screwball comedy Unfaithfully Yours, written, produced, and directed by Preston Sturges, satirizes the elevated status of classical music through an extended fantasy sequence set in the mind of a conductor during a concert. Sir Alfred De Carter, the conductor, suspects his wife’s infidelity and imagines three scenarios inspired by the three works on the concert program: Rossini’s Semiramide, Wagner’s Tannhäuser, and Tchaikovsky’s Francesca da Rimini. Throughout the film, Alfred is depicted as a caricature of high society, only enjoying the veneer of high culture. During the fantasy sequences, the classical soundtrack fluctuates between being in the foreground and functioning as underscoring. Alfred’s fantasies take the original narratives of the music and distort them to comedic effect. In the Tannhäuser sequence, Alfred turns the opera’s theme of love and redemption on its head by patronizingly redeeming his adulterous wife, treating her as a prop for his noble act of forgiveness. In the sequence featuring Francesca da Rimini, based on a vignette from Dante’s Inferno, Alfred imagines himself the melodramatic hero, tormented in hell. The Semiramide sequence is the most involved, opening with a six-minute scene of the orchestra rehearsing the overture before delving into Alfred’s fantasy. In the rehearsal, Rossini’s overture serves as the background for slapstick humor, as in a bit where a percussionist has to rush offstage to grab a pair of comically large cymbals. At one point during the Semiramide fantasy, musical cues in pop styles humorously intrude on the classical score as Alfred sneaks boogie-woogie records into a stack of classical records within his fantasy. Music is core to the humor in other ways as well: several running jokes are tied to repeated musical cues. The final scene offers one last send-up of Hollywood’s use of classical music to evoke sentiment. Tannhäuser is heard once again, this time as non-diegetic underscoring to Alfred reaffirming his undying love for his wife, which—given his misreading of the music in his fantasies—rings flowery and hollow. Unfaithfully Yours demonstrates Preston Sturges’s control over his film score and his assessment of classical music’s role in American culture.

Works: Preston Sturges (director) and Alfred Newman (music director): score to Unfaithfully Yours (246-260)

Sources: Wagner: Tannhäuser (246-247), Tristan und Isolde (258-260); Tchaikovsky: Francesca da Rimini (247); Rossini: Semiramide (247-258); James Lord Pierpont, et al.: Jingle Bells (258-260)

Index Classifications: 1900s, Film

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

Throughout the nineteenth and twentieth centuries, opera selections have had an important place in the repertoire for concert bands, but the recent trend in concert bands away from playing opera transcriptions has been detrimental to the popularity of opera in America. In the 1830s, opera tunes became a dominant genre of popular music thanks to performances by military, civic, and professional concert bands, which represented a significant portion of the music consumed by the public throughout the 1800s. The first celebrity bandleader was Patrick Sarsfield Gilmore, who gained national fame in 1872 organizing music for the National Peace Jubilee after the Civil War. Through the late nineteenth century, Gilmore organized a private band with varied programs that included operatic transcriptions. Taking Gilmore’s place in the public spotlight around the turn of the century was John Philip Sousa, who also programmed a variety of music including modern opera repertoire like Richard Wagner. After Sousa’s death in 1932, nationally touring bands of that scale became a thing of the past, especially with the rise of radio and sound recording. While a few professional bands, like the Goldman Band, remained through the mid-twentieth century, performing a traditional mix of music including operatic repertoire, collegiate bands began to replace them as the dominant concert band force. Collegiate bands, especially those modelled on Frederick Fennell’s Eastman Wind Ensemble, began programming more original works for band and distanced themselves from operatic transcriptions. Without the widespread performance of opera by bands, its popularity in American declined.

Index Classifications: 1800s, 1900s, Popular

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

The mid-nineteenth century American phenomenon of arranging European art music as hymn tunes—as represented by a case study of adaptations of Felix Mendelssohn’s music—reveals a conceptual shift in how Americans engaged with European classical music. As a broad classical music culture in America became more viable around the 1850s, arrangers of Mendelssohn’s tunes (among others) stuck more closely to the original sources, participating in the consolidation of a musical canon. The practice of adapting music by classical composers as hymn tunes began in London in the early nineteenth century and soon spread to America through Lowell Mason. Despite drawing criticism for their faithless adaptation, many publications intent on reforming American hymnody with arrangements of European tunes soon appeared, including Thomas Hastings and William Bradbury’s The Mendelssohn Collection in 1849. Many earlier hymn arrangements of Mendelssohn tunes modify them significantly in order to conform to hymn styles or to simplify the music for American performers. However, many arrangements depart from their source material much more than just “simplification,” demonstrating a greater degree of creative collaboration between composer and arranger. Some arrangements, such as Lowell Mason’s Howell, bear little resemblance to their source material at all, and others add significant amounts of newly composed material to the source tunes. The sources for these hymn adaptations come from sacred and secular vocal music as well as instrumental music. There is also a mix of well-known works (Elijah for example) and lesser-known works in earlier adaptations, suggesting an unfamiliarity with the classical repertoire. However, hymn adaptations appearing after 1855 only draw from Lobgesang, Elijah, and St. Paul, representing an emerging awareness of and faithfulness to the European canon. These Mendelssohn hymn adaptations ultimately show the extent of cross-pollination between Western high art music and vernacular music in nineteenth-century American culture.

Works: Thomas Tastings and William Bradbury (editors): Sweetzer (236-38), Suabia (253-55), Alleppo (256-57), Spinola (258-60); Charles Wesley (text): Hark! The Herald Angels Sing (247-48); Lowell Mason (editor): Baltic (256), Howell (257-59); Benjamin F. Baker and I. B. Woodbury (editors): Kimball (256); Charles Hackett (editor) Bonn (256); John Bodine Thompson and William Hinchman Platt (editors): Thomas (257); Isaac B. Woodbury: Barons (258-59); Charles S. Robinson: Mansfield (258-60)

Sources: Felix Mendelssohn: Volkslied (236-38), Defend Us Lord From Shame (253-55), Festgesang (247-48), Christus (256), Elijah (256), Frühlingslied (256), Athalie (256-57), Lobgesang (257) Three Motets (257-59), Lied ohne Worte, Op. 19b, No. 4 (258-60), Psalm 42 (258-60)

Index Classifications: 1800s

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

The Grand paraphrase de concert of Franz Schubert’s Marche militaire, attributed to Franz Liszt and published by the Kunkel Brothers of St. Louis, Missouri in 1907, is actually the work of Charles Kunkel, who attached Liszt’s name to his own arrangement to bolster his company’s reputation. An early potential explanation of the piece posits that Liszt composed the Grand paraphrase before Carl Tausig’s well-known 1869 arrangement of Marche militaire and subsequently withdrew the work in favor of his student’s arrangement, but this hypothesis does not hold up chronologically. Kunkel, who arrived in St. Louis from Germany in 1868, was a relatively successful musician, composer, and businessman, but was known to play fast and loose with authorship and attribution at his publishing house. A close comparison between the Kunkel edition and Tausig’s arrangement of Marche militaire reveals that the former is a derivative of the latter. The structural similarities suggest that Kunkel copied Tausig’s arrangement, making changes and alterations along the way but keeping the basic structure. When Kundel’s edition appeared in 1907, it did not dislodge the popular Tausig arrangement, and the only extant copy comes from the US Copyright Office, suggesting a limited circulation. The same year, Kundel erroneously attached Liszt’s name to a transcription of Wagner’s Feuerzauber, a piece that Liszt never transcribed. Over a decade earlier, Kundel had also erroneously credited the same transcription to Franz Bendel. Given this history of unscrupulous publishing practices, it is likely that Kunkel created a musical counterfeit with the deceased Liszt and Tausig unable to contest.

Works: Charles Kunkel (arranger), Franz Liszt (attributed): Marche militaire. (Franz Schubert). Grand paraphrase de concert (10-15)

Sources: Carl Tausig (arranger): Marche militaire, Op. 51, No. 1 by Franz Schubert (10-15); Franz Schubert: March militaire No. 1 in D major, Op. 51, No. 1, D. 733 (10-15)

Index Classifications: 1800s, 1900s

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

Repeated borrowing, or the use of one piece of music in several other pieces that often are in dialogue with one another, is a practice that is best understood by drawing from several approaches to analyzing the use of music from one work in another. Burkholder’s field of musical borrowing, theories of allusion, conceptions of intertextuality, and topic theory all contribute different meanings to repeated borrowing, as demonstrated by the case of borrowings of the chorale Es ist genug in several nontonal works. Borrowing tends to proliferate; the more prolific it becomes, the more referential it becomes; and the more a piece of music is referenced by other works, the broader the meanings attached to it become. For instance, the chorale Es ist genug, written by Johann Rudolph Ahle, first appeared in a 1662 collection of sacred music. Bach’s setting of the chorale in his 1723 cantata O Ewigkeit, du Donnerwort adds the religious meaning of overcoming the fear of death. Berg quotes Bach’s setting of Ahle’s melody in his Violin Concerto, both in the row (part of the work’s internal structure) and as a quotation of the chorale itself. Berg develops a tension between the row-derived Klagegesang and the tonal chorale and, like Bach’s cantata, depicts anxiety and consolation relating to death. Adorno reads the chorale quotation as appealing to an extramusical force: the historical weight of a Bach chorale. In only looking at extramusical meaning, he misses the chorale’s presence in the internal structure of the concerto. Zimmermann’s Ich wandte mich und sah an alles Unrecht, das geschah unter der Sonne: Ekklesiastiche Aktion is a much more explicitly intertextual work than Berg’s concerto, and the quotation of Es ist genug acts as a quotation of Berg’s quotation, keeping the “death” meaning but dropping the consolation of the chorale setting. Even though Del Tredici’s quotation of Es ist genug in Pop-Pourri most directly calls to mind Bach, it continues Berg and Zimmermann’s tradition of using the chorale to contemplate death—in Del Tredici’s case, the Lewis Carrollian absurdity of death. Rouse’s Iscariot is more enigmatic in its musical borrowing, but the history of Es ist genug quotations suggests a reading centered on death. When viewed as a case of repeated borrowing, the musical tension between Bach’s tonal chorale setting and Berg’s (or Zimmermann’s, Del Tredici’s, or Rouse’s) nontonal system is not a feature of each work on its own, but a running theme in Es ist genug borrowing. By tracing repeated borrowing through these pieces, we can uncover larger stylistic and historical developments that may otherwise be hidden.

Works: Johann Sebastian Bach: O Ewigkeit, du Donnerwort, BWV 60 (714-15); Alban Berg: Violin Concerto (715-25); Bernd Alois Zimmermann: Ich wandte mich und sah an alles Unrecht, das geschah unter der Sonne: Ekklesiastiche Aktion (725-30); David Del Tredici: Pop-Pourri (730-36); Christopher Rouse: Iscariot (736-39)

Sources: Johann Rudolph Ahle: Es ist genug (713); Johann Sebastian Bach: O Ewigkeit, du Donnerwort, BWV 60 (715-25, 730-36, 736-39); Alban Berg: Violin Concerto (725-30)

Index Classifications: 1900s

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

Increasing globalization in the popular music industry, especially with the ease of distributing music recordings, sometimes creates a demand for particular performers in parts of the world they do not directly interact with. In Latin America—Mexico and Argentina in particular—this demand for American and English rock music has led to a thriving culture of tribute bands. These bands serve an important role in Latin American consumption of Anglophone popular music as substitutes or surrogates for the original artist, satisfying the demand for live performances from groups that rarely or never perform in that region. This occurs both with bands that no longer exist, like The Beatles, and with contemporary bands that rarely, if ever, tour Latin American, such as Muse. Attending a tribute band concert provides a way for fans of a particular band to participate in a recreation of an “authentic” live concert, a significant aspect of band–fan interaction.

Tribute bands differ from cover bands in that they perform the music and extra-musical affect of a single band, rather than just performing existing music. This means that tribute bands for Anglophone bands sing in English, even to a Spanish speaking audience. Another difference is that tribute bands often rework recorded music into live performance, which distinguishes them from live performances by the original band. Beatles tribute bands are especially relevant to this point by performing studio albums like Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band, and recorded performances like The Beatles’s Ed Sullivan appearance live. This transformation of a music recording to a live performance is distinct from a band performing its own music in concert. Tribute bands create a live performance proxy for a recorded sound object.

Works: Horus: The Resistance (as recorded by Muse) (334); The Shouts: Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band (as recorded by The Beatles) (341), All My Loving (as performed by The Beatles on The Ed Sullivan Show) (341); Dios Salve a La Reina: Somebody to Love, I Want to Break Free, and Crazy Little Thing Called Love (as recorded by Queen) (341-43).

Sources: Muse: The Resistance (334); The Beatles: Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band (341), All My Loving (on The Ed Sullivan Show) (341); Queen: Somebody to Love (341-43), I Want to Break Free (341-43), Crazy Little Thing Called Love (341-43).

Index Classifications: 2000s, Popular

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

The compilation soundtrack of David Lynch’s 1997 film Lost Highway, particularly its use of cover songs, works together with the film’s narrative and imagery to destabilize the viewer’s experience in support of the film’s depiction of toxic masculinity. Three cover songs appear at crucial points in Lost Highway: Lou Reed’s cover of This Magic Moment, made popular by The Drifters; Marilyn Manson’s cover of I Put a Spell on You by Screamin’ Jay Hawkins; and This Mortal Coil’s cover of Song to the Siren by Tim Buckley and Larry Beckett. Each cover is a generic reset, transforming a familiar song into an aggressive alt-rock genre. The generic resets mirror the narrative transformation of the main characters into film-noir, masculine-wish-fulfillment doppelgängers as well as the visual indulgence in macho rock iconography. The disruptive effect of the audience misidentifying the cover songs highlights the menace and violence in this masculine fantasy. The scene featuring I Put a Spell on You exemplifies this effect; Marilyn Manson’s industrial rock cover scores a scene of a noir-fantasy striptease at gunpoint, with the discomforting music emphasizing the scene’s coercive violence. Lou Reed’s distortion-heavy cover of This Magic Moment accompanies another fantasy sequence, subverting its borderline-cliché love-at-first-sight imagery. This Mortal Coil’s goth version of Song to the Siren appears three times during the film: it first plays faintly during an awkward, failed sex scene in reality; next it appears as the film’s perspective turns to the noir fantasy; and finally, it plays loudly during the triumphant fantasy sex scene, which ends in an abrupt transformation back into reality. The three appearances of the song mark the psychosexual narrative throughline of a sexually frustrated man driven to a fantasy of being a young, virile stud, only to have the fantasy come crashing down in the end. The fact that it is a cover song literalizes the idea of destabilized masculine identity. Thus, the film’s abrasive alternative soundtrack is not merely a nod to the youth market, but integral to the film’s deconstruction of toxic masculinity.

Works: David Lynch (director): Compilation score to Lost Highway (37-45); Lou Reed (performer): This Magic Moment (37-39); Marilyn Manson (performer): I Put a Spell on You (38-39); This Mortal Coil (performer): Song to the Siren (38-39)

Sources: Doc Pomus and Mort Shuman: This Magic Moment (37-39); Screamin’ Jay Hawkins: I Put a Spell on You (38-39); Tim Buckley and Larry Beckett: Song to the Siren (38-39); Lou Reed (performer): This Magic Moment (42-44); Marilyn Manson (performer): I Put a Spell on You (41-42); This Mortal Coil (performer): Song to the Siren (44-45)

Index Classifications: 1900s, Popular, Film

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

Chinese American composer Chen Yi incorporates elements of traditional Chinese music on the surface level and in the underlying structure of her work to create a unique fusion of styles as exemplified by her use of the Chinese mother-tune Baban. In traditional Chinese music, Baban is classified as a type of qupai, a particular group of named melodies used as the basis for numerous variations. Chen’s 1992 Piano Concerto incorporates Baban in several ways. The melody is quoted in the opening phrase, the rhythmic pattern is frequently articulated by several instruments, and the structural proportions of the piece correspond to the underlying structure of Baban. Since the Piano Concerto, Chen has used Baban in various forms in at least twenty-one pieces. Some of these pieces borrow all or part of the Baban melody. In others Chen creates rhythmic figures based on the Baban rhythmic form. During her brief experimentation with serialism, Chen combined elements of Baban with twelve-tone techniques. While Chen uses many other signifiers of Chinese traditional music in her compositions, Baban holds a special position as a spiritual connection to Chinese history. By utilizing Baban in multiple ways—as a tune, as a rhythmic plan, and as a structure—Chen creates a cross-cultural identity embracing traditional Chinese and Western art music.

Works: Chen Yi: Piano Concerto (336-40), The Golden Flute (340-43), From the Path of Beauty (343-44), Qi (345-46), Chinese Myths Cantata (345-47), Song in Winter (345-48), Si Ji (345-48), Sparkle (349), The Soulful and the Perpetual (349-51), Three Dances from China South (349-52)

Sources: Traditional: Baban (333-52)

Index Classifications: 1900s, 2000s

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

Since the late nineteenth century, Stephen Foster’s songs have been widely known in Japan and hold a familiar place in Japanese musical education. Foster’s music was first introduced to Japanese Shogunate officials in 1853 by American sailors aboard U.S. commodore Matthew C. Perry’s fleet, which demanded the opening of Japanese ports. During the modernization of Japanese education beginning in the 1870s, many Western tunes were incorporated into the music curriculum as uncredited Shoka (formally Mombusho Shoka, or official songs for the school curriculum) with new Japanese texts. Shuji Izawa, director of the Institute of Music, based this new music curriculum on Luther Whiting Mason’s “Music Charts,” which Izawa studied during an 1875 trip to the United States. Several Foster songs, including Old Folks at Home, Massa’s in de Cold Ground, and My Old Kentucky Home, were adapted into educational Shoka as early as 1888. Some Foster songs were also adapted as hymns in early-twentieth-century Japanese hymnals. Before Foster’s music was banned during World War II (along with other Western composers), it was also very popular on children’s radio programs. Because Foster’s music was adopted into Japanese musical culture largely disconnected from Foster himself, there is little understanding of Foster’s biography or his place in American history. Recent Japanese music textbooks have emphasized Foster’s biography in service of a cross-cultural music curriculum.

Works: Tateki Owada: Aware no Shojo (313-14); Anonymous: Zouka no Waza (313), Kitaguni no Yuki (313), Yasashiki Kokoro (313); Yoshikiyo Katou: Haru Kaze (313-14); Kazuma Yoshimaru: Yube no Kane (313); Kokei Hayashi: Shakura Chiru (313); Takashi Iba: Wakare (313)

Sources: Stephen Foster: Old Folks at Home (313-14), Massa’s in de Cold Ground (313-14), Old Black Joe (313), My Old Kentucky Home (313)

Index Classifications: 1800s, 1900s, Popular

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

The Sydney electronic dance music (EDM) scene has become increasingly international with increased sampling of overseas content. Sampling as a musical technique has been around for some time, leaving some to argue that it has lost its relevance to the production of new music, instead becoming just a way to repackage old music. However, sampling is still alive and actively engaged in the creation and development of musical scenes, if not the production of individual tracks. With the creation of the internet, transnational sampling between EDM scenes—which refer both to the physical grouping of producers and consumers (Sydney, for instance) and to the collection of shared aesthetics these groups develop—has exploded in scope and ease. This allows scenes that are distant physically to become closer aesthetically. Online EDM sharing sites, such as beatport.com, are faster and cheaper, and they eliminate the need for the mediation of record stores stocking only select music. The Sydney scene in particular relies heavily on internationally sampled music, primarily from British and American producers, to supply the large EDM consumer base. This leads to a unique Sydney scene, created through sampling and remixing other scenes. The Sydney EDM scene is a case study in the application of sampling theories to larger musical entities than just a single work.

Index Classifications: General, 2000s, Popular

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

Case studies drawn from interviews with contemporary UK-based sampling composers working in several genres of electronic dance music demonstrate the collaborative processes and self-imposed constraints in their creative studio practices. Through incorporating samples, sampling composers effectively co-opt the original songwriters as co-authors, a process with both creative and economic consequences. By convention, songwriters are understood to be those responsible for the creation of the melody, chord progression, and lyrics, but sampling composers often gravitate toward rhythmic or sonic elements that are the domain of (uncredited) performers. Many of the composer interviewed also emphasize listening as a key aspect of their compositional process. Three self-imposed constraints were also regularly discussed. First, many sampling composers preferred to chop samples “by hand,” that is, without the aid of digital quantization and time correction tools. Second, composers created tracks by starting with a sample as the base, building up the other layers, then removing the initial sample, thereby enjoying the creative aspect of sample composition without the hassle of copyright clearance. Third, composers often treated their own recordings as samples. This is especially evident in the songwriting process for the 1982 Talking Heads album Remain in Light, produced by Brian Eno. Increasingly, the compositional approaches of these sampling composers do not differ significantly from songwriters in other popular genres, and advancements in digital sampling technology have not necessarily altered their compositional techniques.

Works: Plan B: Ill Manors (43); Peter Fox: Alles Neu (43)

Sources: Peter Fox: Alles Neu (43); Dmitri Shostakovich: Symphony No. 7 (43)

Index Classifications: 2000s, Popular

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

Adult animation series The Simpsons, South Park, and Family Guy share several common categories of musical usage. Since the earliest animated short films in the 1920s, music has been integral to dramaturgy and storytelling in animation. Later, animated sitcoms like The Flintstones and The Jetsons used music in more limited, but no less important ways. While The Simpsons, South Park, and Family Guy have developed in different directions, they all use music to spoof American culture and society. The Simpsons tends to use current music references and recomposed soundalikes while Family Guy tends to use older music in its original form. South Park uses music less often, but musical pop culture of Generations X and Y is still a core component of the show. The use of songs in adult animation can be categorized as recitativo, songs that underscore or forward the plot, and aria, action stopping musical numbers. An example of recitativo in Family Guy can be seen in a scene where Lois prepares for a boxing match and the camera cuts to Peter singing Eye of the Tiger ringside, parodying the Rocky film franchise. The aria category of song use is exemplified by another Family Guy scene that cuts away to the entire music video for David Bowie and Mick Jagger’s Dancing in the Street, diverting entirely from the plot of the episode. The opening sequences of each show also demonstrate the importance of music in their respective narrative and comedic identities. Each show occasionally parodies other television opening themes, as South Park does in its multi-episode parody of Game of Thrones, transforming Ramin Djawadi’s opening title music into A Chorus of Wieners. Each show has also done music-centric episodes where characters join a band, for instance, or the episode itself is structured like a mini musical. With these three series becoming major influences in their medium, music has once again become the backbone of animation.

Works: Carl W. Stalling: soundtrack to The Skeleton Dance (71-72); Alf Clausen: soundtrack to The Simpsons (80, 83); Ron Jones and Walter Murphy: soundtrack to Family Guy (89-91); Adam Berry, Scott Nickoley, and Jamie Dunlap: soundtrack to South Park (84-85, 98-100).

Sources: Edvard Grieg: Trolltog, Op. 54, No. 3 (71-72); Bernard Herrmann: soundtrack to Cape Fear (80); Hans Zimmer: soundtrack to Inception (83); Erick Wolfgang Korngold: soundtrack to The Sea Hawk (84); Zach Hemsey: Mind Heist (84-85); Mozart: Eine kleine Nachtmusik (85-6); Survivor: Eye of the Tiger (89-90); William Stevenson (songwriter), David Bowie and Mick Jagger (performers): Dancing In The Street (91); Ramin Djawadi: soundtrack to Game of Thrones (98-100).

