Review

In a 2019 interview with Meet the Artist, violinist Elena Urioste describes her recent album Estrellita: “I feel that the synchronicity between me and Tom [Poster] and our love for each work is palpable. I’m also really glad we didn’t edit out our audible breaths, as there is absolutely no reason to be embarrassed to be alive” (Wilson 2019). True to Urioste’s word, no fewer than five audible breaths—each of differing lengths, intensities, and locations in relation to the musical phrase—color the first forty seconds of the album’s opening track (Fritz Kreisler’s Preghiera in the Style of Martini). The musicians’ breaths—which intertwine with the notated music throughout the entire album—exemplify one of several types of non-notated sounds that take center stage in Richard Beaudoin’s Sounds as They Are: The Unwritten Music in Classical Recordings.

The overarching goal of Beaudoin’s book is simple: to expand the boundaries of the kinds of sounds we welcome into music-theoretical discourse. As Beaudoin puts it, “What analyses emerge when non-scored sounds in classical tracks are theorized as music?” (7). Aligning with Nicholas Cook’s (2009a, 776) notion of recordings as “documents” worth studying, Beaudoin’s project fits comfortably within the subdiscipline of recording studies. The website of the Centre for the History and Analysis of Recorded Music (CHARM), a project funded by the United Kingdom’s Arts and Humanities Research Council from 2004–2009, serves as an excellent introduction to some of the methods and objects of study common to classical recording studies (https://charm.rhul.ac.uk/index.html). Many scholars who study classical recordings focus on how a performer’s dynamics, articulation, or timing relate to musical structure (Repp 1998; Cook 2009b; Cross 2014; Ohriner 2018). Beaudoin provides a fresh approach to recording analysis by exploring the expressive potential of “unwritten” sounds—recorded sounds that are not indicated by music notation.

Under his flexible methodological umbrella of inclusive track analysis, Beaudoin proposes four categories of non-notated sounds: sounds of breath, sounds of touch, sounds of effort, and surface noise. These categories are not intended to be exhaustive; rather, they provide a framework for listeners to identify and describe common types of unwritten sounds. Beaudoin’s sensitive, wide-ranging analyses make it clear that attentive listening comes first, categorization later. In tandem with the invaluable audio examples hosted on the book’s companion website, Beaudoin provides useful visualizations that combine spectrograms, score notation, and idiosyncratic but intuitive annotations. The companion website can be accessed at www.oup.com/us/SoundsasTheyAre. For each recording he discusses, Beaudoin credits sound engineers, indicates recording location, and, when possible, lists audio equipment used. In an early footnote, Beaudoin lists all the musicians, ensembles, composers, and record labels represented in his graphic music examples (9–10n2). Recording dates span 1889–2023; score composition dates span 1720–2020; ensembles range from solo instruments to full orchestra to voice and piano. By acknowledging the complex webs of people and materials that participate in the creation of recordings, Beaudoin recalls Vivian Luong’s (2017, [3.14]) notion of music analysis as a practice that involves “not only the theorist-and-the music dyad, but also other human and nonhuman bodies—our peers, students, theoretical apparatuses, papers, pencils, and laptops.”

By attending to sounds largely ignored by theorists and often disdained by reviewers—breaths, stifled grunts, fingers clacking on keys and fingerboards, the hiss of wax cylinders—Beaudoin prompts readers to reconsider which sounds “count” as part of music theory. In so doing, he responds to recent calls for our discipline to examine the limitations and biases of our theoretical apparatuses and objects of study (Hisama 2021, Ewell 2023, Lett et al. 2023). At times, Beaudoin’s emphasis on the motivation and methodology for analyzing unwritten sounds makes it difficult to tease out a unifying argument from his individual analytical conclusions. Ultimately, however, his project suggests that grounding analysis in the messy, vibrant practices of human music-making—as read through unwritten sounds—opens the door to a host of novel interpretive possibilities.

