Though not often highlighted in literature on music aesthetics, the Saint-Simonians, a group of French Romantic socialists, exerted widespread influence on politics, philosophy and the arts after 1830. Their conception of music as a political-affective tool in the hands of an artistic avant-garde impacted the aesthetics and practice of musique populaire, a category embracing ‘popular’ and ‘folk’ music. Pierre-Jean de Béranger, the most popular writer of chansons in this period, declared his sympathy for the cause of radical social change in song, while his friend the working-class socialist philosopher Pierre Leroux influenced music aesthetics through his alliance with the novelist George Sand (Aurore Dupin). Drawing on Leroux’s writings for its philosophy of history, Sand’s major ‘music novel’, Consuelo, advocated for musique populaire, as its operatic singer heroine finally abandons the stage and becomes a travelling folk musician.

A gap divides modern ideas of genius from the sentimental conceptions of the 1760s and 1770s. Though talent was a common feature, musical genius for Rousseau and Diderot was integrally related to expression, affective identification with a community, and an orientation towards ‘the people’. Also important was ‘enthusiasm’, originally a type of religious inspiration fostered after 1700 within radical Protestant groups such as Count Zinzendorf’s Moravians, who radically challenged contemporary ideas of masculinity, sexuality and religious faith. Enthusiasm’s secularization with Goethe and Herder initiated the countercultural ‘period of genius’ (Genieperiode) later known as the Sturm und Drang. Its composers, such as J. M. Kraus, Neefe and Reichardt, lavished attention on popular, commercial forms such as German comic opera and ‘popular song’ (Volkslied) – priorities only challenged when the movement’s opponents such as J. N. Forkel tactically redefined ‘genius’ to centre it on technical mastery rather than inspiration and expression.

The establishment of an objectivist, anti-Romantic tradition in early twentieth-century aesthetics was no purely philosophical breakthrough, nor (as some have argued) a resigned response to the disasters of twentieth-century history, but in significant part an expression of elitism, fascism, and contempt for the masses, one already prominent before 1914. Writers from Schenker to Adorno insisted aggressively on the immanent structural virtues of master-composers’ scores and the irrelevance, or danger, of listeners’ own feelings. The same music-analytical prejudices still vitiate many contemporary attempts within the so-called ‘affective turn’ to theorize emotions and their history in music, not just in musicology but also in psychology. The very end of the book turns toward popular music and cultural studies as more productive embodiments of affective relationality, showing the resonances and continuities these possess with the sentimental-Romantic traditions explored in the book’s chapters.

The Introduction critiques the dominant critical-musicological picture of Romanticism as a nineteenth-century aesthetic paradigm emphasizing artistic autonomy and escape from the social, and posits an alternative. Romantic ideas of sociality in art and music differed from modern materialist accounts in highlighting the mediatory role of emotion or feeling alongside further ‘ideal’ or imaginative factors in listeners’ experience. Such ideas converge with recent contributions in sociology, music studies, anthropology and philosophy which frame affect in social, holistic terms as atmosphere, Stimmung (mood or “attunement”) and correspondence. These are summarized in the term ‘affective relationality’. In both musicology after Carl Dahlhaus and the recent history of emotions, a watershed c.1800 has separated the Romantic paradigm from its eighteenth-century predecessors, instead of paying attention to the continuity between eighteenth-century sentimentality and Romanticism. This ‘sentimental-Romantic’ continuum is exemplified by Mme de Staël, whose writings’ resonances with the book’s chapters are explored.

Eduard Hanslick’s On the Musically Beautiful (1854) constitutes the nemesis of the sentimental-Romantic ‘aesthetics of feeling’. It did not however completely expel emotion from music, as some thought, but from music aesthetics, framed as a new ‘science’ equally removed from historical and political context. This position differed radically from the Left Hegelian politics and Romantic aesthetics Hanslick had espoused a few years earlier. His change of heart was prompted by the revolution of 1848 and the subsequent growth of ‘Herbartianism’, an Austrian ‘state philosophy’ synthesized from the anti-Idealist thinkers J. F. Herbart and Bernard Bolzano. Hanslick’s own Herbartian programme had a direct impact on the Viennese tradition of musicology, and a more indirect influence over late Romantic thought on music, pushing toward a more analytical, ‘objective’ concept of music’s dynamic processes. By World War I, ‘energetic’ aesthetics had replaced Romantic emotions with an unsentimental vocabulary of forms, lines and energy-flows.