Index Classifications: 1900s, 2000s, Popular, Film

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

Carl Czerny’s Complete Theoretical and Practical Piano Forte School: From the First Rudiments of Playing to the Highest and Most Refined State of Cultivation (Op. 500, 1839) and the accompanying Letters to a Young Lady, on the Art of Playing the Pianoforte (ca. 1840) reveal a pedagogical philosophy of progressive accumulation that is encoded in the musical text of the exercises themselves. Czerny’s mechanical approach to piano pedagogy is in part designed to prepare young pianists to perform his own transcriptions, demonstrated by a case study of Czerny’s four-hand piano transcription of Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony. In the early nineteenth century, several important piano pedagogues introduced a mechanical approach to the instrument, teaching finger movements over musical hearing. Czerny adopts these principles in his pedagogy and designs lessons that teach music theory through the mechanical sensation of the keyboard. He ties these lessons to a larger philosophy of musical embodiment wherein mechanical skill is a prerequisite to the “intellectual” and Romantic skill of musical expression. Czerny takes the same approach to his piano transcriptions such that they can be construed as a continuation of his mechanical teaching philosophy. Although critics disparage Czerny’s approach to piano and the practice of piano transcription in general as unimaginative and overly commercial, Czerny’s four hand transcription of Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony provides a case study in how musical expression manifests in his mechanical approach. The primary concern with creating a piano transcription of Beethoven’s symphony is transforming the public symphony for the private chamber. Czerny accomplishes this not by literally transcribing the orchestral parts, but instead by evoking the same emotional effect with techniques specific to piano. For instance, Czerny transposes the Turkish March section of the finale up an octave to take advantage of the brilliance of the upper piano register. In other sections, Czerny utilizes “noise” effects such as holding the pedal over rapid sixteenth-note passages to recreate the fullness of an orchestra. The performative aspects of the transcription—the precise coordination, hand-crossing, and general closeness of the two pianists—add to the expressive effect, particularly in the difficult double fugue passage. Throughout the transcription, Czerny utilizes mechanical passages introduced to his students in Op. 500 and other exercises. Through abiding by Czerny’s pedagogy and transcriptions, his piano students are not mere mechanical reproducers of a musical text but instead are active participants in the mediation of expressive music.

Works: Carl Czerny: Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony for Piano, Four-Hands (392-419)

Sources: Beethoven: Symphony No. 9 in D Minor, Op. 125 (392-419)

Index Classifications: 1800s

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

Remix as a discourse (capitalized to distinguish it from remix as a creative technique or genre) affects a wide range of contemporary art and music, and is a pervasive force in modern culture. While there are no set forms of Remix, it is always unoriginal and dependent on existing cultural products. Jacques Attali argues that music precedes political changes and the rise of Remix in the twentieth century confirms this idea. The birth of Remix in 1960s Jamaican dub music led to Remix in all aspects of culture, a facet of Late Capitalism. The history of Remix is broken into four stages—Jamaican dub, New York hip hop, mainstream hip hop, and remix culture—that are related to the history of mechanical reproduction broken into three stages: photography, photomontage, and digital image editing.

Remixes of two techno tracks, Underworld’s Born Slippy (remixed as Born Sleepy) and Kraftwerk’s Tour de France, are examples of a crucial stage in Remix history were Remix becomes cultural discourse rather than just a compositional technique. Underworld’s Born Sleepy .NUXX and Dark + Long (Dark Train) are conceptual remixes of Born Slippy, musically distinct from the original, with the title serving as the main signifier of their connection. Kraftwerk’s Tour de France remixes do something similar by only keeping the lyrics from the original and producing a musically distinct arrangement of the source material. This kind of advanced remix differs from older methods by changing the source so that it is unrecognizable as a remix without extramusical confirmation.

Works: Underworld: Born Sleepy .NUXX (Deep Pan) (68-70), Born Sleepy .NUXX (Darren Price Mix) (68-70), Dark + Long (Dark Train) (68-70); Kraftwerk: Tour de France Étape 1 (71-73), Tour de France Étape 2 (71-73), Tour de France Étape 3 (71-73).

Sources: Underworld: Born Slippy (67-70); Kraftwerk: Tour de France (67-73).

Index Classifications: 2000s, Popular

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

A protest chant against Argentine President Mauricio Marci that was called the “hit of the summer” in 2018 is an example of a sonic meme, a phenomenon in which an innocuous melody is re-signified through parody. The melody of the protest chant comes from the opening verse of a 1973 Carnival march by Raul Fernández Shériko Guzmán, Es tiempo de alegrarnos. The tune then became a popular cantito, or soccer chant, with the lyric formula “[opposing player name], la puta que te parió” (son of a whore). During a match in February 2018, a spontaneous chant of Mauricio Marci, la puta que te parió broke out in the stands, naming the sitting president of Argentina. The chant quickly spread among Argentine soccer fans and was sung in stadiums across the country. Classical pianist Juan Roleri inadvertently created a viral video with a Romantic-pastiche fantasia on the Mauricio Marci tune. Subsequently, social media users created iterative videos, combining Roleri’s audio with other video sources. Other users build on Roleri’s basic idea and created versions of Mauricio Marci in other genres and styles, culminating in a brief tarantella version performaned by the César Pavón Orkestra on Argentine public television, causing a scandal and derailing the band’s career. This flurry of iterative creativity makes Mauricio Marci a sonic meme akin to online image-based memes. The memetic transformations of Mauricio Marci demonstrate a kind of musical parody, dressing up profane source material with more respectable trappings. The participatory nature of sonic memes allowed users to protest at a distance in an attenuated form, but Cesar Pavón’s performance on state television shows that parody can be politically dangerous in certain venues.

Works: César Pavón Orkestra: Mauricio Marci, la puta que te parió Tarentella (116-18, 130-32); Anonymous: La puta que te parió Cantito (120-22), Mauricio Marci, la puta que te parió (121-22, 129); Juan Roleri: Mauricio Marci, la puta que te parió Fantasia (124-7, 130).

Sources: Anonymous: Mauricio Marci, la puta que te parió (116-18, 124-7, 130-32); Raul Fernández Shériko Guzmán: Es tiempo de alegrarnos (120-22, 129); Anonymous: La puta que te parió Cantito (121-22).

Index Classifications: 2000s, Popular

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

Alex North employs an economical and scholarly approach to his musical settings for John Huston’s 1987 film adaptation of The Dead by James Joyce, mediating the musicality of Joyce’s text with Huston’s cinematic vision. Throughout his celebrated short story, Joyce references music and music making, and the Irish folk ballad The Lass of Aughrim serves as a central narrative device for exploring themes of nostalgia, regret, and homesickness. Consequently, most of the film’s score consists of North’s arrangements of music performed diegetically. In preparation for his work on The Dead, North procured an extensive research library on traditional Irish music and carefully considered which version of the The Lass of Aughrim to include based on what might be perceived as authentic by the characters in the narrative. North’s selection of a “Scottish” variant of the tune has been criticized since the film’s release, but the evidence of his research demonstrates that this selection was correct according to his understanding of the material and not a careless error. In the non-diegetic portions of the score, North orchestrates Irish folk tunes with a nuanced approach to the melancholy of Joyce’s text. Despite being ineligible for an Academy Award due to its “adapted” nature, North’s score to The Dead remains an important work in the presentation of Irish folk music on film, and his version of The Lass of Aughrim has since become the preferred version of the tune in both classical and traditional venues.

Works: Alex North: score to The Dead (230-37)

Sources: Traditional: The Lass of Aughrim (230-37), Silent Oh Moyle (236-37)

Index Classifications: 1900s, Film

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

Performances by youth drum and bugle corps often reference the history of the tradition as a whole or the history of individual corps, creating an insular form of expression that only cultural insiders can fully understand. Four 2012 performances by drum corps affiliated with Drum Corps International illustrate this insular tradition. The degree to which different corps challenge the established tradition can be controversial, with more expressive complexity faring better competitively than more traditional performances. More traditional, accessible performances often place lower in competition but can become fan favorites. One distinctive characteristic of drum corps performances is their reliance on arrangements of existing pieces that are intertextually linked by a unifying theme or narrative. The 2012 Blue Devils program, Cabaret Voltaire, is an avant-garde drum corps rendition of Dadaism, incorporating a collage of a dozen musical sources. Some pieces (like George Antheil’s Ballet Mécanique and Erik Satie’s Gymnopédies) are related to the Dada theme while others (Don Sebesky’s Bird and Bela in B-Flat) are related to the history of the Blue Devils themselves. The Jersey Surf program, Bridgemania, is a tribute to the defunct Bridgeman drum corps, also from New Jersey. Jersey Surf performed sound-alike arrangements of Bridgeman favorites as well as numbers evoking the fun-loving spirit of the old corps, including LMFAO’s Party Rock Anthem. The Madison Scouts program, Reframed, uses Mussorgsky’s Pictures at an Exhibition, which the corps first performed in 1961, as a framing device for other fan favorite pieces from the corps’ history. Phantom Regiment’s Turandot is a relatively straightforward, faithful adaptation of Puccini’s opera within the confines of a twelve-minute drum corps performance. The centerpiece of the program is the aria Nessun Dorma, which the corps had famously performed before in 1991. Each of these performances integrates musical arrangements, visual elements, and drum corps tradition in unique ways that stake out different artistic positions defined by the history of each drum corps.

Works: Blue Devils: Cabaret Voltaire (247-49); Jersey Surf: Bridgemania (249-51); Madison Scouts: Reframed (251-54); Phantom Regiment: Turandot (254-55).

Sources: James Horner: score to Apollo 13 (248); André Souris: Symphonies: V (248); George Antheil: Ballet Mécanique (248); John Adams: Harmonielehre (248); Thomas Adès: Tevot (248); Erik Satie: Gymnopédies (248); George Gershwin: Rhapsody in Blue (248); Ludovic Bource: score to The Artist (248); Cherry Poppin’ Daddies: Dr. Bones (248); Danny Elfman: score to Corpse Bride (248); Charles Mingus: The Children’s Hour of Dream (248); Don Sebesky: Bird and Bela in B-Flat (248); Allee Willis, David Foster, and Maurice White (songwriters): In the Stone (250); Chuck Mangione: The Land of Make Believe (250); Rossini: William Tell Overture (250-51); Leslie Bircusse and Anthony Newley (songwriters): Pure Imagination (250); David Listenbee, Stefan Gordy, Skyler Gordy, and Peter Schroeder (songwriters): Party Rock Anthem (250-51); Mussorgsky: Pictures at an Exhibition (252-53); Alan Bergman, Marilyn Bergman, and Marvin Hamlisch (songwriters): The Way We Were (252); Bill Holman: Malaga (252-53); Ernesto Lecuona: Malagueña (252-53); Marvin Hamlisch: score to Ice Castles (253); Puccini: Turandot (254-55).

Index Classifications: 2000s

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

Reflecting on the composition and performance of Celeste Oram’s 2019 violin concerto, a loose affiliation of alleluias, shows various ways that present creative practice is embedded with material histories and networks of cultural power. Important to the compositional process is Ben Spatz’s concept of “technique” as a vector of agency and cultural transmission and Edward Said’s concept of “affiliation,” describing cultural relationships and authority. A loose affiliation features an improvised solo violin part (foregrounding the performer, Keir GoGwilt) and recognizably includes material from Ad superni regis (as recorded in the Codex Calixtinus), Giovanni Gabrieli’s Exaudi me Domine, and The Boy in the Bubble by Paul Simon and Forere Motloheloa. These materials share a common entanglement with imperial power; the hymn to St. James is related to the crusades, Gabrieli’s career amplified the Venetian empire, and Paul Simon’s Graceland album signals issues of race and capital in popular music. The two main ways Oram worked with material from Ad superni regis and Exaudi me Domine for a loose affiliation were by composing additional counterpoint to existing lines and by adopting templates learned from techniques characteristic of the repertoire. For example, in a nod to the compositional process of twelfth-century polyphony, Oram improvised contrapuntal lines over the hymn until arriving at a “keeper” and notating it. GoGwilt’s improvised violin solo also grapples with the material history and cultural power of technique and genre. GoGwilt subverts the military-heroic tropes that permeate the violin concerto as a genre. Ornamentation in violin performance is similarly associated with musical taste and therefore networks of cultural power. By recognizing the historical and cultural underpinning of creative work and framing this as a motivating force, Oram and GoGwilt assert their agency and capacity to transform said culture.

Works: Celeste Oram: a loose affiliation of alleluias (119-30)

Sources: Anonymous (recorded in the Codex Calixtinus): Ad superni regis from Liber Sancti Jacobi (119-124); Giovanni Gabrieli: Exaudi me Domine (120-21, 125-26); Paul Simon and Forore Motloheloa: The Boy in the Bubble (120-21)

Index Classifications: 2000s

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

The composers of long-running animated sitcoms The Simpsons and Family Guy often utilize the technique of copyphrase, or copyright-paraphrase, to unmistakably call to mind specific pieces of music while avoiding charges of copyright infringement. Alf Clausen, series composer for The Simpsons, developed a default copyphrase procedure in the mid-1990s that has served as a model for later television composers. Clausen’s procedure involves preserving the rhythm and phrasing of the target melody but altering the pitches, often inverting the contour. This can be seen in his mock-up of Alan Menken’s Under the Sea in the episode “Homer Badman” (1994) and See My Vest, a copyphrase of Menken’s Be My Guest in “Two Dozen and One Greyhounds” (1995). Family Guy composers Walter Murphy and Ron Jones, influenced by Clausen, frequently use comparable copyphrase techniques in early seasons. The season two premiere alone contains three distinct examples of copyphrase, including an extended parody of I Think I’m Gonna Like It Here (from the musical Annie). A copyphrase parody of MC Hammer’s U Can’t Touch This in the episode “E. Peterbus Unum” even has a direct admission of borrowing when Peter Griffin declares “Hammer, you can’t sue!” mid-song. Two unsuccessful lawsuits brought against Family Guy in the mid-2000s—the first dismissed and the second ruled in the show’s favor—apparently emboldened the producers of The Simpsons and Family Guy to include sharper musical satire in later episodes. In later seasons, the two shows have diverged in their approach to music. A 2008 episode of The Simpsons, “That 90’s Show,” demonstrates the show's continuing engagement with (relatively) recent musical materials with two copyphrases of 1990s grunge songs. Family Guy, on the other hand, has largely abandoned copyphrase in favor of original music. Although The Simpsons could feasibly license existing music, the technique of copyphrase still serves an important aesthetic function maintaining the show’s escapist tone.

Works: Alf Clausen: soundtrack to The Simpsons (224-27, 231-34); Walter Murphy and Ron Jones: soundtrack to Family Guy (227-32)

Sources: Alan Menken (composer) and Howard Ashman (lyricist): Under the Sea (224-25), Be Our Guest (225-26); Falco, Rob Bolland, and Ferdi Bolland: Rock Me Amadeus (226); Charles Strouse (composer) and Martin Charnin (lyricist): I Think I’m Gonna Like It Here (227); Karl Jenkins: Palladio (227); John Williams: score to Star Wars (227-28); MC Hammer: U Can’t Touch This (229); Robert B. Sherman and Richard M. Sherman: It’s a Small World (After All) (229-30); Leigh Harline (composer) and Ned Washington (lyricist): When You Wish Upon a Star (230); Joe Hamilton: Carol’s Theme (230-31); Frank Churchill (composer) and Larry Morey (lyricist): Heigh Ho! (231); Kurt Cobain, Nirvana: Rape Me (232-33); Gavin Rossdale, Bush: Glycerin (233)

Index Classifications: 1900s, 2000s, Popular, Film

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

Film composer John Williams is often accused of plagiarism in public discourse, but when analyzing his musical borrowing as stylistic allusion, modeling, and paraphrased quotation, it becomes clear that he is not a plagiarist even in the more conservative Romantic sense. Uncovering musical borrowing in Williams’s film scores poses a challenge as Williams is reticent to admit any influence from other composers, yet the sources for borrowed passages are well known pieces. One example of modeling is the main theme from Jaws (1974), modeled after The Augers of Spring from Stravinsky’s Rite of Spring. Passages in many other Williams scores—appearing when the hero is in danger—also appear to be modeled on the same section of Rite. Williams also modeled music for at least three films on Howard Hanson’s Symphony No. 2, which was used as a temp track in the production of E.T. (1982). Throughout Williams’s scores there are examples of passages resembling other music, but not enough to make a case for borrowing. One clear example of paraphrase is the love theme from Superman, which shares rhythm, contour, and tempo (but not exact pitches) with a motive from Richard Strauss’s Tod und Verklärung. Two examples of paraphrased themes in E.T. demonstrate Williams’s default procedure: altering the rhythm and meter of a source while only slightly altering the pitches. Williams’s score for Star Wars (1977) contains numerous examples of paraphrase, with passages drawn from Erich Korngold’s score to Kings Row (1942), Rite of Spring, and Gustav Holst’s The Planets. Compared to other film composers working under similar time and creative constraints inherent to the medium, Williams makes a clear effort to distance his paraphrased passages from their source material. William is therefore not guilty of plagiarism or theft. Instead, his creative process places him in the company of countless composers who use pre-existing material as a starting point for a new piece of music.

Works: John Williams: score to Jaws (303-4), score to E.T. the Extra-Terrestrial (304-5, 309-11), score to Superman (308-9), score to Star Wars (311-16), score to Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace (316-17), score to Star Wars Episode III: Revenge of the Sith (317); Bill Conti: score to The Right Stuff (318-19)

Sources: Igor Stravinsky: Rite of Spring (303-4, 314, 315); Howard Hanson: Symphony No. 2, Op. 30, Romantic (304-5, 310-11); Richard Strauss: Tod und Verklärung (308-9); Antonín Dvořák: Piano Trio No. 4, Op. 90, Dumky (309-10), Symphony No. 9 in E Minor, From the New World (316-17); Erich Wolfgang Korngold: score to Kings Row (313-14); Gustav Holst: The Planets (314-16); Aram Khatchaturian: Gayane (317); Tchaikovsky: Violin Concerto in D Major, Op. 35 (318-19)

Index Classifications: 1900s, 2000s, Film

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

Although Brahms is widely received as a champion of absolute music, he often transmitted programmatic clues to his intimate circle while publicly distancing his music from extramusical association, leading to a double reception history. One mode of private reception in Brahms’s music comes from clues left by Brahms in personal correspondence. In one instance, Brahms made references to rain and plagiarism to ensure his correspondents would recognize his song settings of Regenlied and Nachklang as models for his Violin Sonata No. 1 in G Major, Op. 78. Another mode of private reception is Brahms’s use of inscriptions in his autograph scores. Brahms also sent full poetic texts alongside some of his compositions sent to close friends and even received response poems for Opp. 118 and 119. One anonymous poem that Brahms distributed to close friends, a response to the Intermezzo in E-flat Major, Op. 118, No. 6, offers a programmatic reading of the piece that may suggest an affinity between its main theme and the Dies irae. With these extramusical aids, it is evident that much of Brahms’s music is private program music, and a more complete picture of Brahms can be found by studying the traces of this reception history.

Works: Brahms: Piano Trio No. 1 in B Major, Op. 8 (111), Violin Sonata No. 1 in G Major, Op. 78 (113-14), Violin Sonata No. 2 in A Major, Op. 100 (114), Intermezzo in E-flat Minor, Op. 118, No. 6 (122-23)

Sources: Schubert: Am Meer from Schwanengesang, D 957 (111); Beethoven: An die ferne Geliebte, Op. 98 (111); Brahms: Regenlied, Op. 59, No. 3 (113-14), Nachklang, Op. 59, No. 4 (113-14), Komm bald, Op. 97, No. 5 (114), Immer leise wird mein Schlummer, Op. 105, No. 2 (114); attributed to Thomas of Celano: Dies irae (122-23)

Index Classifications: 1800s

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

Scholarship on hip hop sampling tends to describe the practice in terms of cultural memory and musical tradition, but these concepts are often left unexamined and uncontextualized and are not adequately tested against hip hop producers’ own commentary on their work. The early 1990s turn to jazz as a sample source in hip hop provides a case study to develop this theory. The emergence of hip hop sampling as a topic of academic study in the 1990s was predicated on contemporary scholarship on cultural memory and tradition, particularly works envisioning black musical practices as spaces in which socialized memories are performed, shaping the way sampling was understood in theory. The practice of jazz sampling emerged in the late 1980s and early 1990s with groups like Gang Starr, De La Soul, and particularly A Tribe Called Quest. The new subgenre of jazz rap was initially understood as a link between generations, demonstrating that jazz and hip hop both stem from the same roots. Although some critics and practitioners likened hip hop to jazz in their sonic citations and underground status, the core hip hop audience saw a clear divide between hip hop and jazz, which was perceived as being stuck in the past. The theory of hip hop sampling as generational reunification is similarly complicated by the low opinion of hip hop held by the older generation in the 1990s. Concurrent to the emergence of jazz sampling was a resurgence of jazz music and the creation of a jazz canon, projects led by Wynton Marsalis and his associates. However, the vast majority of jazz music sampled by producers in the 1990s was not from Marsalis’s canon. Instead, commercially successful jazz records of the 1970s—the antithesis to Marsalis’s idea of canonical jazz—became the primary source of samples, likely owing to their prominence in the childhoods of hip hop artists. With these complications, the traditional understanding of sampling as writing history does not capture the nuance of the practice of jazz sampling in hip hop.

Works: Gang Starr: Jazz Thing (283, 286, 289, 296); A Tribe Called Quest: The Low End Theory (283-84, 295)

Index Classifications: 1900s, Popular

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

Mel Powell’s 1948 string quartet Beethoven Analogs was an important step in the development of his compositional voice, and its borrowing of Beethoven should be read not as a modernist parody but as an exercise in apprenticeship. In his lectures, Powell frequently used Beethoven Analogs as an introduction to the topic of “formal analogs,” a compositional strategy in which a new composition derives its structure from functionally equivalent units from an older model. In Beethoven Analogs, this means adapting the tonal ideas of Beethoven’s String Quartet in F Major, Op. 18, No. 1, to an atonal context. For example, the structural effects of antecedent and consequent phrases and of tonal cadences are recreated by Powell with techniques such as octave doubling, double stops, and dynamic shifts. In the first movement of Beethoven Analogs, Powell adapts the sonata form of Beethoven’s first movement using tempo and texture changes analogous to Beethoven’s primary and secondary themes. Powell’s development section is less directly modeled on Beethoven’s. Instead, Powell uses a theme-and-variations structure possibly imported from his jazz training. The recapitulation represents Powell’s most overt departure from Beethoven’s model and mentorship. Powell approximately reverses the order of events in the exposition, a technique that is rare in Classical and Romantic sonatas and absent in Op. 18, No. 1. Ultimately, Beethoven Analogs takes Beethoven’s quartet as a jumping off point to explore musical energetics, syntax, and formal rhetoric. Powell continued to develop formal and expressive analogs throughout his career using what he learned from Beethoven and the F major quartet in Beethoven Analogs.

Works: Mel Powell: Beethoven Analogs (496-527)

Sources: Beethoven: String Quartet in F Major, Op. 18, No. 1 (496-527)

Index Classifications: 1900s

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

J. S. Bach’s chorale cantata Meine Seel’ erhebt den Herren, BWV 10, is unusual because it is also a Magnificat paraphrase, situating the work within both liturgical, poetic, and compositional traditions. The text is derived from Martin Luther’s German translation of the Magnificat (Meine Seele), making BWV 10 the only Bach chorale cantata based on a biblical text. It is also the only chorale cantata based on a Gregorian chant melody, the ninth psalm tone, rather than a chorale. Bach accommodates the irregular text of Meine Seele with the flexible psalm tone formula. The psalm tone melody is shorter and simpler than a typical chorale melody, and the reciting tone allows for variable phrase lengths. In the opening movement, Bach presents the Meine Seele melody twice, the only example of him doing so in a chorale-cantata first movement. The two presentations of the cantus firmus differ in rhythm, text accent, and key signature. The fifth movement duet also exhibits an unusual setting related to the distinctive nature of the psalm tone. The two halves of the vocal melody are unequal in length, and the psalm tone only appears in the trumpet. The Meine Seele text and melody also appear in the final movement of the cantata. Again, Bach employs an unusual compositional approach not only by setting two verses of the text to the same melody, but also by reharmonizing the second verse instead of repeating the same music as he does in BWV 178, 94, and 130. The special treatment Bach and his librettist gave to BWV 10 is consistent with the importance of the Magnificat in Leipzig and with Bach’s apparent vigor in taking up the compositional challenge of the chorale cantatas.

