The chanson d’amour L’Amours dont sui espris R. 1545, attributed to the twelfth century trouvère Blondel de Nesle, and its retexted version by Gautier de Coinci served as the basis for several works in the ensuing decades, and these later works provide a useful view into the compositional practices of the era. All of these songs and conductus feature virtually identical line length, rhyme arrangement, and large-scale form, although it is unclear if any or all of these works follow a particular rhythmic mode. An analysis of Blondel’s chanson shows a close correspondence between the textual rhythm and musical motives, with the whole melody built in paired sequences that act almost like question-and-answer phrases—a common technique in medieval song practice. The conductus Purgator Criminum AH. 20,16 from the manuscript W1 uses the L’Amours melody as a tenor and features new upper voices, but these added parts are deeply dependent on the contour and motivic cells of Blondel’s melody. The limited voice exchange and simple counterpoint with the tenor, moreover, marks it as a fairly unsophisticated reworking. The conductus Procurans odium AH. 21,176 from manuscripts F, Mü, and Ma, on the other hand, makes use of more elaborate voice exchanges above the tenor to create a unique, almost static aural effect, like the ringing of bells. The numerous repeating motives and cellular construction of the upper voices’ melodies also suggest this conductus is derived from improvisatory vocal performance practices of the era. Questions of chronology and which works may have influenced one another are more difficult to answer, due to the limited number of medieval songs available to scholars and the general lack of analytical studies of the repertory.

Works: Gautier de Coinci: L’Amours dont sui espris R. 1546 (20-30); Anonymous: Purgator Criminum AH. 20,16 (30-35); Anonymous: Procurans odium AH. 21,176 (35-38).

Sources: Blondel de Nesle: L’Amours dont sui espris R. 1545

Index Classifications: Monophony to 1300, Polyphony to 1300

Contributed by: Matthew G. Leone

For several Yiddish-speaking Jews, music served as a vehicle for spiritual resistance during the Holocaust. Writers often composed new lyrics to pre-existing tunes from popular songs and folksongs, and the music chosen was often both easily identifiable and significant to the writer. Through adapting older, well known songs, the writers were able to express subtle messages and meanings to their listeners. Broadly speaking, songs could be adapted in three ways: reuse, rewriting, and response. Reusing older melodies allowed concentration camp inmates to create a song that reflected their reality while also observing their Jewish heritage. Rewriting, or adding new lyrics to existing tunes, drew on the listeners’ familiarity with both the original tune and the original words to create symbolic meanings. Finally, songs in the response category would make references to original song texts, but not the original tunes, creating a deliberate contrast between the new song and the source.

Works: Anonymous: Ani Ma’amin (55, 57); Anonymous: Zog Nitkeyn Mol (57); Anonymous: Tsen Brider (57-58); Rilke Glezer: Papirosn (62); Yankele Hershkowitz: Papirosn (62); Sh. Sheinkinder: Papirosn (63); Yankele Hershkowitz: Nishtu Keyn Przydziel (62-63); Shimshon Fersht: Unter di Grininke Beymelekh (64); David Beyglman: Nit kayn Rozhinkes, nit kayn Mandlen (64).

Sources: Abraham Goldfaden: Rozhinkes mit Mandlen (54, 60-61, 64); Ani Ma’amin (57); Mordecai Gebirtig: Es Brent (56, 57); Anonymous: Tsen Brider (57-58); Abraham Goldfaden: Shulamis (58-59); Herman Yablokoff: Papirosn (61-62); A. M. Bernstein: Tsum Hemerl (58-59).

Index Classifications: 1900s

Contributed by: Cynthia Dretel, Matthew G. Leone

Through the simulation and essentialization of recognizable folk-musical traits, several Eastern European nations competing at the Eurovision Song Contest in the early 2000s were successfully able to represent, misrepresent, or brand the ethnic folk traditions of their home nation. The Eastern European countries that consistently won the contest between 2001 and 2007 played upon Western stereotypes of the East by incorporating stylized national music, instruments, and ethnic musical characteristics into their song entries. In doing so, they created a distinctively alternative sound to the modern musical styles (such as pop, rock, or disco) featured in the Western countries’ entries. In particular, the Ukrainian singer songwriter Ruslana exemplifies this kind of simulation and essentialization, with her winning entry Wild Dances making use of various traditional instruments, folk-inspired performance practices, and stylistic allusions to Hutsul traditional music that she collected during her ethnographic field work in the Carpathian Mountain region. Her entry is both an example of simulation, as she is presenting a commercialized and stylized version of traditional folk music, and an example of essentialization because her entry only represents a small demographic within Ukraine. Other winning entries, such as Željko Joksimovi’s Lane Moje, also incorporate ethnic folk elements and folk musical tropes.

Works: Ruslana: Wild Dances (175-77, 180, 184); Željko Joksimović: Lane Moje (178), Lejla (178), Call Me (178); Boris Novković: Vukovi umiru sami (179-80).

Sources: Damir Lipošek, Vedran Božić, and Husein Hasanefendić: Moja domovina (179-80).

Index Classifications: 1900s, 2000s, Popular

Contributed by: Cynthia Dretel, Matthew G. Leone

Self-quotation in the classical tradition is when a composer cites a melody or segment from an existing composition in a new work for some extramusical purpose or meaning. Although the technique is rarely found in Renaissance or Baroque music, it attained increased prominence in the late-Classical period and into the twentieth century, due to emerging aesthetics of originality and “absolute music.” The effectiveness of self-quotation, moreover, depends on the composer’s ability to present the existing material in a recognizable way, as well as the listener’s understanding of the origin and meaning of the original work.

Through self-quotation, a composer can create a diverse array of new presentations of older material ranging from commentary, illustration, humor, and either distancing or affirmation of the original material’s meaning. Mozart’s insertion of “Non piú andrai” from Le nozze di Figaro in the finale of Don Giovanni, for instance, momentarily dissolves the boundaries of operatic illusion and reality, invoking the plot of the former opera to foreshadow Don Giovanni’s impending doom. Beethoven utilizes a theme from his ballet Die Geschöpfe des Prometheus as the basis for the finale of his Eroica Symphony to invoke the image of Prometheus as the symbolic hero of the work, which is especially asserted in the coda. In his opera Die Meistersinger von Nürnberg, Wagner quotes the “love motive” from Tristan und Isolde to draw a parallel between the love triangles of both operas. While the motive symbolized a tragic fate in Tristan und Isolde, however, in Die Meistersinger it reminds Hans Sachs of a tragedy to avoid, thus ensuring the opera’s happy ending. Anton Bruckner inserted quotations from many of his sacred works into his symphonies to give them a special character of reverence and piety. Richard Strauss practiced self-quotation frequently, but particularly fascinating is his symphonic poem Ein Heldenleben, which uses material from Guntram, Don Juan, and several other works to depict Strauss himself as the titular hero of Ein Heldenleben. Self-quotation’s continued relevance as a compositional technique can be seen in contemporary works, with Berg’s opera Lulu, Liebermann’s opera Leonore 40/45, and Zimmermann’s Ballet noir being notable examples.

Works: Mozart: Don Giovanni, K. 527 (21); Beethoven: Symphony No. 3 in E-flat Major, Op. 55 (Eroica) (21); Wagner: Die Meistersinger von Nürnberg (21-22); Bruckner: Symphony No. 0 in D Minor, WAB 100 (23), Symphony No. 2 in C Minor, WAB 102 (23), Symphony No. 3 in D Minor, WAB 103 (23), Symphony No. 9 in D Minor, WAB 109 (23), Symphony No. 7 in C-sharp Minor, WAB 107 (23); Richard Strauss: Ein Heldenleben, Op. 40 (23-24), Feuersnot, Op. 50 (24), Der Bürger als Edelmann, Op. 60b (24), Eine Alpensinfonie, Op. 64 (24), Intermezzo, Op. 72 (24), Capriccio, Op. 85 (24), Vier letzte Lieder, Op. posth. (24); Alban Berg: Lulu (24); Rolf Liebermann: Leonore 40/45 (24); Bernd Alois Zimmermann: Ballet noir: Musique pour les soupers du Roi Ubu (24).

Sources: Mozart: Le Nozze di Figaro, K. 492 (21); Beethoven: Die Geschöpfe des Prometheus, Op. 43 (21); Wagner: Tristan und Isolde (21-22); Bruckner: Ave Maria, WAB 6 (23), Mass in F Minor, WAB 28 (23), Mass in D Minor, WAB 26 (23), Te Deum in C Major, WAB 45 (23); Richard Strauss: Guntram, Op. 25 (23-24), Macbeth, Op. 23 (23), Don Juan, Op. 20 (23), Tod und Verklärung, Op. 24 (23-24), Till Eulenspiegels lustige Streiche, Op. 28 (23), Also sprach Zarathustra, Op. 30 (23), Don Quixote, Op. 35 (23-24), Hymne an die Liebe, Op. 71, No. 1 (24), Ein Heldenleben, Op. 40 (24), Daphne, Op. 82 (24), Ariadne auf Naxos, Op. 60 (24); Alban Berg: Wozzeck (24); Rolf Liebermann: Sonate für Klavier (24).

Index Classifications: 1700s, 1800s, 1900s

Contributed by: Matthew G. Leone

Much of the music of the last century, especially art music, has been treated as intellectual property, and thus fixed and closed off to reuse or appropriation in new contexts. Such a mentality is both purist and anti-historical, as musical cultures around the world and throughout history have flourished and grown by reusing music in some way. In European history, one can find countless examples of existing music serving as the basis for new works, such as medieval motets based on chant, or the eclecticism of Haydn and Mozart’s music. The Romantic era, with its trends of originality and market-driven copyrights, witnessed a paradigm shift where music became less open to incorporating outside influences, and art music increasingly developed into a closed system of repetitive procedures. The possibilities of modern technology and a greater awareness of history, however, open up opportunities to integrate diverse resources and existing music into all kinds of genres and contexts to create imaginative new works and innovative musical expressions.

