Lowry 1
Treven Lowry
Professor Strosser
2 May 2018
Research Paper
The Bestial, Humanistic and Ideological Monsters in Classical Music
Monsters come in all shapes and forms. As Andrew Hoffman defines in his book,
Monsters, A Bedford Spotlight Reader, “The monster is a response to the world around us, and
since the world never stops bringing crises, threats, and uncertainties, our need for monsters
doesn’t end either” (15). Because of our need for monsters to symbolize and categorize our
human fears, many outlets have been explored for the expression of their presence in our lives.
From horror movies to books such as Shelley’s Frankenstein, these outlets help us realize a
balance between our irrational fears and the realistic world. The most prevalent avenue we use
for our expression of monsters, however, is the avenue of music. With the transcending power
that music provides, monsters can be introduced into our world; music is the most effective
catalyst to relay the emotional connection these monsters bring.
The monsters that will be discussed in this paper will be separated into three time
periods: Early (Fifteenth and Sixteenth centuries), Middle (Seventeenth and Eighteenth
centuries), and Contemporary (Nineteenth and Twentieth centuries). The monsters presented in
each of these three time periods will also be divided into three different categories: bestial,
humanistic, and ideological. Furthermore, musical examples will be given for each type of
monster in its closest corresponding time period. The bestial monster is any type of monster that
is physically present, yet not humane. Examples of such monsters include sea creatures and
Lowry 2
beasts from Greek mythology. The humanistic monster is brought about by humane intent and
vulnerability. This type of monster most often includes individuals who commit monstrous acts
or have dehumanizing views towards others. A humanistic monster can also be deemed as an
affliction that people face, such as sickness or tragic death. The ideological monster
encompasses all viewpoints, practices and concepts that could explicitly be considered
detrimental to society and therefore be monstrous. Monsters of this brand include ideas of war,
formulated ideas of horror and propaganda and evil political ideologies. The musical examples
and composers that will be applied to these three branches of monsters: bestial, humanistic, and
ideological, will be explored throughout this paper. Their application will help us discover what
type of music by which composers was most relevantly used to introduce the monsters of the
day; we will learn how music remains the primary outlet for the expression of monsters even
with the advancement of history and changing of culture.
Dating back as early as 1607, with Claudio Monteverdi's invention of opera, the
monster’s bestial side has already taken prevalent form in musical literature. Monteverdi’s
premier of L’Orfeo in Mantua Italy within the year of 1607 is a perfect example of how early
classical musical, specifically opera, was the primary impetus for the introducing of the bestial.
The main plot behind Monteverdi's opera was taken from the Ancient Greek myth of Orpheus
and Eurydice. As the story goes, a musician by the name of Orpheus falls in love with a woman
named Eurydice, and they eventually get married. Not long after they are wedded, however, a
terrible fate befalls Eurydice as she is bitten by a poisonous snake. The attack claims her life,
and she is taken to the underworld, now under the monstrous rule of Hades and Persephone.
