This essay takes as its point of departure the so-called ‘Verdi A’, 432Hz. From the late 1860s through to the 1880s, the opera composer was intensely preoccupied with the question of tuning, weighing in several times on the matter of where A should sit. Verdi was concerned for the strain that high tunings should place on singers’ voices. He advocated on multiple occasions for global acceptance of an A well below 440, and sent Arrigo Boito to argue in favour of A=432 at the Congresso dei Musicisti Italiani, held in Milan on 16–21 June 1881. In the 1880s, Italy remained one of the only nations in Europe that had not adopted equal temperament wholesale for fixed-tone instruments; as in the case of its spoken languages during this same period, and the locations of its A, temperament varied by region, with the southern part of the peninsula clinging to meantones. This article argues that ‘Verdi tuning’ represents the end point of a number of longer shifts in the conceptualization of musical sound, particularly in the Italian context: from temperament to tuning (accordatura); from relative conceptions of musical pitch to an absolute one; from local and regional variations towards a standardized system; from an older notion of all-encompassing nature to a presumed separation between nature and culture. Tracing this history through the Italian long nineteenth century will involve concentrating on what this article calls music-adjacent sound: that is, interrogative play with musical pitch; sound experiments from musical materials and operatic voices; instrument tuning by ear; listening for overtones; legislating preferred ratios and (eventually) frequencies for musical use; and constructing a theory of music that draws together these means of sounding. Music-adjacent sound is where the conditions for music-making were and still are established. This article argues that an attention to these sonic and nearly musical moments can demonstrate how listening and the musical imagination were cultivated outside the boundaries of any work or performance.

This article focuses on the Italian inventor, telephone pioneer and opera house technician Antonio Meucci (1808–1889), exploring the shifting relationships between Meucci’s experiments and his operatic connections across his transatlantic career. Meucci first developed an acoustic telephone while working at Florence’s Teatro della Pergola, before discovering the transmission of sound via electricity during his tenure as chief machinist at Havana’s Teatro Tacón in the 1840s. These experiments were further refined after his relocation to New York, where he continued to be part of a network of Italian musicians, thinkers, journalists and scientific practitioners while seeking to patent his invention. Feted among the Italian diasporic community in the USA – both for his technological innovations and for his close relationship with Italian revolutionary Giuseppe Garibaldi – at the time of his death Meucci was nonetheless embroiled in a lengthy legal case against Alexander Graham Bell over the primacy of the telephone’s invention, a dispute not fully resolved until the twenty-first century. This article accordingly unfolds in three main parts, focusing in turn on Florence, Havana and New York. Meucci’s experiments – and his complex emigrant environment – collectively highlight the Italian opera house as a global and multidimensional site of technological and sonic innovation, during a period when the telephone gradually moved from conceptual fantasy to material reality. At the same time, Meucci’s career can challenge direct links between Italian sonic environments and Italy itself. Ultimately, I argue, the complex and changing relationships between opera and the telephone invite more nuanced approaches to histories of music and technology, while demonstrating the centrality of the Italian opera house and its sounds – within, across, and beyond the stage – to nineteenth-century auditory cultures more broadly.

Studies of cinema's emergence from nineteenth-century cultural forms have historically privileged its visual attributes over its sonic ones. This article redresses the balance by examining a musical device commonly associated with early film exhibition across Europe: the fairground organ, whose spectacular audiovisual appeal was exploited in public squares and fairgrounds long before the invention of cinema. Drawing on insights from the field of media archaeology, I ask whether we can locate an archaeological layer of cinematic prehistory in the fairground organ itself. In so doing, what emerges is the critical importance of Italy in the cultural history of the mechanical organ. Partly this is because the individual widely acknowledged as the ‘father of the fairground organ’, Ludovico Gavioli, was an Italian. Yet the Italianness of mechanical organs was also rooted in the stereotypical repertoire of such instruments (well-known excerpts from Italian opera), and on discursive tropes that emphasized an affinity between portative barrel organs – said to have been invented in Italy – and the itinerant operators of such instruments, often perceived to be Italian. Ultimately, I suggest that instead of treating fairground organs as the backing-track to early film exhibition, we might profitably conceive of early cinema as the latest visual enhancement to grace the exhibition of the mechanical organ.

In 1911, Italy invaded the region now known as Libya, then part of the Ottoman Empire, as part of a larger Italian colonizing foray into northern Africa. Many scholars have pointed out in recent years how intense the sonic environments of war can be, and the Italo-Turkish War of 1911–12 was no exception. Not only was the war itself full of sound and sonic media such as gramophones and telephones, the narration of the war, including most (in)famously that of Futurist author F.T. Marinetti, focused from the outset on the sonic intensities of the conflict. In addition, the war became a site for the cultivation of sonic media: Guglielmo Marconi not only deployed his radio technology for the Italian cause, he personally travelled to Libya to test and refine radio in the unique geographies there. In this article, I consider these Italian-centric narratives of war alongside accounts of the sonic experiences of the Arab and Ottoman Turkish forces in their resistance to the Italian occupation, considering the sonic techniques deployed both for and against Italian colonialism. I focus on three particular sonic techniques of that resistance: first, ‘counterlistening’, or ways of listening that subvert empire’s auralities; second, ululation (mostly by women) on the battlefield and beyond; and third, jihad, especially its sonic articulations as a set of declarations, battle cries, religious chanting, and even poetry. For both sides, sound played a much greater role in the war than just being a by-product of activity; these sonic techniques both shaped the war and were shaped by it, producing new forms of sonic experience that played important roles in constituting the colonial and anticolonial in Libya.

Musical sources from the nineteenth century in Argentina are very scarce. The first challenge, therefore, is to locate these materials across multiple repositories. In the last 15 years, certain state policies have been introduced to unify access to information in digital and non-digital archives. However, the country's economic instability, successive changes of government and the discontinuity of public policies in reference to cultural and educational programmes continue to impede a consistent systematization of collections and catalogues of these repositories. Additionally, it is also necessary to consult other repositories – both public collections, managed by provinces rather than the national government, and private ones that may offer online resources such as catalogues, transcriptions or digitized materials. Much of the musical production in the first half of the nineteenth century occurred within religious contexts, which means that a large part of these sources is located in ecclesiastical repositories that are very difficult to access. Many lack websites, the extent of their holdings remains unknown, and in cases where catalogues do exist, they are often not digitized.