Index Classifications: General

Contributed by: Matthew G. Leone

Franz Liszt’s Weinen, Klagen Variations for piano, published in 1864, are an important example of his piano technique and mature compositional style. The Weinen, Klagen Variations display Liszt’s skillfulness in motivic manipulation, as he transforms and fragments Bach’s original chromatic bass line from Weinen, Klagen, Sorgen, Sagen, BWV 12, in a multitude of different ways. Liszt also explores various key areas and occasionally obscures the piece’s tonality, exemplifying the composer’s development of a more chromatic harmonic language by the 1860s. Furthermore, Liszt transforms Bach’s original chaconne form into a larger, multipart narrative form typical of his own piano works.

In addition to Bach’s chromatic bass line, Liszt also borrows the chorale tune from the final movement of BWV 12, Was Gott tut, das ist wohlgetan. The presentation of the tune, however, begets a variety of influences, including church organ, orchestral program music, and Liszt’s own virtuoso pianism. Liszt’s thorough manipulation of the chorale tune may have influenced Alban Berg’s elaborate treatment of the chorale Es ist genug in his Violin Concerto of 1935.

Works: Liszt: Variationen über das Motiv von Bach: Basso continuo des ersten Satzes seiner Kantate ‘Weinen, Klagen, Sorgen, Zagen’ und des Crucifixus der H-moll Messe (48-64); Alban Berg: Violin Concerto (55).

Sources: Johann Sebastian Bach: Weinen, Klagen, Sorgen, Sagen, BWV 12 (48-50, 52-53); Liszt: Variationen über das Motiv von Bach: Basso continuo des ersten Satzes seiner Kantate ‘Weinen, Klagen, Sorgen, Zagen’ und des Crucifixus der H-moll Messe (55).

Index Classifications: 1800s

Contributed by: Matthew G. Leone

A number of major Romantic authors, including Jean Paul, Wilhelm Wackenroder, Ludwig Tieck, and E. T. A. Hoffmann, had a profound influence on Robert Schumann’s aesthetics. Schumann embraced numerous Romantic concepts as articulated by these authors, including the Romantic genius, the transcendent power of music, and fascination with the historic past. In some form or another, Schumann’s music, writings, and overall philosophy from the early to the mid-1830s reflect these concepts.

As a writer, Schumann echoed Herder and Schiller in his beliefs that the musical genius acts as a cultural critic who improves art and society by exalting other geniuses, while also attacking “musical Philistinism.” Additionally, he draws upon the Romantic writers in his emphasis on musical feeling and sentiment, as well as inspiration over planning when composing. Schumann actively promoted these Romantic-inspired musical aesthetics, especially through his Davidsbund and the Neue Zeitschrift für Musik, which greatly impacted the German-speaking music world.

Schumann’s piano music serves as a useful case study for his Romantic aesthetic stance. He actively absorbed and emulated styles of past masters, as seen in the Bachian counterpoint of Novelletten, Op. 21, No. 1. Furthermore, he promoted both past and contemporary geniuses by transcribing or arranging their works, or by borrowing and reworking their melodies. Jean Paul also greatly informed Schumann’s stance on program music and the interaction of music and text, as reflected in works such as Papillons and Carnaval. However, Schumann’s music after 1840 demonstrates a reaction against these Romantic influences, as he begins to favor Classical forms and genres to a much greater degree.

Works: Robert Schumann: Allegro, Op. 8 (34-37), Kinderszenen, Op. 15 (36, 177-79), Fantasiestücke, Op. 12 (36, 54-55), Intermezzos, Op. 4 (36-41, 142, 149), Papillons, Op. 2 (36-38, 70-73, 142, 146, 154-55, 166, 168-74), Davidsbündlertänze, Op. 6 (38-40, 54-56, 91-93), Fantasie in C, Op. 17 (38-42, 67-68), Carnaval: Scènes Mignonnes sur Quatre Notes, Op. 9 (42-43, 70-73, 77-78, 91-94, 142, 148, 164-67, 174-77), Faschingsschwank aus Wien, Op. 26 (73-74), Impromptus, Op. 5 (77, 81-82, 142-43), Album für die Jugend, Op. 68 (77, 84), Studien für das Pianoforte nach Capricen von Paganini, Op. 3 (86-90), Variationen über den Namen Abegg, Op. 1 (91-92), Novelletten, Op. 21 (142, 144-45), Symphonische Etüden, Op. 13 (142, 147), Kreisleriana, Op. 16 (142, 150-51, 178-79), Klavierstücke, Op. 32 (142, 152), Sonata in F-sharp Minor, Op. 11 (157-59), Sonata in F Minor, Op. 14 (157-59), Sonata in G Minor, Op. 22 (159-60).

Sources: Robert Schumann: An Anna II (36), Im Herbste (36), Der Hirtenknabe; Claude Joseph Rouget de Lisle: La Marseillaise (73); Anonymous: Groβvater-Tanz (77); Beethoven: Piano Concerto No. 5 in E-flat Major, Op. 73 (77), Symphony No. 3 in E-flat Major, Op. 55 (77), Symphony No. 1 in C Major, Op. 21 (77), Violin Sonata in F Major, Op. 24 (77, 85); Paganini: Caprices, Op. 1 (86-89); Robert Schumann: Intermezzos, Op. 4 (91), Carnaval: Scènes Mignonnes sur Quatre Notes, Op. 9 (91-93), Papillons, Op. 2 (91, 94).

Index Classifications: 1800s

Contributed by: Matthew G. Leone

Ignacy Jan Paderewski’s Polish Fantasy, Op. 19 follows the conventions of the piano fantasy genre and one-movement concerto forms. The work contains original folk-inspired themes that borrow characteristics from the Mazur, Krakowiak, and Oberek Polish folk dances, which can be identified throughout the work. Particularly, the theme from the rondo section shares similar rhythmic patterns and melodic direction as the Krakowiak melody Albośmy to jacy tacy. The rhythmic pattern of the Mazur can also be found in other works by Paderewski, such as the third piece of his from Dances Polonaises, Op. 9. A comparison with Chopin’s Mazurkas and the Piano Concerto in E Minor, Op. 11, demonstrates how stylistic allusions from Polish folk dances can be incorporated into original themes.

Works: Ignacy Jan Paderewski: Polish Fantasy, Op. 19.

Sources: Anonymous: Albośmy to jacy tacy (23).

Index Classifications: 1800s

Contributed by: Cynthia Dretel, Matthew G. Leone

Although the tango originated in Buenos Aires, several Ashkenazi Jewish songwriters in Europe soon adopted this genre as their own, either by giving existing tango melodies new lyrics in Yiddish or by composing new ones. The Ashkenazi Jews soon exported their Yiddish tangos to cities like New York City and Buenos Aires, where they became staples of Yiddish theater and musical productions. During World War II and after, the tango became an especially symbolic and even painful genre for Jews, as Nazis sometimes forced prisoners in concentration camps to play tangos when other prisoners were killed. Despite this, the tango genre also offered Jewish prisoners a medium for expression and a tie to their heritage, and the familiar melodies allowed the prisoners to easily remember their new lyrics. For instance, songs like Kinder yorn and Makh tsu di eygelekh include musical gestures that allude to the tango, while the contrafact camp song Yiddish Tango was adapted and reworked from Shpil zhe mir a lidele in yidish as a song of resistance.

Works: Anonymous: Death Tango (116); Anonymous: Der Todesfuge (116); Dovid Beigelman: Kinder yorn (117), Makh tsu di eygelekh (117); Ruven Tsarfat: Yiddish Tango (118); Rikle Glezer: Es iz geven a zumertog (118); Anonymous: Niewolnicze tango (118); Mary Sorianu: Tango fun libe (118).

Sources: Eduardo Bianco: Plegaria (116); Julio César Sanders: Adios Muchachos (111); Ángel Villoldo: El Choclo (111); Dovid Beigelman: Ikh ganve in der nakht (114); Henech Kon: Shpil zhe mir a lidele in yidish (118); Herman Yablokoff: Papirosn (118); Gerardo Matos Rodríguez: La Cumparsita (118).

Index Classifications: 1900s, Popular

Contributed by: Cynthia Dretel, Matthew G. Leone

Liszt’s large output of piano transcriptions reflects the demands of his virtuoso career as well as his lifelong interest in other composers’ music. When transcribing various marches by Franz Schubert, Liszt, in keeping with his usual practice, made several modifications in his adaptations. He often moved beyond the simple ternary forms of the originals, usually by adding large-scale codas based on the theme from the marches’ trio sections. Additionally, Liszt frequently added new thematic material in his arrangements, sometimes borrowed from other Schubert marches, other times newly composed. Several movements from Schuberts Märsche, orchestriert v. Liszt, R. 449/S. 363—later arranged for piano four-hands as Vier Märsche von F. Schubert, R. 354/S. 632—are especially notable, as they contain newly-composed transitions that enhance the latent “Hungarian” quality of Schubert’s original pieces, while also linking the large sections of a march together to create a more organically unified piece.

Works: Liszt: Mélodies hongroises d’après Schubert, R. 250/S. 425 (135, 137, 140-41), Schuberts Märsche für das Pianoforte Solo, R. 251/S. 426 (135-39, 142-44), Schuberts Märsche, orchestriert v. Liszt, R. 449/S. 363 [Vier Märsche von F. Schubert R. 354/S. 632] (135-37, 142-45).

Sources: Schubert: Divertissement à la hongroise, D. 818 (135, 145), Six Grandes Marches, D. 819 (135, 142-43), Deux marches caractérisques, D. 886/D. 968b (135, 142-43), Grande Marche Funèbre, D. 859 (135, 142).

