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Post by dem bones on Sept 4, 2021 9:08:44 GMT
Is there a thread about stories and music? As mentioned elsewhere, we've several related to (predominantly) rock, blues, jazz and pop music/ musicians in supernatural fiction, including Imaginary Rock Bands, the Shock Rock books, the recent Fifth BHF Book of Horror Stories, Slade's gory Ghoul, & Co, nothing specific for classical, folk, madrigals or any of that stuff ā so might as well try one. E. T. A. Hoffman ā The Cremona Violin: (1818, as Rath Krespel: Peter Haining [ed.], Great Tales of Terror from Europe and America, 1972). Erckmann-Chatrian - The Murderer's Violin: ( The Wild Huntsman, 1877: Hugh Lamb, [ed.], Best Tales of Terror of Erckmann-Chatrian, 1981). Rosa Mulholland - The Haunted Organist of Hurly Burly: (1891; Michel Parry (ed) - Reign Of Terror 4, 1977) Madame Blavatsky - The Ensouled Violin: ( Nightmare Tales, 1892: Peter Haining [ed.], The Nightmare Reader, 1969). Duelling violins. J Meade Falkner - The Lost Stradivarius, (1895). W. E. P. French - The Soul of Mozart: ( Cosmopolitan, Aug. 1902: Andre Norton & Sam Moskowitz [eds], Hauntings And Horrors, 1969). H. P. Lovecraft - The Music of Erich Zann: ( Weird Tales, May 1925: Dashiell Hammett [ed.], Creeps By Night, 1931). Victor Rousseau - The Seventh Symphony: ( Weird Tales, March 1927). Ivan Brodsky investigation. We'll get to it. Dion Fortune - The Flute of Seven Stops: (Christine Campbell Thomson, [ed], Nightmare By Daylight, 1936). Anthony Gittins - The Third Performance: ( The Evening Standard Book Of Strange Stories, 1934. That Gloomy Sunday vibe .....  Virgil Finlay; ( Weird Tales, June, 1938 : Kurt Singer's Ghost Omnibus, 1967) .... and again. John Keir Cross - Music When Soft Voices Die ...: ( The Other Passenger, 1946). Bongo fury. Henry S. Whitehead - The Ravel Pavane: ( August Derleth [ed.], Who Knocks?, 1946). Sir Andrew Caldecott ā Seated One Day At The Organ; ( Fires Turn Blue, 1948). Robert Bloch - Mr. Steinway; ( Fantastic, April 1954: Blood Runs Cold, 1962. Also includes his story of vampire jazz musicians, Dig That Crazy Grave!, via Ellery Queen's Mystery Magazine, June 1957. Day of the killer keyboard. John Llewellyn Probert - The Kreutzenberg Sonata: ( The Faculty of Terror, 2006). John Llewellyn Probert - Of Music and Mayhem: ( Coffin Nails, 2008). Please flesh out.
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Post by weirdmonger on Sept 4, 2021 10:22:29 GMT
The Book of Classical Music Themed Horror Stories edited in 2012 by D.F. Lewis  In the tradition of the Small Press of yesteryear, with its mixture of good-hearted and potential characterful 'idiosyncracies'. And 21 new stories by great authors grouped together in retro paper print only (forever). The stories will be appreciated whether or not you enjoy Classical Music. I think the book-cover works even better in real life than when shown on-line classicalhorror.wordpress.com/ for more info on this anthology PS: Of course, my own latest weird story collection published by Eibonvale Press is entitled DABBLING WITH DIABELLI (with a nod to Beethoven) 
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Post by Middoth on Sept 4, 2021 10:31:56 GMT
The Devotee of Evil by Clark Ashton Smith (The Double Shadow and Other Fantasies 1933)
The Fiddler's Fee by Robert Bloch (Weird Tales, July 1940)
The Midnight Guitarist, The Forbidden Waltz, The Report from the Rhine by GƩrard PrƩvot
The Wonderful Tune by Jessie Douglas Kerruish (Ā«At Dead of NightĀ» ed. Christine Campbell Thomson, 1931)
Ā«The Peril That Lurks Among RuinsĀ» Joseph Payne Brennan (Derleth's "Dark Things")
In the Court of the Dragon by Robert W. Chambers (The King in Yellow)
The Chords of Chaos by L. A. Lewis (Tales of the Grotesque: A Collection of Uneasy Tales)
Music Hath Charms by L. T. C. Rolt (Sleep No More, 1948)
Paymonās Trio by Colette De Curzon
The Little Black Train by Manly Wade Wellman (The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction, August 1954)
The Music Lover by Carl Jacobi ( Ā«Weird Tales, Summer 1974Ā»)
The House of the Living Music by Edmond Hamilton (Ā«Weird TalesĀ» January 1938)
The Music on the Hill by Saki (1911)
The Dark Music by Charles Beaumont
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Post by weirdmonger on Sept 4, 2021 11:45:35 GMT
Beethovenās Moonlight Sonata in Seatonās Aunt by Walter De La Mare
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Post by andydecker on Sept 4, 2021 11:46:55 GMT
Reggie Oliver - The Complete Symphonies of Adolf Hitler (2005)
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Post by dem bones on Sept 4, 2021 12:14:35 GMT
Elia Wilkinson Peattie - The Piano Next Door: ( The Shape of Fear, 1898). Barry Pain - The Moon-Slave: ( Stories in the Dark, 1901; Hugh Lamb [ed.], Stories in the Dark,1989). James Barr - The Soul of Maddalina Tonelli: ( The Red Magazine, Dec. 1909: Mike Ashley [ed.], Glimpses of the Unknown, 2018). Ianthe Jerrold ā The Orchestra Of Death : ( The Strand, Dec. 1918: Jack Adrian [ed], Strange Tales from The Strand, 1991). Paul Ernst - Concert To Death: ( Weird Tales, Nov. 1934: 100 Ghastly Little Ghost Stories, 1993). Manly Wade Wellman - Vandy, Vandy: ( MFSF, March 1953: John the Balladeer, 1988). Robert E. Lory - The Phantom Fiddle: ( Boris Karloff Presents: More Tales Of The Frightened,1975). Elizabeth Le Fanu - The Harpsichord: ( Times Anthology of Ghost Stories, 1975). Gary McMahon - Takashi's Last Symphony: (Charles Black, [ed], Third Black Book of Horror, 2008).