The clear structure of Sounds as They Are affords several effective reading approaches. After Chapter 1 (“The Aesthetics and Ethics of Unwritten Music”), which establishes the motivation for Beaudoin’s project, the remaining chapters (2–6) could be read in any order. Although Chapter 4 introduces some idiosyncratic annotation tools first introduced in Chapters 2 and 3, these tools are fairly intuitive to understand. Those interested in understanding Beaudoin’s methodology before unpacking his analyses in Chapters 2–5 might jump to Chapter 6 (“Inclusive Track Analysis”). Those interested in sounds of recording technology might read Chapter 5 (“Surface Noise”) before Chapters 2–4 (“Sounds of Breath,” “Sounds of Touch,” and “Sounds of Effort”). Although later chapters make occasional reference to categories of unwritten sounds from earlier chapters, most analyses focus solely on the type of unwritten sound indicated by the chapter title. That said, I enjoyed reading the book in its written order. I especially found the final methodological chapter to gain more explanatory power after having absorbed Beaudoin’s analyses.

In Chapter 1, Beaudoin argues that music theorists should take unwritten sounds seriously, despite the negative valence pedagogues, performers, listeners, and reviewers have historically assigned to such sounds. In conversation with scholars spanning Arnold Schoenberg (1978) to Suzannah Clark (2019), Beaudoin articulates his primary aim: “to account for everything that is audible within a given recording and seek to understand its expressive function” (18). Beaudoin invokes Schoenberg’s (1978, 309) notion of “everything that sounds simultaneously” and Suzannah Clark’s (2019, 148) notion of notes having “equal rights.” Although both Schoenberg and Clark are discussing pitch-based parameters, Beaudoin views his project as a conceptual extension of their ideas. He provides three brief examples demonstrating the benefits of this sensitive analytical approach. These examples include an unwritten note in Pablo Casals’s 1936 recording of the Sarabande from J. S. Bach’s Cello Suite in D minor, BWV 1008, pervasive clicking noises in George Walker’s 2005 recording of Fryderyk Chopin’s Étude in G-flat major, Op. 10, No. 5, and abundant breaths in Kim Kashkashian’s 2018 recording of the Gigue from Bach’s Cello Suite in C minor, BWV 1011. He also compares attending to unwritten sounds to more established data-gathering practices, such as analyzing facial micro-expressions and taking the US Census (28–40). In the latter analogy (recurrent throughout the book), Beaudoin notes that just as the purpose of the census is to account for all individuals present in each state (not just citizens), the purpose of his methodology is to account for all recorded sounds on a track (not just ones notated in a score). Though these analogies are evocative, some readers may not find them to significantly advance Beaudoin’s larger point. To conclude the chapter, Beaudoin excerpts several Gramophone record reviews that demonstrate varying (but mostly negative) attitudes towards unwritten sounds. From “the archive of reviews published in Gramophone magazine extending back to January 1983” (43), Beaudoin selects ten representative examples. As an example, Roger Nichols’s (2000, 57) review of conductor Yutaka Sado’s recording, with the Lamoureux Orchestra, of music by Emmanuel Chabrier, reads, “If he is to make any more recordings he should be encouraged not to grunt audibly at moments of stress: the opening of the Gwendoline Overture is only one of several passages thus marred” (43). He points out potential race and gender bias among reviews, noting that in the occasional cases in which unwritten sounds are praised, the performer in question is white, male, and (generally) famous (45). For example, Robert Cowan’s (1999, 105) review of Arturo Toscanini’s BBC Legends recording with the BBC Symphony Orchestra reads, “Toscanini’s audible singing (you hear it throughout the set) is further proof of his ecstatic involvement” (45). Lest he end on a dispiriting note, Beaudoin also suggests that unwritten music can provoke empathy in listeners, as in the case of violinist Jesse Holstein, who found unwritten sounds to further his desire to become a musician (47).

Beaudoin outlines his flexible methodology—inclusive track analysis (ITA)—in Chapter 6. ITA involves three steps: 1) Notice the totality of sounds on a track. 2) Determine the location (“rhythmic position”) of non-notated and notated sounds. 3) Analyze the “expressive function” of the relationship(s) between non-notated and notated sounds (228–29). In Step 3, an analyst might additionally consider sounding or notated aspects of pitch, timbre, texture, or form. They will likely draw on familiar analytical tools, including those developed for score-based analysis. In keeping with key tenets of pragmatist philosophy, Beaudoin emphasizes that an ITA practitioner’s critical task is to non-judgmentally observe what is. This act of observing will continuously reveal new modes of description and experience. In this vein, Beaudoin suggests extensions to ITA (including to popular music and poetry readings) and invites “expansion and revision” of his categories (231). Throughout the chapter, Beaudoin draws on work by pragmatist philosophers William James, Charles Sanders Peirce, John Dewey, Richard Rorty, and Cornell West (230).