Works: J. S. Bach: Meine Seel’ erhebt den Herren, BWV 10 (47-61)

Sources: Plainchant: Ninth psalm tone (47-61)

Index Classifications: 1700s

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

Parodies of pop music are popular features of late-night TV shows in both the United States and Germany, and their self-referential, autopoietic mode of communication makes parodies a commercial strategy for pop music itself. Such parodies especially flourish on YouTube. For example, the (illegal) YouTube upload of the 2005 Saturday Night Live sketch Lazy Sunday, a parody of The Message by Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five, became an early hit for the platform. Since its premiere, The Tonight Show Starring Jimmy Fallon has regularly featured pop music parodies, and has regularly uploaded sketches to its official YouTube channel. The 2015 sketch Wheel of Musical Impressions featuring Ariana Grande and Jimmy Fallon is emblematic of this trend and is built on an unusual parody conceit: instead of altering the lyrics to the songs being parodied, Grande and Fallon alter their vocal timbres to mimic other famous pop singers. In Germany, comedian Jan Böhmermann fills the same pop music parody role as Fallon as host of ZDF Neomagazin Royale. His 2015 music video Ich hab Polizei parodies American gangsta rap by presenting the German police in musical and visual trappings of the genre. Another Böhmermann parody, Eine Deutsche Rapgeschichte, goes further in its parody of German hip hop with numerous references to popular German rap songs and rappers. As a global phenomenon, these late-night show pop music parodies rely on insider knowledge for their appeal and at the same time construct a canon of pop music through performance.

Works: Saturday Night Live: Lazy Sunday (217-18); Jimmy Fallon and Ariana Grande: Wheel of Musical Impressions (220-23); Jan Böhmermann: Eine Deutsche Rapgeschichte (227-29).

Sources: Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five: The Message (217-18); Traditional: Mary Had a Little Lamb (220), The Wheels on the Bus (220-21); The Weeknd: Can’t Feel My Face (221); Advanced Chemistry: Fremd im eigenen Land (227-28); Absolute Beginner featuring Samy Deluxe: Füchse (228); Fanta 4: Die da (229); Zugezogen Maskulin: Endlich wieder Beef (229).

Index Classifications: 2000s, Film

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

Erich Wolfgang Korngold’s adaptation of Felix Mendelssohn’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream for the 1935 Warner Bros. production of the same title, as well as the publicity behind it, played a critical role in elevating film music and helped establish Korngold as a uniquely independent artist within the film studio system. Korngold’s involvement was specifically requested by the film’s director, Max Reinhardt, who had earned recent acclaim with his theatrical production of A Midsummer Night’s Dream at the Hollywood Bowl. Korngold was also much more involved on set than was typical of a 1930s film composer. Korngold made numerous cuts, edits, and reorchestrations of Mendelssohn’s original score in order to better fit the film edit and the darker tone that Reinhardt established in his direction. This is particularly evident in the film sequences “Nocturno” and “Fog Dance.” Additional music by Mendelssohn was also included by Korngold at various points throughout the film score. In promotional material for the film, Warner Bros. emphasized Korngold’s involvement with the music as a way of promoting Dream as a prestige film with serious artistic merit. Dream was billed as a film to really listen to as much as watch. Although the film itself received mixed reviews, Korngold’s contribution was lauded in the press, which helped to launch the Hollywood career of the influential film composer.

Works: Erich Wolfgang Korngold: score to A Midsummer Night’s Dream (218-28)

Sources: Felix Mendelssohn: A Midsummer Night’s Dream (218-28); Neue Liebe, Op. 19, No. 4 (219), Symphony No. 3, Op. 56 (219), Scherzo in E Minor for Piano, Op. 16, No. 2 (219)

Index Classifications: 1900s, Film

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

Several South African art music composers during the late apartheid period (1980-1994) turned to an “Africanist” idiom, prompting charged political debates and institutional power struggles. While “reconciliatory” composers like Kevin Volans were ostracized, establishment composers who employed an exoticist “new Africanism” saw continued support from the apartheid state while securing the prestige of art music for the post-apartheid era. The imposition of sanctions on South African in the 1980s led to a significant reduction in institutional support for art music. While the complicity of individual composers in apartheid is a complex issue, art music institutions upheld the Eurocentrism and segregation of apartheid cultural policy. Volans’s African Paraphrases, a series of compositions written between 1980 and 1986 and based on his study of Zulu and Swazi royal music, directly challenged apartheid doctrine by validating black African music, leading to rejection from the South African music establishment. Stefans Grové’s “Music from Africa” series, a series of more than 30 works starting with Sonata on African Motives (1984-85), takes a more conservative approach, keeping characteristics of European modernism at the forefront. Hans Roosenschoon’s Timbala represents an attempt at a cross-cultural collaboration with a group of Chopi musicians, but it too embodies the paternalistic attitude of apartheid ideology by sidelining the collaborators in favor of the composer. Grové, Roosenschoon, and others supported by South African music institutions did not embrace the idealism found in contemporary popular music; instead they embraced a pragmatic “Africanist” aesthetic to secure their prestige.

Works: Kevin Volans: Mbira (51); Hans Roosenschoon: Makietie (56), Timbala (58)

Sources: Traditional, transcribed by Andrew Tracey: Nyamaropa (51); Traditional: Uqongqothwane (56), Frère Jacques (58)

Index Classifications: 1900s

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

René Marie’s performance of the national anthem at the 2008 Democratic National Convention, where she sang lyrics of Lift Ev’ry Voice and Sing to the tune of The Star-Spangled Banner, grapples with the experience of race and gender during the dawning of “postracial” America. Lift Ev’ry Voice and Sing, written by James Weldon Johnson and Rosamond Johnson in the early twentieth century, became known as the black national anthem during the 1920s and 1930s, as black American communities organized around creating a collective identity and rallying to fight for Civil Rights. Marie’s performance challenged the idea of a “national anthem” by forcing her audience to confront an alternate anthem, and thus an alternate national identity. By singing alternative lyrics to the familiar (and politicized) tune, Marie highlighted this duality in a way that just singing one or the other could not. Anthems as a genre are a living performance of national identity and are not fixed, but are flexible between historical contexts. Marie’s identity as a black woman lent additional weight to her performance, in hearing as well as watching. An earlier correlate to this performance was Marian Anderson’s performance of America in 1939 at the Lincoln Memorial, which expressed both the national unity and the oppression still felt by many people in America at the time. Marie’s performance fundamentally altered the terrain of musical representation as Obama’s nomination altered it politically.

Works: René Marie: Lift Ev’ry Voice and Sing (to the tune of The Star-Spangled Banner).

Sources: James Weldon Johnson and Rosamond Johnson: Lift Ev’ry Voice and Sing; Francis Scott Key: The Star-Spangled Banner.

Index Classifications: 2000s, Popular

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

The motets of Francisco Guerrero, many of which were published in multiple editions with his direct involvement, present an unusual opportunity to study the composer’s revision process. The scope of Guerrero’s revisions ranges from minor changes to substantial recomposition, and these revisions reveal the variety—and inconsistency—of his approach to composition. Guerrero’s motets were issued in four major collections published in Seville in 1555 and Venice in 1570, 1589, and 1597. The most substantial revisions were done on motets first appearing in the 1555 collection. Many motets first appearing in 1570 also received some degree of reworking in later editions. Just one motet appearing in both the 1589 and 1597 collections was substantially altered, however. Some motets also appeared in publications outside of the major collections and display intermediary revisions. One of the most substantial reworkings was done to the five-voice setting of Beatus es, which between the 1555 and 1589 publications was shortened from 73 to 58 breves, eliminating repetition and improving the pacing of the text. Guerrero also revised his motets to reflect his evolving views on text setting, correcting “problems” with the placement of stressed and unstressed syllables. Revisions to a passage in Dum complerentur (1589, originally printed in 1555) demonstrate Guerrero’s aim of modernizing and improving counterpoint and sonority in addition to text setting. Besides the well-documented motets, Guerrero’s habit of revision is evident in other genres he composed in as well. Although a full account of how Guerrero’s revision practice compares to his contemporaries is out of reach, consideration of his work does inform investigations of composition, chronology, style, and print dissemination of motets.

Works: Francisco Guerrero: Beatus es et bene tibi erit, 1589 version (31-38), Ambulans Jesus, 1570 version (39-40, 42-43), Dum complerentur, 1589 version (40-41, 47-50), Trahe me post te, 1589 version (40-44), Usquequo Domine, 1570 version (42), Gloriose confessor Domini, 1570 version (44-46)

Sources: Francisco Guerrero: Beatus es et bene tibi erit, 1555 version (31-38), Ambulans Jesus, 1555 version (39-40, 42-43), Dum complerentur, 1555 version (40-41, 47-50), Trahe me post te, 1555 version (40-44), Usquequo Domine, 1566 version (42), Gloriose confessor Domini, 1555 version (44-46)

Index Classifications: 1500s

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

“Naming” is a technique of musical allusion that can represent several things: a specific person through musical symbols (for example, note names); works composed by that individual; or works associated with that individual. There are a few examples of this as early as the fifteenth century, but it became very popular among nineteenth century composers. In particular, a musical motive based on J. S. Bach’s name was frequently imitated. Between 1820 and 1865, 35 compositions are identified as containing a similar name motive (half of which are the B–A–C–H motive itself). Composers also represented themselves, loved ones, or patrons by less obvious musical names, such as Fanny Mendelssohn’s C-sharp–E-sharp–F-sharp motive.

One important reason for naming among nineteenth-century composers is to memorialize deceased composers. These come both in public memorials with explicit dedication and allusion to another work, and in private memorials with personal associations. Beethoven is musically memorialized more than any other composer, with Schubert’s last three piano sonatas, Mendelssohn’s String Quartet in A Minor, Op. 13, and Spohr’s Symphony No. 3 as examples of this tradition. Mendelssohn’s tribute to Fanny Hensel after her death in 1847 is a multi-layered naming memorial. In his String Quartet in F Minor, Op. 80, a transposed B–A–C–H motive appears, referencing a nearly identical passage in an unpublished early work of hers, the Sonata in C Minor, dedicated “for Felix in his absence [traveling to Scotland].” This memorial of Fanny is not for the public, but is instead deeply personal. Whatever the reason for naming in music, it fits with Romantic ideals, mixing biography and art outwardly and inwardly.

Works: Mozart: Piano Concerto in A Major, K. 414 (124-25); Anselm Hüttenbrenner: Nachruf an Schubert in Trauertönen am Pianoforte (123-24); Schubert: Auf dem Strom, D.943 (125-26); Schumann: Requiem, Op. 148 (127-28); Felix Mendelssohn: String Quartet in F Minor, Op. 80 (131-32); Beethoven: Missa Solemnis, Op. 123 (135-36).

Sources: Johann Sebastian Bach: The Art of Fugue, BWV 1080 (119), St. Matthew Passion, BWV 244 (127-28); Johann Christian Bach: Overture to La calamita de’ cuori, W.G27 (124-25); Schubert: Piano Sonata in B-flat Major, D. 960 (123-24); Beethoven: Symphony No. 3 in E-flat Major, Op. 55 (“Eroica”) (125-26); Fanny Mendelssohn: Sonata in C Minor (131-32).

Index Classifications: 1800s

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

Brahms’s 1869 Alto Rhapsody adopts several traits of the German rhapsody tradition, including its use in wedding celebrations and fragmentary quotation of other works. Analyzing the Alto Rhapsody with its expressive double, Brahms’s Schicksalslied, Op.54, suggests that Brahms likely conceived it at least a year earlier than previously thought. The Alto Rhapsody draws heavily on Johann Friedrich Reichard’s 1792 Rhapsodie (Aus der Harzreise) . Brahms sets the same passage of Goethe’s “Harzreise im Winter” as Reichard and borrows several musical ideas from Reichard’s rhapsody. Brahms uses musical citations of the third movement of his own Ein deutsches Requiem and Robert Schumann’s Das Paradies und die Peri to reinforce the meaning of the text. He also draws on several other musical models related to Goethe’s Faust, in particular Berlioz’s La Damnation of Faust, Gounod’s Faust, and Liszt’s Eine Faust-Symphonie. By alluding to these works, Brahms associates the Harzreise text with the brooding “Faust allein in seinem Studierzimmer” scene (as set by Berlioz and Gounod) and “Das Ewig-weibliche” (as set by Liszt). Conceptually, the Alto Rhapsody shares a strong relationship with the choral-orchestral work Schicksalslied. The texts of each piece thematically mirror each other, and their principal musical motives are similar in contour but opposite in character. Both pieces also include a Faust motive drawn from Liszt’s Faust-Symphonie. These similarities can be understood through the Romantic phenomenon of “expressive doubling,” in which two works present opposing expressions of the same subject. The relationship between these pieces, the intertextual complexity of the Alto Rhapsody, and Brahms’s typical compositional process suggest that Brahms began composing it in June 1868 alongside the Schicksalslied, not in July 1869 as he claims.

Works: Brahms: Alto Rhapsody, Op. 53 (191-228), Schicksalslied, Op. 54 (219-21)

Sources: Johann Friedrich Reichard: Rhapsodie (Aus der Harzreise) (191-97, 214); Brahms: Ein deutsches Requiem, Op. 45 (197-200, 214), Schicksalslied, Op. 54 (216-28); Robert Schumann: Das Paradies und die Peri, Op. 50 (197-200, 214); Berlioz: La Damnation de Faust (200-7, 214); Liszt: Eine Faust-Symphonie (200, 205-11, 214, 219-21); Wagner: Tristan und Isolde (200, 211-14); Gounod: Faust (201-7, 214); Joseph Joachim: Hamlet (203-8, 214)

Index Classifications: 1800s

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

In his 1957 neoclassical ballet Agon, Igor Stravinsky borrows from the Bransle Simple, Bransle Gay, and Bransle Double in Joan Wildeblood’s 1952 English edition of François de Lauze’s 1623 Apologie de la danse and imbeds their intrinsic characteristics within its own dances. Wildeblood’s edition contains not only de Lauze’s French text and its translation, but also complementary descriptions of court dances from Thoinot Arbeau and Marin Mersenne. The text she included from Mersenne’s Harmonie universelle (1636-37) contains musical examples, descriptions of dance steps, and dance rhythms in poetic notation for several types of dances, including three Bransle dances Stravinsky chose for Agon. The melodic contour and cadential figures of Stravinsky’s Bransle Simple movement resembles Mersenne’s example, and the phrase rhythm of the movement corresponds with Mersenne’s description of the dance rhythm. This demonstrates both a superficial borrowing of Mersenne’s dance and a deeper incorporation of the dance rhythm at the phrase level. Similarly, in Stravinsky’s Bransle Gay, Mersenne’s characteristic rhythm is incorporated in the castanet ostinato as well as in the movement’s structure. Stravinsky’s Bransle Double combines the three remaining Mersenne examples: the Bransle de Poitou, the Bransle Double de Poitou, and the Bransle de Montirande. While the rhythmic organization is less clear in the final score, Stravinsky’s sketches do show his reliance on Mersenne’s musical examples and descriptions of the Bransle rhythms. Taken as a whole, Stravinsky’s annotations of Wildeblood’s edition of Apologie de la danse, his sketches for Agon, and his multilevel incorporation of Mersenne’s dance examples in the final score for Agon demonstrate Stravinsky’s approach to musical borrowing.

Works: Igor Stravinsky: Agon (317-47)

Sources: Marin Mersenne, Eduardo M. Torner (transcriber): Excerpts from Harmonie universelle (317-47)

Index Classifications: 1900s

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

The Benedictus of Jacob Obrecht’s Missa Malheur me bat demonstrates a theoretical awareness of double counterpoint well before its principles were laid out in written music theory in the mid-sixteenth century. The mass’s model, Malcort’s Malheur me bat, exhibits imitative counterpoint with its tenor. Rather than duplicating Malcort’s imitation, Obrecht modifies the relationship between voices to create a new imitative relationship at a new transposition. Obrecht’s ability to spot this relationship between the voices in Malcort’s song opens up further questions in how he conceived of the music at a fundamental level. At the time, counterpoint was thought of as a primarily vertical relationship, Obrecht would only have access to part books, and the idea of Obrecht “hearing” the piece as a whole (as one might today) is in danger of an overly “presentist” approach to music history. On the other hand, an overly “historicist” approach denies the motivic approach to counterpoint documented in Obrecht’s mass.

Works: Jacob Obrecht: Missa Malheur me bat (61-67).

Sources: Malcort: Malheur me bat (61-67).

Index Classifications: 1400s

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

Hector Berlioz’s second symphony, Harold en Italie, exemplifies a thread of detached, self-mocking comic irony that is common in French Romantic literature, which deals with the impossibility of artistic freedom in bourgeois society. The references to Byron and Beethoven, two of Berlioz’s Romantic heroes, are key to this ironic reading of the symphony. Mark Evan Bonds’s earlier reading of Harold casts Berlioz’s references to Beethoven as a case of anxiety of influence, ignoring the (admittedly subjective) comedy of the symphony. Berlioz started composing Harold after Paganini commissioned a virtuosic viola piece, but Paganini quickly rescinded his offer after seeing the first movement. The title and program of Harold references Byron’s poem Childe Harold, tracing a semi-autobiographical trip through Italy. In Harold, Byron (and later Beethoven) become stand-ins for the archetypical alienated Romantic Hero, characterized by the solo viola. Throughout the symphony, the orchestra undermines the heroic character of the viola, and the supposedly heroic viola is often hesitant and uncertain. The most dramatic heroic deflation comes in the finale, the most direct reference to Beethoven in the symphony. In the finale to Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony, the themes from each of the previous movements are heard and a new, transcendent theme closes out the symphony. In Harold, Berlioz mimics the same reminiscences of previous movements, but the themes remain disparate and interrupt each other. The jangling Brigands theme eventually drives the viola out of the orchestra in Harold’s conclusion. Using typical Romantic hero narratives, this conclusion is ambiguous at best. However, using French ironic narrative models (such as Gautier’s fictional painter Omunphrius, whose work is recognized only after his death but is credited to someone else instead), the deflated finale becomes ironic meta-commentary on the Romantic artist. The irony of Berlioz’s hero (Harold, Beethoven, Byron, himself) is the futility of declaring your own genius to a world that does not understand.

Works: Berlioz: Harold en Italie (73-89)

Sources: Beethoven: Symphony No. 9 in D Minor, Op. 125 (73, 76, 80, 85-86)

Index Classifications: 1800s

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

Björk’s song and music video Hunter (from the album Homogenic, 1997) can be understood in terms of Donna Haraway’s theory of cyborg identity, particularly the ambiguity between the self as scientist and the self as hunter Haraway identifies. Hunter navigates the boundaries between human and nature as well as the known and unknown. The “hunter” subject can be seen in Björk’s use of the characteristic rhythmic pattern of Maurice Ravel’s Boléro throughout Hunter. Ravel often described Boléro in terms of factories and mechanical reproduction and privately acknowledged its sexual dimension. The intersection of sex, death, and mechanization has also been part of the discourse about Boléro. Although Björk describes the presence of the Boléro rhythm as an artifact of recording in Spain, she does discuss Ravel in terms of technology. The two-measure rhythmic pattern of Boléro can be read as a balance between control and compulsion. In Hunter, Björk represents the control side in the cello ostinato, an extension of the first measure of the Boléro pattern. Compulsion is presented in the snare drum’s accelerations into the downbeat, mirroring the second measure in effect. The gradual built-up of the snare over the cellos also suggests the urgency of a hunt reaching completion. In the music video, Björk’s movements only intermittently line up with the rhythmic ostinato. In total, the subject of Björk’s Hunter is a Harawayan cyborg, transcending binaries of gender, humanity, and technology.

Works: Björk Guðmundsdóttir: Hunter (78-84)

Sources: Maurice Ravel: Boléro (78-84)

Index Classifications: 1900s, Popular

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

The meaning of Guillaume Du Fay’s Missa Se la face ay pale, based on his ballade of the same title, is best understood not through the suggestion that it was composed to celebrate the wedding of Amadeus of Savoy in 1452, but by linking its origins to the acquisition of the Holy Shroud (later called The Shroud of Turin) by Duke Louis of Savoy in 1453. Thus, the “pale face” is that of Christ, not the bridegroom. The wedding theory is unlikely because polyphonic masses were rarely composed for weddings in Du Fay’s lifetime, and because Du Fay’s ballade Se la face ay pale poetically presents a forlorn and bitter love atypical of wedding celebrations. Rather, Missa Se la face ay pale invites a Christological reading in which Christ is the man with the pale face and the Soul is his lover. Du Fay’s ballade text uses similar imagery to French Passion poetry, and the motif of Christ’s pale face was common in contemporary poetry and art. By using his ballade as the basis for a mass, Du Fay emphasizes these signs and imagery. The motivation for composing such a Christocentric mass was most likely the arrival of the Holy Shroud at the Court of Savoy, Du Fay’s patron. While using Se la face ay pale as a source directly suggests Christ’s face through its text, invoking its unusual five-syllable lines could also be a reference to the Five Wounds of Christ, relating to the image of Christ’s body on the Shroud. The singularity of the Holy Shroud further explains why other composers did not cultivate a Se la face ay pale mass tradition similar to the L’Homme armé tradition.

Works: Guillaume Du Fay: Missa Se la face ay pale (388-409, 424-33)

Sources: Guillaume Du Fay: Se la face ay pale (388-409, 424-33)

Index Classifications: 1400s

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

The early nineteenth-century “Ancient Music” hymnody reform movement sought to return American hymnody to a pre-revolutionary European ideal. This movement was grounded in the lived experiences of New England elites, notably Joseph Stevens Buckminster, who visited Europe during this period. One overlooked source for the early “Ancient Music” movement is Buckminster’s Brattle Street Collection, a hymnal compiled for the illustrious Brattle Street Church of Boston. The history of the hymn tune Pleyel’s Second in the United States demonstrates Buckminster’s influence on American hymnody. The hymn is a contrafact of Ignace Pleyel’s 1786 Symphonie Concertante in E-flat, B. 111 and was written and published by Thomas Costellow in Britain in 1801. During an 1806 trip to Paris, Buckminster met British poet and Costellow collaborator Helen Maria Williams, who likely gave him a copy of Costellow’s hymnal. When Buckminster compiled the Brattle Street Collection, Pleyel’s Second was included as “Hymn 2” (it is later transmitted as “Pleyel’s Ps. 2” and “Brattle Street”). Although a version of the hymn was included in the Columbian Sacred Harmonist in 1808, the Brattle Street harmonization has a much wider distribution. Tracing the personal voyages and connections made by non-musicians like Buckminster give a more complete picture of hymnody reform as part of broader cultural reform movements in New England.