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Post by šrincess šµuvstarr on Sept 4, 2021 12:15:06 GMT
I woke up today and after my morning ablutions and other normal things, like eating breakfast and talking a lot, I logged in here to discover my thread idea had been pinched by a cruel beast!
After swooning and having to compose myself I've decided to contribute to it anyway. Even though the monster also stole my book choice, which was The Lost Stradivarius. I've thought of another however, It's regarded as one of the great novels, but I wouldn't know, as I have yet to read it.
Doctor Faustus by Thomas Mann. A composer makes a Faustian pact for musical genius.
P.S. I was so disgusted by this bit of plagiarisation, or should I say piracy, by the beast, that I thought about leaving this site in a huff. But then I realised how much jojo would miss me, so I decided to stay! Lucky jojo!
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Post by šrincess šµuvstarr on Sept 4, 2021 12:29:08 GMT
I know another.
The Bold Dragoon by Washington Irving. From Tales of a Traveller. 1824.
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Post by weirdmonger on Sept 4, 2021 12:36:05 GMT
Doctor Faustus by Thomas Mann. A composer makes a Faustian pact for musical genius. Love that bookā¦specially about music. But it even has this section where we seem to join Captain Nemo and 20000 Leagues! āā¦how he [Adrian] and Professor Akercocke climbed into a bullet-shaped diving-bell of only one point two metres inside diameter, equipped somewhat like a stratosphere balloon, and were dropped by a crane from the companion ship into the sea, at this point very deep. It had been more than exciting ā at least for him, if not for his mentor or cicerone, from whom he had procured this experience and who took the thing more coolly as it was not his first descent. Their situation inside the two-ton hollow ball was anything but comfortable, but was compensated for by the knowledge of their perfect safety, absolutely watertight as it was, capable of withstanding immense pressure. It was provided with a supply of oxygen, a telephone, high-voltage searchlights, and quartz windows all round. Somewhat longer than three hours in all they spent beneath the surface of the ocean; it had passed like a dream, thanks to the sights they were vouchsafed, the glimpses into a world whose soundless, frantic foreignness was explained and even justified by its utter lack of contact with our own. Even so it had been a strange moment, and his heart had missed a beat, when one morning at nine oāclock the four-hundred-pound armoured door had closed behind them and they swayed away from the ship and plunged into the water, crystal-clear at first, lighted by the sun. But this illumination of the inside of our ādrop in the bucketā reached down only some fifty-seven metres. For at that depth light has come to an end; or rather, a new, unknown, irrelevant world here begins, into which Adrian with his guide went down to nearly fourteen times that depth, some thirty-six hundred feet, and there remained for half an hour, almost every moment painfully aware that a pressure of five hundred thousand tons rested upon their shelter. Gradually, on the way down, the water had taken on a grey colour, that of a darkness mixed with some still undaunted rays of light. Not easily did these become discouraged; it was the will and way of them to make light and they did so to their uttermost, so that the next stage of lightās exhaustion and retreat actually had more colour than the previous one. Through the quartz windows the travellers looked into a blue-blackness hard to describe; perhaps best compared to the dull colour of the horizon on a clear thawing day. After that, indeed long before the hand of the indicator stood at seven hundred and fifty to seven hundred and sixty-five metres, came solid blackness all round, the blackness of interstellar space whither for eternities no weakest sun-ray had penetrated, the eternally still and virgin night, which now had to put up with a powerful artificial light from the upper world, not of cosmic origin, in order to be looked at and looked through. Adrian spoke of the itch one felt to expose the unexposed, to look at the unlooked-at, the not-to-be and not-expecting-to-be looked-at. There was a feeling of indiscretion, even of guilt, bound up with it, not quite allayed by the feeling that science must be allowed to press just as far forwards as it is given the intelligence of scientists to go. The incredible eccentricities, some grisly, some comic, which nature here achieved, forms and features which seemed to have scarcely any connection with the upper world but rather to belong to another planet: these were the product of seclusion, sequestration, of reliance on being wrapped in eternal darkness. The arrival upon Mars of a human conveyance travelling through space ā or rather, let us say, upon that half of Mercury which is eternally turned away from the sun ā could excite no greater sensation in the inhabitants ā if any ā of that ānearā planet, than the appearance of the Akercocke diving-bell down here. The mass curiosity with which these inconceivable creatures of the depths had