Sound in History – serie

What does the sublime sound like? Harmonious, discordant, noisy, rustling, silent? Miranda Eva Stanyon rereads and resounds this crucial aesthetic category in English and German literatures of the long eighteenth century from a musical perspective and shows how sonorous sublimes lay at the heart of a central and transformative discourse. For Enlightenment and Romantic era listeners, the musical sublime represented a sonic encounter of the most extreme kind, one that tested what humans were capable of feeling, imagining, thinking, and therefore becoming.The sublime and music have not always sung from the same hymn sheet, Stanyon observes. She charts an antagonistic intimacy between the two, from the sublime's rise to prominence in the later seventeenth century, through the upheavals associated with Kant in the late eighteenth century, and their reverberations in the nineteenth. Offering readings of canonical texts by Longinus, Dryden, Burke, Klopstock, Herder, Coleridge, De Quincey, and others alongside lesser-known figures, she shows how the literary sublime was inextricable from musical culture, from folksongs and ballads to psalmody, polychoral sacred music, and opera. Deeply interdisciplinary, Resounding the Sublime draws literature into dialogue with sound studies, musicology, and intellectual and cultural history to offer new perspectives on the sublime as a phenomenon which crossed media, disciplines, and cultures.An interdisciplinary study of sound in history, the book recovers varieties of the sublime crucial for understanding both the period it covers and the genealogy of modern and postmodern aesthetic discourses. In resounding the sublime, Stanyon reveals a phenomenon which was always already resonant. The sublime emerges not only as the aesthetic of the violently powerful, a-rational, or unrepresentable, but as a variegated discourse with competing dissonant, harmonious, rustling, noisy, and silent strains, one in which music and sound illustrate deep divisions over issues of power, reason, and representation.

What is the body when it performs music? And what, conversely, is music as it reverberates through or pours out of a performing body? Tekla Bude starts from a simple premise-that music requires a body to perform it-to rethink the relationship between music, matter, and the body in the late medieval period.Progressing by way of a series of case studies of texts by Richard Rolle, Walter Hilton, Margery Kempe, Geoffrey Chaucer, William Langland, and others, Bude argues that writers thought of "music" and "the body" not as separate objects or ontologically prior categories, but as mutually dependent and historically determined processes that called each other into being in complex and shifting ways. For Bude, these "sonic bodies" are often unexpected, peculiar, even bizarre, and challenge our understanding of their constitutive parts.Building on recent conversations about embodiment and the voice in literary criticism and music theory, Sonic Bodies makes two major interventions across these fields: first, it broadens the definitional ambits and functions of both "music" and "the body" in the medieval period; and second, it demonstrates how embodiment and musicality are deeply and multiply intertwined in medieval writing. Compelling literary subjects, Bude argues, are literally built out of musical situations.

In Proust's Songbook, Jennifer Rushworth analyzes and theorizes the presence and role of songs in Marcel Proust's novel À la recherche du temps perdu (In Search of Lost Time). Instead of focusing on instrumental music and large-scale forms such as symphonies and opera, as is common in Proust musical studies, Rushworth argues for the centrality of songs and lyrics in Proust's opus. Her work analyzes the ways in which the author inserted songs at key turning points in his novel and how he drew inspiration from contemporary composers and theorists of song. Rushworth presents detailed readings of five moments of song in À la recherche du temps perdu, highlighting the songs' significance by paying close attention to their lyrics, music, composers, and histories.Rushworth interprets these episodes through theoretical reflections on song and voice, drawing particularly from the works of Reynaldo Hahn and Roland Barthes. She argues that songs in Proust's novel are connected and resonate with one another across the different volumes yet also shows how song for Proust is a solo, amateur, and intimate affair. In addition, she points to Proust's juxtapositions of songs with meditations on the notion of "mauvaise musique" (bad music) to demonstrate the existence of a blurred boundary between songs that are popular and songs that are art.According to Rushworth, a song for Proust has a special relation to repetition and memory due to its typical brevity and that song itself becomes a mode of resistance in À la Recherche—especially on the part of characters in the face of family and familial expectations. She also defines the songs in Proust's novel as songs of farewell—noting that to sing farewell is a means to resist the very parting that is being expressed—and demonstrates how songs, in formal terms, resist the forward impetus of narrative.