Index Classifications: 1800s

Contributed by: Matthew G. Leone

Mahler scholarship occasionally invokes the term “Kapellmeistermusik” to describe the eclecticism and variety in the composer’s music. This eclecticism, which resulted in part due to Mahler’s background as a conductor, is commonly assumed to be intentional, implying that Mahler deliberately quoted other works for listeners to identify and interpret. But Mahler’s eclecticism, and the relationships between his own music and existing works, can be far more complicated than is often assumed. Some of the parallels between Mahler’s works and those of other composers may have been coincidental, and in other cases Mahler may have “unconsciously” referenced an existing piece because he was familiar with it. Although one can identify several correspondences and quotations from other works in Mahler’s music, some are more likely to be intentional (either consciously or unconsciously) than others. Additionally, a case for borrowing in Mahler’s works cannot be made based on musical analysis alone, as other kinds of supplemental evidence can either reinforce or undercut the possibility of a connection between pieces. One can argue, for example, that Mahler could have borrowed a melody from Liszt’s Piano Concerto in E-Flat Major for his Sixth Symphony, given the close similarities between the two themes and the strong likelihood that Mahler knew Liszt’s concerto as both a pianist and conductor. On the other hand, the parallels between Schubert’s song Mainacht, D. 194, and the first song of Mahler’s Lieder eines fahrenden Gesellen are likely coincidental, as Mainacht was first published posthumously in 1894, almost a decade after Mahler composed his song cycle. Some possible borrowings from works by Berlioz, Chabrier, and Bizet require further research but may be significant.

Works: Mahler: Symphony No. 4 in G Major (10), Symphony No. 3 in D Minor (10), Symphony No. 6 in A Minor (“Tragic”) (10-11), Symphony No. 1 in D Major (“Titan”) (11), Das klagende Lied (11, 13), Lieder eines fahrenden Gesellen (11-12), Symphony No. 7 (13), Symphony No. 10 (13), Symphony No. 2 in C Minor (“Resurrection”) (13-14), Symphony No. 9 (13, 15-16), Symphony No. 5 (16).

Sources: Schubert: Piano Sonata in E-flat Major, D. 568 (10), Piano Sonata in D Major, D. 850 (10), Liszt: Spanish Rhapsody, S. 254 (10); Brahms: Symphony No. 1 in C Minor, Op. 68 (10); Beethoven: String Quartet in F Major, Op. 135 (10); Liszt: Piano Concerto No. 1 in E-flat Major, S. 124 (10-11); Schubert: Piano Sonata in A Minor, D. 784 (11); Chopin: Ballade in G Minor, Op. 23 (11); Schubert: Mainacht, D. 194 (11-12); Mozart: Symphony No. 36 in C Major, K. 425 (“Linz”) (12); Weber: “Schreckensschwur” Aria from Oberon (12); Wagner: Siegfried (13), Die Meistersinger von Nürnberg (13); Bruckner: Symphony No. 9 in D Minor, WAB 109 (13); Berlioz: Les francs-juges, H 23 (13-14); Chabrier: Gwendoline (13, 15-16); Bizet: L’Arlésienne (16).

Index Classifications: 1800s, 1900s

Contributed by: Matthew G. Leone

In July of 1824, the English Opera House staged its first production of Carl Maria von Weber’s Der Freischütz, and within a few months, seven other London theaters had produced their own versions. All of these productions, however, changed Weber’s original score and text to some degree, and these changes reflected the many practical and aesthetic issues of London’s opera business in the 1820s. Some productions added numerous speaking parts and ballads to conform to audience tastes and English theater conventions, while others amplified the opera’s melodramatic, comic, and supernatural elements so that it conformed more to their usual repertoire. Although many adaptations were heavily modified, some retained most of Weber’s original score, and these less modified versions were soon favored by audiences and critics alike. The numerous London versions of Der Freischütz ultimately reflect an increasing vogue for foreign opera in the city, as well as the aesthetic and cultural issues of transplanting a foreign opera onto an English stage in the nineteenth century.

Works: Weber: Der Freischütz (115-42).

Index Classifications: 1800s

Contributed by: Matthew G. Leone

Ragtime took the United States by storm in the early twentieth century, and Charles Ives incorporated ragtime elements into numerous works. Nevertheless, a closer examination of musical and biographical evidence reveals the composer’s ambivalent and even contradictory attitude towards the genre. On the one hand, Ives demonstrates an enthusiasm for ragtime through his bold embrace of a genre associated with African Americans in a racially divided era. On the other hand, this positive engagement is at odds with the tone of his writings, which often dismissed ragtime as inferior to art music and Protestant hymns. The disparity can be explained by considering the popularity of ragtime during Ives’s youth, how he reworked his early ragtime-based pieces later in life, and the significant time lapse that often occurred between composing a piece and writing about it. Four Ragtime Dances also reflects this ambivalence, and the work can be interpreted either as a statement of progressive inclusivity or of racial inequality. This diversity of hearings is possible because Four Ragtime Dances engages with many types of musical friction—sacred and secular, classical and popular, and racial—and in this regard the work reflects the inherent “messy quality” of Ives’s music in general.

Works: Ives: Four Ragtime Dances (24-46), Central Park in the Dark (46-47).

Sources: George Minor: Bringing in the Sheaves (26, 31); Edward Rimbault: Happy Day (26); Lewis Hartsough: I Hear Thy Welcome Voice (26, 31); Joseph E. Howard and Ida Emerson: Hello! Ma Baby (46-47).

Index Classifications: 1900s

Contributed by: Matthew G. Leone, Daniel Rogers, David G. Rugger

It has long been established that Mozart borrowed melodies and other musical procedures from Handel’s works. The borrowings found in Mozart’s Requiem are of particular note, as scholars have debated several possible pieces by Handel and other composers as Mozart’s sources. A closer musical analysis suggests that specific movements from Handel’s Funeral Anthem for Queen Caroline, HWV 264, Joseph and his Brethren, HWV 59, and possibly Samson, HWV 57, served as Mozart’s templates for several parts of his Requiem. Handel’s influence may also be present in other late Mozart works, a possibility which thus far has been largely unexplored in music scholarship. In Die Zauberflöte, one can trace echoes of Handel’s Funeral Anthem and “The Arrival of the Queen of Sheba” from Solomon. Mozart may have taken inspiration from Jephtha when composing Don Giovanni, although there are also striking resemblances between the opera’s Act II finale and Mozart’s own incidental music to Thamos, König in Ägypten, K. 345. Finally, while scholarship has frequently highlighted the influence of Bach’s counterpoint on Mozart’s “Jupiter” Symphony, the final chorus from Alexander’s Feast might have been a direct model for the coda in the symphony’s fourth movement. Both works utilize a distinctive procedure of stringing several fugue subjects in succession before presenting them together in counterpoint, and there are noticeable parallels in the two movements’ thematic materials. As important as it is to acknowledge Mozart’s musical debt to Handel, scholars must nevertheless resist the temptation to make value judgments or qualitative comparisons between their works that imply the superiority of one composer over the other .

Works: Mozart: Requiem in D Minor, K. 626 (219-29, 241-42), Die Zauberflöte, K. 620 (229-34), Don Giovanni, K. 527 (234-36), Symphony No. 41 in C Major, K. 551 (“Jupiter”) (236-40).

Sources: Handel: Funeral Anthem for Queen Caroline, HWV 264 (219-26, 228-33, 241-43), Joseph and his Brethren, HWV 59 (226-28), Samson, HWV 57 (227-28), Solomon, HWV 67 (233-34), Jephtha, HWV 70 (236); Mozart: Thamos, König in Ägypten, K. 345 (236); Handel: Alexander’s Feast or The Power of Musick, HWV 75 (237-40).

Index Classifications: 1700s

Contributed by: Matthew G. Leone

Musical semantics and quotation have garnered considerable attention in music scholarship, but there are still several problems that must be addressed. The diversity of musical quotation techniques, the numerous ways they may relate to each other, and questions of how a quotation works within a new composition pose difficulties for researchers, who are at risk of overanalyzing or misinterpreting a work. To that end, scholars must demonstrate that a musical quotation in a new piece was intentional and purposefully placed for someone’s benefit or recognition (usually the intended listener or likely audience). Furthermore, musical quotation has a long, relatively unexplored history, with composers reusing existing music in practical ways (as well as other aesthetically driven ways) since the sixteenth century, and scholars must make distinctions regarding the different types and purposes of musical quotation, which can vary widely from era to era or even piece to piece.

For works composed prior to the twentieth century, quotations are “in tension” with the new material around it: noticeable and distinct, but still integrated, and the treatment of the borrowed material helps determine its meaning in the new context. A much larger problem arises in modern music from Mahler to Stockhausen, which employ so many different quotations and allusions from different historical eras and styles that it is difficult to tell which elements are “central” to the composition and which are “borrowed” or “foreign bodies.” Moreover, even when listeners have access to a composer’s input through program notes or commentary, they are often at pains to hear the individual quotations and borrowed materials. Modern-day pluralistic, collage-like pieces such as Luciano Berio’s Sinfonia pose new challenges for semantics, analysis, and interpretation, and there is still much disagreement among composers and scholars over how such music is to be understood.

Works: Jacquet de Mantua: Dum vastos Adriae fluctus (123); Andreas Zweiller: Magnificat (124); Clemens non Papa: Drei Magnificat from Corpus Mensurabilis Musicae, Vol. 4 (125); Cipriano de Rore: Ancor che col partire (126); Adriano Banchieri: La pazzia senile (126); Francesco Rovigo: Magnificat “Benedicta es caelorum” (127); Georg Herner: Magnificat (127); Pietro Antonio Bianco: Magnificat (127); Stockhausen: Hymnen (130), Telemusik (130); Luciano Berio: Sinfonia (131-32).

Sources: Palestrina: Vestiva i colli (126); Lassus: Fleur de quinze ans (127); Jacob Regnart: Venus du und dein Kind (127); Giovanni Croces: Percussit Saul mille (127); Gustav Mahler: Symphony No. 2 in C Minor (“Resurrection”) (132); Richard Strauss: Der Rosenkavalier (132); Ravel: La Valse (132); Beethoven: Symphony No. 6 in F Major, Op. 68 (“Pastoral”) (132).