Overwhelmed with grief, Orpheus laments the loss of his newly wedded wife through the sad
Lowry 3
performance of his lyre, and becomes determined to bring Eurydice back from the underworld
(Britannica “Orpheus”). The accompanying music in this portion of the opera brings to pass
feelings to be associated with the lamenting of Orpheus and Eurydice’s monstrous snake attack,
and are appropriately somber (Monteverdi L’Orfeo). Bonnie Gordon, author of the academic
article, “Orfeo’s Machines,” examines this musical response to the monstrous attack and killing
of Eurydice: “The ritornello sounds just after the messenger announces Eurydice's death, and the
chorus reiterates her distress with the words, ‘Alas, bitter chance! Alas, wicked cruel Fate’”
(209). Thus we see Monteverdi’s care in ensuring a tight emotional relation between the
instrumental and choral accompaniment and the events happening on stage. Returning to the
story, however, we may realize the musical climax of Monteverdi’s work has not yet reached its
pinnacle point, for Orpheus must still make his journey to the underworld, combat the monsters
who will attack him therein and persuade Hades and Persephone to return Eurydice unto him
(Britannica “Orpheus”). As these situations play out, the most stark evidence of Monteverdi's
music introducing the bestial occur as Orpheus combats Hades’ monstrous serpents and the
Three Headed Dog. Within this moment, the music of the opera accumulates with one accord
the resounding, dreadful ballad of the chorus, orchestra, harpsichords and trumpets, transmitting
feelings of danger and fright onto the audience as Orpheus faces the beasts (Monteverdi
L’Orfeo). Orpheus soon discovers that he can sooth the beasts with the playing of his lyre, while
also melting the hearts of Hades and Persephone, therefore being granted to rescue Eurydice
from their grasp. Bonnie Gordon explains that within this confrontation, “the instruments help
Orfeo do his work, first by consoling him and then by showing the ways that music, and not just
Orfeo, moves the spirits of the underworld” (210). With the instrumental and beastial mediums
Lowry 4
present in Monteverdi’s L’Orfeo, the correlation becomes clear: both mediums propel the story
along while ensuring the monsters of L’Orfeo are introduced in the most effective musical way.
Taking into account the sad ending of the Opera -Eurydice’s second death into the underworld
and Orpheus’s savage dismemberment from drunken women- the practice of introducing bestial
monsters through musical expression adheres perfectly with the monstrous elements prevalent in
Claudio Monteverdi’s L’Orfeo.
As L'Orfeo’s setting and bestial monsters held substantial prominence at the turn of the
sixteenth century, another heartrending work by liturgical composer Jacob Obrecht was
integrating humanistic elements of monsterism more than a century earlier in November of 1489.
The book, Born for the Muses: the Life and Masses of Jacob Obrecht, by Rob C. Wegman,
illustrates in detail the story behind Obrecht’s work, Mille Quingentis, and how a tragic death
influenced its creation. Written as a polyphonic liturgical mass for a motet of male voices, Mille
Quingentis came about in a time of immense grief for Jacob Obrecht, as the death of his beloved
father, Willem Obrecht, had just recently occurred presumably the year before (Wegman 23).
Directly expressing the love Jacob held for his father, the Mass was written solely as a lament.
The dominant tenor voice expressed through the lyrical lines of the motet alongside the
prevalence of the minor key reaffirm with feelings of pain this concept of lamenting for Willem
(Obrecht Mille Quingentis). As we associate the humanistic monster of death which pushed
Obrecht to write such a tragic piece, we discover, as Wegman explains in his book, that: “His
motet could then be the musical equivalent of an endowment contract, its basic message being
that Jacob, son of Willem Obrecht, orders a motet in polyphony to be sung in perpetuity on the
day of his father’s death” (24). This evidence of influence bestows upon Mille Quingentis a
Lowry 5
more intense weight of personal association with Obrecht's life and the aftermath effects of
death’s monstrosity. Another aspect contributing to the elements of humanoid monstrosity in
Obrecht’s work is the textual proof that specific language sung by the tenor is quoted from the
Christian prayer: Requiem Aeternam, often used as base text in Requiems for the Dead
(Wegman 22). The tribute to Willem Obrecht and lamenting of death through text and voice is
what makes Mille Quingentis a significant conduit for the expression of humanoid monstrosity.