Works: Thomas Costellow: Pleyel’s Hymn (Second) (267-74)

Sources: Ignace Pleyel: Symphonie Concertante in E-flat, B. 111 (267-74)

Index Classifications: 1800s

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

Benjamin Britten and W. H. Auden’s 1942 operetta Paul Bunyan was critically panned for failing to capture the American spirit of its source material. However, in light of his immigrant status in the midst of wartime American identity politics, Britten took a more internationalist approach to the score and was indeed aware of the politics of folksong performance. Soon after Britten’s arrival to the United States, his publisher suggested he work on a school operetta, and Britten and Auden quickly arrived at Paul Bunyan as a suitable subject. In the previous few decades, Paul Banyan had become the quintessential American folk hero, appearing in stories and advertisements selling an optimistic vision of the American frontier. Prior to America’s entry into World War II, American music was in the midst of philosophical debates over the nature of “American” music, leaving Britten to feel a chauvinism against immigrant composers such as himself. Unlike many contemporary works on American national themes, Britten’s Paul Bunyan does not rely on folksong as a core style. Britten was concerned with the increasing use of folksongs in music to promote nationalist politics in the United States and elsewhere. Despite his aversion to folksong, Britten does use selected folk styles in a few numbers in Paul Bunyan, notably borrowing from an Industrial Workers of the World strike song in the “Lumberjacks’ Chorus.” Britten also borrows a tune from John Lomax’s Cowboy Songs collection for the “Farmer’s Song” number. Reactions to Britten’s opera almost universally ignore his (admittedly brief) engagement with folk styles and instead critique the work’s lack of a distinct American character. Britten’s very particular use of folksongs in Paul Bunyan demonstrates his engagement with the politics of folk music and his refusal to be defined by the nationalist political structures often surrounding it.

Works: Benjamin Britten and W. H. Auden: Paul Bunyan (21-28)

Sources: Anonymous (lyricist): Fifty Thousand Lumberjacks (to the tune of Portland County Jail arranged by Leo Sowerby) (21-24); John Lomax (editor): The Dreary, Dreary Life (25-26)

Index Classifications: 1900s

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

The L’homme armé tradition is perhaps the best example of musical borrowing in Renaissance music, but we know very little about the reasoning behind most of the masses in the tradition. Cultural associations for L’homme armé are difficult to pick out and likely forgotten about by new generations of composers, leaving aesthetics, not politics, as the justification for compositional techniques. Three masses set the precedent for the L’homme armé tradition: the settings of Du Fay, Ockeghem, and Regis, all ca. 1460. Each setting caused a number of successive composers to imitate their musical devices. As more L’homme armé masses were written, composers looked to more recent models than the original three, or they set a unique path entirely. Fifteenth-century composers often attempted to outclass each other while simultaneously being part of the shared L’homme armé tradition. The term “borrowing” is problematic when it comes to these masses, as it implies intentionality, which cannot be firmly established in many instances. Caution must be taken when discussing this music in terms of borrowing because it was common for composers to memorize stock phrases and follow strict compositional rules in this era. Furthermore, masses with “borrowing” are not inherently more interesting than those without, and thus should not be privileged in critical discourse. With this ambiguity surrounding “borrowing,” “echo” might be a more neutral and encompassing way to describe the transformations of shared material in the L’homme armé tradition.

Works: Du Fay: Missa L’homme armé (71-72, 74-75); Ockeghem: Missa L’homme armé (71-72, 74-75); Regis: Missa L’homme armé (71-72, 74-75); Firminus Caron: Missa L’homme armé (74-75); Guillaume Faugues: Missa L’homme armé (74-75); Anonymous (Naples I-VI): Missa L’homme armé (74-75); Busnoys: Missa L’homme armé (72, 74-75); Anonymous (Bologna Q.16): Missa L’homme armé (74-75); Tinctoris: Missa L’homme armé (72, 74-75); Loyset Compére: Missa L’homme armé (74-75); Obrecht: Missa L’homme armé (72, 74-75); Philippe Basiron: Missa L’homme armé (72, 74-75); Marbrianus de Orto: Missa L’homme armé (74-75); Josquin: Missa L’homme armé super voces musicales (74-75), Missa L’homme armé sexti toni (72, 74-75); Brumel: Missa L’homme armé (74-75); La Rue: Missa L’homme armé (74-75); Matthaeus Pipelare: Missa L’homme armé (74-75); Bertrandus Vaqueras: Missa L’homme armé (72, 74-75).

Sources: Anonymous: L’homme armé (69-70); Du Fay: Missa L’homme armé (71-72, 74-75); Ockeghem: Missa L’homme armé (71-72, 74-75); Regis: Missa L’homme armé (71-72, 74-75).

Index Classifications: 1400s, 1500s

Contributed by: Sarah Kirkman, Matthew Van Vleet

Senegalese-French rapper Sefyu’s 2006 track En noir et blanc is a case study in hip hop’s role as both a product of postcolonial contradictions and a form of cultural politics aimed at combatting postcolonial inequalities. While the track includes musical gestures to Africa, Europe, and America, the featured loop is sampled from Nina Simone’s 1962 recording of Duke Ellington and Billy Strayhorn’s 1956 song Hey, Buddy Bolden. Sefyu’s sample recalls not only the past of Simone and Ellington, but also the past of New Orleans circa 1900 and Buddy Bolden, the “elusive father of jazz” (in Ted Gioia’s words). The origins of jazz recall further still centuries of syncretic music making since the first African slaves were brought to the Virginia Colony in 1619. Sefyu’s lyrics deal more directly with the complexity and contradictions of cultural and racial identity, with color used as a poetic motif throughout the song. Edward Said’s postcolonial theory stresses the entangled histories of colonizer and colonized, and, together with W. E. B. Du Bois’s concept of double consciousness, it helps listeners to hear the continuities in Black popular music and to escape from notions of American exceptionalism.

Works: Sefyu: En noir et blanc (378-80, 384); Nina Simone (performer): Hey, Buddy Bolden (379)

Sources: Nina Simone (performer): Hey, Buddy Bolden (378-80, 384); Duke Ellington and Billy Strayhorn: Hey, Buddy Bolden (379)

Index Classifications: 2000s, Popular

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

The music composed for theatrical productions at the Comédie-Française and the Comédie-Italienne in late seventeenth- and early eighteenth-century Paris shaped the urban popular song tradition of vaudeville, or popular songs that circulated in urban Paris with often satirical and subversive texts commenting on public affairs. Out of Évariste Gherardi’s six volumes of repertoire from the Comédie-Italienne, twenty-six songs originating in the theater appear in chansonniers collecting the texts (and sometimes music) of the vaudeville tradition. A ribald parody of Jean-Gille, Gilli joli Jean from the 1697 play Pasquin et Marforio, Médecins des mærs printed in the Maurepas Chansonnier demonstrates the appeal of using such innuendo-laden theater music to comment on public scandal. It is also a useful case study in tracing the origin of a vaudeville tune back to its original form. The vaudeville Les Trembleurs presents a notable case of a vaudeville originating from an opera, Lully’s Isis (1677), before itself being absorbed into the Comédie-Italienne repertoire in 1693. Musical finales from the Comédie-Française and the Comédie-Italienne, which were very often structured as highly repetitive strophic tunes, were frequently turned into vaudevilles collected in chansonniers. The plays of Florent Carton Dancourt and Jean-Claude Gillier at the Comédie-Française also frequently included similar strophic tunes at the end of their divertissements, several of which also “ran in the streets” as vaudevilles. The dynamic relationship between Parisian theaters and the vaudeville tradition was mutually beneficial. Theatrical songs that became vaudevilles acted as effective word-of-mouth advertisement for the productions themselves, and after the closure of the Comédie-Italienne, the vaudeville repertory reemerged in fairground theater, giving birth to French comic opera.

Works: Anonymous: Jean-Gille, Gille joli Jean printed in Maurepas Chansonnier (426-30), Les Trembleurs (430-34); André Campra: Hésione (442-45).

Sources: Dufresny and Claude-Ignace Brugière de Barante: Jean-Gille, Gille joli Jean from Pasquin et Marforio, Médecins des mæurs (426-30); Lully: Isis (430-34); Dancourt and Gillier: La Foire de Bezons (439-45).

Index Classifications: 1600s, 1700s

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

Throughout ca. 1200 to ca. 1500, the symbolic meaning of springtime was deeply linked to the Easter season and to the Virgin Mary in both sacred and secular music. One case study demonstrating this relationship is the diverse collection of thirteenth-century compositions based on the In seculum tenor, which is drawn from the Easter gradual Haec dies. Pastourelles based on the tenor, for instance L’autre jour par un matin/Au tens pascour/In seculum, are not explicitly religious, but they do draw on the springtime association of the Easter tenor. Courtly love songs such as Ja n’amerai autre que cele/In seculum similarly evoke Marian overtones with the In seculum tenor. Surprisingly, there are relatively few Latin motets based on the tenor. The springtime/Easter association of In seculum—paired with its malleable text (“in eternity”)—thematically link the disparate uses of the tenor in various genres. A second case study linking springtime and Easter comes from comparing two sixteenth-century paraphrase settings of Easter sequences: Henricus Isaac’s Laudes salvatori and Josquin des Prez’s Victimae paschali laudes. Isaac’s Laudes salvatori sets a paraphrase of the Easter Sunday chant of the same title and incorporates paraphrases of two other chants, Regina caeli and Victimae paschali laudes, as secondary cantus firmi. Together, these paraphrased chants link the Easter Resurrection to Marian imagery. Josquin’s Victimae paschali laudes paraphrases the chant melody throughout and also includes strict quotations of two secular chansons in the superius voice: Ockeghem’s D’ung aultre amer and Hayne van Ghizeghem’s De tous biens plaine. These selections also link Easter and Marian imagery, but the secular songs Josquin quotes work in a similar way to the thirteenth-century examples by evoking springtime imagery as well. Both case studies demonstrate the centuries-long association between springtime, Easter, and the Virgin Mary in music.

Works: Anonymous: L’autre jour par un matin/Au tens pascour/In seculum (329-336), Ja n’amerai autre que cele/In seculum (341-45), Li doz maus m’ocit/Trop ai lonc tens en folie/Ma Loiauté m’a nuisi/In seculum (345-350), O felix puerpera domina/[In seculum] (350-53), In seculum Artifex seculi/In seculum supra mulieres/[In seculum] (353-54); Henricus Isaac: Laudes salvatori (360-76); Josquin dez Prez: Victimae paschali laudes (377-86)

Sources: Anonymous: In seculum (from Haec dies) (329-54), Regina caeli (360-76), Victimae paschali laudes (360-76); Notker Balbulus: Laudes salvatori (360-76); Ockeghem: D’ung aultre amer (377-86); Hayne van Ghizeghem: De tous biens plaine (377-86)

Index Classifications: 1300s, 1400s

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

The three works Isaac composed for the Maximilian court that quote the chant Virgo prudentissima represent a thematic unit adhering to the ideological and liturgical goals of the court, acting as a grand plea to the Virgin Mary. The antiphon Virgo prudentissima is liturgically appropriate because it glorifies Mary and her Assumption and Coronation, which is symbolically aligned with Maximilian’s coronation. In his six-voice Virgo prudentissima motet, Isaac emphasizes key phrases in the cantus firmus that directly address Mary by shifting into a homorhythmic style. Like the unusually grand motet, Missa Virgo prudentissima is unusual in Isaac’s work. It is Isaac’s only six-voice cyclic Mass based on a chant, but its earliest source is in a collection of six-voice polyphony and alternatim Masses, suggesting an alternatim reconstruction of the Mass is possible. The shared use of the Virgo prudentissima and other stylistic similarities between the coronation motet and the mass would call to mind Maximilian’s coronation during the annual performance of the Mass on the Feast of the Assumption. This strong connection between the Virgo prudentissima antiphon and the Maximilian court in Isaac’s work suggests that music found in manuscript CCII, thought to be composed exclusively for the Cathedral of Constance, could have been used at Maximilian’s court as well. The Introit Gaudeamus omnes V. Exaltata es contains a conspicuous use of Virgo prudentissima as a secondary cantus firmus, connecting this Introit to the Maximilian court compositions. Taken as a unit, these Virgo prudentissima compositions work to appeal to the Virgin Mary directly as the protector of Maximilian, aligning with his cultivated image as the Wise King.

Works: Isaac: Virgo prudentissima (six-voice motet) (48-57), Missa Virgo prudentissima (57-67), Gaudeamus omnes V. Exaltata es (67-73)

Sources: Antiphon: Virgo prudentissima (48-73)

Index Classifications: 1500s

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

Gabriel Fauré’s mélodies exemplify the fluid boundary between French salon and theatrical song and invite listeners to listen hermeneutically. They also demonstrate the importance of critical reflection in Vladimir Jankélévitch’s musical aisthesis as informed by Charles Sanders Peirce’s semiotic theory. One example of Fauré slipping between lyrical and theatrical poetic modes is his setting of Théophile Gautier’s La chanson du pêcheur, in which the poetic refrain is transformed into diegetic song. Fauré’s setting of Tristesse also plays with poetic modes with its detached waltz topic and allusion to J. S. Bach’s melancholic Passacaglia in C Minor, BWV 582. The song cycle La chanson d’Ève also uses the idea of performance and musical diegesis to represent Eve’s fall. For this effect, Fauré borrows from The King’s Three Blind Daughters, a ballad he composed as part of the incidental music for an 1898 production of Maurice Maeterlinck’s Pelléas et Mélisande. The borrowed ballad is marked as diegetic music by its rigid ostinato form. Fauré additionally distinguishes different modes of diegesis through diatonic, octatonic, and chromatic harmony. Musical gestures toward performance (as seen in Fauré’s mélodies or in dance topics in Mozart’s operas) can be understood through the model of Peircian semiosis, constructed from a triadic structure of sign influencing interpretant influencing object influencing sign again. This structure allows for a chain of interpretants to be formed and for music to be understood with mixed forms of attention.

Works: Gabriel Fauré: Tristesse (525-26), La chanson d’Ève (526-43)

Sources: J. S. Bach: Passacaglia in C Minor, BWV 582 (525-26); Gabriel Fauré: The King’s Three Blind Daughters, incidental music to Pelléas et Mélisande (526-531)

Index Classifications: 1800s, 1900s

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

The 2011 musical The Book of Mormon, created by Trey Parker and Matt Stone (the creators of South Park), and Robert Lopez (co-creator of Avenue Q), is a widely intertextual work, referencing popular culture from Star Wars to The Lion King to The Music Man. The intertextuality goes deeper, however, with structural references to the “Golden Age” musicals of Rogers and Hammerstein. Despite the conspicuously offensive wrapping of The Book of Mormon, the musical relies on the musicals of Rodgers and Hammerstein as models for both form and content. The two protagonists in the musical, Elder Price and Elder Cunningham, young missionaries tasked with converting a Ugandan village, mirror the journey taken by Maria von Trapp in The Sound of Music in their attempts to do good, and in their ultimate achievement of doing good by bending the rules. The penultimate scene of the musical, “Joseph Smith American Moses,” involves the Ugandans performing their misreading of the Mormon story, which mirrors the “Small House of Uncle Thomas” ballet from The King and I. Both scenes portray a culture confronted with western domination, but The Book of Mormon offers a more mature version by showing a community that creates and defines itself, rather than conforming to a Western one. Any intertextuality is subjective on the part of the reader, but The Book of Mormon is notable in the way it references a wide range of texts in a way that can reach a broader audience.

Works: Trey Parker, Robert Lopez, and Matt Stone (music, lyrics, and book): The Book of Mormon.

Sources: Rodgers and Hammerstein: The Sound of Music (44–45), The King and I (45–47).

Index Classifications: 2000s, Popular

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

Carlos Chávez’s music is generally read as infused with twentieth-century Mexican identity, a position introduced by Aaron Copland and Paul Rosenfeld. However, this reading discounts Chávez’s diverse stylistic choices, especially those apparent in his earlier works. In his earliest compositions, Chávez emulated the model of the Russian Five in using folk material to create novel music. Later, he ventured into modernism and primitivism with his 1921 ballet Toxiuhmolpia: El fuego nuevo, which represented an imagined Aztec religious ceremony. Chávez’s early nationalist pieces like his 1924 Sonatina for Violin and Piano exhibit an unconventional form of musical nationalism, borrowing traditional melodies but distorting them to achieve a more modernist sound. With his first forays into the international music scene in the mid-1920s, Chávez leaned into his modernist image, presenting works in an energetic mechanical style like his European contemporaries Varèse and Stravinsky. By the late 1920s, Chávez was also composing works with neoclassical influence as well as ultramodern works. Aaron Copland’s article “Carlos Chavez—Mexican Composer” praised Chávez for his unique modernist style and set a critical precedent for reading Mexican and Indian identities in his music that was quickly taken up by Paul Rosenfeld. These American interpretations of Chávez’s music, shaped by a Pan-Americanism movement in the United States, constructed Chávez as essentially Mexican and his Mexican identity as essentially Indigenous.

Works: Carlos Chávez: Jarabe (113-114), Sonatina for Violin and Piano (114-15)

Sources: Traditional: Jarabe Tapatío (114), El Atole (114), El Palomo (114), L’Inasia (115)

Index Classifications: 1900s

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

Many medieval pastourelle songs contain vivid depictions of rape, and there is virtually no medieval criticism of this practice. One pastourelle motet, Hé, Marotele/En la praerie/Aptatur, and its sacred Marian contrafact, Hé, mere Diu/La virge Marie/Aptatur, offer a rare example of musical commentary on and criticism of casual representations of rape in pastourelle songs. In the pastourelle genre, a knight tries to seduce a shepherdess (Marion/Marot) who remains loyal to her shepherd sweetheart Robin. In many songs, the knight then resorts to force, raping Marion. In Hé, Marotele, however, it is Robin, not the knight, who rapes Marot, an extremely unusual twist of genre conventions. This scene is recounted from Robin’s perspective in the triplum and from Marot’s in the motetus. The Marian motet Hé, mere Diu/La virge Marie/Aptatur has a musical setting nearly identical to Hé, Marotele/En la praerie/Aptatur and retains a textual refrain, suggesting that the sacred motet is a contrafact of the secular pastourelle. Thus, the reader is invited to conflate the penitent speaker in Hé, mere Diu with Robin, adding a moral and spiritual dimension to the pastourelle. Robin’s act of rape is cast as sinful and requiring repentance. Adding to this interpretation, the two motets are presented side by side in manuscript Mo, suggesting a narrative of confession: the penitence in the Marian motet is followed by the revelation of the sin in the pastourelle. Contrasting with the apparent indifference toward rape in medieval songs, this contrafact gives one example of unequivocal condemnation.

Works: Anonymous: Hé, mere Diu/La virge Marie/Aptatur (597-606)

Sources: Anonymous: Hé, Marotele/En la praerie/Aptatur (597-606)

Index Classifications: Polyphony to 1300

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

Hanuš Trneček’s solo harp arrangement of Smetana’s Moldau is commonly modified and rearranged in printed editions and live performances. When deciding whether to make changes to the arrangement, a performer should review six considerations: text, historical materials, structure, precedent, pragmatism, and taste. Text and historical materials draw on written authority, while the rest draw on unwritten authority. One common change to Trneček’s arrangement is to restore the final chords to correspond to Smetana’s original, drawing on the textual authority of the orchestral score. A common structural consideration is fixing misprints in the arrangement. Despite Trneček’s arrangement changing the key signature and cutting sections of the original entirely, the precedent set by a century of harp studios is faithful to the abridged version. Pragmatic alterations to orchestral harp parts have a long tradition, and Trneček’s modification of the moonlight passage in Moldau reflects this tradition. Considerations of taste apply to the final pages of Trneček’s arrangement, which replaces Smetana’s gradual decrescendo with loud, virtuosic arpeggios. Harpists can elect to cut some of these arpeggios, perform them as written, or fully commit to the bravura. Ultimately, any arrangement or rearrangement is a means to an end in conveying the celebration and spirit of the music.

Works: Hanuš Trneček: Moldau for solo harp (26-32).

Sources: Bedřich Smetana: Moldau from Má vlast (26-32).

Index Classifications: 1900s

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

The film scores of John Williams are best understood with the concept of teleological genesis, and the score for Close Encounters of the Third Kind in particular combines this principle with motivic allusion in order to trigger subconscious associations in the viewer. Teleological genesis, the principle of developing motivic fragments into an extended melodic idea at the culmination of a piece, was first associated with composers such as Mahler and Strauss, but Williams’s film scores operate on essentially the same principle. His score for Close Encounters is an example of this practice with the additional twist of developing two contradictory ideas simultaneously—one of wonder and one of terror—reflecting the ambiguous nature of the aliens. The terror motive alludes to the Dies irae, a common musical symbol of the macabre and (more importantly to the theme of Close Encounters) the apocalypse. However, the Dies irae acts as a musical red herring in Close Encounters, a trick Williams uses again in his score to Home Alone. The wonder motive (“Fate is Kind”) alludes to When You Wish Upon a Star from Disney’s Pinocchio (1940). Williams intended to simply use the original recording from Pinocchio but opted instead to incorporate the tune into a new theme. The allusion is further developed in the revised score for the 1980 Special Edition release of Close Encounters. Williams develops the “Fate is Kind” motive teleologically through the film, merging with the Dies irae theme at key moments to evoke the uncertainty of the final alien encounter. In the end, the score (and film) arrives at the goal and the “Fate is Kind” motive transforms into the famous “Visitors” finale sequence.

Works: John Williams: score to Close Encounters of the Third Kind (104-23), score to War of the Worlds (106), score to Home Alone (107-8)

Sources: Attributed to Thomas of Celano: Dies irae (104-8, 112-14); Mykola Leontovych: Carol of the Bells (107-8); Leigh Harline and Ned Washington: When You Wish Upon a Star (108-23)

Index Classifications: 1900s, Film

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

After its premiere in Leningrad in 1956, Aram Khachaturian’s ballet Spartacus was reworked three times for the Bolshoi Theater in Moscow under three choreographers during the cultural and artistic upheavals of the Thaw. The three versions of the ballet reflect the ideological shifts in the Soviet government, particularly regarding the relationship between the various nationalities of the USSR. The libretto for Spartacus was developed in 1933 by Nikolai Volkov as a Socialist Realist ballet, linking Spartacus to the revolutionary Bolsheviks. Aram Khachaturian did not complete the score until 1954 but composed in the grandiose Socialist Realist style of the 1930s and 1940s. Khachaturian uses a Russian style for the depiction of the slaves, linking their struggle with the Russian revolution, while side characters are given more orientalist material. Earlier versions of the ballet reflect the Soviet Union’s stance on supporting multi-ethnic revolutions, particularly in Korea and Vietnam. Moiseyev in 1958 kept the grandiosity of Khachaturian’s score, choreographing a huge cast in several ethnic styles of dance. Most of Khachaturian’s 1954 score was preserved, although the finale had to be minorly reworked. Yakobson’s 1962 choreography attempted to recreate the aesthetic of ancient Greek and Roman artwork in the dance and staging. In several key scenes, Yakobson spliced together different parts of Khachaturian’s score to add drama to the production, even going so far as to set the invasion of the Spartakans to Khachaturian’s crucifixion music, angering the composer. Grigorovich in 1968 made the most substantial changes to the score. In focusing dramatic attention to the four lead roles, Grigorovich abandoned the ethnic diversity of the ensemble cast. He also drastically recomposed the ballet score, rearranging and recasting many dances. The exoticized dances were significantly reworked to underscore the actions of the slave ensemble rather than showcase the multi-ethnic cast. This reworking corresponds with Khrushchev’s and Brezhnev’s attempted transformation of Soviet society from a multi-ethnic state to a supra-ethnic one. Incidentally, Grigorovich’s choreography won the best critical reception of the three versions. Despite the departure from Khachaturian’s original score, most new productions of Spartacus use Grigorovich’s rearranged version. Spartacus and its revisions demonstrate how Soviet artists continued to produce compelling works in agreement with state politics even during the Thaw.