Index Classifications: General, 1900s

Contributed by: Matthew G. Leone

Mikoła Gomółkas’s Melodie na psałterz polski, his only surviving work, contains 152 short psalm settings which actively reflect the composer’s interest in Calvinist theology and humanistic philosophy. The settings can be divided into four categories. The first type of settings resembles Protestant chorales, with syllabic melodies and note-against-note accompaniment. The second type was influenced by the secular madrigal and chanson and features free polyphony. The psalms in the third category have more complex settings, with imitation between two or three voices. The last category of psalm settings was influenced by secular genres; pieces in this group either resemble German Lieder or are set in triple meter and have a dance-like character that is similar to an Italian villanelle. Several psalm settings also feature borrowed melodies from a variety of sources, including Gomółkas’s own music, Czech and German hymn books, Polish psalters, and Clemens non Papa’s setting of the Dutch Souterliedekens. Gomółka’s work showcases the cultural multiplicity of Polish society and the popularity of vernacular psalm settings in Poland during the 1500s.

Works: Mikołaj Gomólkas: Melodie na psałterz polski (15-22).

Sources: Clemens non Papa: Souterliedekens (18); Martin Luther: Ein feste Burg (18).

Index Classifications: 1500s

Contributed by: Cynthia Dretel, Matthew G. Leone

Schubert’s relationship to Viennese musical tradition and his use of conventional procedures has often been interpreted in scholarship as pure imitation or even plagiarism, and thus a foil to understanding him as a truly original composer. Instrumental music in Schubert’s Vienna, however, tended to be uniform and steeped in convention, and the procedures and structures for traditional genres like the symphony were well defined. To label Schubert’s supposedly “imitative” procedures as markers of plagiarism or lack of originality is to ignore the historical context and creative processes of Schubert’s musical world. Even so, a question arises over how to interpret evidence in Schubert’s symphonies that he modeled large sections or even entire movements after works by Mozart and Beethoven. In the first movement of his Symphony No. 2, for instance, Schubert features a false recapitulation (cued by the woodwinds) seemingly inspired by Mozart’s “Jupiter” Symphony, while the slow movement of Schubert’s “Great” C Major Symphony bears several strong resemblances to the Allegretto of Beethoven’s Symphony No. 7. While the symphonies composed during Schubert’s late teens can be viewed as the products of a symphonist in training, they also demonstrate some of Schubert’s lifelong stylistic individualisms, such as reminiscences of earlier composers’ music, or reworking traditional procedures from his models in unique and different ways. More general reminiscences can be found in later works such as the String Quintet in C Major, the opening of which can be heard as an extended reworking of the beginning of Haydn’s Symphony No. 97. More specifically, Schubert’s strategies for first-movement recapitulations in several symphonies reveal a composer who is steeped in traditional procedures, while simultaneously developing his own individual voice and seeking out ways to move beyond them.

Works: Schubert: Symphony No. 2 in B-flat Major, D. 125 (301, 306-8), Symphony No. 5 in B-flat Major, D. 125 (301), Piano Sonata in A Major, D. 959 (302), Rondo in B Minor for Violin and Piano, D. 895 (302), String Quintet in C Major, D. 956 (302, 304), Symphony No. 9 in C Major, D. 944 ("The Great") (302-6), String Quartet in A Minor, D. 804 (303), Octet in F Major, D. 803 (303), Die Götter Greichenlands, D. 677 (303).

Sources: Mozart: Symphony No. 40 in G Minor, K. 550 (300-1), Symphony No. 41 in C Major, K. 551 ("Jupiter") (300-1); Beethoven: Piano Sonata No. 16 in G Major, Op. 31, No. 1 (302), Violin Sonata No. 9 in A Major, Op. 47 ("Kreutzer") (302); Haydn: Symphony No. 97 in C Major, Hob. I:97 (302); Beethoven: Symphony No. 7 in A Major, Op. 92 (302-3, 307).

Index Classifications: 1800s

Contributed by: Matthew G. Leone

Maria Szymanowksa’s piano music influenced Chopin as a young composer, and Chopin’s works subsequently influenced the piano works by Pauline Viardot-Garcia and Clara Schumann. Chopin, who attended a number of Szymanowska’s concerts, adopted all of Szymanowska’s musical genres, and there are several musical and stylistic similarities between Chopin’s Études and Szymanowska’s Vingt exercises et preludes. Both composers’ piano works share textural similarities, but Szymanowska’s mazurkas, which were written to accompany salon dances, are not as virtuosic as Chopin’s. Towards the end of Chopin’s life, Pauline Viardot-Garcia arranged fifteen of Chopin’s mazurkas for voice, and it is likely that Chopin’s Mazurka in E minor, Op. 41, No. 2, was the source for some of her settings. Clara Schumann also composed works in several of the genres that Chopin frequently composed in, such as the mazurka and polonaise. Her Piano Concerto in A minor, Op. 7, may have been inspired by the Adagio from Chopin’s “La ci darem la mano” Variations, Op. 2. Schumann also borrowed gestures, textures, accompaniment styles, and fragments of several themes from Chopin’s piano works. For example, the “sighing” motive of a descending fourth in Schumann’s Soirees musicales, Op. 6 also appears in Chopin’s Mazurka in G minor, Op. 24, No. 1.

Works: Chopin: Nocturne in E-flat major, Op. 9, No. 2 (31), Etude, Op. 10, No. 2 (31), Etude in C major, Op. 10, No. 7 (31), Etude in A-flat major, Op. 25, No. 1 (31), Prelude in E-flat major, Op. 28, No. 19 (31); Pauline Viardot-Garcia: L’Oiselet (34); Clara Schumann: Piano Concerto in A minor, Op. 7 (40), Soirees Musicales, Op. 6 (41), Caprices en forme de valse, Op. 2 (41), Valses Romantiques, Op. 4 (41), Rondo in B minor (41), Souvenir de Vienne, Op. 9 (41), Variations de concert sur la cavatine du Pirate de Bellini, Op. 8 (41), Piano Concerto in A minor, Op. 7 (42).

Sources: Maria Szymanowska: Etude in D minor (31), Etude No. 15 in C major (31), Etude No. 17 in B-flat major (31), Etude No. 8 in E-flat major (31), Nocturne in B-flat major (31); Chopin: Mazurka in E minor, Op. 41, No. 2 (34), Mazurka, Op. 68, No. 2 (34), Variations, Op. 2 (41-42), Mazurka in G minor, Op. 6, No. 6 (41), Mazurka in G minor, Op. 24, No. 1 (41), Mazurka in B major, Op. 7, No. 1 (41), Mazurka in E major, Op. 6, No. 3 (41), Mazurka in F-sharp minor, Op. 6, No. 1 (42), Mazurka in E minor, Op. 17, No. 2 (42).

Index Classifications: 1800s

Contributed by: Cynthia Dretel, Matthew G. Leone

The context in which we hear a piece of music deeply influences how we understand how it is “supposed” to sound. The background noise of a concert hall, the imperfections of a recording, or hearing a transcription rather than an original version of a work can imprint a specific set of meanings and values in a listener. Drawing on a long tradition of transcription through listening, the “soundalike” project attempts to capture the unique qualities of a specific performance or interpretation of a piece by using software to create a graphical transcription of a recording. A “soundalike” transcription of a chamber orchestra arrangement Schumann’s “Träumerei” captures many of the details that make the sound event unique, including tempo fluctuations and overtones. The project ultimately treats a single recording or performance as a one-off event, even an “original” work with its own distinctive qualities, and spurs renewed discussions about the relationship between authorship, score, recording, and the musical work itself.

Index Classifications: General

Contributed by: Matthew G. Leone

Mussorgsky had a lifelong admiration for the music of Beethoven and Robert Schumann, and their influence is clearly seen throughout his oeuvre. A number of early pieces, such as the Scherzo in B-flat Major and the Intermezzo in modo classico, were clearly modeled on movements from Beethoven’s symphonies, but later works like Boris Godunov and Songs and Dances of Death drew upon Beethoven’s symphonies and late string quartets, as well. Mussorgsky also incorporated many of Schumann’s most notable compositional procedures into his music, including cyclical structures, ostinato-driven melodies, and ambiguous chord progressions. In particular, Schumann’s Fourth Symphony and his Lieder seem to have inspired several passages in Mussorgsky’s art songs. While Mussorgsky was far more critical of Wagner in general, he did not dismiss him completely, and borrowings from Wagner can be traced in Pictures at an Exhibition and Boris Godunov.

Works: Mussorgsky: Scherzo in B-flat Major (47-49), Intermezzo in modo classico (49-50), Alla marcia notturna (50-51), Salammbô (51-52), Boris Godunov (52-54, 57, 62-63), Songs and Dances of Death (54-55, 62), Khovanshchina (55), Pictures at an Exhibition (56-59), No jesli-by s toboju ja vstretit’sja mogla (60), List’ja schumeli unlyo (60), Zhelanije (60), Strekotun’ja beloboka (60-61), Kozjol (61), Zabytiy (61), Kinderlied (62), Ohne Sonne (62).

Sources: Beethoven: Symphony No. 7 in A Minor, Op. 92 (47-48, 50-51), Symphony No. 9 in D Minor, Op. 125 (47-50), Symphony No. 4 in B-flat Major, Op. 60 (48-49, 52-54), Fidelio, Op. 72 (51-52), String Quartet in E Minor, Op. 59, No. 2 (52), String Quartet in C-sharp Minor, Op. 131 (53-54), String Quartet in A Minor, Op. 132 (54-55), Große Fuge, Op. 133 (54-55); Gregorian Chant: Dies irae (54); Wagner: Siegfried (56-57), Lohengrin (57); Robert Schumann: Carnaval, Op. 9 (58-59), Kinderszenen, Op. 15 (58-59), Dichterliebe, Op. 48 (60, 62), Der Bräutigam und die Birke, Op. 119, No. 3 (60-61), Liederalbum für die Jugend, Op. 79 (61), Die beiden Grenadiere, Op. 49, No. 1 (62), Symphony No. 4 in D Minor, Op. 120 (62-63).