Upon the very year of Jacob Obrecht’s death in 1505, a new legend, soon to be heralded
by his brilliance in liturgical composition, was born. Growing into the name of Thomas Tallis,
the Catholic patriot of London quickly developed a keen likeness for choral motets; one of these
motets, Gaude gloriosa Dei mater, was written for nine soloists and became a work utilized for
the expression of monstrous war and galiant victory (Tallis). Due to Gaude gloriosa Dei mater’s
musical implementation throughout Europe after the precedence of King Henry VII’s war over
the Scots and French in 1544, the monster in its ideological form is speculated to have been
primarily attributed to within the piece. David Skinner, author of the article,“‘Deliuer me from
my deceytful ennemies [sic]’: a Tallis contrafactum in time of war,” delves into a detailed
analysis exploring these presumptions of origin and influence associated with Gaude gloriosa
Dei mater; he also explores the possibilities that a new contrafactum (substitution of text while
not changing the tune), to the original work was performed around September of 1544 to
celebrate the success of King Henry VII’s push to detain Scotland and end the war with the
French (240). Skinner illustrates that old English text within the Contrafactum, “Deliuer me
from my deceytful ennemies [sic],” supports the notion of the piece’s timing with war, and
highlights: “Thus, in the spring of 1544 we have a new English Litany by Cranmer and a related
Lowry 6
devotional work by Parr, the ‘Ninth Psalm’, set at some unknown date to the music of an earlier
version of Gaude gloriosa Dei mater by Thomas Tallis” (240). This war-time utilization of
Gaude gloriosa Dei mater alongside the dramatic polyphonic melodies within the work itself
support the claim that the monstrous ideology of war and preceding victory was undeniably
introduced within Tallis’ piece. Skinner reiterates this notion as he states the English
Contrafactum version of ‘Te Deum’ was “performed to mark the victory over the Scots” and
“represents... an elaborate meld of hotly topical vernacular text within an established stylistic
idiom — a monumental statement of patriotism and national pride” (244). Indeed, Thomas
Tallis’ Gaude gloriosa Dei mater served as a conduit for the people of England to empathize and
feel for the brave souls who protected their king under the guise and monstrous ideology of war
in the sixteenth century.
As representations of the bestial monster change throughout history, so does the
traditionalism of the art forms in which such monsters were first musically introduced. Thus,
when the middle period of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries are the focus of observation,
we come across musical examples of the bestial monster unprecedented to any composer alive
only fifty to one-hundred years earlier. One example in such a time of a composer’s disregard
for traditionalism, especially when musically introducing monstrous elements into a story, comes
from the composer Jean-Philippe Rameau and his controversial opera: Hippolyte et Aricie.
Premiering on October 1, 1733 in the Palais-Royal of Paris, Jean Rameau’s frighteningly
abnormal musical style within the Greek-inspired opera ignited immense criticism from
traditionalists. Within the NPR article, “Rameau’s Last Tango: ‘Hippolyte Et Aricie,’” it
explains that as Rameau came across “roiling seas and roaring winds” within the story, he
Lowry 7
purposefully “depicted them in the orchestra, with scrambling strings, rumbling drums and a
howling wind machine” (NPR). The article explains further that Rameau's music only fueled the
controversy and that “Traditionalists found it excessive and unseemly” (NPR). As Rameau’s
opera reaches the finale at the beginning of Act Four, the protagonist of the story, Hippolyte, is
overcome by an enormous sea monster as he is sailing in exile with the woman he loves and is
dragged down to the depths of the sea (Rameau Hippolyte et Aricie). Blair Hoxby, author of the
academic article, “All Passion Spent: The Means and Ends of a Tragédie en Musique” highlights
the musical representation of the sea monster, the storm-enthralled environment and the seeming
death of Hippolyte and Aricie:
“An innovative descriptive symphony depicts the howling of the sea and winds as
Neptune, in deference to Thesee's prayer, produces a monster from the sea. When
Hippolyte tries to confront the monster, he disappears amid the clouds engineered by a
cloud machine. Grief-stricken, Aricie announces, "je meurs" ("I die"), and the Chorus lets
out a simple hut heartfelt lament for Hippolyte reminiscent of Lully's famous Euripidean
complaint, "Alceste est morte" {Alceste is dead)” (57).
