Observing the progression of musical ideas and fashion can be truly fascinating. What is good (even acceptable) today might sound ridiculous a century from now.

Case and point: Julius Caesar. A popular subject; there are many famous plays, operas, and movies about him – especially his death. When I think of imperial Rome, a very specific musical sound comes into my head. It’s the sound that was shaped by films such as Spartacus, Gladiator, The Life of Brian (not the silly songs – the incidental music), and of course, the video game Civilization (see 7:05). But that “epic” sound wasn’t always the sound of Rome. When Handel wrote his opera Giulio Caesar, the overture fit the style of his time. Nowadays, we can still enjoy the music, but I’d wager that most people wouldn’t associate this sweet, delicate sound with the leader of brutal, powerful, imperial Rome:

Again, reflecting on our modern associations with musical style, hearing this music makes me think of powdered wigs and ruffly coats, not togas. The music is great, but not Caesarian. Give me the music of Miklós Rózsa, and his score to the 1950s film, Julius Ceasar!

Italy held a monopoly on opera until the 19th century, when Germany and France entered the arena. Mozart got the ball rolling, Weber made it big, and Wagner perfected it. In between Weber and Wagner was Heinrich Marschner. His opera, Der Vampyr, was cool way before the likes of Buffy or Twilight, and still remains cooler than Tom Cruise.

Long before things like Castlevania made us associate a certain musical style with Vampires (specifically, baroque harpsichord concerti in minor keys) Marschner was starting from scratch, and became known for his ability to write operatic horror.

Hiawatha is an epic poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. It’s lengthy, but worth the read; the mythic story is fascinating and the rhythm of the verse will put you in a trance.

Once again I return to Samuel Coleridge-Taylor. His three-part oratorio “The Song of Hiawatha” was such a hit in England that when it premiered, it was conducted by no less than C. V. Stanford, and attended by the great C. H. H. Parry and Arthur Sullivan, who practically had to be carried there because he was on his death-bed – but absolutely insisted on going to hear the performance. In the four years that followed, the work received over 200 performances in England alone.