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This article contributes to theories of music and affect, highlighting listeners’ affective engagement with music as a key site for the operation of power and ideology. I take as a case study listeners’ experiences of Hindustani music in performance. In contrast with work that emphasizes the capacities of musical affect to transcend social boundaries and operate separately from (or prior to) signification, I show how the affective practices of listening in this context contribute to the reproduction of existing discourses and social formations. Drawing especially on work by Sara Ahmed, I suggest that a useful starting point for understanding how affect intersects with structures of power is to examine the affective economies and the affective orientations that shape live musical listening.
Ever since the beginning of opera, the scenografo’s role has fluctuated between invention and execution, conceptual creation and manual realisation. Initially considered an art in the old, Latin sense of the word – a craft or trade – the profession gradually gained social and aesthetic respectability, shedding its associations with the technical skills of artisans and acquiring the prestige of modern artistic expression. By the early 1800s, prominent scenografi were hailed as ‘men of genius’, although their ennoblement was never quite as complete as some renowned commentators seemed to suggest. Indeed, while we may be tempted to view the scenografo’s transformation from craftsman to artist as an uninterrupted, linear development, the debates on operatic staging that accompanied the 1930s Maggio Musicale Fiorentino challenge this inclination.
This article examines the role and status of operatic scenografi in 1930s Italy, with a particular focus on Florence and the intersection between cultural and institutional histories of the profession. What was Italian operatic set design at the time? What did this theatrical art mean, represent, produce in Tuscany’s foremost Renaissance city? Is it possible to develop a specifically urban approach to the history of set design before World War II, and where might this leave our understanding of opera production labour both during the Fascist period and today?
Benjamin Britten’s Noye’s Fludde (1958) was arguably the first community opera with an environmental message. It explored the potential extinction of animal and human life, and since then environmentalism as a social issue has begun to emerge in community operas as a distinctive trope. This article examines some more recent examples produced in the UK, from The Split Goose Feather (1979) by Christopher Brown, to Timber! (1990) by Timothy Kraemer, to Russell Hepplewhite’s Till the Summer Comes Again (2012) inspired by Glyndebourne’s wind turbine. It concludes with some reflections on the questions that arise in relation to contemporary opera, the environment and sustainability – notably how the professional operatic world can respond to concerns about the environment, and what steps are necessary to ensure the sustainability of opera for the future.
Only months after starting as KPFA’s music director, Charles Amirkhanian launched the radio show Ode to Gravity in March 1970. The evocative name referred to his 1968 experimental theatre piece that involved dropping objects such as a marble and car fender into a circle of spectators. The radio programme similarly released a range of avant-garde music and sound objects over the airwaves, reflecting Amirkhanian’s preferred title as KPFA’s ‘Sound Sensitivity Information Director’. Informed by analyses of archival broadcasts and other primary sources, this article frames Ode to Gravity as a conceptual extension of the 1968 piece and long-running ‘sound sensitivity’ experiment that sought to make sense of the contemporary musical landscape by collecting and propagating sonic data. Ode to Gravity’s consciousness-raising mission broadly, and the changes in content and presentation style over its twenty-five-year history specifically, add further texture to our understanding of post-war avant-garde impulses in music and sound.
Although Adolphe Sax’s serpentine invention hailed from Belgium, and then France, saxophones today are widely perceived as symbols of United States-led popular modernity. This image’s strength occludes a largely unknown antipodean precursor: the instrument debuted in British colonial Australia before being first heard across the Atlantic. This article foregrounds the goldrush-era Australian introduction of an instrument otherwise known as a ‘turkophone’, by enigmatic French musician Charles Jean-Baptiste Soualle, known in his orientalist stage persona as ‘Ali Ben Sou Alle’, from December 1852 to July 1855.
This article establishes the European origins of Soualle’s act and examines its effusive Australian reception through a historical musicology lens, before discussing the cultural dynamics key to this episode’s geographic context. While a Saidian, Orientalism-inspired critique sheds some light on the appeal of ‘Ali Ben Sou Alle’ to Australian audiences, Soualle’s local success was perhaps most notably underwritten by geopolitical events. For example, the 1853 outbreak of the Crimean War, which pitted the allied imperial French, British, and Ottoman powers against Tsarist Russia, challenged a nascent Australia’s sense of itself and place in the world, and provided Soualle an opportune, sympathetic platform from which to compose and perform. Remarkably, given characterizations the instrument signified in the Jazz Age decades hence, Soualle’s saxophone also embodied notions of freedom for its mid-nineteenth-century Australian audiences.
This episode, and its thematic resonances, offers insights into histories of touring musicians, understandings of music and coloniality, musical globalism, and the saxophone’s symbolic malleability prior to its rise to worldwide prominence.
Rap has remapped the way we think about music. For more than fifty years its poetics, performance and political power has resonated across the globe. This Companion offers an array of perspectives on the form, from the fields of sociology, linguistics, musicology, psychology, literary studies, education and law, unpacking how this versatile form of oral communication has permeated nearly every aspect of daily life. Taking a decidedly global perspective, these accounts draw from practice in Australia, China, France, Germany, Jamaica, India and Tanzania; exploring how the form has taken hold in particular contexts, and what this can tell us about the medium itself and the environments in which it was repurposed. An indispensable resource for students and researchers, the collection provides an introduction to global rap studies as well as insights into the some of the most important and exciting new developments in this field.