Throughout the entirety of the scene described above, Rameau’s chorus is singing with
tragic exclamations the doom of Hippolyte and the orchestra is thunderously sounding the
climactic attack of the sea monster, which is painted onto a backdrop as wide as the stage itself
(Rameau Hippolyte Et Aricie). The music within Act Four is inseparably connected with the sea
monster’s impending attack upon the protagonist; without the orchestra, chorus of singers and
other dramatic sounds from performers backstage, the scene would pale in comparison to the
level of monstrous connections, inconceivable drama and suspension of realism Rameau could
Lowry 8
deliver if his monstrous music was at the forefront of the scene. Thus we see that Rameau’s
opera, Hippolyte Et Aricie, explicitly introduces through unconventional, non-traditionalist
content and music the bestial monster in its full terrifying glory.
After only fifty years of the first performance of Rameau’s Hippolyte Et Aricie, in
December of 1791, an event of one man’s illness and consummating death took the world by
storm, creating one of the most historically disputed yet most famous compositions ever known.
Of course, the story of the young death of Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart and his unfinished
Requiem has been examined repeatedly by historical and musical scholars since the event itself
had occurred, but the representation of humanoid monstrosity -pertaining to the unexpected
illness that stole Mozart from life- present in his Requiem is often hastily overlooked. From the
very first notes of the first movement in his key of D minor, the looming sickness of Mozart is
felt in the celli and basses call and response between the violins and violas. A clarinet is then
heard carrying the droning melody with the bassoon and woodwinds creeping in until the final
dominance of the trumpets and timpani mark the presumption of the cadence, closing the
opening phrase of the piece (Mozart Requiem). As the first movement progresses forward into
the section, Kyrie Eleison, the choir belt with fierce emotion the title words -meaning “Lord have
mercy”- in a canonical approach, symbolizing Mozart’s plea with the Lord as the monstrosity of
his real sickness threatens inevitable death. When Mozart finally succumbed to his illness, his
requiem lay unfinished. Sophie Haibel, a dear friend of Mozart who was present at his death,
recounts the dramatic event in a letter written years after on April 7th, 1825. A portion reads:
“I ran back as fast as I could to my inconsolable sister. Sussmayr was there at M’s
bedside; and the well-known Requiem lay on the coverlet, and Mozart was explaining to
Lowry 9
him how he thought he should finish it after his death. Then he commanded his wife to
keep his death a secret...” (Mozart 570).
It can be inferred from this primary source that the feelings of the Requiem were felt even
at the death of the master. The presence of Sussmayr at the sickness and death of Mozart also
increases the probability that the young composer preserved the humanistic monster prevalent
within the Requiem and ensured a consistency of tone and feeling throughout the unfinished
portions. Simon Keefe, author of the book, Mozart's Requiem: Reception, Work, Completion,
defends Sussmayr’s interpretation: “the final note of the Dies irae, the breaking-off of the
Lacrymosa at bar 8, the violin explosion in the Domine Jesu - we must not recoil from bold
interpretation in the face of so much that is unknown…” (248). Although Mozart could not
finish his Requiem because of his own death, it would be foolish to discount the entirety of the
Requiem as evidential of the humanistic monster. It is because of Mozart’s unexpected sickness
and death that the Requiem is so regarded as the conduit for the composer’s unbridled emotions
at the glance of his own impending doom. Through the consistently minor symphonic key and
pleaful, angry and lamenting text sung by the chorus, Mozart’s Requiem remains a work raw in
its first hand musical exploitation of the frailties of the human frame and the inevitable humanoid
monster present with disease and death.
As performances of Mozart’s Requiem began to sweep the world after its initial
completion, a less known composition titled Der Doppelganger, crept into the light. Written by
early Romantic composer Franz Schubert on the same year of his death in 1828, Der
Doppelganger served as a musical catalyst for the words of an untitled poem from Heinrich
Heine, and primarily contributed to the expression of the ideological monster: the doppelganger
Lowry 10
(Code “Listening for Schubert’s ‘Doppelgängers’”). As a fairly new concept at the turn of the
eighteenth century, the doppelganger, as musically portrayed in the piece with Heinrich Heine’s
text, resembles a “Pale ghost, twin phantom, hell-begot...” (qtd in Schwarz 49). Schubert
achieves the portrayal of this ideological monster through attributing the doppelganger's
characteristics to his own life and split personality between his public and private endeavors.