Works: Aram Khachaturian, Igor Moiseyev (choreographer): Spartacus (1958) (375-80); Aram Khachaturian, Leonid Yakobson (choreographer): Spartacus (1962) (380-88); Aram Khachaturian, Yuri Grigorovich (choreographer): Spartacus (1968) (388-97)

Sources: Aram Khachaturian: Spartacus (1954) (375-97)

Index Classifications: 1900s

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

Counter to the common scholarly dismissal of Sergei Rachmaninov’s music as unsophisticated kitsch, a new interpretation of his symphonic poem Isle of the Dead—contextualized by the myth of Orpheus and psychoanalytic theory—reveals it to be a subversive psychological drama. The affinity between musical modernity and the Orpheus myth is well established, and the Orphic role of re-enchanting the world was particularly potent in late imperial Russia. Post-revolution, Rachmaninov can be understood as a Russian Orpheus figure whose music adopts an ethic of mourning, exemplified in Isle of the Dead. The 1909 symphonic poem, inspired by a reproduction of Arnold Böcklin’s painting, is best understood as using a rotational form, with three musical ideas recycled through four broad rotations. The first idea is the river ostinato, perhaps evoking Charon’s oar in the river Styx. The second idea is the borrowed Dies irae motive. The third idea is a languishing chromatic gesture. The Dies irae motive serves as the germinal idea for the telos of the piece. At the center of the of the piece is a lyrical B section that can be understood through Adorno’s concept of Durchbruch, a epiphanic moment of interruption and reversal. Mapped onto the Orpheus myth, this section is Orpheus’s rescue of Euridice. Following this section, the menacing Dies irae erupts once more in the final apotheosis of the motive. In psychoanalytic terms, the piece moves from desire to drive with the inciting fantasy (the Durchbruch section) appearing late and forcing a rehearing of the music. It also synthesizes the psychoanalytic insight that the apparently vain efforts of grief are in fact the agents of subjective catharsis.

Works: Rachmaninov: Isle of the Dead (199-209)

Sources: Attributed to Thomas of Celano: Dies irae (199-209)

Index Classifications: 1900s

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

The Beastie Boys’ Paul’s Boutique (1989) and Public Enemy’s Fear of a Black Planet (1990) are often compared for their abundant digital sampling, but these two albums use sampling in markedly different ways. This difference is evident with the introduction of a more systematic typology of digital sampling practices in hip-hop. In this new typology, there are three main types of samples: structural, surface, and lyric. Within the structural type—a looped sample that creates the groove of the track—there are four subtypes depending on which elements of the sample are used in the new track: percussion only, intact, non-percussion, and aggregate. While both Public Enemy and the Beastie Boys frequently use the aggregate structural type, the individual component samples are layered in Public Enemy’s grooves and alternating in the Beastie Boys’. Surface samples punctuate a track’s groove outside of the primary loop and can be momentary, emphatic, or constituent. Differing from the Beastie Boys’ style, momentary surface samples pervade tracks by Public Enemy, whose producers often create collages and quodlibets. Lyric samples add spoken or sung text from a source and can be singular or recurring. When using lyric samples, the Beastie Boys typically treat them as substitutions, preserving the rhyme scheme and meaning of their own rapped text. Public Enemy do not avoid substitutions, but more often treat lyric samples as additive, part of the groove and not replacing rapped text. Genre and race considerations also reveal meaningful differences between the Beastie Boys’ and Public Enemy’s sampling techniques. By analyzing Paul’s Boutique and Fear of a Black Planet with this typology, it is clear that there are rich possibilities in sampling a shared genre, artist, or track, and that close listening is fundamental in hip-hop production.

Works: Beastie Boys (Michael Diamond, Adam Horovitz, and Adam Yauch, performers), Dust Brothers (Mike Simpson and John King, producers): Johnny Ryall (36-37), Shake Your Rump (40), B-Boy Bouillabaisse (40-41); Public Enemy (Chuck D, Flavor Flav, Professor Griff, and Terminator X, performers), The Bomb Squad (Chuck D, Eric Sadler, Hank Shocklee, and Keith Shocklee, producers): 911 is a Joke (34-35), Anti-N—r Machine (38-39), Welcome to the Terrordome (39-40)

Sources: Lyn Collins: Think (34-35, 38-39); Wilbur Bascomb: Feel Like Dancing (34-35); Sound Experience: Devil with the Bust (34-35); Mico Wave: Misunderstood (34-35); Parliament: Flash Light (34-35, 38-39); Donny Hathaway: Magnificent Sanctuary Band (36-37); Paul McCartney: Momma Miss America (36-37); David Bromberg: Sharon (36-37); Grandwizard Theodore and Kevie Kev Rockwell: Military Cut-Scratch Mix (36-37); Salt ’n’ Pepa: My Mike Sounds Nice (38-39); Malcolm McLaren: Buffalo Gals (38-39); Zapp: More Bounce to the Ounce (38-39); Herman Kelly and Life: Dance to the Drummer’s Beat (38-39); Diana Ross and the Supremes: Love Child (38-39); Dyke and the Blazers: We Got More Soul (38-39); Schooly D: PSK—What Does it Mean? (38-39); Fab Five Freddy and Beside: Change the Beat (38-39); Pleasure: Let’s Dance (38-39); The 45 King: The 900 Number (38-39); Boogie Down Productions: South Bronx (38-39); Rufus Thomas: Funky Hot Grits (38-39); James Brown: Get Up, Get into It, Get Involved (39-40); Foxy: Get Off Your Aahh and Dance (40); Johnny Cash: Folsom Prison Blues (40-41)

Index Classifications: 1900s, Popular

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

Louis Moreau Gottschalk’s Symphonie romantique: la nuit des tropiques (1859) and À Montevideo: 2me symphonie-romantique pour grand orchestre (1868) reflect his politics of pan-American republicanism. In his writing, Gottschalk expressed a desire to see republicanism flourish in South America, a position informed in part by contemporary US cultural expansionism into Latin America. With his many concert tours to Latin American countries, Gottschalk saw himself as a musical diplomat, contributing to the moral uplift of the region. Gottschalk composed Symphonie romantique in Matouba, French Antilles in 1859, and the work premiered later that year in Cuba. With its blending of Cuban music (the cinquillo rhythm pervades the symphony), European art music, and American vernacular music (including a quotation of Foster’s Camptown Races), Symphonie romantique offers a musical ideal for an Americanized Cuba. À Montevideo, composed for a music festival in Montevideo, Uruguay, expresses a similar subtle imperialism. In its finale, Gottschalk quotes the Uruguayan national anthem alongside Hail, Columbia, and Yankee Doodle, presenting the pan-American ideal of Uruguay and the United States side by side. In many ways, Gottschalk’s pan-Americanism in Latin America was similar to nineteenth-century German universalism in the United States. Both presented an ideology of supranationalism and moral edification through music, and both emerged as a product of distinctly nationalist ideologies.

Works: Louis Moreau Gottschalk: The Battle of Bunker Hill (445), Symphonie romantique (455-62), À Montevideo: 2me symphonie-romantique pour grand orchestra (462-65)

Sources: Francis Smith (lyricist): America (My Country ’Tis of Thee) (445); Anonymous: Yankee Doodle (445, 463-65); Philip Phile (composer) and Joseph Hopkins (lyricist): Hail, Columbia (445, 463-65); Felix Mendelssohn: A Midsummer Night’s Dream, Op. 21 (458); Stephen Foster: Camptown Races (461); Francisco José Debali (composer) and Francisco Acuña de Figueroa (lyricist): ¡Orientales, la patria o la tumba! (Himno Nacional de Uruguay) (463-65)

Index Classifications: 1800s

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

Musical allusions in contemporary postmodern operas are often meaningful and symbolic, shaping audience understanding of characters, plot points, and the work’s relationship to the history of opera. Three stylistically divergent operas—John Adams’s Nixon in China (1987), Louis Andriessen’s La Commedia (2008), and Thomas Adès’s The Exterminating Angel (2016)—demonstrate that allusion-making is rarely just a postmodern game. Postmodern operas that engage in extensive collage, notably John Cage’s five Europeras (1987–91) and John Coriglioni’s The Ghosts of Versailles (1987/1991), address the continuing presence of the operatic past. This approach is extended by later postmodern composers who work extensively in the opera genre. Despite Adams’s claims that Nixon in China is not a work of political satire, his score often undermines characters with satirical effect through musical allusions, particularly to works by Wagner and Stravinsky. Andriessen’s multimedia opera La Commedia alludes to a wide variety of composers and styles (including Stravinsky, Ravel, Wagner, Bebop jazz, nursery rhymes, and twentieth-century medievalism) in degrees of salience ranging from near quotation to suggested resemblance. While the rapid style shifts suggest an air of ironic detachment, Andriessen’s allusions to Fauré’s Requiem (and other requiems) offer a more personal, melancholic sentiment. Likewise, the allusions in Adès’s The Exterminating Angel meaningfully contribute to its surrealist atmosphere by acting as a “force field,” trapping the characters within the confines of the opera. Musical allusions also appear in operas by composers not known for musical borrowing; Philip Glass’s Akhnaten (1983), Shara Nova’s YOU US WE ALL (2013/2015), and Missy Mazzoli’s Song from the Uproar (2012) all contain allusions to Baroque operas. The frequency of allusions in contemporary operas, along with the self-consciousness of opera as a genre, walk a fine line between rewarding knowledgeable audience members and inadvertently suggesting that the genre is out of new ideas.

Works: John Cage: Europeras nos. 1–5 (220-21); John Corigliano: The Ghosts of Versailles (221-26); John Adams: Nixon in China (225-34); Louis Andriessen: La Commedia (234-53); Thomas Adès: The Exterminating Angel (253-59); Philip Glass: Akhnaten (261-63); Shara Nova: YOU US WE ALL (262-67); Missy Mazzoli: Song from the Uproar (266-69).

Sources: Sources: Mozart: Don Giovanni (221), Le nozze di Figaro (222-23); Rossini: L’italiana in Algeri (223), Il barbiere di Siviglia (224); Wagner: Tristan und Isolde (223, 244), Siegfried (227-29), Das Rheingold (230-31), Parsifal (233-34); Traditional: Marlbrough s’en va-t-en guerre (223-34); Schoenberg: String Quartet No. 2 in F-sharp Minor, Op. 10 (224-26); Richard Strauss: Salome (227-29, 258-60); John Stafford Smith (composer), Francis Scott Key (lyricist): The Star-Spangled Banner (230-31); Stravinsky: Perséphone (232-33, 240-41), The Rite of Spring (232-33, 244), Requiem Canticles (250-52); Olivier Messiaen: Turangalîla-Symphonie (243-44); Benjamin Britten: Curlew River (244); Puccini: Madama Butterfly (244); Leonard Bernstein: West Side Story (245-47); Charlie Parker: Bird of Paradise/All the Things You Are (245-47); Maurice Ravel: Introduction et allegro (245-47), La valse (255-57); Claude Debussy: Claire de lune (245-47); Gabriel Fauré: Requiem (247-50); Andrew Lloyd Webber: Requiem (252); J. S. Bach: Was mir behagt, ist nur die muntre Jagd, BWV 208 (256, 259), Well-Tempered Clavier (264-65); Berlioz: Symphonie fantastique (258); Monteverdi: L’incoronazione di Poppea (261-63), Orfeo (264, 265); Purcell: Dido and Aeneas (268-69).

Index Classifications: 1900s, 2000s

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

Music is used in American World War II films in several ways as a vehicle for anti-Japanese propaganda, offering new perspectives on musical exoticism at it relates to representing the Japanese people and Japanese music. The goal of World War II propaganda films, produced by Hollywood and the U. S. Government, was to convince soldiers and civilians of the necessity of fighting the evil enemy. The Japanese enemy was constructed using Orientalist stereotypes, including musical stereotypes drawn from European music, Orientalist signs for Japan, and actual Japanese music or imitations thereof. Russian immigrant film composer Dimitri Tiomkin used Russian concert music, particularly excerpts of The Rite of Spring, to accompany scenes of Japanese violence in several films he scored, drawing on primitivist associations with that repertoire. Other films rely on a stable of musical tropes to evoke the Japanese enemy including loud, low brass instruments, pentatonic scales, and gongs. These tropes were adapted primarily from music associated with Native Americans in Hollywood westerns. World War II propaganda films are also remarkably intertextual, with shots and even full scenes repurposed several times. Depictions of Japanese folk music are generally confined to films meant to instruct G.I.s on Japanese culture—a necessarily distorted image of it—and are rarely heard in Hollywood films. Anti-Japanese propaganda, shaped in large part by Orientalist music, had a lasting effect on American perceptions of Japanese people and culture after the war, even as Hollywood attempted to counter these messages in the following decades.

Works: Frank Capra (director), Alfred Newman (musical director): score to Prelude to War (314-18); Dimitri Tiomkin: score to The Battle of China (318-21), score to Know Your Enemy—Japan (318-21); Alfred Newman: score to The Purple Heart (344-347)

Sources: Wagner: Der Ring des Nibelungen (314-18); Stravinsky: The Rite of Spring (318-21); Modest Mossorgsky: Pictures at an Exhibition (318-19); Yoshiisa Oku and Akimori Hayashi: Kimigayo (344-47)

Index Classifications: 1900s

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

Francis Poulenc’s frequent use of self-allusion is a structural component of his musical aesthetic, and a queer reading of this practice reveals the interrelation between his musical allusions and autobiographic analyses of his music. Queer discourse, invoking sexual minority, semantic slippage, performative reclamation, and historical reenactment, is a powerful critical tool for analyzing musical self-reference. Poulenc’s Ier Nocturne (1929/30) includes examples of self-allusion that can be understood more fully in this way. The nocturne evokes melodic themes from Poulenc’s earlier works, specifically Concert champêtre and Aubade, which in turn reference notions of pastoral childhood. Poulenc often uses pastoral modes in his music to safely express and reflect on his queer sexuality. Poulenc later alludes to a chromatic sequence in the coda of Ier Nocturne in Les Soirées de Nazelles and in Dialogues des carmélites, where it is the musical motive for Blanche’s spiritual transformation. Relistening to Ier Nocturne with the pastoral references and coda interpreted as spiritual awakening as in Dialogues yields a musical “coming out” narrative. This interpretation brings up issues of historical queer representation and aesthetics of concealment and personal memory. Jean Cocteau’s novel Le Livre blanc and Marcel Proust’s novel Sodome et Gamorrhe exhibit aesthetics of queer self-representation similar to Poulenc’s nocturne. Although Ier Nocturne benefits from this mode of listening, the process of engaging in queer analysis of Poulenc’s work is itself a process of self-allusion and reference and reflects Poulenc’s deferral of a totalizing interpretation.

Works: Poulenc: Ier Nocturne (201-9, 214-21), Les Soirées de Nazelles (209-11), Dialogues des carmélites (211-13)

Sources: Poulenc: Concert champêtre (203-5), Aubade (205-7), Ier Nocturne (209-13)

Index Classifications: 1900s

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

The 1854 version of Brahms’s Piano Trio No. 1 in B Major, Op. 8, is recognized as containing allusions to Beethoven’s An die ferne Geliebte and Schubert’s Schwanengesang, but a third, thus far unacknowledged allusion to Domenico Scarlatti’s Sonata in C Major, K. 159, is also present in the trio. This allusion supports the program proposed in existing scholarship, but it also suggests a new reading of Brahms mourning the loss of the musical past. Throughout the trio, but most clearly at the climax of the first movement, Brahms references Scarlatti’s sonata and develops the borrowed themes. Brahms’s own composed themes in the trio are also constructed to develop into the near-quotation of Scarlatti’s sonata. Contextual evidence for this Scarlatti allusion comes from Brahms’s longstanding championing of Scarlatti’s music in his writings and performances. The allusions to Beethoven and Schubert both refer to songs on the theme of distant or lost love. Although Scarlatti’s sonata is not based on a text, the particular way Brahms uses the borrowed material suggests distance by distorting Scarlatti’s theme to the edge of unrecognizability. The theme of distant love in the trio is often interpreted as a secret program referring to Brahms’s romantic longing for Clara Schumann. The presence of the Scarlatti reference suggests an alternate program of Brahms paying homage to music of the past. In 1889, Brahms extensively revised the trio, eliminating the allusions to Beethoven, Schubert, and Scarlatti. Scholars have interpreted this removal as Brahms attempting to hide his past feelings toward Schumann. Acknowledging the Scarlatti allusions as well, this removal can be interpreted as Brahms coming to terms with his place in music history and the evolution of his complicated relationship to music of the past.

Works: Brahms: Piano Trio No. 1 in B Major, Op. 8 (1854 version) (63-78)

Sources: Beethoven: An die ferne Geliebte (63-65); Schubert: Schwanengesang (64-65); Domenico Scarlatti: Sonata in C Major, K. 159 (65-78)

Index Classifications: 1800s

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

George Crumb’s setting of When Johnny Comes Marching Home in his 2004 Winds of Destiny: A Cycle of Civil War Songs, Folk Songs, and Spirituals can be understood in the context of memorialization as a manifestation of public memory that challenges some aspects of war remembrance. When Johnny Comes Marching Home was written in 1863 by Union army bandleader Patrick S. Gilmore and has functioned as a musical memorial and vehicle of critique long before Crumb’s setting. Winds of Destiny was composed during a wave of memorialization in the early 2000s, and combines Civil War imagery with recent American history. The opening verse of Crumb’s setting evoke the belliphonic sounds of military parade with a variety of percussion instruments, and the singer ends the verse with an excited shriek. The second and third verses share the same orchestration with the addition of tubular bells, a significant part of the sonic landscape of the Civil War. The fourth verse starkly contrasts the celebratory mood of the first three with a grotesque, ironic affect. During this verse, the piano plays a quotation of the funeral march from Mahler’s First Symphony, which evokes nostalgia for a (tonal) past in addition to the ritual funeral procession. With his grotesque final verse, Crumb satirizes the established meaning of the song and negates its patriotic glorification of war. Crumb laments rather than valorizes those who die in war, and his use of the grotesque resists the normalization of war by exposing its long-term impact.

Works: George Crumb: Winds of Destiny: A Cycle of Civil War Songs, Folk Songs, and Spirituals (1.1-8, 2.6-8, 3.1-10, 4.1-7, 5.1-5); Morton Gould: American Salute (1.7); Jerry Bilik: Civil War Fantasy (1.7).

Sources: Patrick S. Gilmore: When Johnny Comes Marching Home (1.1-1.8, 2.6, 3.1-10, 5.1-5); William Steffe (composer) and Julia Ward Howe (lyricist): Battle Hymn of the Republic (2.7-2.8); Mahler: Symphony No. 1 in D Major (4.1-7).

Index Classifications: 1900s, 2000s

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

John Harbison’s fascination with history manifests itself in his extensive use of borrowed musical material in his compositions, which can be grouped into the categories of misreading, pastiche, and quotation. Twilight Music for violin, horn, and piano, composed in 1984, is an example of misreading in Harbison’s music. In particular, the distinctive trio of instruments points to Brahms’s Trio, Op. 40, which uses the same set. The intervallic motives of a perfect fifth and minor second present in Brahms’s horn part (written for natural horn) appear in Harbison’s horn part as well. Harbison also adapts Brahms’s theme as an unordered verticality in a process called generalization, a common device for adapting tonal music into a post-tonal context. The three Gatsby Etudes, excerpts from Harbison’s 1999 opera The Great Gatsby, evoke the early 1920s through pastiche. Several stylistic markers of ragtime appear throughout the etudes, including the opening gesture of Scott Joplin’s The Entertainer and cadential figures from Maple Leaf Rag. November 19, 1828 for piano and string trio, the title of which refers to Schubert’s death date, is a example of quotation in Harbison’s music. Harbison quotes Schubert’s Allegretto in C Major, D. 346 in its entirety in a rondo alternating with original passages. Each time the Allegretto returns, it is slightly altered, becoming increasingly uncanny as Harbison’s post-tonal style creeps in. Harbison’s use of musical borrowing is noteworthy for its breadth of source material as well as its sophisticated interaction between borrowed and original music.

Works: John Harbison: Twilight Music (147-159), Gatsby Etudes (166-72), November 19, 1828 (173-87).

Sources: Brahms: Trio, Op. 40 (147-59); Scott Joplin: The Entertainer (166-72), Maple Leaf Rag (169-72); Franz Schubert: Allegretto in C Major, D. 346 (173-87).

Index Classifications: 1900s, 2000s

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

The circumstances surrounding the creation, premiere, and reception of Stravinsky’s 1941 harmonization of The Star-Spangled Banner are obscured by incomplete information, rumors, and even intentional obfuscation. Newly examined primary documents help to paint a more accurate and complete picture of the work and its origin. In August 1940, Stravinsky led a performance of Walter Damrosch’s (by then) standard harmonization of The Star-Spangled Banner, which had been officially declared the U. S. national anthem in 1931. This event, plus the influence of Earnest Andersson and James Sample, inspired Stravinsky to create his own harmonization. The premiere of Stravinsky’s version took place in October 1941, and although some critics praised the performance, many attacked Stravinsky’s harmonization as unpatriotic. The 1944 Boston premiere led to more notoriety due to a (false) rumor that Stravinsky had been arrested for breaking a Massachusetts law against rearranging the national anthem. While the orchestral harmonization is by far the best-known, Stravinsky produced several arrangements of The Star-Spangled Banner for different performing forces based on four distinct harmonizations completed between July and September, 1941: one in B-flat major and three in D major. While all of these harmonizations differ from the Damrosch harmonization, they are not as radical or modernist as many critical reviews suggest. The fourth harmonization, inked in an untexted fair copy for male choir, is the only version besides the first B-flat harmonization to be performed, but not until 1993. Besides the key, the fourth harmonization differs slightly in realization from the orchestral version (differing chord inversions for instance). However, both harmonizations share a well-developed contrapuntal technique. Stravinsky also uses the anthem’s tune in a Christmas card sent in December 1941. The reception history of Stravinsky’s harmonization touches on many issues of American music culture. Much of the criticism surrounding the work stems not from its musical merit, but from malleable notions of American patriotism, perceptions of Stravinsky’s politics, and expectations for a “modernist” composer. Revisiting Stravinsky’s harmonization of The Star-Spangled Banner might revitalize it as a work of national importance.

Works: Stravinsky (arranger): The Star-Spangled Banner (Harmonization I) (371-386), The Star-Spangled Banner (Harmonization II) (386-88), The Star-Spangled Banner (Harmonization III) (388), The Star-Spangled Banner (Harmonization IV) (388-92)

Sources: Francis Scott Key (lyrics), John Stafford Smith (melody), Walter Damrosch (arranger): The Star-Spangled Banner (371-92)

Index Classifications: 1900s

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

The music of Stephen Foster was frequently used in scores for Looney Tunes and Merrie Melodies cartoons produced from the 1930s through the 1960s—especially those by Carl Stalling—to represent the American South and African Americans, revealing pervasive attitudes about race and place in American culture. The convention of using Stephen Foster songs to represent “Negro,” “Southern,” and generic “American” categories was developed in the silent film era and codified by Erno Rapée’s 1924 guidebook, Motion Picture Moods for Pianists and Organists. Carl Stalling, who arranged and supervised Looney Tunes and Merrie Melodies scores for Warner Bros. starting in 1936, adopted this convention for its pervasiveness in silent films and because Foster’s music was in the public domain. Three Looney Tunes cartoons in particular, Confederate Honey, Mississippi Hare, and Southern Fried Rabbit, use various Foster songs in conjunction with representations of both the American South and of minstrel tropes. For example, Confederate Honey (a 1940 parody of Gone with the Wind) opens with Foster’s My Old Kentucky Home and Old Black Joe played over scenes of a plantation with slaves depicted with exaggerated features in the manner of minstrel shows and Sambo illustrations. Beautiful Dreamer later serves as a leitmotive for Crimson O’Hairoil, the daughter of the plantation owner and heroine of the cartoon. Despite their ubiquity, the use of Foster songs in Looney Tunes significantly decreased in the 1960s with the retirement of Carl Stalling and changing attitudes toward race representation. The legacy of these representations of race in Looney Tunes and other classic cartoons, especially those that depict racist imagery and caricature, has been debated for decades. Like Foster’s songs themselves, the cultural signifiers and meanings attached to Looney Tunes are unfixed and malleable.