What was considered a good, normal, or healthy voice in the nineteenth century?In 1854, singing master Manuel Garcia became the first person to see the vocal cords at work in a human throat. Less than a decade later, surgeon Paul Broca identified what he called a speech center in the brain. The almost simultaneous invention of the laryngoscope and the discovery of Broca's area present important turning points for how medical, musical, and other experts understood how the human voice works.These developments did not occur in a vacuum, however. In Speaking, Stammering, Singing, Shouting, Josephine Hoegaerts describes the ambitious attempts, throughout the nineteenth century, to observe, understand, and manage human voices, as well as the host of more traditional, domestic, and stereotypical beliefs about the voice that continued to exist alongside these new insights. She peers into the stammering therapist's office, over the singing teacher's shoulder, and occasionally into the laryngoscope to see how something so simple—the sound Europeans produced when they opened their mouths—changed over the course of the nineteenth century.Combining insights from medical and musical histories with methods from the fields of sound studies and the history of experience, Hoegaerts traces how people imagined human voices in the nineteenth century and how they used them. Rather than focusing on the great singers and orators of the age, the book looks at the mundane daily practices of singers, speakers, and stammerers and the people who trained and studied them. What did it take, according to all these increasingly specialized professionals, to have a normal voice in nineteenth-century Europe?

The role music, sound, and voice played in modern knowledge production in the early twentieth centuryDerived from the Latin words circum (round) and ire (to go), a circuit can refer to any bounded area. For contemporary readers, it might evoke the course of an electric current, as well as the flow of global capital. Yet sound—an inherently temporal phenomenon—can only circulate in mediated forms. Tracing the pathways through and by which sound traveled in the early twentieth century, Sonic Circulations not only proposes a new account of the role of music, sound, and voice in modern knowledge production but also poses urgent questions about technology and empire, while also foregrounding the tensions and paradoxes involved in situating the sonic within any fixed regime or system.Exploring key moments in the development of disciplines including linguistics, sociology, and eugenics, as well as musicology itself, Sonic Circulations explores the many ways that sound has functioned as evidence and information, as both an object and an agent of scientific mastery. Contributors explore the processes by which sound has moved through a variety of conceptual, as well as physical domains, highlighting the richness of historical contingency. This volume shows that circulation happened in many spaces and through many technologies: through sound recording, but also through the trade magazine and in the classroom; through wireless broadcasting and international festivals, but also in the cozy spaces of the suburban home.Featuring scholars working at the borders of musicology, ethnomusicology, sound studies, and music theory, this volume's ten chapters and two epilogues illuminate an alternative genealogy of modernism, emphasizing the embeddedness of even the most abstract practices in the structures of imperial modernity.Contributors: Peter Asimov, Andrea F. Bohlman, Harriet Boyd-Bennett, Alexander W. Cowan, Emily I. Dolan, John Gabriel, Jonathan Hicks, Alexandra Kieffer, Gundula Kreuzer, Deirdre Loughridge, Emily MacGregor, Giles Masters, Arman Schwartz, Danielle Simon, John Tresch.

Explores how Ancien Régime writers theorized public communication through acoustic metaphorsThe salons, cafés, theaters, and print shops of Ancien Régime France have long occupied a key place in histories of the "public sphere"—that is, a cultural arena where private individuals could discuss topics of public interest. Seventeenth- and eighteenth-century French writers certainly acknowledged the emerging importance of public discussion to their society and political culture. Yet when they wrote about contemporary public discourse, they typically used different words to describe it. Most often, they reached for a metaphor, referring to it as noise (bruit). What did it mean to characterize the public's discourse in this way?In this book, Ellen R. Welch investigates the figure of noise in Ancien Régime writing as a resource for thinking about public communication. Analyzing plays, novels, letters, essays, and chronicles, Public Acoustics explores how creative writers manipulated commonplace acoustic metaphors to reimagine the political and social force of widespread talk; the workings of informal communication networks; the ethical relationships between chattering masses and listening elites; and the psychological dynamics of these auditory social bonds. Different from traditional ideas of the public sphere, noise represents an understanding of public discussion that is less invested in its rational content than in its mobility, volume, and tone. The term also recognizes the unmanageable multiplicity of perspectives it contains. Welch's excavation of this story of the Ancien Régime's "noise" resonates with our present moment, and the chattering, tweeting, echo-chamber-bound publics engendered by digital media.