Index Classifications: 1800s

Contributed by: Matthew G. Leone

Throughout his career, and especially during his formative years, Wagner was greatly inspired by late Classical and early Romantic music. The influences from German Romantics, particularly Weber and Felix Mendelssohn, and French composers such as Berlioz and Spontini are most apparent, but some of Wagner’s works also reveal a special affinity with Joseph Haydn. Wagner’s borrowings from these composers and others were extensive, with themes, motivic gestures, harmonic progressions, and various other musical devices being incorporated into his music dramas. In some instances, Wagner’s borrowings serve the same dramatic or affective function as they did in the source work, but other times Wagner modifies or transforms the borrowed material for a new purpose or effect. As he matured, Wagner also developed a penchant for self-borrowing, reworking several themes and harmonic techniques from his older compositions into his late music dramas. This use of self-quotation, coupled with Wagner’s advanced procedures of motivic development in his mature works, foreshadows the musical modernism of the twentieth century and the works of Mahler, Berg, Bartók, Ives, and others.

Works: Wagner: Christoph Columbus (43-44), Das Liebesverbot (44-45), Der fliegende Holländer (44-46), Tannhäuser (46-47), Lohengrin (47-53), Das Rheingold (53-56), Die Walküre (56-62), Siegfried (63-65), Tristan und Isolde (65-68), Die Meistersinger von Nürnberg (68-70), Götterdämmerung (71-72), Parsifal (72-75).

Sources: Felix Mendelssohn: Meeresstille und glückliche Fahrt, Op. 27 (43-44), Elijah, Op. 70 (48-49, 52-56, 62-64), Ein Sommernachtstraum, Op. 61 (50-51, 57-58), Paulus, Op. 36 (52), Die schöne Melusine, Op. 32 (53-54), Symphony No. 3 in A Major, Op. 56 (“Scottish”) (60-62), Die Hebriden, Op. 26 (62-63), Symphony No. 5 in D Major/D Minor, Op. 107 (“Reformation”) (73-74); Joseph Haydn: Symphony No. 104 in D Major, Hob.I:104 (“London”) (44-45), String Quartet in D Major, Op. 76, No. 5 (56-57); Weber: Oberon, J. 306 (45-46, 54-56), Euryanthe, J. 291 (47-50, 58-59, 72), Jubel-Ouvertüre, J. 245 (68); Berlioz: Roméo et Juliette, Op. 17 (46-47, 65-68), Symphonie fantastique, Op. 14 (64-65, 67); Franz Schubert: Erlkönig, D. 328 (56-57); Spontini: La Vestale (59-60); Heinrich Marschner: Hans Heiling, Op. 80 (60-61); Liszt: Eine Faust Symphonie, S. 108 (61-62), “Excelsior!” from Die Glocken des Strassburger Münsters, S. 6 (72-74); Robert Schumann: Symphony No. 1 in B-flat Major, Op. 38 (“Spring”) (65); Wagner: Die Walküre (67-68), Tristan und Isolde (70-71, 74), Tannhäuser (70-71, 74), Das Rheingold (74), Lohengrin (74-75); Otto Nicolai: Die lustigen Weiber von Windsor (69); Brahms: Piano Sonata No. 3 in F Minor, Op. 5 (69-70).

Index Classifications: 1800s

Contributed by: Matthew G. Leone

A plainchant Kyrie melody bearing the label “ungaricum,” which appears in several variants in medieval manuscripts from Central European cities, demonstrates the influence of cultural exchange on the transmission of late medieval melodies. By tracing its history through Southern Germany, Hungary, and Poland during the late medieval period, and by examining the variants which appear in Melnicki’s Kyrie and Thannabaur’s Sanctus catalogues, it can be proven that a single plainchant melody could be adapted to serve multiple functions. An appendix lists the sources where the “ungaricum” melody can be found.

Works: Anonymous: Ungaricum sanctus de beata virgine pulchrum sequitu (20-21); Anonymous: Sequitur ungaricum kyrieleis (20-21).

Index Classifications: 1500s, 1600s

Contributed by: Cynthia Dretel, Matthew G. Leone

Although there is ample evidence of influence from Bach, Handel, Beethoven, and others in Brahms’s music, the connections between Brahms and Mendelssohn’s works have been largely unexplored. Considering their similar social networks in the 1840s and Brahms’s familiarity with Mendelssohn’s music in his youth, it is worth undertaking a preliminary study of “Mendelssohn reminiscences” in Brahms’s oeuvre. Several of Brahms’s works throughout his career demonstrate affinities with Mendelssohn’s compositions, but the most obvious parallels can be found in Brahms’s piano music. A particularly striking example of Mendelssohn’s influence appears in Brahms’s Intermezzo in B-flat Major, Op. 76, No. 4, which features compelling formal, phrasal, and rhythmic similarities to Mendelssohn’s Song without Words, Op. 67, No. 3. Nevertheless, Brahms’s intermezzo represents a kind of subversion of the model rather than a mere copy. While both pieces are in ternary form and prominently feature syncopated accompaniments and unique phrase structures, Brahms introduces greater harmonic subtleties and elisions between larger sections and individual phrases. The resulting intermezzo is both an engagement with Mendelssohn’s work and a statement of Brahms’s own musical individuality.

Works: Brahms: Rinaldo, Op. 50 (82), Symphony No. 4 in E Minor, Op. 98 (82), Symphony No. 2 in D Major, Op. 73 (82), Piano Concerto No. 1 in D Minor, Op. 15 (82), Horn Trio in E-flat Major, Op. 40 (82), Piano Quartet No. 3 in C Minor, Op. 60 (82), Clarinet Sonata in E-flat Major, Op. 120, No. 2 (82), Intermezzo in B-flat Major, Op. 76, No. 4 (83, 86-90).

Sources: Mendelssohn: Die erste Walpurgisnacht, Op. 60 (82), Symphony No. 4 in A Major, Op. 90 (“Italian”) (82), Symphony No. 3 in A Minor, Op. 56 (“Scottish”) (82), String Quartet No. 1 in E-flat Major, Op. 12 (82), Piano Trio No. 2 in C Minor, Op. 66 (82), Frage, Op. 9, No. 1 (82), Song without Words, Op. 67, No. 3 (83-90).

Index Classifications: 1800s

Contributed by: Matthew G. Leone

Beneath the radical heterogeneity of Ives’s style runs a strong undercurrent of moral ambivalence which reinforces the regressive hierarchies—especially those of gender, race, and class—inherent in late nineteenth- and early twentieth-century America. By placing certain tunes, such as Protestant hymns, at the top of this hierarchy, Ives musically articulates his nostalgia for his idealized America, where traits such as white-ness, rural-ness, and masculinity dominate social order. In multi-movement works especially, Ives performs his ambivalence using three strategies. First, “Interplay” pits representations of heterogeneity against those of homogenizing idealism within a programmatic context. Second, “Excess” occurs in up-tempo second movements framed by soft, static music that contains and negates the hectic energy and suggests a transcendental truth. Finally, “Hierarchy” resolves the previous movements by privileging a single, often ideologically weighted, musical gesture, affording hegemonic status to white, rural Protestant culture. The recognition of this hierarchical structure leads to a more thorough interpretation of Ives’s music, its cultural context, and the composer’s ideals.

Works: Ives: String Quartet No. 2 (178-79, 187-91), Orchestral Set No. 1: Three Places in New England (182), Majority (185-87), Orchestral Set No. 2 (189-92), Song of Myself (191), Symphony No. 4 (192-94), Piano Sonata No. 2: Concord, Mass., 1840-60 (194-98).

Sources: David T. Shaw: Columbia, Gem of the Ocean (178); George Frederick Root: Battle Cry of Freedom (182); Henry Clay Work: Marching Through Georgia (182); Stephen Foster: Old Black Joe (182); Lowell Mason: Watchman, Tell Us of the Night (188); Joseph P. Webster: In the Sweet Bye and Bye (191-92); Lowell Mason: Bethany (194).

Index Classifications: 1900s

Contributed by: Matthew G. Leone, Daniel Rogers, David G. Rugger

Franz Liszt’s piano transcription of Berlioz’s Symphonie fantastique has been long recognized as a high point of Liszt’s exceptional pianism and technique. Liszt and Berlioz were close friends in the early 1830s, and written correspondence between the two reveals an active collaboration which shaped Liszt’s transcription and possibly even Berlioz’s own revisions to his symphony. Liszt treated this transcription as a means to push his pianistic technique to new extremes, and the Parisian critics praised his ability to magnify the best elements of Berlioz in his arrangement. Liszt’s transcriptions of Symphonie fantastique and other Berlioz works draw attention to the performer and to the original music, and thus promote both Berlioz the composer and Liszt the artistic, musically sensitive virtuoso in a concert setting. Their respective successes ultimately affected each other, and Liszt’s constant stage presence undoubtedly increased Berlioz’s popularity. After distancing himself from Berlioz in the late 1830s, Liszt still applied some of what he had learned in his Symphonie fantastique project to his later arrangements of Schubert and others, using his transcriptions to promote both the original music and his own virtuosity and musical prowess.

Works: Liszt: Grande Symphonie fantastique de Hector Berlioz (195-213, 216-35), Ouverture des francs-juges de Hector Berlioz (212-14), Ouverture du roi Lear de Hector Berlioz (212-16).

Sources: Berlioz: Symphonie fantastique, Op. 14 (195-213, 224-28), Les francs juges (212), Le roi Lear (212).

Index Classifications: 1800s

Contributed by: Matthew G. Leone, Christine Wisch

Song parodies written in Nazi concentration camps between 1939 and 1945 generally featured two distinct types of newly created lyrics. The first type tended to be pessimistic, but could also include themes of resistance and rebellion, and writers sometimes added poetic phrases to tunes that reminded them of the beauty of their native tongue and music. The second category showcased darker, more macabre subject matter. Despite featuring lyrics describing the horrors of camp life, the transformation of the subject matter provided a way for the writers to gain control over their situation by turning daily horrors into something humorous in order to enliven their spirits. Several songs also feature pre-existing melodies drawn from classical opera arias, hymns, carols, and popular genres such as foxtrots, waltzes, and tangos.