Works: Carl Stalling: score to Confederate Honey (357-60), score to Mississippi Hare (360-61), score to Southern Fried Rabbit (362-364)

Sources: Stephen Foster: My Old Kentucky Home (358), Old Black Joe (358, 362), Beautiful Dreamer (358, 360), Oh! Susanna (358), Old Folks at Home (360, 362), Camptown Races (360-61), Ring, Ring de Banjo! (361); Dan Emmett: Dixie (358, 360-61, 362); Franz von Suppé: Light Cavalry Overture (358); Traditional: Yankee Doodle (364)

Index Classifications: 1900s, Film

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

Felix Mendelssohn’s 1836 oratorio Paulus (St. Paul in English) received enthusiastic acclaim in Germany and England, but English critics understood the work differently from their German counterparts. While Germans appreciated the devotional aspects of the oratorio and recognized the Lutheran chorale quotations and its connection to Bach’s St. Matthew Passion, the English were unfamiliar with the chorales and likened it to Handel’s dramatic oratorios. Mendelssohn composed Paulus shortly after staging a revival of Bach’s St. Matthew Passion, and he modeled several aspects of the oratorio on Bach’s work, including its use of a narrator similar to Bach’s “Evangelist.” Furthermore, like Bach, Mendelssohn incorporated several popular Lutheran chorales into his oratorio, making sure to select recognizable tunes. When Paulus debuted in England as St. Paul, critics warmly praised the work but made no mention of Bach or the Lutheran chorales. The lack of references to chorale tunes in particular in the English press suggests that English audiences did not recognize the Lutheran tunes as German audiences did. Structural similarities between St. Paul and Bach’s Passion that were mentioned in the German press were ignored by the English. Even references to the chorale genre in the English press were confused, apparently not recognizing the term as one connected to contemporary devotional practice in Germany. English audiences expected a dramatic oratorio in the manner of Handel and judged Mendelssohn’s work on that metric. Mendelssohn’s next oratorio, Elijah, was composed with an international audience in mind, intentionally landing far closer to Handel’s dramatic oratorio model than St. Paul did. “Regard thy servant’s prayer” in Elijah exemplifies this change in attitude. Rather than using an actual chorale, Mendelssohn composed a new melody in the chorale style for this number. By switching his oratorio model from Bach to Handel, Mendelssohn secured his reputation in England.

Works: Felix Mendelssohn: Paulus (St. Paul) (27-32, 37-38)

Sources: Johann Sebastian Bach: St. Matthew Passion, BWV 244 (27-32); Philipp Nicolai: Wachet auf, ruft uns die Stimme (37-38)

Index Classifications: 1800s

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

Serge Nigg’s political opposition to Stravinsky’s neoclassicism after World War II and his involvement with French Vichy politics and the French Communist Party (PCF) contextualize his mid-1950s foray into composing French nationalist music. As a result of experiencing the German occupation and associated artistic propaganda, Nigg turned away from the neoclassical establishment (Stravinsky) and toward serialism and communism. After Soviet artistic directives instructed composers to abandon serialism and embrace their national heritage, Nigg’s political ideology and artistic proclivity were in conflict. Nigg’s 1954 Concerto for Piano and Orchestra was his first orchestral attempt at a (fleeting) embrace of his national heritage as directed by the Soviet proclamations. Nigg modeled his concerto on Vincent d’Indy’s 1886 Symphonie sur un chant montagnard français. Like d’Indy’s Symphonie, Nigg’s concerto adapts a French folksong for the primary theme using a similar orchestration. The transformations Nigg applies to the folksong, Filles, chantez le mois de mai, have led some critics to argue that he did not adhere to the ideals of socialist realism as closely as he said he did. The conservatism Nigg adopted in his concerto was similar to the same conservatism he protested in Stravinsky’s music. Nigg’s new approach was short-lived, however, as he and many others left the PCF in 1956 after the Soviet invasion of Hungary.

Works: Serge Nigg: Concerto for Piano and Orchestra (123-30)

Sources: Vincent d’Indy: Symphonie sur un chant montagnard français (123); Traditional: Filles, chantez le mois de mai (123-30)

Index Classifications: 1900s

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

Accounts of Clara Schumann’s virtuosity emphasize a spiritual or transcendent quality associated with her performance of canonic repertoire alongside showpieces. However, these accounts fail to capture the importance of popular piano styles in her compositions and choice of repertoire and the ways that the discourse of interiority in Schumann’s work imbues popular piano styles with sentiment and “soul.” Near the beginning of Schumann’s career, she often programmed showpieces deemed by contemporary critics (including her future husband, Robert Schumann) as transcending physical virtuosity. Chopin’s Variations on “La ci darem la mano” , based on a theme from Mozart’s Don Giovanni, was particularly significant in this respect and was a regular encore in Schumann’s recitals. Schumann’s own compositions from this era, including the 1833 Romance variée and 1835 Piano Concerto, adopt an approach to harmonic and formal intricacy similar to Chopin. Other repertoire selections, particularly Adolph Henselt’s opera variations and her own Pirate Variations, hew more closely to popular tastes and provide Schumann a vehicle to exhibit her mastery of texture, a facet of her pianism that garnered much critical acclaim. Schumann’s 1854 Variations on a Theme by Robert Schumann, Op. 20, reflects a shift in her career regarding her performance of virtuosic interiority. In this work, Schumann evokes a sense of interiority through memory, achieved in part with allusions to two Mendelssohn variation sets and a quotation of her earlier Romance variée. This reminiscence is not just a historicist gesture or a nod to the romance with her husband; it recalls a radically different time in her career as a young virtuoso.

Works: Chopin: Variations on “Là ci darem la mano” , Op. 2 (707-19); Adolph Henselt: Variations de concert sur le motif de “L’elisir d’amore” de Donizetti, Op. 1 (728-44); Clara Schumann: Variations de concert tur la cavatine du “Pirate” de Bellini, Op. 8 (744-52), Variations on a Theme by Robert Schumann, Op. 20 (752-61)

Sources: Mozart: Don Giovanni (710-19); Gaetano Donizetti: L’elisir d’amore (728-44); Vincenzo Bellini: Il pirata (744-52); Felix Mendelssohn: Variations in E-flat Major, Op. 82 (754-61), Variations in B-flat Major, Op. 83 (754-61); Clara Schumann: Romance variée (754-61)

Index Classifications: 1800s

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

In contrast with the anti-virtuoso stance scholars typically ascribe to him, Robert Schumann and several of his contemporaries used the rhetoric of the sublime to construct an aesthetic of transcendent virtuosity that embodies serious artistic values. Schumann’s concept of the musical sublime, developed in his 1841 review of Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony, emphasizes qualities of composition over those of performance and audience enjoyment. Schumann’s own compositions follow this same aesthetic of virtuosity and the sublime. Several of Schumann’s works allude to works by Beethoven. Schumann’s Toccata in C Major, Op. 7 in particular is modeled on the first movement of Beethoven’s Third Symphony and presents its virtuosic passages both as heroically difficult and as part of a Beethovenian thematic apotheosis. Schumann composed his Toccata during a time when he was trying to establish himself as a composer, not a performer, and the use of Beethoven as a model was a way to align his work with the Beethovenian sublime. Further associations with Beethoven appeared in reviews of Schumann’s Études symphoniques, comparing them to the finale of Eroica in motivation if not in any musical similarity. The combination of virtuosity and the sublime as understood in Beethoven’s music continued to be an important concept in music criticism through the end of the nineteenth century.

Works: Robert Schumann: Paganini Etude, Op. 10, No. 4 (467-68), Toccata in C Major, Op. 7 (466-77)

Sources: Beethoven: Symphony No. 3 in E-flat Major, Op. 55 (466-77)

Index Classifications: 1800s

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

South African kwaito group Boom Shaka’s 1998 version of the hymn Nkosi Sikelel’ iAfrika (Nkosi Sikelela from the album Words of Wisdom), despite being seen by many South Africans as disrespectful of the religiously and nationalistically loaded hymn, successfully re-imagined the future of South African youth culture in the post-apartheid era. Nkosi Sikelel’ iAfrika was composed in 1897 by Enoch Sontonga and became the anthem of the African National Congress in 1925. A multilingual version of the hymn incorporating the apartheid-era anthem Die Stem has been the national anthem of South Africa since 1997. Kwaito music, a South African variant of House music that is typically produced by slowing down House tracks and adding vocals and samples, became an important means of expression for black youths following the end of apartheid in 1994. Boom Shaka’s Nkosi Sikelela is built on a looped four-measure sequence with a different chord progression than the original hymn. The opening section includes a sample of a 1998 Nelson Mandela speech appealing to African allies of the liberated South Africa. The second section introduces Boom Shaka’s Lebo Mathosa singing the opening eight measures of Nkosi Sekelel’ iAfrika , slightly modified but in the original C Major, over the loop sequence in A Minor. The familiar tune is harmonically recontextualized, yielding dissonance where there was stability in the original. In the third section, Boom Shaka’s Thembe Seete sings the same eight measures of Nkosi Sekelel’ iAfrika modulated down a minor third to match the loop in A Minor. Although hermeneutical readings of Boom Shaka’s Nkosi Sikelela are fraught—especially surrounding assertions of a rejection of “Western” harmony—post-apartheid black empowerment is apparent in the re-composition of a culturally and politically significant hymn in the globally-mediated style of kwaito.

Works: Boom Shaka: Nkosi Sikelela (109-13)

Sources: Enoch Sontonga: Nkosi Sikelel’ iAfrika (109-13)

Index Classifications: 1900s, Popular

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

Histories of hip-hop typically link the vital practice of sampling with African American culture, but a parallel history of sampling by Jewish artists—in particular, Steinski (Steven Stein), the Beastie Boys, and Beck—reveals a practice driven by Jewish worldviews that exists outside of hip-hip. The concept of fragmentation is pervasive in both religious and secular Jewish culture, leading to a cultural affinity toward sampling. An early precursor to sampling by Jewish artists is Frank Silver and Irving Cohn’s 1922 song Yes! We Have No Bananas, the chorus of which is a patchwork of quotations from other songs. Bill Buchanan and Dickie Goodman’s 1956 novelty song The Flying Saucer, which samples eleven recent pop songs as “answers” to a reporter’s questions about an alien invasion, has a more direct link to later hip-hop sampling. Steinski himself recognizes The Flying Saucer as a precursor to his sampling technique. Double Dee (Doug DiFranco) and Steinski released The Payoff Mix in 1983, the first of their underground The Lesson series. The Payoff Mix is distinctive in both the extent of sampling and the function of sampling as the foundation of the track. Double Dee and Steinski’s synthesis of samples into a new, seamless whole mirrors the kabbalistic account of creation. In 1989, the Beastie Boys released their second album, Paul’s Boutique, which built on Steinski’s sampling aesthetic in its use of over a hundred samples throughout the album. The layered construction of sampling in Paul’s Boutique was also anticipated by The Lesson series. In his 1993 song Loser, alternative rock artist Beck uses samples as parody, recalling Jewish insider-outsider humor. The relationship between Jewish thought and sampling long preceded hip-hip and is similar to, but distinct from, African American sampling.

Works: Beastie Boys: Rhymin’ and Stealin’ (51-52), License to Ill (album) (64, 67), Paul’s Boutique (album) (67-68); Frank Silver and Irving Cohn: Yes! We Have No Bananas (60-61); Bill Buchanan and Dickie Goodman: The Flying Saucer (61-63); Double Dee (Doug DiFranco) and Steinski (Steven Stein): The Lesson: The Payoff Mix (62, 63-67); John Oswald: Dab (66); Beck: Loser (68-69)

Sources: Led Zeppelin: When The Levee Breaks (51-52); Black Sabbath: Sweet Leaf (51-52); The Clash: I Fought The Law (51-52); Handel: Messiah, HWV 56 (60); Traditional: My Bonnie Lies Over The Ocean (60), Seeing Nellie Home (60); Cole Porter: An Old-Fashioned Garden (60); Michael William Balfe: The Bohemian Girl (60); The Platters: The Great Pretender (61); Elvis Presley: Heartbreak Hotel (61); Smiley Lewis: I Hear You Knocking (61); Little Richard: Tutti Frutti (62); G.L.O.B.E. and Whiz Kid: Play That Beat Mr. DJ (63-65); Hamilton Bohannon: Take The Country To New York City (65); The Supremes: Stop! In The Name of Love (65); Indeed: Last Night A DJ Saved My Life (65); Culture Club: I’ll Tumble 4 Ya (65); Michael Jackson: Bad (66); Malcolm McLaren: Dude Rock (66); Dr. John Creaux (Mac Rebennack, songwriter), Johnny Jenkins (performer): Walk On Gilded Splinters (68)

Index Classifications: 1900s, Popular

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

New York jazz quartet Mostly Other People Do the Killing (MOPDtK)’s 2014 album Blue, a detailed, note-for-note recreation of Miles Davis’s 1959 album Kind of Blue, calls attention to the sonic materiality of music and encourages listeners to rethink what constitutes a musical work. Founded in 2003, MOPDtK has long taken a playful, irreverent approach to jazz history that exemplifies Fredric Jameson’s conception of postmodernism. In preparing to record Blue, the members of MOPDtK meticulously transcribed each instrumental part and rehearsing the nuances of each Kind of Blue performance to achieve maximum fidelity. The album’s liner notes are a reprint of Jorge Luis Borges’s short story “Pierre Menard, Author of the Quixote,” a 1939 spoof of literary criticism concerning a word-for-word recreation of Don Quixote, implying that Blue is a musical actualization of Borges’s premise. This connection supports the assessment that Blue is about the meaning of artistic works and authorship. However, this understanding does not account for the materiality of music specifically. Kind of Blue sounds the way it sounds because of the specific musicians, their specific bodies and experiences, the specific space it was recorded in, and the specific technologies used to record it, all of which contributed to the sonic vibrations that constitute Kind of Blue, and none of which Blue can recreate. From the perspective of musicking assemblages—that is, thinking of music as sonic energy circulating within material arrangements, not rarefied objects—asking if Blue sounds like Kind of Blue is irrelevant; there is no singular musical object “Kind of Blue” to compare to. While there are many possible interpretations of Blue, it can disrupt listening habits and encourage a kind of listening that goes beyond assessing static musical works.

Works: Mostly Other People Do the Killing: Blue (99-114).

Sources: Miles Davis: Kind of Blue (99-114).

Index Classifications: 2000s, Jazz

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

The music of White South African composer Kevin Volans provides a case study for the deconstruction of the Western separation of art and politics. The idea that music is only a formal object is rooted in high modernism, but cultural theory can provide ways to read politics in music. After studying composition in Germany, Volans became interested in integrating Black South African musics into his work, leading to a series of compositions he called “African Paraphrases.” In his 1987 string quartet Hunting: Gathering, Volans incorporates a Hamar song from Ethiopia, Aeke gadi (“song of the ancestors”). The song is transcribed (and slightly altered) from a 1974 recording and constitutes large sections of quartet. While his use of the song can be read as musical appropriation, Volans was sensitive to the political consequences of his music and sought to elevate the status of Black South African music through international recognition. However, the primacy of the composer in Western culture tends to override such cross-cultural aims. Volans eventually shifted his opinion on the political aspects of his compositions. While he was composer-in-residence at Princeton University in 1992, Volans emphasized the formal aspects of his music, disavowing the “African paraphrase” label in favor of a “universal” musical identity. Volans’s 1987 Movement for String Quartet, written shortly before Hunting: Gathering but published after, is an example of a piece without intended political meaning. The main motive is derived from his 1986 percussion solo She Who Sleeps with a Small Blanket and is similar in character to African melodies in Hunting: Gathering. Unlike in Hunting: Gathering, Volans transforms and manipulates the motive, effectively hiding its “African” character. Volans’s change in approach can be explained in part by the renewed attitude of depoliticization under Thatcherism. The changes in Volans’s approach to music demonstrate that music is not objective, and therefore more than just objective methodologies are needed to study music’s formal, political, and personal meaning.

Works: Kevin Volans: Hunting: Gathering (512-14), Movement for String Quartet (520-22).

Sources: Traditional: Aeke gadi (512-14); Kevin Volans: She Who Sleeps with a Small Blanket (520-22).

Index Classifications: 1900s

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

The idea of chivalry, constructed in a Wagnerian mold as self-denying idealism through which society can be regenerated, is central to Edward Elgar’s conception of English music. In his Symphony No. 1 in A-flat Major, Op. 55, and symphonic study Falstaff, Elgar engages with Wagnerian chivalry and reaffirms its idealism. The opening theme of Elgar’s First Symphony (marked nobilmente in the score) recalls the Prelude to Parsifal as well as the opening of Elgar’s oratorio The Apostles, which draws heavily on Parsifal. The third movement of Elgar’s symphony also strongly resembles Elgar’s The Dream of Gerontius, which in turn resembles the Good Friday music of Parsifal in melodic contour. The allusions to Parsifal in Elgar’s symphony represent an application of Parsifal’s transcendent idea. While English critics early on did not note the connection to Parsifal, they did understand Elgar’s symphony to be an optimistic and idealist work of English imperial nationalism, casting Elgar as a redeemer of English music. Elgar further reaffirms the ideals of chivalry in Falstaff, especially when compared to Richard Strauss’s Don Quixote. Strauss effectively undermines the chivalric ideal in Don Quixote and presents the idea of Wagnerian nobility to be anachronistic in modern Germany. Despite this shift in the German reception of Wagner’s ideas, Elgar still modeled his chivalrous works on Wagner and championed a noble English music ideal.

Works: Edward Elgar: Symphony No. 1 in A-flat Major, Op. 55 (261-67), The Apostles (261-62), The Dream of Gerontius (261-62)

Sources: Wagner: Parsifal (261-67); Edward Elgar: The Apostles (261-62), The Dream of Gerontius (261-62)

Index Classifications: 1900s

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

Arrangements of large-scale vocal works for instrumental chamber ensembles in early nineteenth-century Vienna inspired their performers’ inner senses through physical engagement with a piece of music, superseding the moral meaning of the text. The many versions of Haydn’s The Creation, including several variations linked to Haydn himself, demonstrate the fluidity of the oratorio. Anton Wranitzky’s arrangement for string quintet (published in 1800) sets The Creation in its entirety, including recitatives. Each performer “recites” the text of the oratorio instrumentally; the recitative text is printed in the parts to assist in phrasing and tone (the arias are printed without text). The quintet arrangement also foregrounds the engagement of mind and body in realizing the intricacies of chamber performance. This understanding of the function of musical arrangements is contextualized by the philosophy of Gottfried van Swieten, librettist for The Creation and President of the Court Commission on Education. Van Swieten advocated for a system of empirical learning with important texts (music included) taught partly via “pleasurable repetition.” To this end, the adaptability of art was essential, and van Swieten regularly held salons that included Bach arrangements, theater pantomime games, and tableaux vivants. Considered in this context, chamber arrangements of large-scale musical works become an essential tool in the establishment of an enlightened society.

Works: Anton Wranitzky: Die Schöpfung: Ein musikalisches Oratorium von Herrn Joseph Haydn übersetzt in Quintetten (350-60)

Sources: Joseph Haydn: The Creation (350-60)

Index Classifications: 1700s, 1800s

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

Despite the complex personal and professional relationship between Elliott Carter and Charles Ives—especially Carter’s frequent disparaging of his mentor’s use of musical borrowing—Carter borrows from Ives’s music on several occasions. Carter stylistically borrows from Ives in works such as the song View of the Capitol from the Library of Congress, which shares textural and programmatic similarities with Ives’s Putnam’s Camp, Redding, Connecticut. In other pieces (including his First String Quartet), Carter borrows motivic material from Ives’s music. When discussing this borrowing, Carter distances himself from Ives in describing the purpose of the borrowing as “homage,” distinct from the conspicuous borrowing of Ives. Upon analysis, however, Carter’s borrowing technique in the quartet is far more structural and sophisticated than he admits. In Figment No. 2, which is dedicated to Ives, Carter pays tribute to the life and music of Ives through both stylistic and motivic borrowing of Ives’s Concord Sonata and Hallowe’en. Figment contains many Ivesian stylistic elements, including a hymn section and general humorous tone. A more direct reference to Ives comes in the final section of Figment, where Carter quotes what he calls the “walking theme” ostinato from the Thoreau movement of the Concord Sonata. Although Carter asserts a preference for originality in his writings, his use of borrowing reveals a deep familiarity with Ives’s compositional technique and an indebtedness to the music of the past that complicates his musical aesthetic.

Works: Elliott Carter: View of the Capitol from the Library of Congress from A Mirror on Which to Dwell (103-5), String Quartet No. 1 (105-10), Statement—Remembering Aaron (111), Figment No. 2 (111-20)

Sources: Charles Ives: Putnam’s Camp, Redding, Connecticut from Three Places in New England (103-5), Violin Sonata No. 1 (105-10), Piano Sonata No. 2: Concord Mass., 1840-1860 (111-14, 117-20), Hallowe’en (111-17); Conlon Nancarrow: Rhythm Study No. 1 (105); Aaron Copland: Ukulele Serenade (111), Statement (111)

Index Classifications: 1900s

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

A distinct patriotic style of musical borrowing should be included in discussions of Charles Ives’s stylistic heterogeneity, and the extramusical meanings behind borrowings of Columbia, the Gem of the Ocean help reveal Ives’s patriotic beliefs. Columbia, written in 1843, is one of the tunes most frequently borrowed in Ives’s work and, significantly, Ives uses only the verse, not the chorus. Uses of Columbia can be broadly characterized in three ways: understated, developing, or climactic. An example of understated borrowing, in which Columbia appears in short snippets with several other patriotic quotations, is found in Ives’s song Lincoln, the Great Commoner. The textual meaning of Columbia underscores the textual meaning of the Edwin Markham poem Lincoln that Ives sets, reverently evoking Abraham Lincoln and the American ideals he represents. An example of developing borrowing comes from Ives’s String Quartet No. 2. While the quartet is not overtly patriotic, it does include quotations of Columbia and other patriotic tunes that are developed in a kind of “learned” style. Columbia is used first to parody a heated political discussion, then it appears as a melodic basis for contrapuntal development. Climactic Columbia borrowings place the quotation after a large build-up and in a celebratory manner. Ives also uses climactic borrowing of Columbia in Waltz-Rondo, a piece with no explicit nationalist references. This example demonstrates that patriotic style is a distinct style among the romantic piano, ragtime, modernist, and waltz styles present in the piece. The Fourth of July exhibits a fusion of the above categories of borrowing with regard to Columbia. In developing a theory for the patriotic topic, extramusical association should be considered as a criterion for identification.