David Code speculates in his academic article,“Listening for Schubert’s ‘Doppelgängers,’” that
“Schubert may have identified with the notion of the doppelgänger—a shadow-self—because of
the double life he himself apparently led” (3). Schubert’s “double life” allowed him to envision
the concept of the doppelganger in a way he could personally relate to. The piece directly
reflects this monstrous doppelganger ideology and Schubert’s personal feelings when it begins
with “empty chords...completed slowly,” and does not grow into harmonic structure until the
second man -the doppelganger- appears (Code 7). At this section of the piece the true fright of
the doppelganger is brought to attention: “when the narrator discovers that this other man is his
double” (Code 8). The singing of the narrator reaches its highest volume and displayed
abhorrence at this segment of the poem, for the true monstrosity of the ideological doppelganger
has been fully realized. Specific text from the English translation at this segment of the poem
reads: “A shudder runs through me-- I see his face: The man who stands in the moonlight is I”
(qtd in Schwarz 49). Schubert’s Der Doppelganger undoubtedly carries a monstrous ideology
because of the decision he made to implement Germanic text from Heinrich Heine, poetically
describing a man’s encounter with his doppelganger. Schubert also achieved the musical
portrayal of the monstrous doppelganger ideology because of his unknowing regard to how he
emphasized the concept of the doppelganger within his own life.
Lowry 11
Shifting focus into the nineteenth and twentieth centuries, one of the most contemporary
composers of the time period, Sergei Prokofiev, has introduced the bestial monster through many
of his pieces. Perhaps the most explicit example of the bestial monster being introduced,
however, gained precedence in one of his most famous works written as part of a children’s
narrative. Officially known as Peter and the Wolf, this children’s story put to Prokofiev's
contemporary music still thrives today as one of the most beloved portrayals of good, monstrous
beasts and the danger often associated with innocent adventure. The story begins with the boy,
Peter, living with his grandfather on the plains of a rural countryside. With the boredom that can
often occur with such circumstances, the boy decides to go exploring beyond the gate of his
grandfather’s house despite his grandfather’s warning against it: “‘It’s a dangerous place. If a
wolf should come out of the forest, then what would you do?’ But Peter paid no attention to his
grandfather’s words. Boys like him are not afraid of wolves” (Prokofiev Peter and the Wolf).
Not too far from the house the boy stumbles across a cat, duck and bird by a pond. There is a
brief moment of glee as the animals and the boy play, with the music of the symphony reflecting
the spunky happiness of the energetic moment. The grandfather, however, soon discovers the
boy had walked beyond the gate into the field. With a gesture of disapproval, the old man
snatches away Peter’s hand and takes him back into the house. Not an instance later when Peter
was brought inside, Prokofiev’s music transforms from a gleeful oboe and flute solo into a
menacing, monstrous ballad from the French horns: a wolf has indeed krept out of the nearby
forest towards the company of animals (Peter and the Wolf). As the wolf creeps closer, the
flutes, oboe and bassoon skurry into a wild frenzy of scales and dissonant arpeggios, representing
the animals’ panic upon discovery of the monstrous predator. The French horns, explicitly
Lowry 12
playing the theme of the wolf, grow more dominant within the musical scene, crescendoing forth
as the monster grows into the picture of the narrative. The cat scurries up the tree, the bird flies
away, but the duck is too slow. Within the story it frighteningly exclaims: “No matter how hard
the duck tried to run, she couldn’t escape the wolf. He was getting nearer, nearer, catching up
with her. Then he got her, and with one gulp, swallowed her” (Prokofiev Peter and the Wolf). At
the climax of the terrible fate of the duck, the French horns representing the wolf overtake the
prey’s gleeful oboe theme. In one instance of excitement, the musical representation and
symbolism behind the Wolf reaches the pinnacle point of monstrous triumph. The French horns’
evil wolf melody has villianisy consumed all other colors throughout the symphony (Prokofiev
Peter and the Wolf). To the perspective of the audience, the musical representation at this point
in the story evokes a concise and dreadful conclusion that the monstrous wolf has overtaken all.