Works: Anonymous: Kolysanke dla synka w kremato-rium (3); Anonymous: Tango truponoszow (3); Anonymous: Dicke Luft (3); Anonymous: Judische Todessang (3); Anonymous: March to the Crematorium (4); E. Polak: How tenderly the wind caresses the birch tree (6).

Sources: Anonymous: Wojtusia z popielnika iskiereczka mruga (4); Beethoven: Germania (7).

Index Classifications: 1900s

Contributed by: Cynthia Dretel, Matthew G. Leone

Beethoven’s Hammerklavier Piano Sonata, Op. 106, and String Quartet in B-flat Major, Op. 130, demonstrate close connections to one another. The first movements of both works feature marked juxtapositions of contrasting ideas: two contrasting musical motives in the sonata, and two contrasting tempos in the quartet. Additionally, Beethoven’s original fugal finale for Op. 130, which ultimately appeared as the Grosse Fuge, Op. 133, demonstrates numerous similarities to the final movement of the Hammerklavier Sonata. Nevertheless, the very musical elements which articulate classical unity and organized structure in the sonata serve to create discord and disjunction in the quartet. Beethoven’s Op. 130 may represent a commentary on Op. 106, as the composer revisited older material and transformed it to accentuate his own stylistic and aesthetic development. A similar relationship may also exist between the Piano Sonata in A-flat Major, Op. 110, and the String Quartet in F Major, Op. 135.

Works: Beethoven: String Quartet in B-flat Major, Op. 130 (436-71), String Quartet in F Major, Op. 135 (468-69).

Sources: Beethoven: Piano Sonata in B-flat Major, Op. 106 (Hammerklavier) (436-71), Piano Sonata in A-flat Major, Op. 110 (468-69).

Index Classifications: 1800s

Contributed by: Matthew G. Leone

When Robert Schumann was composing his Cello Concerto, Op. 129, Emil Bockmühl, the cellist who later premiered the piece, made suggestions for revisions to the composer, occasionally invoking Mendelssohn’s Violin Concerto, Op. 64, as a point of reference. Although Schumann ignored virtually all of Bockmühl’s recommendations—ultimately creating an unidiomatic and cumbersome solo cello part when compared to the violin solo of Mendelssohn’s Op. 64—the noticeable similarities between the two concertos indicate that Schumann was clearly thinking of his colleague’s earlier work when composing his Cello Concerto. In both pieces, the solo parts feature numerous cantabile melodies and frequently take advantage of the instruments’ higher registers, while the openings of the outer movements are strikingly similar. Despite these broader parallels, the two works are conceptually very different. Whereas Mendelssohn’s concerto highlights the soloist and exploits the violin’s capabilities, the cello solo of Schumann’s piece rarely features such bravura, even in the cadenza. Instead, Schumann’s concerto downplays the prominence of the solo part and integrates it into the orchestra to a far greater degree than does Mendelssohn, almost inverting the genre’s traditional hierarchy between soloist and accompaniment. Additionally, Schumann’s concerto is far more musically integrated, with thematic connections across movements and a greater overall coherence of motivic material throughout the work .

Works: Robert Schumann: Cello Concerto in A Minor, Op. 129.

Sources: Felix Mendelssohn: Violin Concerto in E Minor, Op. 64.

Index Classifications: 1800s

Contributed by: Matthew G. Leone

Scholars have disagreed over the extent of Gregorian chant’s influence on Bruckner’s sacred works, with some arguing that Bruckner’s church compositions are fundamentally rooted in the techniques of chant, and others claiming that any correspondences between Bruckner’s sacred music and Gregorian chant is coincidental. A more nuanced approach demonstrates that Bruckner’s use of chant melodies and chant-like procedures varied considerably and included direct quotation, use of alternatim, and modeling his melodic phrase structure on chants. Of the works based directly on Gregorian chant melodies, Bruckner’s Veni Creator Spiritus, WAB 50, is a useful example of nineteenth-century chant harmonization practices, while the paraphrase Ave regina coelorum, WAB 8, is an original composition derived from an existing chant melody. Other works, such as Tota pulchra es, WAB 46, and Ecce Sacerdos, WAB 13, feature more indirect allusions to the Gregorian chant tradition—for instance, setting the piece in the Phrygian mode, or adopting a call-and-response format between a single voice and full choir—which could be considered “unconscious borrowing.” It is unclear how deeply Bruckner’s use of chant and chant-like procedures was intertwined with nineteenth-century movements in reforming sacred music, and the aesthetic significance of these borrowings—particularly for the congregations who first heard Bruckner’s sacred works—warrants further study.

Works: Bruckner: Veni Creator Spiritus, WAB 50 (114-15), Ave regina coelorum, WAB 8 (115-16), Inveni David, WAB 20 (117), Tota pulchra es, WAB 46 (118-19), Ecce Sacerdos, WAB 13 (118-19), Salvum fac populum tuum, WAB 40 (119), Windhaager Messe, WAB 25 (119), Asperges me, WAB 4 (120), Tantum ergo, WAB 41 (120), Ave Maria, WAB 7 (120), Pange lingua, WAB 33 (120-21).

Sources: Anonymous (chant): Veni Creator Spiritus (114-15); Anonymous (chant): “Alleluia” from Missa de Sancta Maria ab Adventu usque ad Nativitatem Domini (115); Anonymous (chant): “Alleluia” from In medio ecclesiae (117); Anonymous (chant): “Alleluia” from Officium in festo Immaculatae Conceptionis Beatae Mariae Virginis (118); Anonymous (chant): Tonus solemnis (118); Anonymous (chant): “Kyrie” from Kyrie Deus sempiterne (119); Attributed to St. Thomas Aquinas: Pange lingua (120-21); Anonymous (chant): “In Festis Beatae Mariae Virginis” from Antiphonale Monasticum (120).

Index Classifications: 1800s

Contributed by: Matthew G. Leone

In his youth, Handel became acquainted with contemporary Italian opera during his travels to Berlin, Weißenfelser, and elsewhere, so he was already well-versed in the genre by the time he arrived in Hamburg, aged 18, to work at the Gänsemarkt Opera under Reinhard Keiser. During his two-year apprenticeship as both a performer and composer, he further familiarized himself with the art form’s inner workings, and he gained valuable formative experience from the musicians, the extensive archive of operatic repertory, and the overall quality of the theater’s productions. Handel also gained much from Keiser himself, learning the importance of a good libretto, sensitivity to text, and careful dramatic pacing in operatic composition. Keiser’s influence can be witnessed in some of Handel’s early works, as Handel incorporates a number of melodic passages from Keiser’s operas in his cantata Arresta il passo HWV 83 and his opera Teseo HWV 9. Notably, though, rather than simply copying Keiser’s melodies, Handel combines disparate melodic segments into completely new passages while making several alterations to the rhythm, meter, tempo, and musical structure of the source material. This procedure, “varied borrowing” (“verändernde Übernahme”), was a common compositional technique for budding composers in Handel’s day and reflects the practice of “moduli” as described in Johann Mattheson’s Vollkommene Capellmeister. A table outlining Handel’s complete borrowings from Keiser is included.

Works: Handel: Arresta il passo HWV 83 (42-43), Teseo HWV 9 (43-44).

Sources: Reinhard Keiser: Octavia (32-39, 42), Du schöne Morgenröthe (42-43), La forza della virtù (43).

Index Classifications: 1700s

Contributed by: Matthew G. Leone

Nine of Anthony Philip Heinrich’s sixteen symphonies use American patriotic tunes, in conjunction with descriptive titles and programs, to articulate a national American character. These symphonies draw their influences from both the “cultivated” and “vernacular” traditions of American musical life between 1820 and 1860. On the one hand, Heinrich capitalized on the vogue for European orchestral program music; on the other hand, he also drew upon the increased prominence of vernacular genres such as patriotic songs, hymns, and ballads.

The Bohemian-born Heinrich used these nine “American” symphonies to promote his own image as a distinctly American composer. These works celebrated the composer’s idealized beliefs in the United States as a perfect democracy, a growing industrial power, and a vast frontier, which he experienced while living in Kentucky. American critics picked up on the national traits of these works, with many viewing him as a champion of American art music, while European critics often viewed these same traits as peculiar musical exoticisms unique to Heinrich’s style.

In spite of their pronounced national character, these nine symphonies are still highly individualized in their formal schemes, number of movements, harmony, programmatic content, and use of borrowed tunes such as Yankee Doodle and Hail Columbia. For some written programs, Heinrich also directly quotes passages from American literature and history books, such as John Wilson’s American Ornithology and John McIntosh’s Origin of the North American Indians. Moreover, the symphonies exhibit considerable borrowings from Heinrich’s own compositions, ranging from the simple incorporation of a borrowed song melody to a substantial reworking of previous music. Three appendices contain photocopies of large portions of selected symphony movements, while a fourth appendix gives a complete list of Heinrich’s orchestral works.

Works: Anthony Philip Heinrich: The Columbiad: Grand American National Chivalrous Symphony (6, 20, 38-39, 73-74, 87, 92-97, 112-13, 136, 165-67, 186, 194-203, 213-80), The Ornithological Combat of Kings; or The Condor of the Andes and the Eagle of the Cordilleras (6, 35-38, 87-89, 96, 107-8, 110-12, 122-24, 127-35, 145-49, 157-59, 178-79, 189-203, 281-321), Gran Sinfonia Eroica (6, 35-36, 87-89, 95, 108-10, 131, 167, 189), The Hunters of Kentucky (6, 38, 87, 98, 113-14, 123, 148, 187-89), The Jubilee (6, 45, 87-89, 99-100, 114-16, 165-67, 187-89), The Mastodon (6, 47, 87-89, 102-3, 118-19, 122-23, 137, 180-83), The Columbiad; or, Migration of American Wild Passenger Pigeons (6, 51-52, 87-88, 105-6, 120-21, 130-31, 135, 176-78, 190-93), The Indian Carnival; or, The Indian’s Festival of Dreams (6, 76, 87-88, 104, 116-17, 120-21, 183-84), Manitou Mysteries; or, The Voice of the Great Spirit (6, 84-85, 87-91, 101, 117-18, 137-41, 149-56, 159-61, 184-86, 202-3, 322-54).