Works: Charles Ives: They Are There (46-47), Lincoln, the Great Commoner (53-58), String Quartet No. 2 (58-66), The Fourth of July (67-69, 73-75), Waltz-Rondo (69-73)

Sources: David T. Shaw (or Thomas A’Becket): Columbia, the Gem of the Ocean (47-75)

Index Classifications: 1900s

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

Samples of Nina Simone in hip-hop in the 2000s and 2010s enable artists to access her sonic black radicalism, revealing the possibilities and limits of Simone’s contemporary resurgence as a civil rights icon and complicating debates about black women’s role in hip-hop. In 2007, producer Devon “Devo Springsteen” Harris created an instrumental track that sampled Simone’s 1965 recording of Strange Fruit, written by Abel Meeropol in 1936 and made famous by Billy Holiday, that was used in both an unreleased track by Common and in Celebrate by Cassidy. Harris selected Simone’s recording over Holiday’s for the “rawness” of her voice, emphasized by her sparse arrangement revising Franz Schubert’s Der Doppelgänger. Common pairs the Strange Fruit sample with politically engaged lyrics about global black suffering, aligning with Simone’s political black radicalism. Cassidy pairs Simone’s Strange Fruit with a personal narrative of self-reflection and redemption, emphasizing the paradoxical desperation and celebration at the heart of hip-hop. Celebrate was inspired by Get By, a 2002 track by Talib Kweli produced by Kayne West that samples Simone’s 1965 recording of Sinnerman. West extracts three sections from Sinnerman: Simone’s lyrical shout, unmeasured vocalizing, and a portion of her piano solo. These relatively obscure extracts highlight the sound of Simone’s voice and pianism over her lyrical interpretation, drawing on the musical experimentation of Simone’s sonic black radicalism. West also samples Simone in several of his own tracks, which leads to tension between Simone’s political legacy and West’s often sexist lyrics. In Blood on the Leaves, West pairs a pitch-shifted sample of Strange Fruit with deep ambivalence toward women’s sexuality and motherhood. In effect, West uses Strange Fruit to decry his exploitation at the hands of women he hooks up with, not his exploitation by racist institutions. Simone’s musical legacy of radical genre mixing is more relevant to West’s project than her politics. While the practice of sampling Nina Simone by male hip-hop artists risks being read as appropriative, it can also introduce Simone’s radical politics to a new generation of listeners and place her voice at the center of the ongoing struggle for black freedom.

Works: Cassidy, Devon Harris (producer): Celebrate (122, 124-27); Common, Devon Harris (producer): [untitled, unreleased track] (122, 124-26); Abel Meerepol (as Lewis Allen, songwriter), Nina Simone (performer): Strange Fruit (123); Talib Kweli, Kanye West (producer): Get By (128-30); Kanye West: Bad News (129), Blood on the Leaves (129-32); Kayne West and Jaz-Z: New Day (129); Busta Rhymes, Jay-Z, Kweli, Mos Def, Kanye West (producer): Get By (remix) (132-33); Lauryn Hill: Black Rage (133-34)

Sources: Abel Meerepol (as Lewis Allen, songwriter), Nina Simone (performer): Strange Fruit (122-27, 130-32); Franz Schubert: Der Doppelgänger (123); Traditional, Nina Simone (arranger, performer): Sinnerman (128-30, 132-33), See-Line Woman (129); Love: Doggone (128); Richard Rogers and Oscar Hammerstein: My Favorite Things (133-34)

Index Classifications: 2000s, Popular

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

In his score for The Lion King (1994), Hans Zimmer fully integrates the Dies irae melody, giving it structural importance to the film’s narrative and circle-of-life theme. By doing so, Zimmer reclaims some of the spiritual cachet of the melody against simplistic uses of the melody in other film scores. As quotations of Dies irae became popular in nineteenth- and twentieth-century concert music, the chant began to lose its sacred and medieval associations in favor of secular connotations of death. This trend continued as film composers, including Hans Zimmer, used the Dies irae motif in a similar manner, leading to a simplistic association between the motif and death, menace, or creepiness. Zimmer’s use of Dies irae in The Lion King is distinctive in its pervasive and varied use throughout the score as well as its impact on the film’s spiritual symbolism. There are two scenes in which the obvious Dies irae death motif is evoked: first when Scar orders the hyenas to kill young Simba after the stampede, and second during the climax when adult Simba fights Scar to reclaim the throne. Of greater importance however are the approximately forty separate occurrences of the exact or modified chant melody that occur throughout the score. Of the seven principal themes, three contain the Dies irae motif in some form. These three themes are related to Mufasa, his spiritual presence after his death, and his seat of power at Pride Rock. Significantly, the Dies irae motif in these themes is heard well before Mufasa’s death in scenes setting up Simba’s relationship with his father and the burden of power. Zimmer also borrows Mozart’s Eucharistic hymn Ave verum corpus, K. 618, in three pivotal scenes related to Mufasa’s death and Simba’s painful memory of it, further supporting the religiosity of the film’s themes and imagery. Thus, Zimmer’s use of Dies irae in The Lion King functions as part of the spiritual aspects of the film, transcending the chant’s common secular associations.

Works: Hans Zimmer: score to The Lion King (38, 46-56), score to Crimson Tide (45), score to The Rock (45-46), score to The Road to El Dorado (45), score to The Ring (46), score to The Da Vinci Code (46); Berlioz: Symphonie fantastique (40); Liszt: Totentanz (40); Rachmaninoff: Isle of the Dead (40-41); Wendy Carlos and Rachel Elkind: score to The Shining (42); Danny Elfman: score to The Nightmare Before Christmas (42); Bernard Herrmann: score to Citizen Kane (42); Dimitri Tiomkin: score to It’s A Wonderful Life (42); John Williams: score to Star Wars (42)

Sources: attributed to Thomas of Celano: Dies irae (38-55); Mozart: Ave verum corpus, K. 618 (54-56)

Index Classifications: 1800s, 1900s, Film

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

In his First Serenade, Brahms artfully uses genre as a rhetorical technique, blending conventions of the serenade and symphony to craft his image as a progressive and historicist composer. Brahms’s rehabilitation of the late-eighteenth century serenade serves as a challenge to the radical modernism of the New German School. Throughout the composition process, Brahms was concerned with the implications of the work’s genre and considered reworking the serenade into a symphony, but ultimately declined to do so. The retrospective gesture of composing in the serenade genre was a significant aspect of the work’s reception, as was Brahms’s hybrid approach to the genre. The pastoral topics and conventions traditional to the serenade genre are present in each of the six movements and contribute to the work’s critical reception as a tonic for Liszt’s and Wagner’s excesses. Brahms also employs frequent melodic allusions to works by Beethoven, Haydn, Schubert, and others. These allusions are often located at structurally relevant points, preserving the function of the earlier material. Brahms frequently combines references; the fifth movement of the serenade famously combines tunes from Beethoven’s Septet, “Spring” Sonata, and Symphony No. 2 with the finale of Haydn’s Symphony No. 104. By composing in a historical genre and alluding to several classical composers, Brahms musically articulates his return to composing and his new stylistic direction within the tradition of Viennese Classicism.

Works: Brahms: Serenade No. 1 in D Major, Op. 11 (397-403)

Sources: Beethoven: Symphony No. 2 in D Major, Op. 36 (397, 399-400), Septet in E-flat Major, Op. 20 (399), Violin Sonata No. 5 in F Major, Op. 24 (399-400), Haydn: Symphony No. 104 in D Major (398-99); Robert Schumann: Symphony No. 2 in C Major, Op. 61 (398-99), Carnaval, Op. 9 (400-401)

Index Classifications: 1800s

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

Aaron Copland and Martha Graham’s Appalachian Spring is noteworthy for popularizing the Shaker hymn Simple Gifts, but the ballet’s appropriation of the religious sect and its history in American folk discourse is more complex than initial assessments of the piece let on. The Shakers’ cultural identity through American history is closely tied to the needs of the present discourse. In the early twentieth century, Van Wyck Brooks called for the creation of a “usable past” in American arts. The Shakers became an important source of a usable past, especially for the visual arts. Exhibits of Shaker decorative arts and “Shaker rooms” became popular museum fixtures. In assessing American art and design culture in the 1930s, scholars such as Constance Rourke deemed the Shakers an American folk culture, unattached to the vestiges of European culture. Starting in the late 1920s, Edward Deming Andrews and Faith Andrews promoted Shaker culture and commodified their perceived authenticity by selling Shaker furniture. Per the Andrews’ marketing, by purchasing Shaker furniture (or a songbook), one could come in contact with its aura of authenticity. Appalachian Spring premiered in the middle of this Shaker craze. Copland even took Simple Gifts from a 1940 Andrews publication on Shaker music. The song’s position in Appalachian Spring heightens its reaffirmation of American values as represented by the simple, primitive—but white and Christian—popular image of Shaker culture. Copland’s appropriation of Shaker music relied on an existing culture that positioned Shakers as primitive outsiders, using them to create an idealized American past. The issues of appropriation and commodification are still difficult questions facing us today, and Appalachian Spring should serve as a reminder of this tendency in American culture.

Works: Aaron Copland: Appalachian Spring (518-21)

Sources: Elder Joseph Brackett: Simple Gifts (518-21)

Index Classifications: 1900s

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

Swiss-born American composer Ernest Bloch and performers of his 1923 work Baal Shem—violinist Yehudi Menuhin in particular—collaborated in constructing Bloch’s reputation as a Jewish composer through the evocation of Hasidic song. Each of the three movements of Baal Shem: Three Pictures of Chassidic Life for violin and piano is titled after a Hasidic ritual and the work as a whole draws from the Hasidic song tradition of nigun and its embodiment of religious expression. In the second movement, titled “Nigun,” Bloch evokes the structure of nigun and employs the shteyger (modal scale) Ahavah rabbah, which is associated with Ashkenazi synagogue music and later Yiddish popular song. Bloch also borrows existing melodies in the movement, loosely adapting a preexisting freylekhs tune (a Hasidic dance genre) as well as the concluding notes to a “Sabbath introit,” Shoken Ad. The Jewish musical identity of Baal Shem and the “Nigun” movement in particular is further complicated by Jewish violinists interpreting the work through their own identities, histories, and styles, enacting the concept of the personal spiritual “voice” inherent to the nigun genre. For example, Menuhin’s interpretation incorporates violin techniques of the Jewish and Romany Diasporas, articulating a Jewish identity distinct from Bloch’s. This interplay between composers, performers, and listeners demonstrates the complex ways that Jewish identity is expressed in Western art music.

Works: Ernest Bloch: Baal Shem: Three Pictures of Chassidic Life (799-805)

Sources: Moshe Beregovsky (editor): Freylekhs (799-800, 804); Mark Warshawski: Di Mezinke Oysgegeben (800); Francis L. Cohen (editor): Introit (Sabbath) (802-5)

Index Classifications: 1900s

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

Parodies of the satiric vagabond song The Dying Hobo have appeared in the United States Air Force during World War I, World War II, and the Korean War with lyric changes reflecting current aircraft nomenclature while maintaining the basic theme of the original. Beside a Belgian ’Staminet and A Poor Aviator Lay Dying are two versions dating from World War I but collected decades later. Beneath a Bridge in Sicily is a version dating from World War II with updated references to the current war. Stand to Your Glasses is a version collected during the Korean “police action” and includes several barely modified verses from A Poor Aviator Lay Dying. Another Korean War version, Busom Buddies, updates all of the references to airplane parts to refer to the new jet-powered aircraft. Under a Korean Sun is an unusual variant taken from a version in Afrikaans, apparently “composed” by a South African who had heard the American version sung in South Korea. Beside a Korean Waterfall is a variant of Beside a Belgian ’Staminet that includes a final verse delivered in mock-histrionic chanting. The variety of The Dying Hobo parodies is infinite, and the song will likely be part of Air Force culture as long as there are manned crews.

Works: Anonymous: Beside a Belgian ’Staminet (236-37), A Poor Aviator Lay Dying (237-38), Beneath a Bridge in Sicily (238-40), Stand to Your Glasses (240-41), Busom Buddies (241-42), Under a Korean Sun (242-43), Beside a Korean Waterfall (243-44).

Sources: Anonymous: The Dying Hobo (236-44), A Poor Aviator Lay Dying (240-41), Beside a Belgian ’Staminet (242-43).

Index Classifications: 1900s, Popular

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

Sid Vicious’s cover of Frank Sinatra’s My Way from the film The Great Rock’n’Roll Swindle (Julien Temple, 1980) is a hyper-aggressive take on the original that reveals gaps in how cover songs are categorized and understood. Vicious’s cover makes changes to Sinatra’s original in several domains. The lyrics are changed to be about acts of violence and disparaging references to homosexuality, subverting the triumphalism of the original. Vicious’s performance is split into two sections, a “crooner” section in which Vicious mocks the physical and vocal mannerisms of Sinatra and a “punk” section in which Vicious adopts his usual persona. Instead of Sinatra’s musical climax, Vicious enacts a performative climax, gradually adopting a more extreme vocal style until he screams the last chorus, draws a gun, and fires into the crowd. The extent to which Vicious aggressively contradicts Sinatra’s songs is best understood as a process of cannibalizing rather than parody. The transgression and otherness associated with cannibalization captures the way Vicious “eats up” Sinatra’s song and transforms it into an act of violence.

Works: Sid Vicious: My Way (4-16).

Sources: Frank Sinatra: My Way (4-16).

Index Classifications: 1900s, Popular

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

Hugo Riesenfeld’s compiled score for The Covered Wagon (directed by James Cruze, 1923) influenced the music design of silent and sound era westerns to come, drawing inspiration from the vast landscapes and historic context of the frontier. The Covered Wagon was instrumental in shifting the focus of westerns from individual characters to epic tales of American progress and Manifest Destiny. Riesenfeld’s score adds to the grandeur of the film, particularly in how it presents the landscape. To underscore the film’s representation of Native Americans as a constant threat to the settlers, Riesenfeld uses several stereotypical music cues. He does not distinguish between hostile and friendly Native Americans and uses the same cues in both circumstances, a practice upheld by subsequent silent westerns. To represent the settlers, Riesenfeld uses Stephen Foster’s Oh! Susanna, a song historically linked with westward expansion. In an early example of direct cueing, the settlers themselves frequently sing and play Oh! Susanna on screen. To accompany the film’s love narrative, Riesenfeld adapts another popular song from the frontier era: George Linley’s I’ve Left the Snow-Clad Hills. In selecting classical and classical-sounding cues for other scenes, Riesenfeld’s approach was to help advance the plot and interpret character motivations while not overpowering the visuals with the music. For a shorter cut of The Covered Wagon, James C. Bradford produced a cue sheet based on Riesenfeld’s compiled score but comparatively less nuanced in setting the love narrative. The lasting impact of The Covered Wagon on the prestige western genre is due in part to Riesenfeld’s compiled score, which complements the epic presentation of the film with an important step toward modern thematically integrated soundtracks.

Works: Hugo Riesenfeld: score to The Covered Wagon (78-90); James C. Bradford: cue sheet for The Covered Wagon (90-98)

Sources: Erno Rapée and William Axt: Indian Orgy (78-79), Misterioso (87-88); Charles Sanford Skilton: War Dance (79); Charles K. Herbert: Indian War Dance (79-80), Indian Lament (79-80); Francis Smith (lyrics): America (My Country ’Tis of Thee) (80); Traditional: The Girl I Left Behind Me (80); Stephen Foster: Oh! Susanna (80-81); George Linley: I’ve Left the Snow-Clad Hills (82-86); Sergei Rachmaninoff: Prelude in G Minor, Op. 23, No. 5 (87)

Index Classifications: 1900s, Film

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

Despite many claims in the literature that George Gershwin’s Second Rhapsody (premiered 1932) is an expansion of material composed for the 1931 film Delicious, the reverse is in fact true. The orchestral music in Delicious is a truncated version of the existing Second Rhapsody most probably made by studio employee Hugo Friedhofer. This misconception began with early newspaper reviews of the Rhapsody and with early Gershwin biographer Isaac Goldberg, whose chronological error was repeated and warped by later scholars. Given evidence from Gershwin’s sketches and production papers from Delicious, it is apparent that Gershwin’s Second Rhapsody was essentially complete before the Delicious shooting script called for the “Manhattan Rhapsody” sequence, later changed to the “New York Rhapsody” sequence, that featured it. In the film, the main Rhapsody themes are presented diegetically before the nondiegetic orchestral score begins. Additionally, the “New York Rhapsody” sequence imposes a narrative program on the Second Rhapsody in which each theme is tied to an aspect of the film’s story. The main cuts to the Rhapsody involve what Gershwin called the “Brahms theme” and transition material, reducing the approximately fifteen-minute concert piece to six minutes and fifty-six seconds of screen time. Despite being comparable to his famous Rhapsody in Blue and An American in Paris, Gershwin’s Second Rhapsody faced a less-sympathetic reception, in part due to the false notion that it was recycled from a Hollywood film score.

Works: George Gershwin (composer), Hugo Friedhofer (arranger): score to Delicious (155-73)

Sources: George Gershwin: Second Rhapsody (155-73)

Index Classifications: 1900s, Film

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

Sloanism, the commercial philosophy of producing and selling an “updated” consumer good before the end of the original product’s life cycle, can be applied to certain practices in the popular music industry whereby existing songs are consciously updated with a new production, new artist, or new genre. Sloanism is named after Alfred P. Sloan, president of General Motors from 1923 to 1956, who pioneered annual models, trade-ins, and planned obsolescence in the automotive industry to drive production and consumption. In the music industry, Sloanism is particularly evident in the 1980s and 1990s due to a confluence between new technologies, genres, and copyright-based commercial strategies. The mid-1980s production team of Mike Stock, Matt Aitken, and Pate Waterman (SAW), whose many hits collectively sold over 40 million records, exemplify musical Sloanism in their repurposing of existing songs. For example, Kylie Minogue’s The Locomotion (1988), produced by SAW, is a Eurobeat cover of Little Eva’s The Loco-Motion (1962). While not strictly a cover song, Janet Jackson’s Rhythm Nation (1989), produced by Jimmy Jam and Terry Lewis, is structurally based on Sly and the Family Stone’s Thank You (Falettinme Be Mice Elf Agin) (1969). Jam and Lewis similarly update Sly’s funk sound into their synth-heavy style of “new jack swing.” In the 1990s, examples of Sloanism can be found in the trend of “rap cover versions” of older pop songs, wherein the original hook is retained in the chorus, but the verses are replaced with rap vocals. Will Smith is the rapper most strongly associated with this practice; most of his late-1990s hits, including the film tie-ins Men in Black and Wild Wild West, are Sloanist updates. Sloanism as an intertextual category overlaps with—but still crucially differs from—retroism as described by Simon Reynolds. Both deal with cultural fixation on material from the past, but retroism does not differentiate between recreating musical styles and repackaging “upgraded” musical products. While a Sloanist theory of music production only accounts for a specific kind of musical reworking, it demonstrates the relationship between musical material and modes of production.

Sources: Mariah Carey and Walter Afanasieff (songwriters), Mariah Carey (performer): All I Want For Christmas Is You (320-21, 327); Michael McDonald, Ed Sanford, Jerry Leiber, and Mike Stoller (songwriters), Michael McDonald (performer): I Keep Forgettin (328-29); Hank Ballard (songwriter), Chubby Checker (performer): The Twist (330); Gerry Goffin and Carole King (songwriters), Little Eva (performer): The Loco-Motion (331-32); Sly and the Family Stone: Thank You (Falettinme Be Mice Elf Agin) (332-34); James Mtune: Juicy Fruit (335); Sting (songwriter), The Police: Every Breath You Take (335); Led Zeppelin: Kashmir (335-36); Patrice Rushen, Freddie Washington, and Terri McFaddin (songwriters), Patrice Rushen (performer): Forget Me Nots (336); Stevie Wonder: I Wish (336); Leon Sylvers, Stephen Shockley, William Skelby (songwriters), The Whispers (performers): And the Beat Goes On (336); Bernard Edwards, Nile Rodgers (songwriters), Sister Sledge (performer): He's the Greatest Dancer (336); Bill Withers and Grover Washington Jr.: Just the Two of Us (336); Charles Fox, Norman Gimbel (songwriters), Roberta Flack (performer): Killing Me Softly with His Song (337).

Index Classifications: 1900s, 2000s, Popular

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

The Hamilton Mixtape and its central track, “Immigrants (We Get the Job Done),” engages with issues of “offstage politics” by operating as a space to perform diversity, navigate politics of marginality, and critique immigration policy. The mixtape relies on sampling as a signifier of hip hop authenticity to achieve this aim. In hip hop culture, the idea of a mixtape (an independently released album drawing on a tradition of bootleg tapes) and sonic signifiers of underground hip hop such as record scratching and overt sampling are used to mark authenticity. In Hamilton: An American Musical, Lin-Manuel Miranda uses hip hop’s status as the voice of the marginalized to make a statement about American history. The Hamilton Mixtape extends this project by featuring covers, remixes, and demos of numbers from the musical. The deliberately rough sound of the mixtape connects to the sound of underground hip hop more so than the polished, orchestrated musical. “Immigrants (We Get the Job Done)” is the central track of the mixtape and is titled after a line from “The Battle of Yorktown.” The line, spoken by Hamilton and Lafayette, became a fan-favorite moment in the show amid the immigration discourse sparked by Trump’s 2016 presidential campaign. The chorus of “Immigrants” samples this line and others from “Yorktown” in an intentionally choppy style to evoke the ethos of underground hip hop. The verses, supplied by rappers K’naan, Show Tha Product, Riz MC, and Residente, deal with issues of immigrant labor and the continuing impact of colonialism. While both The Hamilton Mixtape and Hamilton: An American Musical express critiques of immigration discourse, particularly issues of immigrant labor, the mixtape taps into the sound and voice of the global hip hop movement, moving beyond the American setting of the musical it samples.

Works: Lin-Manuel Miranda, Keinan Warsame (K’naan), Claudia Feliciano (Snow Tha Product), Rizwan Ahmed (Riz MC), René Pérez Joglar (Residente), and Trooko: Immigrants (We Get the Job Done) from The Hamilton Mixtape (493-500)

Sources: Lin-Manuel Miranda: Hamilton: An American Musical (493-500)

Index Classifications: 2000s, Popular

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

Within hip-hop music and culture, there are many approaches to intertextuality and musical borrowing beyond digital sampling, the analysis of which can better situate hip-hop recordings in wider cultural contexts. Hip-hip music has openly used pre-existing material since its origins, and this practice has been linked to Henry Louis Gates Jr.’s literary concept of Signifyin(g). Intertextuality in hip-hop is generally unconcealed and is often, but not always, textually signaled, or highlighted by an element of the whole recorded text (the instrumental “beat” as well as the lyrical “flow”). One example of textual signaling is the vinyl pops and hiss audible in The Pharcyde’s Passin Me By), which show that the samples composing the beat come from older analog sources. Xzibit’s Symphony in X Major (2002), produced by Rick Rock, provides an illustrative case study of sampling from the classical music canon: Wendy Carlos’s version of Bach’s Brandenburg Concerto No. 3 from Switched on Bach (1968). The two samples used in Symphony in X Major are both autosonic (from an existing recording) and textually signaled with audible artifacts of sampling. One sample is used in the chorus, the other in the verses. The meaning of these samples depends on how specifically a listener identifies the source: classical music, J. S. Bach, the Brandenburg Concerto, or Carlos’s synthesizer recording. Carlos’s recording, more so than Bach’s composition, aligns with the popularity of synth-heavy beats in early 2000s hip-hop and the general practice of re-appropriation. Still, genre or stylistic topic might be more important than the specific source for interpreting a sample. Signifying “classical music” and its cultural status better fits Xzibit’s boastful lyrics. Understanding the meaning of such samples is aided by conceptualizing an imagined community of hip-hop, a particular interpretive community with generic expectations, assumptions, and historical knowledge of hip-hop.