This symphonic and menacing introduction of the wolf is precisely what Prokofiev intended;
within his implementation of specific instruments and musical tones, he undoubtedly achieved
the challenge of introducing a bestial monster through contemporary music.
Rewinding back into the nineteenth century, our final contemporary example of the
humanistic monster springs out from 1813 to 1883, in the life and fantastical musical endeavors
of the monstrous man: Richard Wagner. In retrospect, and as evaluated by Barry Millington in
his book: The Sorcerer of Bayreuth- Richard Wagner, His Work And His World, Richard Wagner
is viewed as one of the most “influential-and also one of the most controversial-composers in the
history of music” ( 1). Millington explains in a later chapter that the “conventional image” of
Wagner, as seen from a societal perspective, portrayed him, and perhaps justly so, as:
Lowry 13
“An inveterate scrounger and irredeemable philanderer who, not content with fleecing his
friends, also helped himself to their wives; a man who was thoroughly loathsome and
untrustworthy in his personal dealings. In sum, an utterly monstrous human being: the
Behemoth of Bayreuth” (133).
According to the passage, we may assume Wagner was seen as a monster prominently
within his private life, but the most controversial stances Wagner took purporting to monstrosity
were most foment in his public musical scene. Under the guise of nationalistic operatic works
and irrefutable, vocalized anti-semitism, Wagner established his monstrous reputation for all to
observe. His music and opinions were seen as so anti-semitic the Nazi movement in Germany
peaking nearly a century later interpreted his works as divine inspiration for the genocide of the
Jews (183). Referencing to The Sorcerer of Bayreuth, Millington emphasizes the fact that
Wagner's musical works were “appropriated by the Nazis” (183). Millington explains, however,
that although Wagner’s anti-semitic worldview should not be “acquitted” of all responsibility, it
is important to realize he was, in fact, “merely expressing sentiments widely held in his time.”
and that we should “embrace them [Wagner’s musical works] for all their infelicities” (191).
Through understanding the words of Barry Millington, it sufficeth to say the supposed monster
in Wagner and his music should not fully prevent us from partaking of his masterpieces. Rather,
as we gain a grasp of Richard Wagner’s works -most famously including the Ring, Die
Meistersinger, Parsifal- we will obtain an understanding of the majestic yet terrifying, beautiful
yet abhorrent elements that were implemented in not only his music, but also his life and the
monstrous sentiments of his Germanic Homeland in the nineteenth century.
Lowry 14
As the music of Wagner began to roll forward into the twentieth century and the
monstrosity of Nazism grew with the composer’s anti-semitic pieces, we encounter our final and
perhaps most applicable example of the ideological monster in music. The piece was finished by
Dmitri Shostakovich in December, 1941 in Russia -amidst the peak of World War Two and the
country’s savage blitzkrieg from the Nazis. Becoming Shostakovich’s Seventh Symphony, the
historic work is remembered as a tribute to the siege of Leningrad, which occurred
simultaneously along with the premier of the piece and continued until 1944 (Shostakovich).
Tom Service, author of the article, “War music: the humanity, heroism and propaganda behind
Shostakovich’s Symphony No 7,” reaffirms that as Shostakovich played only the beginning
movements of his symphony in 1941:
“his performance was interrupted by a German bombardment. As the air-raid sirens
began to blare after he had finished playing the gigantic first movement – music that
dramatises, parodies and immortalises the German invasion – he assured his audience
that he would return to play the second just as soon as the warning had stopped”
(Service).