Pierre Boulez was a great letter writer and a frequent correspondent. Since the extent of his correspondence is vast and very little of it has been published in English, this chapter looks solely at Boulez’s epistolary exchanges with the composers Karlheinz Stockhausen, Olivier Messiaen, György Ligeti and Elliott Carter. While the correspondence with Stockhausen is one of the richest of all, only a brief sense of this can be given here. The correspondences have been selected on the basis that all four composers were pivotally important for Boulez in different ways. He had important friendships with them. He valued and performed their music and they in turn were fulsome in their appreciation of his championing their music as well as of his achievements as a composer. This brief consideration shows how Boulez not only pursued his own musical path but also promoted the music of his composer friends.
This chapter deals with Boulez’s early knowledge of African, Asian and Latin American civilisations and musical cultures and the encounters and experiences which mediated it. The role of Messiaen’s harmony class, the training for an unrealised mission in Cambodia, the tours of South America with the Renaud-Barrault Theatre Company and the relationships with the ethnomusicologist André Schaeffner, from the post-war years to the beginning of the 1960s, are considered and contextualised with respect to the fields of contemporary French ethnology and ethnography. Boulez’s statements on ‘traditional cultures’ from his writings and correspondences are reconsidered against the background of colonial institutions and discourses and the transformations they were undergoing during the incipient phase of decolonisation. The composer’s analogical and comparatist habits, grounded in interwar models, are shown through the examples of his reflections on John Cage’s prepared piano (1949) and the staging of Schoenberg’s Pierrot Lunaire (1961).
Musical form is a central issue in the discussion between Boulez and Stockhausen. This discussion, through a dense correspondence and essays, reflects the changes the notion of musical material underwent in European serial music up to its culmination in the mid 1960s. This mutation is examined in three steps. From the basic formulation of integral serial music in Boulez’s Structures and Stockhausen’s Studie I; through a reconsideration of the hierarchy between the parameters of pitch and rhythm in Boulez’s Le Marteau sans maître and Stockhausen’s Gesang der Jünglinge and Gruppen; to a shift in the notion of material from production to placing as a consequence of reflections on the treatment and perception of sound and their incidences on the shaping of time in Stockhausen’s Mikrophonie I and Boulez’s Éclat.
The critique which Boulez addressed to Schoenberg had its origins in the musical-aesthetic debates which took place in France after the capitulation of 1870: Wagner, of course, but also Brahms. The opposition between Parisian and Viennese perspectives: Debussyan dualism (Wagner/Mussorgsky) versus Schoenbergian dualism (Wagner/Brahms). Half a century later, Boulez in turn, following Debussy’s model, proposed a renewed perspective (Schoenberg/Stravinsky) – substituting for the influence of the Brahmsian agogic, to which Schoenberg’s art still remained deeply attached, a rhythmic serialism deduced from the Stravinskyan model, following Messiaen’s attempts at formalisation. Hence the need to re-establish cultural origins according to cross-border perspectives.
Boulez’s prolific writings, of which Stocktakings, Orientations and Music Lessons are representative in English (originally in French, 1966, 1981 and 2005, respectively), show his preoccupation with the dialectical and the deductive, his passion for creativity in all its forms and his focus on the craft of ‘écriture’ (‘writing’ in the sense of composing). He detested archaism, hence his notorious critique of Schoenberg’s dodecaphony, and rejected the concept of schools of composition or interpretation. In the mid 1960s, he turned to ‘formalism’ in all his activities, aiming at the comprehensibility of transitory truths, including music – analytically in his commentaries covering a century and a half of musical works by others. The dialectic between system and idea infuses all his writings. Challenging though it is to embrace such a large collection of outputs, Boulez’s unity of thought and purpose is evident throughout.
Following his early appearances during the late 1940s and early 1950s as musical director of the Renaud-Barrault Theatre Company and the Domaine Musical, Boulez enjoyed a meteoric rise to prominence in the 1960s, becoming a conductor of international renown and securing prestigious posts with orchestras in London and New York. He also made waves in the opera house and pioneered seminal interpretations of works by Wagner, Debussy and Berg. Throughout his long career, he championed the music of the early modernist generation, much of which had been grievously neglected by other conductors, and also promoted key compositional figures of his own generation and a number of younger figures. This chapter explores Boulez’s development as a conductor in the context of his compositional activities and explains how his selfless commitment to the music he believed in changed the very nature of the conducting profession away from authoritarianism to a spirit of cooperation and collaboration.
While Boulez stated on a number of occasions that he had no great interest in teaching or indeed any particular gift for it, he worked nevertheless in the course of his career in a variety of pedagogical contexts. In this chapter, I consider his work as an occasional teacher of composition, with the small number of individual students he accepted in the late 1950s in Paris for private sessions. Second, there is the teaching he transmitted in the body of lectures he delivered primarily at Darmstadt, Harvard and more extensively at the Collège de France. Finally, I explore his arguably more engaged pedagogical work, exemplified by the courses in analysis, composition and conducting he delivered in Basel in the 1960s, as well as his committed interaction with young composers, conductors and performers at the Lucerne Festival Academy from 2003 to 2015.
This chapter examines the lively intellectual and artistic exchange between Pierre Boulez and John Cage that took place from 1949 to 1952. The writings of the French poet, dramatist, actor and visual artist Antonin Artaud (1886–1948) inspired the ‘organised delirium’ in Boulez’s Second Sonata for piano (1946–8). Its continuous variation and reading ‘a great deal of Artaud’, contributed to Cage’s decision to compose the Music of Changes (1951) using chance operations. Both composers were interested in ‘non-tempered pitch space’ – Cage, in his Sonatas and Interludes (1946–8) and Boulez in his Quatour pour Ondes Martenot (1945–6) and Le Visage nuptial (1946, 1948/1951–3). In the early 1950s, Cage and Boulez explored different approaches to a dialectical relationship between choice and chance, which eventually led to the publication of ‘Alea’, Boulez’s scathing condemnation of ‘accidental chance’ in 1957 and the end of their friendship.