In Chapter 2 (“Sounds of Breath”), Beaudoin extends scholarship on singers’ breaths in popular and vernacular genres (Eidsheim 2019; Malawey 2020; Ohriner 2023) to instrumentalists’ breaths in classical recordings. As will become commonplace in each analytical chapter, Beaudoin proposes several categories of interactions between unwritten and notated music and exemplifies each category with a musical example. Here, he arranges examples from the small scale (“breath as anacrusis”; “breath within motive”) to the large scale (“breath as phrase marker”; “breath as narration”). Each example connects to familiar music-theoretical concepts such as expectation, climax, and phrase rhythm. Across his wide-ranging examples, Beaudoin introduces a simple but effective annotating system that indicates inhales and exhales with up and down arrows (Example 1).

Chapter 2 concludes with Beaudoin’s evocative analysis of Dashon Burton’s 2015 recording of the song sermon “He Never Said a Mumberlin’ Word” (79–89). Beaudoin connects nuances of Burton’s individual breath sounds to large-scale musical structure and narrative. I highly recommend accepting Beaudoin’s invitation to “audit the complete track” (85n15), as the expressive import of Burton’s breaths is most powerful in their full context. He sets the stage by parsing the narrative trajectory of the lyrics; presenting his transcription of text, pitches, and Burton’s inhale locations (Example 2); and analyzing the durations of full stanzas and pre-stanza inhales. Breath 15 (pre-stanza 3) and Breath 29 (pre-stanza 5) form the crux of the analysis. Breath 15—the “ujjayi breath” (86–87)—is relatively loud, quick, and active in the upper frequencies. As such, it connects to the impending depiction of “piercing” and thereby “reveals an anguish all its own” (88). Breath 29—the “solemnizing breath” (86, 88)—is soft, long, and lower in frequency. It features “subtle, intimate mouth sounds” and a brief pause between the end of the inhalation and the beginning of the stanza. These features foreground the narrative weight of “dying” in the final stanza. Beaudoin emphasizes that the two breaths—“narrative foils of one another” (86)—not only foreshadow the central actions of the impending stanzas but also imbue the entire track with expressive import.

In Chapter 3 (“Sounds of Touch”), Beaudoin shifts his focus to the sounds of performers’ bodies interacting with their instruments. Each category of touch sound focuses on a different part of the body: pianists’ fingernails click on keys, string players’ fingers land on fingerboards, guitar players’ hands shift on fretboards, tuba players’ fingers clack on valve keys, Glenn Gould shifts in his chair, conductors stamp on podiums, and pianists’ feet lift and depress damper pedals. In each example, Beaudoin highlights the expressive interactions between unwritten sounds and aspects of motive, rhythm, harmony, meter, texture, or form. Beaudoin’s frequent connections between unwritten sounds and musical expression at multiple levels resonate with Daphne Leong’s (2019, 8–10) expansive view of musical structure. In particular, unwritten sounds might qualify as either “perceived” or “performed” elements of structure. Beaudoin uses annotations such as unpitched rhythmic notation, arrows, and pedal markings to visualize relationships between touch sounds and score notation. He suggests that descriptions of opening chords as “emerging from nothing” (101) or closing gestures as “fading into silence” (130) may not always reflect the sounding realities of classical tracks. Instead, delicate fingerfalls or subtle pedal lifts might be the first or last sounds we actually hear.

