No work of art, however original, is created in isolation from the life and culture of its time and place. Politically and artistically, Berlioz lived in interesting times. The year of Symphonie fantastique, 1830, was a year of revolution and a key year in the development of French romanticism. In addition to reviewing the artistic scene, this chapter considers aspects of Berlioz’s musical education and earlier work. This is set in relief by comparing his ‘Fantastic’ symphony with the Reformation Symphony by Felix Mendelssohn, which was composed about the same time. Differences in their the two composers’ musical upbringing and religious views are reflected in the two symphonies, including their use of traditional musical material.

If so much of American poetry from the early twentieth century onward looks to revitalize the genre’s forms and conventions by mining from the national vernacular, then jazz has been both a model for that process and a source of expressive inspiration. This essay looks at the range of American poetic responses to jazz, from the early modernist efforts of poets such as Langston Hughes, Sterling Brown, and Vachel Lindsay, to more contemporary figures like Nathaniel Mackey, Morgan Parker, and Kevin Young. In observing the long shadow that the music has cast on poetic experimentation, this survey also observes variations in identity and perspective and maps the reciprocal relationship between different jazz styles and modern poetics, including the tension between song lyrics and lyric poetry. Ultimately, this essay reveals through a wealth of examples the comprehensive heterogeneity of jazz poetry despite these writers’ shared starting points.

This chapter draws on the author’s experience as a musicologist, philosopher, and ornithologist to examine different perspectives on birdsong in Messiaen, including verisimilitude, ecology, and Messiaen’s practice of notation. It places Messiaen’s birdsong in the context of his thought and examines the meaning of this important formant and creative source in Messiaen’s work.

To speak of institutions is usually to invoke an idea of brick-and-mortar establishments, and the organizations that inhabit and sustain them. However, an institution is as much an idea as it is a thing: the institutionalization of a musical genre is, above all else, the formalization of a narrative about the genre, and of the value system that the narrative embodies. The present chapter touches upon three instances of the institutionalization of jazz in the United States since the Second World War, including the Institute of Jazz Studies, housed at Rutgers University in New Jersey; the SF Jazz Center in San Francisco; and the Institute of Jazz and Gender Justice at the Berklee College of Music. I seek here to discern what their supporting narratives can tell us about shifting conceptions of jazz institutionalism, and its reflection of broader ideas about the music’s role in American and global musical culture.

The first movement, at least on the surface, is in the traditional form Berlioz knew well from Beethoven and others and that he had used in earlier overtures: a slow opening and a long faster movement. But the opening Largo is too long to be considered a mere ‘introduction’. Rather than beginning the Allegro with a sharply defined motive suitable for development, Berlioz presents a long melody, the idée fixe, and bases most of the movement on it, breaking it down and reassembling it in various forms, including a big climax and a wistful coda. The connection of the Allegro to sonata form has been an area of disagreement ever since, considered in more detail in Chapter 10. Major revisions undertaken after the first performance changed the movement’s proportions; the original version cannot be recovered.

While academic reactions to jazz were long dominated by a methodology drawn from musicology, attentive to composition and transcribed solos as forms, scholarship over the past few decades– amid the interdisciplinary shift of “the new jazz studies”– has articulated in ever more assertive terms that “meaning” in jazz depends not only on what is played, but how. This chapter responds to this interdisciplinary shift by thinking through the importance of performance to a comprehensive understanding of jazz expression, and the usefulness of African American studies and performance studies in conceptualizing the various theatrical and gestural vocabularies at work in jazz. Using examples from Thelonious Monk, Wynton Marsalis, and Ornette Coleman, this chapter examines in detail how we might understand jazz not just as music but as an extension of historical Afro-diasporic expressive practice, a construction of individual musical personae, and an ongoing aesthetic response to the persistent malice of white supremacy.

The spectralist composers in Messiaen’s class of 1971#–2 are an important part of Messiaen’s legacy. This chapter addresses how Messiaen’s work was essential to the creative thinking of Tristan Murail and Gérard Grisey. It focusses on what these composers absorbed from Messiaen and how they qualified, extended, and enriched his legacy. In particular it understands these composers through the lens of an ecology of listening in which the concerns of the listener are an active formant in the compositional thinking.

Symphonies that Berlioz would have known, including Beethoven’s and those of his predecessors, usually included a dance movement (the Minuet and Trio) or, especially with Beethoven, the faster movement known as ‘Scherzo’, usually placed third after a slow movement. Having decided to put the slow movement third, Berlioz replaces the Minuet or Scherzo with a waltz. He evokes the glitter of a ballroom by introducing harps to the orchestra. The idée fixe suggests that the beloved woman is there; it is transformed to fit the waltz rhythm, acting as a contrasting section and reappearing near the end. Berlioz added a brilliant coda when rewriting the whole movement from scratch during his stay in Italy (1831–2).

Symphonie fantastique, premiered in 1830, is a long symphony for its time. Its chief novelty was that it had a title and a detailed programme, supplied by the composer. It is not strictly autobiographical, although the programme’s unnamed protagonist represents Berlioz himself. He had many reasons for composing such a work, which are discussed in the Introduction. There follows a translation of the programme and an outline of the symphony, preparing later discussion of each movement. One unusual feature is his use of a single melody, the idée fixe, in each movement; it represents the image of a beloved woman. Berlioz revised the symphony over many years before publishing it, and also revised the programme for performances with its sequel, the monodrama of the protagonist’s ‘Return to Life’ (known as Lélio), premiered in 1832 in the presence of the Irish actor Harriet Smithson, who became Berlioz’s first wife.

This chapter details and expands current research on Messiaen’s response to, engagement with, and inculcation of Surrealism in his music. In particular it examines the poetic and ethnological context of Messiaen’s work, and also introduces a discussion of the occult and psychoanalytical trauma as Surrealist contexts for Messiaen’s work in the late 1940s.

This chapter argues that television history has been neglected by jazz scholars. It describes a historical relationship between the music and the broadcast medium, noting particular trends such as musicians in variety and other performance settings, reenactments of key moments in jazz history, narratives of jazz in episodic drama and comedic treatments of jazz. While there is a growing literature on variety/performance programming, the chapter notes the ongoing absence of scholarship on dramatic and comedic treatments. Drawing on methodologies from television studies, case studies are presented which demonstrate rich engagements between jazz and television. The chapter ends by suggesting that we should turn away from considering exceptional moments in jazz television history and towards its presence in the everyday consumption of television.

This chapter examines Messiaen’s relationship with the composer Jacques Charpentier, his student and the only guest (apart from Charpentier’s wife) at Messiaen’s second marriage in 1961. Using previously unpublished documents and photographs, it shows how Charpentier borrowed and extended ideas of Indian music from Messiaen and through his own studies of Karnatic music.

This chapter outlines the specific compositional genesis of the quartet and its private reception during and immediately following its creation. I first discuss the basis of the quartet in an unfinished piano sonata from 1829, and its compositional process in the early 1830s, before turning to some of the possible motivations for writing a string quartet in this period. The last part of the chapter concerns the somewhat-notorious exchange between Hensel and her brother carried out over the winter of 1834–5. In a letter of 30 January 1835, Mendelssohn offered a critique of the quartet, objecting to Hensel’s use of form, specifically her free use of modulation and music that is in places ‘in no key at all’. Hensel’s response – perhaps unnecessarily deferential – is a revealing acknowledgement of how she felt she remained in thrall to Beethoven’s later music.