crowded round the cabin had been indescribable ā and quite indescribable too was everything that went whisking past the windows in a blur of motion: frantic caricatures of organic life; predatory mouths opening and shutting; obscene jaws, telescope eyes; the paper nautilus; silver- and gold-fish with goggling eyes on top of their heads; heteropods and pteropods, up to two or three yards long. Even those that floated passively in the flood, monsters compact of slime, yet with arms to catch their prey, polyps, acalephs, skyphomedusas ā they all seemed to have been seized by spasms of twitching excitement. It might well be that all these natives of the deep regarded this light-radiating guest as an outsize variation of themselves, for most of them could do what it could; that is to say, give out light by their own power. The visitors, Adrian said, had only to put out their own searchlight, when an extraordinary spectacle unfolded outside. Far and wide the darkness of the sea was illuminated by shooting and circling will-oā-the-wisps, caused by the light with which many of the creatures were equipped, so that in some cases the entire body was phosphorescent, while others had a searchlight, an electric lantern, with which presumably they not only lighted the darkness of their path, but also attracted their prey. They also probably used it in courtship. The ray from some of the larger ones cast such an intense white light that the observersā eyes were blinded. Others had eyeballs projecting on stalks; probably in order to perceive at the greatest possible distance the faintest gleam of light meant to lure or warn. The narrator regretted that it was not possible to catch any of these monsters of the deep, at least some of the utterly unknown ones, and bring them to the surface. In order to do so, however, one would have to preserve for them while ascending the same tremendous atmospheric pressure they were used to and adapted to in their environment ā the same that rested on our diving-bell ā a disturbing thought. In their habitat the creatures counteracted it by an equal pressure of their tissues and cavities; so that if the outside pressure were decreased, they would inevitably burst. Some of them, alas, burst now, on coming into contact with the diving-bell: the watchers saw an unusually large, flesh-coloured wight, rather finely formed, just touch the vessel and fly into a thousand pieces.ā |
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Post by šrincess šµuvstarr on Sept 4, 2021 13:05:48 GMT
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Post by šrincess šµuvstarr on Sept 4, 2021 13:49:11 GMT
Maybe she was just getting inspiration from her subconscious, rather than actually setting out to be fraudulent. Do you think if we asked Lobsang Rampa's cat, Mrs Fifi Greywhiskers, she could tell us, or should I say enlighten us? |
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Post by cauldronbrewer on Sept 4, 2021 22:20:10 GMT
A few more: Mary E. Wilkins Freeman - A Symphony in Lavender: (1883; S. T. Joshi [ed.], Lost Ghosts: The Complete Weird Stories of Mary E. Wilkins Freeman, 2018). Mary E. Wilkins Freeman - A Far-Away Melody: (1890; S. T. Joshi [ed.], Lost Ghosts: The Complete Weird Stories of Mary E. Wilkins Freeman, 2018). Eli Colter - The Curse of a Song: ( Weird Tales, March 1928; Melanie R. Anderson [ed.], The Women of Weird Tales, 2020). I think all of Wellman's John the Balladeer stories would qualify, but especially Nine Yards of Other Cloth: ( MFSF, Nov. 1958), which might be my favorite in the series. The Little Black Train by Manly Wade Wellman ( The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction, August 1954) I've listened this version of "Little Black Train" at least a hundred times: |
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Post by šrincess šµuvstarr on Sept 4, 2021 22:29:38 GMT
[/a], 1988).[/quote]I think all of Wellman's John the Balladeer stories would qualify, but especially Nine Yards of Other Cloth: ( MFSF, Nov. 1958), which might be my favorite in the series. [)) I'm interested in the John the Balladeer, what more can you tell me? |
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Post by cauldronbrewer on Sept 4, 2021 22:40:43 GMT
I'm interested in the John the Balladeer, what more can you tell me? Between 1951 and 1987, Wellman wrote a series of short stories and five novels about a wandering guitarist named John. The series draws heavily on Appalachian folklore and folk music; Wellman lived in North Carolina for decades and knew the culture in great depth. John uses white magic--often in the form of songs--to defeat a variety of evil wizards, witches, and monsters, as well as to help people facing supernatural dilemmas. I think the short stories are stronger than the novels (this seems to be the consensus among fans), though the latter are worth reading, too. For much more commentary, there's also a thread about Wellman's fiction. |
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Post by šrincess šµuvstarr on Sept 4, 2021 22:49:14 GMT
Thank you. I will look on my ebook site to see if any are available for loan. But I think it is unlikely.
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