In Chapter 4 (“Sounds of Effort”), Beaudoin shows how performers’ grunts, groans, and moans interact with musical structure and expression. Beaudoin distinguishes sounds of effort from sounds of breath by explaining that the former “cross the threshold into vocalizing” (133). He organizes sounded effort into two categories “based on the character of the sounds themselves” (137): “climactic exertions” connect a rhetorical high point in the music with an obvious, extroverted grunt or groan from the performer; “intimate exertions” are softer and more frequent, appearing not in conjunction with musical arrivals, but in “quieter moments” (152) amidst ongoing musical processes (e.g., the middles of phrases). Three additional examples of sounded effort confound categorization, exhibiting the challenges of ad hoc category-building. The examples: cellist Giambattista Valdettaro’s strikingly intense “thoroughgoing growl” that corresponds with motivic elements throughout his 2014 recording of Zoltán Kodály’s Sonata for Solo Cello; conductor Georg Solti’s audible moans of varying placement and quality that correspond with phrasing in his 1984 recording of Gustav Mahler’s 4^th symphony; and pained sounds of pianist Joyce Hatto that her husband William Barrington-Coupe subsequently (and infamously) “patched over.” To frame the chapter, Beaudoin suggests that sounds of effort in classical recordings are especially taboo because they sometimes resemble sounds of sex. Critic Jed Distler’s review of Fazıl Say’s 2001 recording of Franz Liszt’s Piano Sonata in B minor is exemplary. Distler writes of Say, “He impatiently plows through the tender D major theme as if its overt lyricism were a source of embarrassment and drops a beat each time before he launches into the exposition’s infamous octave section. What’s more, his characteristic moans and groans now exceed the official porno movie limit” (138). He also notes that women’s grunts and groans seem to be less common and less well-received than those of men. He hypothesizes that “female conservatory students who grunt, groan, and moan during their lessons are more likely to be told to silence themselves than their male counterparts” (176). Although Beaudoin provides little evidence to substantiate this claim—an admittedly difficult task, given a possible “archive of absence” (Field 2015, 24)—his commentary is nonetheless thought-provoking.

At this point in the book, Beaudoin has introduced sufficient tools to simultaneously analyze multiple kinds of unwritten sounds. His analysis of Hélène Grimaud’s 1999 recording of Ludwig van Beethoven’s Piano Sonata in E major, op. 109, movement 3, shows how the pianist’s marked breaths, pitched vocalizations, and damper pedal changes relate to ongoing changes of dynamics and harmony (155–60). The “sit-see” of the damper pedal is difficult to make out; it features only briefly in Beaudoin’s analysis. Grimaud’s breaths and vocalizations are prominent throughout the track, particularly in conjunction with strong dynamics (i.e. the forte, sforzando, il più forte, and fortissimo in mm. 107–9). However, at crucial moments, such as the mezza voce in m. 31 and the sempre pianissimo to crescendo in mm. 106–7, Grimaud suddenly falls silent. In other words, Grimaud’s sounded effort is closely intertwined with notated musical processes. Although Grimaud’s vocalizations align with strong dynamics (more characteristic of climactic exertions), Beaudoin describes them as intimate exertions. He explains, “During her three concentrated, effortful breaths [in m. 108], I do not hear Grimaud celebrating an achievement, but making an ongoing attempt to achieve” (159; italics in original). In this analysis, Beaudoin strikes an effective balance between clearly articulating his interpretation and leaving room for listeners to examine additional connections between sounded effort and expression in Grimaud’s recording.

Chapter 5 diverges from the previous three by focusing not on performer-created sounds, but on sounds made by recording technologies themselves (their “surface noise”). Harkening back to the analogies of Chapter 1, Beaudoin compares listening with—rather than through—surface noise to the lines drawn on a piece of paper when using a seventeenth-century device (tabula) for creating a perspective drawing (carta) (185–87). Beaudoin uses spectrograms particularly effectively in this chapter, as the patterned swooshes of noisy recording media are often clear to see, even if they’re not always clear to hear. Beaudoin proposes six different “modes of interaction” between pre-recorded sound and surface noise. He situates these modes along a continuum, with “performance-centric” and “surface noise-centric” at either extreme (188). Four additional modes in which pre-recorded sound and surface noise expressively interact fall in between these extremes. Beaudoin calls these modes “narrative asynchrony,” “ekphrastic (non)coincidence,” “expressive synchrony,” and “metaphoric development” (188–89). These in-between modes do not themselves exist along a continuum; instead, each exhibits a different kind of relationship between surface noise, notated music, and musical expression or structure. For example, Anton Arensky’s 1894 wax cylinder recording of his Essais sur les rythmes oubliés for solo piano exhibits a striking moment of alignment (“expressive synchrony”) between the regular whirring hiss of the cylinder and the meter of the fifth movement (200–211). Notably, this alignment occurs just as the piece reaches its rhetorical and structural climax. For Beaudoin, it is of no consequence that Arensky could not have planned this moment of synchrony. The simple fact that unwritten and pre-recorded sound coordinate qualifies the track as worthy of analytical attention.