Sources: Philip Phile: Hail, Columbia (4, 60-61, 112, 116, 135, 165); Anonymous: Yankee Doodle (4, 60-61, 112-13, 116, 135-36, 165); Anthony Philip Heinrich: All Hail to Kentucky (4, 98, 113-14), Sensibility (22, 95, 109-10), Tyler’s Grand Veto Quick Step (102, 119, 137), Gran Sinfonia Eroica (108-9), The Columbiad: Grand American National Chivalrous Symphony (115), The Tower of Babel (166); Berlioz: Symphonie fantastique, Op. 14 (190-91).

Index Classifications: 1800s

Contributed by: Matthew G. Leone

Hector Berlioz’s Roméo et Juliette reveals his beliefs on how instrumental and vocal/texted music can convey meaning. Roméo et Juliette fuses elements of instrumental and texted music together: the orchestral movements convey emotional content and mood through recognizable musical topics, while programmatic titles focus that emotional content towards specific characters and scenes from the original drama. Notably, the “Love Scene” and “Tomb Scene” from Roméo et Juliette are intertextually related to the Adagio movement of Beethoven’s String Quartet, Op. 18, No. 1, which at an early stage also had programmatic associations with the tomb scene from Shakespeare’s play. Circumstantial evidence suggests that Berlioz may have been aware of this initial programmatic connection. Even if Berlioz was unaware of Beethoven’s original program, Roméo et Juliette and Beethoven’s quartet movement are intertextually related because they both utilize similar musical topics and formal strategies to depict episodes of love and parting.

Works: Berlioz: Roméo et Juliette (41-61).

Sources: Beethoven: String Quartet in F Major, Op. 18, No. 1 (46-58).

Index Classifications: 1800s

Contributed by: Matthew G. Leone

Inmates in concentration camps often provided new lyrics to well-known melodies, and in several cases the new lyrics parodied the subject matter of the original piece. Aleksander Kulisiewicz’s lyrics to Heil, Sachsenhausen offer a satiric narrative of the Sachsenhausen camp experience, mocking the Nazi racial purity laws with lyrics in both Polish and German. Through his parody of Mieczyslaw Miksne’s Madagaskar, Kulisiewicz also compares the Germany’s treatment of Poles to Poland’s treatment of the Jews. It is apparent that Kulisiewicz, who only heard Madagaskar for the first time in the camp, was unaware that Miksne, through his satirical song, expressed a desire to go to Madagascar because he believed that the natives would be more civilized that the Poles who planned to send the Jews there. The psychological effects of the parody can still be noted, however, as Kulisiewicz’s lyrics also mock an oppressor.

Works: Aleksander Kulisiewicz: Heil, Sachsenhausen (270), Jüdischer Todessang (278).

Sources: Mieczysław Miksne: Madagaskar (270).

Index Classifications: 1900s

Contributed by: Cynthia Dretel, Matthew G. Leone

The supposedly authentic folk music traits of Chopin’s mazurkas, as well as the myth that Chopin avidly listened to folksongs played by Polish peasants, have convinced many scholars that Chopin’s mazurkas contained authentic Polish folk melodies. While the Mazurka, Op. 24, No. 2, and Mazurka Op. 68, No. 3 do contain Polish musical elements, Chopin was actually borrowing musical conventions from an urban tradition, not a rural or peasant one. The mazurka models that Chopin drew upon had originated as a genre of piano works that were popular in the salons in Warsaw. Polish parlors and theaters in the early nineteenth-century became places where composers could experiment with creating a national art music that often featured the supposedly folk characteristics found in Chopin’s mazurkas. This style of music, with distinctive Polish markers, was created by cultural elites as a part of an effort to forge a national tradition. Furthermore, many of the songs Chopin heard in the country had actually derived from urban songs, vaudeville, and operas that were written in a simple and folk-like fashion.

Works: Chopin: Mazurka, Op. 24, No. 2 (114-20), Mazurka, Op. 68, No. 3 (115-21); Karol Kurpiński: Wesele w Ojcowie (133-34).

Sources: Anonymous: Oj Magdalino (118-21).

Index Classifications: 1800s

Contributed by: Cynthia Dretel, Matthew G. Leone

One of the central questions in jazz research is the relationship of a specific jazz musician to his or her jazz predecessors. Harold Bloom’s anxiety-based model of influence, despite its current popularity across the humanities, is not an effective starting point in the ethnomusicological discourse surrounding quotation or allusion in jazz. Alternatively, Henry Louise Gates Jr.’s model of “Signifyin(g)” offers a better tool for understanding jazz musicians’ relationship to their precursors, as well as the ways they can generate meaning from this tension. Gates’s model is better for two reasons. First, it directly addresses jazz music and folk improvisation in addition to literary traditions whereas Bloom’s model focuses on literature. Second, it reflects the vernacular, communal nature of African American art versus the refinement and monolithic originality idealized by nineteenth-century authors. In other words, the influence of predecessors is felt joyfully rather than anxiously in jazz improvisation, and musical quotations tend to reflect homage. In the context of “Signifyin(g),” Joe Henderson’s quotation of a motive from Charlie Parker’s Buzzy in a chorus of his 1965 recording If, or in his 1981 recording of Freddie Hubbard’s Bird Like, generates a joyful dialogue between the performer and an audience or ensemble who would recognize the reference, rather than an anxious dialogue between the performer and his predecessor. Repetition, interpretation, and transformation rest on the assumption of a communal language which accurately reflects the nature of mainstream jazz improvisation more broadly.

Works: Joe Henderson: If (10-11, 13); Joe Henderson (performer) and Freddie Hubbard (composer and performer): Bird Like (10-17).

Sources: Charlie Parker: Buzzy (10-17).

Index Classifications: General, 1900s, Jazz

Contributed by: Felicia Miyakawa, Molly Covington, Matthew G. Leone

Felix Mendelssohn’s six chorale cantatas, composed between 1827 and 1832, have often been dismissed as imitations of Bach and other models, and modern scholarship has relegated them to a less significant position in Mendelssohn’s oeuvre. However, a closer reading of Mendelssohn’s correspondence reveals that these cantatas were personally significant to him, and their composition was motivated by the composer’s strong historical interests and religious devotion. Moreover, Mendelssohn’s six cantatas demonstrate considerable creativity and originality, especially in how the composer combines or omits chorale verses, how he employs the orchestra as an expressive device, and how he presents and manipulates the chorale tune. Mendelssohn’s compositional choices ultimately reflect a highly personal interpretation of the chorale melody and the dramatic and thematic content of the chorale texts.

Works: Mendelssohn: Christe, du Lamm Gottes (2-4, 12-14), Jesu meine Freude (2-4, 9-15), Wir glauben all an einen Gott (2-6, 9-16), O Haupt voll blut und wunden (2-5, 11-13, 16-18), Vom Himmel hoch (2-6, 9-13, 18-20), Ach Gott, vom Himmel sieh’ darein (2, 6-13, 18-21).

Sources: Johann Crüger and Johann Franck: Jesu meine Freude (11); Hans Leo Hassler and Paul Gerhardt: O Haupt voll blut und wunden (11); Martin Luther: Vom Himmel hoch, da komm ich her (11), Ach Gott, vom Himmel sieh’ darein (12), Wir glauben all an einen Gott (12), Christe, du Lamm Gottes (12).

Index Classifications: 1800s

Contributed by: Matthew G. Leone

The Lacrymosa movement of Hector Berlioz’s Grand Messe des morts contains numerous connections to the Allegretto movement of Beethoven’s Symphony No. 7. On the surface level, both movements feature contrasts of high and low registers, and Berlioz also quotes a descending line from mm. 144-48 of Beethoven’s Allegretto, which, in both pieces, abruptly pivots the music from C Major into A Minor. On a deeper level, however, the Lacrymosa “poeticizes” and exaggerates the elements of Beethoven’s Allegretto that Berlioz heard most clearly in his predecessor’s work: intense alternation between rhythmically driving and lyrical passages, the pervasive somber affect, parallels with the biblical Jeremiah and Gluck’s Alceste, and an incessant rhythmic motive pulsing throughout. Berlioz’s Lacrymosa thus constitutes the composer’s own vivid reading and re-interpretation of Beethoven’s Allegretto.

Works: Berlioz: Grand Messe des morts (394-407).

Sources: Beethoven: Symphony No. 7 in A Major, Op. 92 (395-402, 404-7); Gluck: Alceste (403-5).

Index Classifications: 1800s

Contributed by: Matthew G. Leone

German Romantic composers often struggled to balance the tension between originality and musical tradition in their works. Although many composers verbally or publically downplayed their indebtedness to their predecessors, they still alluded to the great composers of the past, using those allusions as points of departure for new, original musical works. Beethoven’s Fidelio represents this tension in two distinct ways. On the one hand, Fidelio features numerous allusions to Haydn and Mozart, and these borrowings take on new identities and meanings as they enhance the drama of Beethoven’s opera. On the other hand, later composers also used motives from Fidelio as musical-textual symbols in their own works, often reshaping them to serve a new musical function. While the borrowed material could occasionally retain some of its original meaning in its new context, composers often subverted or supplanted the borrowed material in order to assert their originality and genius within a longer historical tradition.

Works: Brahms: Piano Sonata No. 1 in C Major, Op. 1 (138-40), Piano Concerto No. 1 in D Minor, Op. 15 (137-38, 161); Schubert: Octet in F Major, D.803 (140); Beethoven: Fidelio (141-44, 147-54); Peter Cornelius: Beethoven-Lied (144-45); Wagner: Tristan und Isolde (145-47); Schubert: Mass No. 2 in G Major, D.167 (154-56); Robert Schumann: Frauenliebe und Leben (156-58), Frühlingsankunft (158-60), Album für die Jugend, Op. 68 (161).