The ‘idea of absolute music’ proposed by Carl Dahlhaus has encouraged a view of German Romantic music aesthetics as preoccupied with instrumental music, and more interested in lofty metaphysics than emotion. Yet writers such as Novalis and Hoffmann saw the ‘Absolute’ precisely in emotional terms, and argued that its presentation was the task of a new, socially accessible genre of national opera. This would draw its subjects from the popular mythological and ‘romantic’ realm of fairy tale and fantasy, while ‘pure’ music – instrumental and church genres – was imagined in the sensational contemporary terms of the gothic. When instrumental genres were eventually revaluated above opera, it was because they were held to embody another popular trait valued by Hoffmann – humour. Strongly promoted by German critics in the 1830s, humour and the ‘humoristic’ posited the exploitation of emotional contrast as the highest aim of instrumental music after Beethoven.

Modern objections to Romantic music criticism often take aim at its hieratic posture, as if it were committed to the absolute metaphysical ‘truth content’ of the works it paraphrased. In fact the Idealist philosophical basis of sentimental-Romantic critical practice was a much more subjective interrelationship between feeling and reflection. As theorized by Herder, this formed the basis of Bildung, the originally anthropological idea of ‘cultivation’ later fetishized by the German middle classes. Through Kant and Schiller it tied into notions of ‘character’ and poetic ‘characterisation’, developed during the 1790s and soon a firm part of Romantic music criticism. Romantic poetic imagery could be pressed into the service of religious dogma, as it was by Joseph d’Ortigue writing on Beethoven’s instrumental music. But other forms of Romantic criticism after Herder used ‘characterisation’ instead as an empathetic path to understanding the diversity of musical cultures, an approach exemplified by Joseph Mainzer.

During the 1750s and 60s, Rousseau formulated perhaps the most influential philosophical and political arguments for sentimentality and the tableau. Against the claim of early capitalist ideologues that society was no more than a rational balance of individuals’ material ‘interests’, Rousseau imagined the mythical origin of society as a theatrical scene or musical performance, in which self-regard or vanity (amour-propre) competed with sympathy and tenderness towards others. The balance between these could be tipped away from individualism through the persuasive power of sentimental music and drama, shaping public opinion by absorbing audiences in its affecting tableaux. This vision proved its political effectiveness in eighteenth-century opéra comique and nineteenth-century Romantic melodrama. On the other hand, Rousseau’s denial of rights over public sentimental feeling to women, though contested, in the long run weakened sentimentality by making it into a private, domestic commodity – as shown by the history of another genre Rousseau inaugurated, the romance.

The Ngarra-burria First Peoples Composers program is an Indigenous-led initiative that assists Australian Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander musicians to develop composition skills and emerge within the Australian classical/new music sector. It is about enabling new expressions via mostly scored music for fine First Nations musicians, and the facilitation of their own narratives. This is against a background of many non-Indigenous composers appropriating First Nations cultural materials including music, and First Nations cultural and historical narratives, a practice which went on for many decades. In the chapter we hear from the founder Christopher Sainsbury and participating composer Nardi Simpson, both First Nations people. Ngarra-burria means ‘to listen and to sing’ in the Dharug Aboriginal language of the Sydney region. Whilst the industry has some way to go, in the seven years since the program began in 2016 many ensembles, festival directors, soloists, educators and broadcasters have indeed begun to listen to First Nations composers and sing with them. Many composers from the program are being commissioned, programmed, broadcast and participate in various industry events. As Nardi Simpson points out, it is not all about the music, but also about the ongoing community of First Nations musicians that existed already, of which Ngarra-burria has become a recent part. Whilst the composers glean from any relevant Western styles and techniques in the workshops we hold, they are not necessarily tethered to the same.

This chapter considers evidence of European music making in the early colonial towns of Sydney and Hobart. Two concert series in 1826 show the role of music in reimagining colonial towns as organised and aesthetic cities. The musicians that led the concerts shaped these musical worlds, bringing European instruments, forms of opera and vocal music, chamber, orchestral and solo instrumental music that would continue to develop over the next two centuries in Australia’s urban centres. We trace several key musicians who shaped the early phase of these towns’ music-making, looking to the cultural practices of the British Isles and continental Europe. While contextual evidence from this time reminds us of the ongoing presence of Aboriginal people, there is only an occasional glimpse of the musicians’ awareness that their efforts to import a European musical culture took place on Aboriginal land.

In this artist perspective, didjeridu virtuoso William Barton recounts key moments in his career from his education on Kalkadunga Country to the biggest art music stages in Australia and the world. From early collaborations with Peter Sculthorpe to recognition of Barton as a composer in his own right, Barton now sits in the engine room of major arts programming, with roles on Boards of Directors of the Sydney Symphony Orchestra and Australian Music Centre. Barton’s music and his practice remains grounded in history, place and culture.