The flexibility of Beaudoin’s methodology is one of the book’s strengths. However, greater methodological clarity would at times be helpful. For example, I encountered some inconsistencies between Beaudoin’s “counts” of unwritten sounds and my own. In Chapter 3, Beaudoin counts 98 audible fingerfalls in Zara Nelsova’s vibrant 1959 recording of the Courante from J. S. Bach’s Cello Suite in D minor, BWV 1008 (103–4). In my own listening, I counted 112. Although Beaudoin provides an annotated score for the entire movement, Audio Example 3.5 includes only the first thirty seconds of Nelsova’s recording. The entire track is easily accessible on Spotify or YouTube (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CjQiW0fxeJM). In other recordings, such as those by Lucille Chung, Sheila Arnold, and the Guarneri Quartet with Bernard Greenhouse, I found it difficult to hear all the touch sounds Beaudoin identifies (the “sit-see” of the damper pedal and fingertip placements on the fingerboard), despite repeated listenings, decent headphones, and a quiet listening environment. Beaudoin provides few details of his own listening conditions beyond indicating that almost all spectrograms in the book are drawn from compact disc audio files (10). These examples raise questions about how aural and visual inputs interact in Beaudoin’s analytical process. Are unwritten sounds identified through aural perception alone, then visualized and further analyzed in spectrograms? Or do spectrograms themselves sometimes indicate the presence of unwritten sounds where they might not have been initially audible otherwise? Relatedly, it is sometimes unclear how Beaudoin distinguishes between sounds with similar profiles but different causes. In Chapter 3, for instance, what differentiates sounds of guitarists’ hand shifts from their fingerfalls? What distinguishes Gould’s chair creaks from his pedal sounds? Beaudoin’s emphasis on unwritten sounds’ presence over their causes suggests that such distinctions are of little consequence—ultimately, any unwritten sound may carry expressive import.

Beaudoin’s book also highlights the need for a systematic study of attitudes towards unwritten music in recording reviews and performance pedagogy. Although Beaudoin excerpts several reviews, it is unclear how common language that disdains (or even references) unwritten music is within the broader corpus. A more thorough study of reviews might reveal trends across time, recording label, repertoire, or performer identity. Though more difficult to execute, studies of performance pedagogy’s influence on unwritten sounds would be similarly illuminating. Together and individually, such studies could more concretely answer several questions: Are certain pedagogical traditions or instrumental schools more or less accepting of unwritten sounds? How broad (or localized) are attitudes towards unwritten music? How do these attitudes intersect with the race, gender, nationality, etc. of performers, teachers, and writers? Undertaking these studies would undoubtedly be a monumental task. However, it would provide useful context for claims about how a performer’s identity interacts with listeners’ willingness to accept their unwritten sounds.

Beaudoin’s methodology largely succeeds in being both accessible and adaptable. However, his characterization of the (hypothetical) converse of inclusive track analysis—exclusive track analysis—might give some readers pause. Beaudoin describes the latter as an approach that “would analyze only a subset of audible events, such as melody, harmony, rhythm, or interpretative details such as tempo” (228). Although Beaudoin acknowledges that “exclusive approaches are not always undesirable” (228), the implication is that analysts who study select musical elements—vocal timbre but not piano keyboard sounds, or performers’ phrase arching but not their breaths, for instance—practice “exclusive” analysis. Though this may be true in the literal sense of the word “exclusive,” the politically charged nature of the binary terms might suggest undesired extensions that are ultimately not in keeping with the premise of Beaudoin’s project. Taking Beaudoin’s message in good faith, I interpret it not as a mandate, but as a reminder that as analysts, we should at the very least strive to be conscientious of the elements we downplay, and to consider how welcoming other perspectives might open doors to further interpretive possibilities.