Works: The Pharcyde: Passin Me By (193-95); Dr Dre (producer) and Snoop Doggy Dogg: Who Am I (What’s My Name?) (193-95); Rick Rock (producer) and Xzibit: Symphony in X Major (196-201).

Sources: The Jimi Hendrix Experience: Are You Experienced? (194); Weather Report: 125th Street Congress (194); Skull Snaps: It’s a New Day (194); Quincy Jones: Summer in the City (194); Eddie Russ: Hill Where the Lord Hides (194); Tom Browne: Funkin’ for Jamaica (195); George Clinton: Atomic Dog (195); Parliament: Tear the Roof off the Sucker (Give up the Funk) (195); Wendy Carlos (arranger), J. S. Bach (composer): Brandenburg Concerto No. 3 in G Major BWV 1048 (196-201).

Index Classifications: 1900s, 2000s, Popular

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

Jeremy O. Harris’s Slave Play, an exploration of the inherited trauma from slavery in contemporary America, uses popular music to communicate nonverbally its characters’ psychological perspective on their temporal experience. The choice of borrowed pop songs, their use within the play’s narrative, and characters’ intersectional black and queer identities all contribute to the play’s queer temporality, disrupting linear time and dramatizing the lingering trauma of history. The play, drawn in part from Harris’s experience as a black queer man, is about three interracial couples engaging in “Antebellum Sexual Performance Therapy,” an experimental treatment for the three black characters’ obsessive-compulsive disorder. The OCD patients all share the symptom of musical hallucinations, which are heard as metadiegetic music shared between certain (but not all) characters and the audience. For example, Kaneisha’s auditory hallucination is Rihanna’s Work, which first appears with Kaneisha singing and dancing along to it in an antebellum home and costume. In addition to this juxtaposition of time and place, Work reveals other dramatic themes: it lyrically presents the theme of labor, it endears Kaneisha to the audience, it creates a counterpoint to the play’s action, and it foregrounds the experience of being trapped in an unending cycle. Gary’s hallucination is Multi-Love by Unknown Mortal Orchestra, which is featured prominently in a dream ballet where he works through his sexual hang-ups with his husband. Both musical hallucinations deal with issues of queer temporality, disrupting the linear, objective time of the play and emphasizing the characters’ interconnected lived times. The musical hallucinations are deeply embedded in the characters’ internal lives as well as in the audience’s impression of the play as a way to connect with and remember their traumas.

Works: Jeremy O. Harris: Slave Play (9-24)

Sources: Jahron Brathwaite, Matthew Samuels, Allen Ritter, Rubert Thomas Jr., Aubrey Graham, Robyn Fenty, and Monte Moir (songwriters), Rihanna (performer): Work (9-21); Roban Nielson and Kody Nielson (songwriters), Unknown Mortal Orchestra (performer): Multi-Love (21-24)

Index Classifications: 2000s, Popular

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

Country musician Jimmie Rodgers’s use of hillbilly yodeling—including his style, choice of melodic material, and lyrical themes—set the paradigm for many popular and country music vocal practices. Throughout his extensive recording catalogue, Rodgers uses three species of yodel: wordless yodel (first species), texted yodel (second species), and yodeled grace notes (third species). Each of these species can be used within three functional categories: structural types, melodic archetypes, and word decoration. One of the central yodel tropes in Rodgers’s songs is the home trope, typically associated with nostalgic songs. An important home yodel is melodically derived from the yodel in John Handley’s Sleep, Baby, Sleep (published in 1885, first recorded by Rodgers in 1927). A cheerful yodel trope is taken from Rodgers’s Away Out on the Mountain, possibly derived from J. K. Emmet’s Cuckoo Song. Less well defined but still widely used are the blue-yodel turnarounds, which exist in two primary forms incorporating swung blues-scale patterns. A later blues yodel pattern is derived from W. C. Handy’s Memphis Blues. The stylistic sources for Rodgers’s yodeling practice are extremely varied, ranging from nineteenth-century yodel melodies to contemporary ragtime and blues practices. As a carrier and aggregator of multiple traditions, Rodgers proved to be foundational in the construction of rural singing style and a major contributor to American music.

Works: Jimmie Rodgers: Mother, the Queen of My Heart (18), I’ve Only Loved Three Women (18), Dream with Tears in My Eyes (18-19), Yodeling My Way Back Home (19), Lullaby Yodel (19), Treasures Untold (19), The Land of My Boyhood Dreams (19), The Cowboy’s Last Ride (19), Whisper Your Mother’s Name (21), A Drunkard’s Child (21), The Yodeling Cowboy (21), The Mystery of Number Five (21), The Brakeman’s Blues (22), Everybody Does It in Hawaii (22), Tuck Away My Lonesome Blues (22), Jimmie’s Mean Mama Blues (22, 26), Mississippi Delta Blues (26), Those Gambler’s Blues (31); Texas Drifter (Goebel Reeves): The Tramp’s Mother (19), Hobo’s Lullaby (19), The Wayward Son (19); Cliff Carlisle: Nevada Johnny (19); Ward Barton: Rock-a-bye Baby (20); Rex Griffin: You Gotta Go to Work (21), My Hillbilly Baby (26), Everybody’s Trying to Be My Baby (27)

Sources: John Handley: Sleep, Baby, Sleep (16-20, 21); Traditional: 5-6-5-3-1-5 Yodel Trope (20-21), St. James Infirmary Blues (31); Jimmie Rodgers: Away Out on the Mountain (21-23); J. K. Emmet: Cuckoo Song (22-23); W. C. Handy: Memphis Blues (26-27)

Index Classifications: 1900s, Popular

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

Bernard Hermann’s score to the 1944 CBS radio broadcast Moat Farm Murder was later reused in eleven episodes of The Twilight Zone. This appropriation of a radio score for a new television soundtrack is a case study in how music editors and supervisors created new layers of meaning with network cue libraries in the 1960s. CBS established its Stock Music Library in 1956, allowing its back catalogue of radio and television scores to be reused in future productions. Newly composed scores were also mandated by the CBS musicians’ union, leading to a mix of episodes containing wholly new music, partially new and partially stock, and wholly stock music. Hermann’s score to the Moat Farm Murder radio broadcast is broken into fourteen distinct cues. Each cue was used in at least one episode of The Twilight Zone and several cues are used in multiple episodes. Cue 5, which uses descending chromatic lines to signify danger, appears in seven different episodes of The Twilight Zone in a large section or reduced to a short stinger to punctuate a shocking moment on screen. Cue 9, which features descending chromatic lines with a distinctive nasal timbre, is used in four episodes of The Twilight Zone, often during flashback scenes. In their use of music libraries to create television soundtracks, music directors and editors across different programs and studios acted as hidden authors, shaping the emotion of programs in ways the drama by itself could not.

Works: Robert Drasnin (music editor): soundtrack to The Twilight Zone (164-67, 172-182).

Sources: Bernard Hermann: score to Moat Farm Murder (164-67, 172-182).

Index Classifications: 1900s, Film

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

From 1900 through 1950, Ecuadorian composers Pablo Traversari, Sixto María Durán, and Segundo Luis Moreno articulated theories of nationalist art music and debated over the inclusion of Incan music in the construction of Ecuador’s music history. Ecuador’s historical past and national identity was split between the Incas (who are strongly tied to rival Peru) and the Kingdom of Quito. Traversari’s goal in developing Ecuadorian art music was to connect it to a continental Americanist style, drawing on what he viewed as authentic Incan music over “indigenous music, improperly called Incan.” Although his historical writings are dubious, Traversari’s music explores the possibilities of the Incan pentatonic scale. One example is his 1949 pentatonic arrangement of Chopin’s Étude, Op. 25, No. 7, which he created to demonstrate the pentatonic scale’s use in art music. Moreno took a different approach to Ecuadorian music history, arguing that it came from Quito music and that Incan music had no historical influence. Moreno also took an evolutionary view of music, arguing that the diatonic scale was the next step in musical development after the pentatonic scale. Durán presents yet another view of Ecuador’s musical heritage, categorizing all pre-Columbian South American music as “Incan.” In each case, concepts of Incan (or non-Incan) music in Ecuador’s music history were as much a product of political and cultural identity as they were a rigorous search for historical truth.

Works: Pablo Traversari: Arrangement of Chopin’s Étude in C-sharp Minor, Op. 25, No. 7 (242-44)

Sources: Chopin: Étude in C-sharp Minor, Op. 25, No. 7 (242-44)

Index Classifications: 1900s

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

Serge Lacasse’s model of transtextuality requires expansion in order to account for referential practices involving transformations of medium in recorded popular music, as demonstrated by analysis of several songs by trip hop band Portishead. Lacasses’s distinction between syntagmatic (subject) and paradigmatic (style) transformations is expanded by the addition of phonomatic transformation, a transformation of medium or technology. Three types of phonomatic transformations can be found in the music of Portishead: retronormativity, vinyl aesthetics, and analogue allusion. These transformations can further be characterized as either allosonic, an abstract recreation of a musical passage from another musical work, or autosonic, a concrete insertion of an actual recording of a musical work. Retronormativity is the mechanism of referencing a combination of stylistic traits emblematic of a certain era. An example of autosonic retronormativity—inserting a specific recording to evoke the past—is found in Portishead’s Strangers (1994), which begins with a sample of Elegant People by Weather Report. An example of allosonic retronormativity can be found in Half Day Closing, which alludes to The American Metaphysical Circus by The United States of America, recreating the bass line, drum fill, and distinctive transformation of the vocal track, but not directly sampling the recording. Vinyl aesthetics refers to the sense of authenticity and humanity attributed to vinyl records by enthusiasts. Autosonic vinyl aesthetics can be found in Humming (1997), the drum track of which includes conspicuous vinyl pops and crackles as a result of its recording process. Analogue allusion describes brief sonic references to historical recording technologies, particularly when juxtaposed with contemporary technologies. An example of autosonic analogue allusion can be found in Only You (1997) in the juxtaposition of a crackling vinyl sample of She Said by The Pharcyde with clean digital silence, grounding the track simultaneously in both past and present. Lacasse’s model can be further expanded to include self-quotation as practiced by Portishead, wherein the group composes and records a private library of musical ideas in order to sample them as if they were external works. For example, the string loop, drum track, and outro of the song Western Eyes were recorded by Portishead, but were manipulated to add sonic markers of old recording technology (low frequency response and tape hiss). A fake sample credit was even included in the liner notes. This method of self-quotation allows musicians to engage with the creative process of sampling while retaining the legal and aesthetic implications of sole authorship.

Works: Portishead: Strangers (102-3), Only You (104-5), Half Day Closing (105-6)

Sources: Weather Report: Elegant People (102-3); The Pharcyde: She Said (104-5); The United States of America: The American Metaphysical Circus (105-6)

Index Classifications: 1900s, Popular

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

Despite his public denial of the practice, Bernard Herrmann frequently practiced self-borrowing in his radio, television, film, and concert music by both reproducing earlier works virtually intact and reworking the instrumentation, pitch, or notation of earlier material. Herrmann’s early work on radio plays for several CBS programs provided an important source for later self-borrowing. Herrmann’s score to Jason and the Argonauts (1968) includes at least five cues borrowed or reworked from radio scores and other film scores. One of these sources, the symphonic poem City of Brass (featured in a 1938 Columbia Workshop radio presentation), was borrowed from in several other film scores as well, including the score to The Seventh Voyage of Sinbad (1958). Herrmann’s opera, Wuthering Heights, borrows from several of his film scores as well, most notably from The Ghost and Mrs. Muir (1947) and Jane Eyre (1944). Herrmann also adapted material from his concert music into his film scores; for example, “The Office” cue from Psycho is adapted from his Sinfonietta for Strings. Throughout his entire career, Herrmann steadily practiced self-borrowing.

Works: Bernard Herrmann: Wuthering Heights (249-50, 256-7), score to Discoverie (250-53), score to Hangover Square (251), score to Jason and The Argonauts (251-55), score to The Kentuckian (252-54), score to The Seventh Voyage of Sinbad (254-57), score to Mysterious Island (255), score to Tender Is the Night (257-58), score to North by Northwest (258), score to Journey to the Center of the Earth (258), score to Psycho (258), score to Battle of Neretva (258-59), score to The Trouble With Harry (258), A Portrait of Hitch (258), Western Saga (258, 260), score to The Alfred Hitchcock Hour (259)

Sources: Bernard Herrmann: score to The Ghost and Mrs. Muir (249-50, 256-58), score to Jane Eyre (250, 256), score to The Rime of the Ancient Mariner (250-53), Nocturne and Scherzo (251), score to Beneath the Twelve Mile Reef (251-52), City of Brass (252-53), score to The Shropshire Lad (252-54), score to The Kentuckian (254-55), score to Five Fingers (255-57), score to Mysterious Island (255), score to The Triangle on the Round Table (255), score to The Magnificent Ambersons (257), score to On Dangerous Ground (258), Sinfonietta for Strings (258), Clarinet Quintet (258), score to James Evans, Fireman: How He Extinguished a Human Torch (258), score to Coyle and Richardson: Why They Hung in a Spanking Breeze (258), score to Fahrenheit 451 (258-59), score to Blue Denim (259)

Index Classifications: 1900s, Film

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

Johann Nepomuk Hummel’s Op. 94 for Viola and Orchestra exists in two versions: the original “Potpourri” composed in 1820 and published in 1822, and a heavily abridged “Fantasy” not prepared by Hummel and first published in 1899 or 1900. Hummel’s Potpourri is organized into six distinct sections (with interspersed transitions) that each present a single borrowed melody. The material is drawn from four operas, Mozart’s Don Giovanni, Le Nozze di Figaro, and Die Entführung aus dem Serail and Rossini’s Tancredi, as well as from an unidentified source labeled by Hummel as Boleros. Hummel employs several methods of borrowing throughout the Potpourri: modeling and paraphrase (in the case of Don Giovanni and the first Entführung section), variations (Figaro and Tancredi), and cantus firmus (second Entführung section). The Fantasia on the other hand cuts all but one of the episodes of borrowed material, leaving only the Don Giovanni section and Hummel’s introduction, transition material, and finale. The choice of whether to perform the Potpourri or the Fantasy is related to philosophical debates over Werktreue, faithfulness to score, and improvisation. While the provenance of the Op. 94 Fantasy is unresolved, one hypothesis is that its significant cuts and new title were made as an attempt to distance the work from the negative associations of the potpourri genre in the late nineteenth century. While the Op. 94 Fantasy is significantly shorter and still creates an exciting effect, modern performers should not shy away from the original Potpourri, which has value as a serious work.

Works: Johann Nepomuk Hummel: Potpourri for Viola and Orchestra, Op. 94 (89-95, 106-11); Hummel (composer), Anonymous (arranger): Fantasia for Viola and Orchestra, Op. 94 (89-92, 111-12)

Sources: Johann Nepomuk Hummel: Potpourri for Viola and Orchestra, Op. 94 (89-92, 111-12); Mozart: Don Giovanni (89-92, 106-7), Le Nozze di Figaro (89, 92-93, 107), Entführung aus dem Serail (89, 94-95, 107-9); Rossini: Tancredi (90, 95, 109)

Index Classifications: 1800s

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

Erasure and void were significant parts of the developing Israeli musical culture of the mid-twentieth century, as exemplified by a case study of German-born Israeli composer Hanoch Jacoby’s Mutatio (1975). Erasure is central to the piece as an expression of Jacoby’s personal experience and through his appropriation of traditional ethnic musical materials. Ideologies of negation were common in Zionist thought and Israeli music, particularly regarding Orientalism in Zionist and Israeli contexts. In Israeli music, the East functions as the Other, but also as an ancient Self, complicating the merging of Eastern materials and Western styles at the heart of the new, “Mediterranean” style of Israeli art music in the 1950s. Jacoby was born in Königsberg and studied composition under Paul Hindemith, with whom he maintained a correspondence through his emigration to Jerusalem in 1933. Mutatio, composed late in his career, was an attempt to reconcile his role as an Israeli composer with the missing German part of his identity and musical upbringing. The structure, orchestration, and texture of Mutatio suggest that it was modeled after the first movement of Hindemith’s Symphony Mathis der Maler. Hindemith’s movement is built around a German chorale, which serves as the introduction and coda and is set polyphonically at the climax of the movement. Mutatio follows this scheme almost exactly. By using Hindemith as a model, Jacoby highlights the difference in their exile experience: Hindemith maintained his German identity and could turn to the German musical tradition while Jacoby could not. Jacoby further engages with issues of Orientalism and secularization by borrowing two versions of the piyyut Hon ta’hon sourced from transcriptions prepared by Hail Alexander. Alexander’s transcriptions were based on specific performances of the two versions of Hon ta’hon, and they were created for the purpose of providing composers with material for practical arrangements. By using the Hon ta’hon melodies as Oriental folk material, borrowed and developed in a Western manner, Jacoby implies that Western, Judeo-Christian history has its roots in the East, that is to say, in Israel.

Works: Hanoch Jacoby: Mutatio (158-60, 169-72); Paul Hindemith: Mathis der Maler (159)

Sources: Paul Hindemith: Symphony Mathis der Maler (158-59, 169-72); Anonymous: Es sungen drei Engel (159); Haim Alexander (transcriber), Baruch Abdalla Ezra (performer): Hon ta’hon, Baghdad version (162, 166-69, 169-72); Haim Alexander (transcriber), Ezra Mordechai (performer): Hon ta’hon, Kurdistan version (163-64, 166-69, 169-72)

Index Classifications: 1900s

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

The German “medieval rock” band Corvus Corax reinterprets texts and music of the Middle Ages as a means of avoiding the problematic connotations of folk (Volk) stemming from Nazi associations. Corvus Corax was formed in the late 1980s at the tail end of Germany’s Ougenweide scene, roughly parallel to English and American folk rock. Despite Ougenweide music’s popularity with student protest movements, the genre still struggled to distance itself from associations with Nazi Volksmusik. Like many Ougenweide groups, Corvus Corax initially drew from Middle High German texts as a further removed folk source Eventually, the band adopted its signature sound and look, blending aesthetics of medieval dance music, heavy metal, punk, and goth. In describing their aesthetic, band members often invoke the idea of the minstrel as the keeper of an oral music tradition. In creating their medieval rock, Corvus Corax borrows from a wide range of medieval to ancient melodies, including a Macedonian Oro, Ottoman song, ancient Chinese emperor hymn, and the Epitaph of Seikilos. Their 2006 “opera” Cantus Buranus is drawn from the same text source as Orff’s Carmina Burana, but strives to cast off the fascist associations by emphasizing the community of vagrants suggested in the text. Corvus Corax uses a universal and cosmopolitan framing of medieval German history as a political statement of inclusion and anti-nationalism.

Works: Corvus Corax: Viator (375), Tritonus (375), Seikilos (375)

Sources: Traditional (Macedonian): Skudrinka (375); Traditional (Ottoman): Neva Cengi Harbi (375); Traditional (Greek): Epitaph of Seikilos (375); Traditional (Chinese): Chou chou sheng (375)

Index Classifications: 1900s, 2000s, Popular

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

Since its Broadway premiere in 1979, Stephen Sondheim’s Sweeney Todd has been described by audiences, critics, and scholars as being particularly operatic compared to other works of musical theater. The work’s technical demands, use of operatic musical devices (such as leitmotives), and performances in major opera houses contribute to its perception as both an opera and a musical. Sondheim also borrows from several operas—Il barbiere di Siviglia, Pagliacci, L’elisir d’amore, and Wozzeck—and employs these allusions to characterize Sweeney Todd and his rival, Adolfo Pirelli. In Pirelli’s number “The Contest,” Sondheim parodies the famous “Largo al factotum” from Rossini’s Il barbiere di Siviglia by adopting the aria’s virtuosic displays and patter style. Sondheim also references the traveling charlatan Doctor Dulcamara from Donizetti’s L’elisir d’amore. By parodying these comic works, Sondheim characterizes Pirelli as an exaggerated showoff and ultimately a fraud. Sweeney Todd on the other hand is a much more serious character, and his operatic models reflect this. Todd resembles operatic outsiders such as Britten’s Peter Grimes and Mozart’s Don Giovanni, and his shaving scene in Act 1, number 16 is similar to the shaving scene in Berg’s Wozzeck. Sondheim also quotes a passage of “Vesti la giubba” from Leoncavallo’s verismo opera Pagliacci in Todd’s number “Epiphany.” Whereas Pirelli’s number parodied its sources, Todd’s number borrows to increase its dramatic effect. Elsewhere in Sweeney Todd, Sondheim alludes to several other opera conventions and art song styles. While Sondheim’s implementation of operatic styles in Sweeney Todd often begins the discourse on opera vs. musical, the specific parodies and allusions can work to break down the distinction altogether and open up new lines of interpretation.

Works: Sondheim: Sweeney Todd (61-67)

Sources: Rossini: “Largo al factotum” from Il barbiere di Siviglia (61-63); Donizetti: L’elisir d’amore (63); Leoncavallo: “Vesti la giubba” from Pagliacci (65-67); Berg: Wozzeck (64-65)

Index Classifications: 1900s, Popular

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet

The Confiteor in Johannes Tinctoris’s Missa L’homme armé bears a striking resemblance to the Confiteor in Antoine Busnoys’s Missa L’homme armé in sound but not in notation. Both passages contain an unusual triple-duple metric struggle, but Tinctoris’s notation “corrects” what he perceives in his theoretical writings as incorrect mensural notation used by Busnoys. To only read Tinctoris’s Missa as a theoretical exercise is to miss the complexities of Tinctoris’s work as a theorist-composer. The evidence that Tinctoris was familiar with Busnoys’s Missa L’homme armé is—unusual for a case of musical borrowing—air-tight with the exact passage from Busnoys’s Missa extensively critiqued in Tinctoris’s Proportionale musices. While Busnoys’s notation preserved the visual appearance of the L’homme armé cantus firmus on the page, Tinctoris was more concerned with correctly recording how a performance would sound. Accounts of musical borrowing in this period often look for close written correspondence, but Tinctoris borrows less tactile sonic elements from Busnoy’s Confiteor instead and apparently fixes its notational problems. There is a history to the notational practices of L’homme armé masses as well; Busnoys borrows several conventions from Ockeghem’s mass, and Obrecht borrows from Busnoys. In the L’homme armé tradition, mensural notation mattered as a way to connect to a compositional tradition, not just to preserve the sound accurately. Tinctoris receives this tradition both as a theorist and as a composer. The principle of varietas is praised by Tinctoris in his theory and executed by Tinctoris in his music. His borrowing of the Confiteor device from Busnoys can therefore be understood as Tinctoris the composer writing interesting and memorable music, not just music to prove a theoretical point. It is important to avoid reading Tinctoris’s music with modern conceptions of the relationship between notation and composition. By viewing Tinctoris and Busnoys as composers-theorists actively developing the technology of notation, we can adopt a broader perspective on the complexity of fifteenth-century music.

Works: Tinctoris: Missa L’homme armé (1-11, 18-24, 55-64); Busnoys: Missa L’homme armé (26-31, 47-54); Obrecht: Missa L’homme armé (38-42); Unattributed (possibly Obrecht): Missa de Sancto Johanne Baptista (42-47)

Sources: Busnoys: Missa L’homme armé (1-11, 18-24, 38-42, 42-47, 55-64); Du Fay: Missa L’homme armé (22-23); Johannes Regis: Missa L’homme armé (22-23); Guillaume Faugues: Missa L’homme armé (22-23); Ockeghem: Missa L’homme armé (26-31); Domarto: Missa Spiritus almus (47-54)

Index Classifications: 1400s

Contributed by: Matthew Van Vleet