With such a high level of persistence in regard to Shostakovich's completion of the
symphony during the heat of the German invasion, and taking into consideration the fact the full
premier of the work in August of 1942 was given by a half-starved orchestra, it becomes
irrefutable to deny the ideological monster, the“pounding rhythms of war,” screaming within the
Leningrad (Service). A quick listen to the bombastic first movement will evidently show the
monstrous spectacle of heavy strings, brass fanfares, and an indefatigable “side drum [beating]
the relentless rhythm of war” (Service). Anna Davis, author of the academic article, “Musical
Lowry 15
Icons: A Theological Reflection on Dmitri Shostakovich’s ‘Leningrad’ Symphony,” also
explains the intended portrayal of war within the piece: “This symphony has become renowned
for the way in which it deals with its subject matter—that of war—as well as for the
circumstances surrounding its premier within the besieged city itself” (523). Along with the
Leningrad’s immediate homage to the horrors of war, Shostakovich himself reaffirmed that the
piece symbolized the “struggle against Fascism, to our coming victory over the enemy” (qtd in
Davis 525). This utter defiance against the Germans and their monstrous ideology of Fascism
fueled patriotism within the hearts of the Russians; they found hope in “a musical work depicting
a still raging war” (qtd in Davis 525). Shostakovich’s Leningrad Symphony will always be
praised as music that defied the monster of World War Two while exposing the evil ideology of
Fascism thriving at the center of the conflict; the Leningrad ignited the fire within the citizens of
Russia: hope for the eradication of monstrous Nazism was found again.
The musical examples and composers shared throughout this paper have helped us
understand the direct correlation between monsters and classical music. Through the exploration
of the monster's bestial, humanistic, and ideological form along with the early, middle, and
contemporary time periods, it is hoped that we have gained a greater understanding of the
reasons behind a composer’s inclination to share monsters through dramatic pieces of symphonic
proportion. By observing the masters, from Monteverdi to Shostakovich, we have accomplished
in obtaining a more in-depth perspective on what it truly means to see monsters in music. As we
move forward, let us continue to delve into the lives and monstrous music of the great composers
of our day. As we do so, we will expand our horizons of seeing even greater possibilities of how
the monster, for better or for worse, is consistently present in every avenue of life.
Lowry 16
Works Cited
Britannica, The Editors of Encyclopaedia. “Orpheus.” Encyclopædia Britannica, Encyclopædia
Britannica, Inc., 8 Feb. 2018, www.britannica.com/topic/Orpheus-Greek-mythology.
Code, David Loberg. “ MTO Home Current Issue Previous Issues Submit Jobs Dissertations
About Journals SMT Listening for Schubert’s ‘Doppelgängers.’” MTO Society For Music
Theory, vol. 1, no. 4, July. 1995, www.mtosmt.org/issues/mto.95.1.4/toc.1.4.html.
Davis, Anna. "Musical Icons: A Theological Reflection on Dmitri Shostakovich's "Leningrad"
Symphony." Religion & the Arts, vol. 18, no. 4, Sept. 2014, pp. 521-542. Academic
Search Premier, doi:10.1163/15685292-01804003.
Gordon, Bonnie. "Orfeo's Machines." Opera Quarterly, vol. 24, no.3/4, Summer/Autumn 2008,
pp. 200-222. Academic Search Premier,
http://search.ebscohost.com/login.aspx?direct=true&db=ibh&AN=47429347&site=ehostlive.
Hoffman, Andrew J. Monsters: a Bedford Spotlight Reader. Bedford/St. Martin's, a Macmillan
Education Imprint, 2016, pp. 15.
Hoxby, B. “All Passion Spent: The Means and Ends of a Tragedie En Musique.” Comparative
Literature, vol. 59, no. 1, 2007, pp. 33–62. Academic Search Premier,
doi:10.1215/-59-1-33.
Keefe, Simon P. Mozart's Requiem: Reception, Work, Completion. New York: Cambridge
University Press, 2015.
Millington, Barry. The Sorcerer of Bayreuth: Richard Wagner, His Work, and His World. Oxford
University Press, 2012.
Lowry 17
Mozart, Wolfgang Amadeus, et al. Mozart: a Life in Letters.