Possibilities for expanding Beaudoin’s approach to other repertoires and new analytical categories abound. Most of the recordings Beaudoin analyzes fall squarely within the realm of common-practice tonality, so one could focus specifically on post-tonal works to examine how unwritten sounds illuminate aspects of phrase and form—a notoriously thorny question for analysts of this repertoire (Hasty 1981; Howland 2015; Maler 2022). Beaudoin’s post-tonal examples include Edgard Varèse’s Density 21.5, Arnold Schoenberg’s op. 19, no. 1, Liza Lim’s Sex Magic, and Zoltàn Kodály’s Sonata for Solo Cello, op. 8. Several tonal composers—J. S. Bach, Ludwig van Beethoven, Gustav Mahler, and Fryderyk Chopin among them—are each represented in multiple analyses. Analysts might also explore how notions of the “unwritten” are enacted in repertoires that include notated sounds of breath, touch, or effort. Beaudoin briefly mentions several post-1945 works that include notated grunts, including Toru Takemitsu’s Voice for solo flute (1971), Julius Eastman’s Femenine (1974), and Olga Neuwirth’s opera Lost Highway (2002–2003), among others (135–36). However, the only recording he analyzes that includes notated sounds of effort alongside non-notated ones is Claire Chase’s 2023 recording of Liza Lim’s 2020 Sex Magic. And, as Beaudoin notes, popular and vernacular recordings provide further opportunities for investigating the expressive role of unwritten music. Mitch Ohriner’s (2023) conference paper on the syntactic and expressive function of inhales in Taylor Swift’s recent album Midnights is illustrative. Three additional types of unwritten sounds could fill many more pages. “Sounds of Listeners” could encompass those sounds of coughs and page turns Beaudoin sets aside in the introduction of the book. Beaudoin writes, “I leave analyses of [audience] coughs (as well as page-turns, ring tones, and airplanes flying over recording studios) to others” (10). Such sounds might provide information about crowd size, hall acoustics, or perhaps publishers’ pagination choices. Another category, “Sounds of Environment,” might include ambient sounds of nature or cityscapes. Yet another, “Sounds of Failure,” could address sounds of performers squeaking, cracking, or thudding in the place of notated music.

Pedagogical benefits of Beaudoin’s approach include exposing students to methodological pluralism and helping them develop “Oliverosian attentional flexibility” (225). Book chapters could easily serve as blueprints for units; individual analyses could be developed into lesson plans. For example, a lesson plan based on Beaudoin’s discussion of Kim Kashkashian’s 2018 recording of J. S. Bach’s Gigue from Cello Suite in C minor, BWV 1011 (74–79) might proceed as follows: 1) Students identify phrases and sub-phrases from score study and initial listening. 2) Students discuss musical dimensions that signal phrase boundaries—rhythm, scale degrees, implied harmony, repetition, etc.—and determine clear vs. ambiguous markers of phrase/sub-phrase endings. (Perhaps students also study published analyses [Ledbetter 2009; Moseley 2014].) 3) Students attend to the presence of Kashkashian’s audible breaths. Where do they occur? What is their quality? How do they suggest divisions of phrases/sub-phrases? 4) Students place their conclusions from each approach in dialogue. How are the two reconcilable? How does each approach prompt us to reconsider our assumptions and conclusions from the other? Though not essential, this lesson plan could be further enriched with the use of spectrograms. Beaudoin makes his spectrograms using the Lucerne Audio Recording Analyzer (LARA) (10); many readers may be more familiar with Sonic Visualiser (available for free download at https://www.sonicvisualiser.org/index.html).

Through its flexible methodology, clear but open-ended categories, and sensitive analyses, Beaudoin’s Sounds as They Are offers much to music scholars. Readers will likely encounter composers, performers, pieces, and recordings previously unknown to them. Even the most attentive of listeners will learn new ways of engaging with familiar recordings. Perhaps most importantly, analysts will leave the book encouraged to explore the multitudinous expressive possibilities of unwritten music and, in Beaudoin’s own words, “to savor the rich thicket of sounded intricacies that greet them each time they press play” (241).

Works Cited

• Beaudoin, Richard. 2024. Sounds as They Are: The Unwritten Music in Classical Recordings. New York: Oxford University Press. https://doi.org/10.1093/oso/9780197659281.001.0001.

• Clark, Suzannah. 2019. “Patterns of Exclusion in Schenkerian Theory and Analysis.” Journal of Schenkerian Studies 12: 141–52.

• Cook, Nicholas. 2009a. “Changing the Musical Object: Approaches to Performance Analysis.” In Music’s Intellectual History, edited by Zdravko Blažeković, 775–90. New York: RILM.

• Cook, Nicholas. 2009b. “Squaring the Circle: Phrase Arching in Recordings of Chopin’s Mazurkas.” Musica Humana 1 (1): 5–28.

• Cowan, Robert. 1999. “Toscanini and the BBC Symphony Orchestra in London.” Review of Toscanini: Beethoven, Mozart, and Cherubini, BBC Legends BBCL 4016-2, Gramophone, December 1999.

• Cross, Edward W. 2014. “Musical Timing in the Adagio from Brahms’s Violin Concerto, op. 77: An Empirical Study of Rubato in Recorded Performances Dating from 1927–1973.” PhD diss., Newcastle University. ProQuest (10049646).

