Examining the many controversies associated with pitch standards in Melbourne over more than a hundred years, Simon Purtell discovers their impact on the tuning of the city’s orchestras and organs, as well as its defence, municipal and Salvation Army bands. This fascinating history involves famous local and touring singers, conductors and organists, including Nellie Melba, Malcolm Sargent and William McKie, revealing just how complex a problem it was to ensure that Melbourne’s music-makers remained in tune. “Harry Potter and the Cursed Child has nothing on the saga of ‘Pitch, pitch, that cursed pitch’: the seemingly endless and frequently caustic attempts to establish a uniform performing pitch for music in the Antipodes. It is a typically Melburnian drama of mixed deference to Britain and stubborn upholding of local interests that the author so eloquently and patiently chronicles, and it ranges from the almost theocratic intervention of Dame Nellie Melba at the beginning of the twentieth century to the Stanthorpe Apple and Grape Harvest Festival of 1972. At the same time, it will have been a battle taking place comparably in all the major cities of the British Empire and beyond, though each with its peculiar twists and turns. What Simon Purtell has done is show us, in immaculate detail, just how pervasive and intricate, not to mention costly, this tectonic realignment of a fundamental element of musical infrastructure must have been in all places over a very long period of time” (Emeritus Professor Stephen Banfield, Centre for the History of Music in Britain, the Empire and the Commonwealth, University of Bristol).

This book is the first to be dedicated to a study of the reception of a major European composer in Australia. Each of the eleven essays explores how J.S. Bach’s music has enriched Australian cultural life, from private performances in the early nineteenth century to historically informed realisations in recent years. The authors outline the challenges of mounting and sustaining this repertoire in the face of underdeveloped musical infrastructure and limited resources, and how these challenges have been overcome with determination and insight. Championed by imaginative individuals such as Ernest Wood and Leonard Fullard in Melbourne, E.H. Davies in Adelaide and W. Arundel Orchard in Sydney, Bach’s music has been a vehicle for the realisation of Australians’ cultural aspirations and a means of maintaining connections with traditions that continue to be cherished today.

Tuning the World tells the unknown story of how the musical pitch A 440 became the global norm. Now commonly accepted as the point of reference for musicians in the Western world, A 440 hertz only became the standard pitch during an international conference held in 1939. The adoption of this norm was the result of decades of negotiations between countries, involving a diverse group of performers, composers, diplomats, physicists, and sound engineers. Although there is widespread awareness of the variability of musical pitches over time, as attested by the use of lower frequencies to perform early music repertoires, no study has fully explained the invention of our current concert pitch. In this book, Fanny Gribenski draws on a rich variety of previously unexplored archival sources and a unique combination of musicological perspectives, transnational history, and science studies to tell the unknown story of how A 440 became the global norm. Tuning the World demonstrates the aesthetic, scientific, industrial, and political contingencies underlying the construction of one of the most “natural” objects of contemporary musical performance and shows how this century-old effort was ultimately determined by the influence of a few powerful nations.

From the 'old world' to the 'new' and back again, this transnational history of the performance and reception of Bizet's Carmen – whose subject has become a modern myth and its heroine a symbol – provides new understanding of the opera's enduring yet ever-evolving and resituated presence and popularity. This book examines three stages of cultural transfer: the opera's establishment in the repertoire; its performance, translation, adaptation and appropriation in Europe, the Americas and Australia; its cultural 'work' in Soviet Russia, in Japan in the era of Westernisation, in southern, regionalist France and in Carmen's 'homeland', Spain. As the volume reveals the ways in which Bizet's opera swiftly travelled the globe from its Parisian premiere, readers will understand how the story, the music, the staging and the singers appealed to audiences in diverse geographical, artistic and political contexts.

In this witty, often terrifying work of cultural criticism, the author of Amusing Ourselves to Death chronicles our transformation into a Technopoly: a society that no longer merely uses technology as a support system but instead is shaped by it—with radical consequences for the meanings of politics, art, education, intelligence, and truth.