Sources: Beethoven: Piano Concerto No. 3 in C Minor, Op. 37 (137), Piano Sonata in C Major, Op. 53 (“Waldstein”) (138-41), Piano Sonata in C-sharp Minor, Op. 27, No. 2 (140), Septet, Op. 20 (140), Symphony No. 3 in E-flat Major, Op. 55 (“Eroica”) (144-47); Mozart: Die Zauberflöte (147-48); Beethoven: Vestas Feuer (148), Cantata on the Death of Emperor Joseph II, WoO 87 (148), Mailied, Op. 52, No. 4 (148-49); Mozart: Abendempfindung, K.523 (150); Haydn: Abendlied zu Gott (150-51); Mozart: Idomeneo (153-54); Beethoven: Fidelio (154-61).

Index Classifications: 1800s

Contributed by: Matthew G. Leone

Despite the bitter press rivalries between the devotees of Brahms and Wagner, the two composers had a complicated artistic and personal relationship to one another, and they held each other’s music in high regard. Wagner’s 1863 visit to Vienna almost certainly triggered the creation of Brahms’s most “operatic” composition, the cantata Rinaldo, for tenor, men’s chorus, and orchestra. The plot, characters, and musical language of Brahms’s cantata share close similarities with works like Tannhäuser and Tristan und Isolde, and some sections heavily borrow techniques associated with the “New German School.” Nevertheless, Brahms’s engagement with Wagnerian devices in Rinaldo is limited. Much of the cantata maintains close ties to the styles of Beethoven and Schumann, and the “Wagnerian” music is mainly associated with the witch Armida and Rinaldo’s enslavement, rather than his heroism. Furthermore, while the male heroes of Wagner’s operas are often redeemed through a woman’s love, the titular hero of Rinaldo is saved through self-reflection and male comradery, as represented through the robust and forceful music of Brahms’s style. This latter point may reflect the anxieties Brahms felt over perceived “feminine” qualities in Wagner’s music and Wagner himself, which challenged his own sense of masculinity. Just as Rinaldo escapes Armida’s clutches through male companionship and Brahms’s virile music, Brahms himself uses Rinaldo to confront the influence of Wagner’s music, only to overcome it with a reassertion of his own individual style and masculinity in the cantata’s final chorus.

Works: Brahms: Rinaldo, Op. 50.

Sources: Wagner: Tannhäuser (67-70, 72-73, 78-79), Lohengrin (74-76), Tristan und Isolde (76-79); Beethoven: Fidelio, Op. 72 (67, 72).

Index Classifications: 1800s

Contributed by: Matthew G. Leone

Scholars and critics have long recognized that Robert Schumann’s music contains a multitude of quotations, allusions, and extramusical ideas. Although some of these borrowings are clearly heard, others are only apparent, and still others are conjectural and may not exist at all. Additionally, even when instances of borrowing or allusion can be proven, there is often much uncertainty over what these borrowings mean and how they function within each piece.

However, a loose typology, consisting of three categories, can help to illuminate the types of materials Schumann borrowed, and what these borrowings signify in their new contexts. First, Schumann’s historical interests led him to allude to composers of the past, especially Bach and Beethoven. Second, Schumann referenced contemporary composers as a means of praising or critiquing them, and thus promoting high musical standards while criticizing “shallow” composers. Finally, Schumann alluded to his own music, critically reinterpreting previous material in new and unexpected ways.

Works: Robert Schumann: Faschingsschwank aus Wien, Op. 26 (81); Brahms: Variations on a Theme by Robert Schumann, Op. 9 (82-84); Robert Schumann: Carnaval: Scènes Mignonnes sur Quatre Notes, Op. 9 (84-86), Papillons, Op. 2 (84-86), Album für die Jugend, Op. 68 (86-87), Impromptus, Op. 5 (86-87), Intermezzos, Op. 4 (87-89), Kreisleriana, Op. 16 (88-91, 104-5), Fantasie in C, Op. 17 (92-95), Konzert-Allegro mit Introduktion, Op. 134 (96-97), Kerner Gedichte, Op. 35 (97-98), Symphony No. 3 in E-flat Major, Op. 97 (98-99), Noveletten, Op. 21 (101-2), Symphony No. 4 in D Minor, Op. 120 (102-3), Klavierstücke, Op. 32 (104-5), Andante and Variations, Op. 46 (105-8).

Sources: Claude Joseph Rouget de Lisle: La Marseillaise (81); Beethoven: Piano Sonata in E-flat Major, Op. 31, No. 3 (81); Robert Schumann: Carnaval: Scènes Mignonnes sur Quatre Notes, Op. 9 (82-83); Anonymous: Groβvater-Tanz (84-91); Beethoven: An die ferne Geliebte, Op. 98 (92-94); Schubert: Fantasie in C Major, D.760 (94), An die Musik, D.547 (94); Carl Maria von Weber: Konzert-Allegro mit Introduktion, Op. 134 (96-97); Clara Schumann: Notturno, Op. 6, No. 2 (101-2); Johann Wenzel Kalliwoda: Symphony No. 1, Op. 7 (102-3); Robert Schumann: Kreisleriana, Op. 16 (104-5), Frauenliebe und -leben, Op. 42 (106-8).

Index Classifications: General, 1800s

Contributed by: Matthew G. Leone

The passion oratorio La morte di Cristo is one of the most unusual works attributed to Johann Adolf Hasse. Previously, Reinhard Strohm had revealed that the oratorio is actually a pasticcio, with most of the arias borrowed from operas written around 1730 by Hasse, Leo, Porta, and others. Recently, a newly discovered libretto entitled La Vittima d’amore ossia la morte di Cristo confirms the work was originally created in Brno in 1741 and later performed in Prague in 1744. The Brno Kapellmeister Josef Umstatt likely compiled the work and adapted the arias, and he was probably responsible for composing the oratorio’s sinfonia, recitatives, and final chorus. The sources for three of the arias in La morte di Cristo still remain unidentified, either because the sources have been lost, or because Umstatt himself composed one or more of them specifically for the new oratorio.

Works: Josef Umstatt (attributed to Johann Adolf Hasse): La Vittima d’amore ossia la morte di Cristo.

Sources: Johann Adolf Hasse: Siroe (263, 266), Issipile (266-67); Giovanni Battista Pescetti: I tre difensori della patria (263-64, 266); Antonio Caldara: Morte e sepoltura di Cristo (265-66); Leonardo Leo: Argeno (266), Demetrio (266); Giovanni Porta: Farnace (266); Francesco Feo: Ipermestra (266).

Index Classifications: 1700s

Contributed by: Matthew G. Leone

Since the 1970s, the Polka Mass, a variant of the Catholic Mass that replaces traditional anthems with Polka songs, has been performed in the United States by Polish, German, Slovenian, and Czech congregations. The words and music draw upon familiar melodies and secular traditions to enhance the sacred occasion. This style of mass was created to respond to tensions from immigrant communities who felt like they were losing their ethnic Catholic identities in America. Oftentimes, the composers and arrangers of Polka Masses either replaced the lyrics of well-known polkas, waltzes, or country songs with standard liturgical texts, or parodied secular texts to adapt them for a sacred setting. Some of the parodies involved simple changes, such as changing the word “sun” to “Son” in Let the Son Shine In. Other parodies, however, could reinterpret an original song into one of sacred devotion, as seen in Gene Retka’s Gathered Together. Some Polka Mass writers even drew upon genres and styles such as tango, country, and bebop, which caused controversy in some churches. For example, the use of the tune from the country song, Blue Eyes Crying in the Rain, by Willie Nelson was justified only when Frank Perkovich claimed that the melody was from the Czech tune Place Oci.

Works: Fr. Frank Perkovich: At This Sacrifice (188-90, 193), Let the Son Shine In (186-87, 191), The Church in the Valley (187); Fr. George Balasko: We Offer Bread and Wine (187); Gene Retka: Song for Meditation (187), Gathered Together (192), Lord, Have Mercy; Christ, Have Mercy; Lord, Have Mercy (189-90), Each and Every Day (191, 198-99).

Sources: Hair: Let the Sunshine In (186); Walter Ostanek: The Barking Dog Polka (187); Walt Solek: Julida Polka (187, 192); Hank Thunander: The Tavern in the Valley (187); Willie Nelson: Blue Eyes Crying in the Rain (188-89, 193); Lil’ Wally Jagiello: Johnny’s Knocking (191, 198-99).

Index Classifications: 1900s, 2000s, Popular

Contributed by: Cynthia Dretel, Matthew G. Leone

Antonio Caldara’s three surviving Christmas cantatas from his years working in Rome (1709-1716) exemplify several aspects of early eighteenth-century Italian music, as well as the patronage system and political issues of the time. Caldara composed two of the cantatas—Vaticini di pace and Amarilli vezzosa—for his patron, Prince Francesco Maria Ruspoli, while Vo’ piangendo e sospirando was written for Pope Clement XI’s Christmas celebrations at the papal court. Although all of these works draw on Italian Christmas traditions such as the pastorale, their allegorical texts, characters, and dramatic action draw a direct connection between the Pope and the newborn Jesus, who will bring peace to the world. Not only did this depiction of Clement XI communicate Ruspoli’s support of the papacy, but it was also overtly political and, like many other artistic works of the time, promoted the Pope as a peacemaker in the final years of the War of Spanish Succession. Additionally, the three cantatas are connected in other ways: the plots and characters of Vaticini di pace and Vo’ piangendo e sospirando share many similarities, and Caldara also reused some of the music from Amarilli vezzosa for Vo’ piangendo. We can only speculate about the significance of the latter case, as Caldara rarely reused existing music for his new works, but it may have been a way to musically link the courts of Ruspoli and the papacy, or to further emphasize Ruspoli’s loyalty to Pope Clement.

Works: Caldara: Vo’ piangendo e sospirando (104-5, 110-17).

Sources: Caldara: Vaticini di pace (104-5, 114-17), Amarilli vezzosa (110-17).

Index Classifications: 1700s

Contributed by: Matthew G. Leone