• Distler, Jed. n.d. “Fazıl Say: Tchaikovsky 1, Liszt Sonata.” Review of Fazıl Say, Tchaikovsky: Piano Concerto No. 1, Liszt: Sonata in B Minor, Teldec Classics 8573 87009-2, Classicstoday.com. Accessed July 31, 2024. https://www.classicstoday.com/review/review-7074/.

• Eidsheim, Nina Sun. 2019. The Race of Sound: Listening, Timbre, and Vocality in African American Music. Durham, NC: Duke University Press. https://doi.org/10.2307/j.ctv11hpntq.

• Ewell, Philip. 2023. On Music Theory and Making Music More Welcoming for Everyone. Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press.

• Field, Allyson Nadia. 2015. Uplift Cinema: The Emergence of African American Film and the Possibility of Black Modernity. Durham, NC: Duke University Press. https://doi.org/10.1215/9780822375555.

• Hasty, Christopher. 1981. “Segmentation and Process in Post-Tonal Music.” Music Theory Spectrum 3: 54–73. https://doi.org/10.2307/746134.

• Hisama, Ellie M. 2021. “Getting to Count.” Music Theory Spectrum 43 (2): 349–63. https://doi.org/10.1093/mts/mtaa033.

• Howland, Patricia. 2015. “Formal Structures in Post-Tonal Music.” Music Theory Spectrum 37 (1): 71–97. https://doi.org/10.1093/mts/mtv011.

• Ledbetter, David. 2009. Unaccompanied Bach: Performing the Solo Works. New Haven, CT: Yale University Press.

• Leong, Daphne. 2019. Performing Knowledge: Twentieth-Century Music in Analysis and Performance. New York: Oxford University Press.

• Lett, Stephen, Clifton Boyd, Sumanth Gopinath, Catrina S. Kim, Judith Lochhead, Noriko Manabe, Patrick McCreless, Nancy Yunhwa Rao, Leigh VanHandel. 2023. “Colloquy: Music Theory and the SMT at 45: Perspectives on Inclusion.” Music Theory Spectrum 45 (1): 100–167.

• Luong, Vivian. 2017. “Rethinking Music Loving.” Music Theory Online 23 (2). https://mtosmt.org/issues/mto.17.23.2/mto.17.23.2.luong.html.

• Malawey, Victoria. 2020. A Blaze of Light in Every Word: Analyzing the Popular Singing Voice. New York: Oxford University Press.

• Maler, Anabel. 2022. “Listening to Phrase Structure and Formal Function in Post-Tonal Music.” Intégral 35: 45–68. https://www.esm.rochester.edu/integral/35-2022/maler/.

• Moseley, Rowland. 2014. “The Art of Gigue: Perspectives on Genre and Formula in J. S. Bach’s Compositional Practice.” PhD diss., Harvard University. ProQuest (3645033).

• Nichols, Roger. 2000. “A Disappointing Recording—with Few Redeeming Features—of Fairly Familiar French Repertoire.” Review of Yutaka Sado, Chabrier and Ravel: Hommage à L’Orchestre Lamoureux, Erato 3984-27321-2, Gramophone, August 2000.

• Ohriner, Mitchell. 2018. “Expressive Timing.” In The Oxford Handbook of Critical Concepts in Music Theory, edited by Alexander Rehding and Steven Rings, 369–94. New York: Oxford University Press. https://doi.org/10.1093/oxfordhb/9780190454746.013.33.

• Ohriner, Mitchell. 2023. “Excess Inhalations in Taylor Swift’s Midnights (2022).” Paper presented at the 46^th Annual Meeting of the Society for Music Theory, Denver, CO, November 12.

• Repp, Bruno H. 1998. “A Microcosm of Musical Expression: I. Quantitative Analysis of Pianists’ Timing in the Initial Measures of Chopin’s Etude in E Major.” Journal of the Acoustical Society of America 104: 1085–1100.

• Schoenberg, Arnold. 1978. Theory of Harmony. Translated by Roy E. Carter. Berkeley: University of California Press. Translation based on the third edition (1922).

• Wilson, Frances. 2019. “Elena Urioste, Violinist.” Meet the Artist: Interviews with Musicians, Composers, and Conductors. February 28, 2019. https://meettheartist.online/2019/02/28/elena-urioste-violinist/.