London: Penguin, 2006.
NPR. “Rameau's Last Tango: 'Hippolyte Et Aricie'.” NPR, NPR, 25 Sept. 2009,
www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=113184360.
Schwarz, David. “The Ascent and Arpeggiation in Die Stadt, Der Doppelgaenger, and Der Atlas
by Franz Schubert .” Scholar Works , pp. 38–50.,
scholarworks.iu.edu/dspace/bitstream/handle/2022/3712/SchwarzTheAscentV7.pdf;seque
nce=1.
Service, Tom. “War Music: the Humanity, Heroism and Propaganda behind Shostakovich's
Symphony No 7.” The Guardian, Guardian News and Media, 2 Jan. 2016,
www.theguardian.com/music/2016/jan/02/war-music-the-humanity-heroism-and-propaga
nda-behind-shostakovich-symphony-no-7.
Skinner, David. “Deliuer Me from My Deceytful Ennemiesâ: a Tallis Contrafactum in Time of
War.” Early Music, vol. 44, no. 2, May. 2016, pp. 233–250. Academic Search Premier,
doi:10.1093/em/caw044.
Wegman, Rob C. Born for the Muses: the Life and Masses of Jacob Obrecht.
Clarendon Press, 1996.
Lowry 18
Music Recording Citations
Monteverdi, Claudio, et al. Monteverdi L'Orfeo, Theatre Municipal of Puy-En Velay, France,
Aug. 1996, southutahu.naxosmusiclibrary.com/catalogue/item.asp?cid=8.554094-95#.
Mozart, Wolfgang, Leipzig Chamber Orchestra. “Mozart: Requiem in D Minor.” Mozart:
Requiem in D Minor, Grosser Saal Des Gewandhauses, Leipzig, Germany, 10 Nov. 2004,
southutahu.naxosmusiclibrary.com/catalogue/item.asp?cid=8.557728.
Obrecht, Jacob. “Mille Quingentis.” Benedicamus in Laude Sub Tuum Praesidium (Plainchant) ;
Missa Sub Tuum Praesidium ; Salve Crux ; Beata Es Maria ; Salve Regina a 3 ; Mille
Quingentis ; Factor Orbis, London England,
www.allmusic.com/album/release/jacob-obrecht-missa-sub-tuum-praesidium-benedicamu
s-in-laude-salve-regina-mr0002453272.
Prokofiev, Sergei, Slovak Radio Symphony Orchestra. “Peter and the Wolf, Op. 67.”Prokofiev:
Peter and the Wolf /Saint Saens: Carnival of the Animals, Concert Hall of the
Czecho-Sovak Radio, Bratislava, 13 Dec. 1989,
southutahu.naxosmusiclibrary.com/catalogue/item.asp?cid=8.550499.
Rameau, Jean, Chamber Orchestra of Philadelphia. “Hippolyte Et Aricie.” Rameau, J.-P.:
Hippolyte Et Aricie Suite (1753 Version), Philadelphia, Philadelphia,
southutahu.naxosmusiclibrary.com/catalogue/item.asp?cid=COP069.
Schubert, Franz. “Der Doppelganger.” Schubert, F.: Schwanengesang, Vienna, Austria, 13 July
2016, southutahu.naxosmusiclibrary.com/catalogue/item.asp?cid=C5292.
Lowry 19
Shostakovich, Dmitri, Slovak Radio Symphony Orchestra. Shostakovich: Symphony No. 7,
'Leningrad', Concert Hall of the Slovak Radio, Bratislava, 13 Oct. 1992,
southutahu.naxosmusiclibrary.com/catalogue/item.asp?cid=8.550627.
Tallis, Thomas. “Gaude Gloriosa Dei Mater.” Tallis, T.: Choral Music (Gaude Gloriosa) (Oxford
New College Choir, Higginbottom), Chapel of New College, Oxford, July 1984,
southutahu.naxosmusiclibrary.com/catalogue/item.asp?cid=CRD3429.