My novel, Play, With Knives, is about a modern-day theater troupe touring the Midwest by train; only, the train is a kind of dreamspace, where random aspects of the playwright’s writings come to life and begin wreaking havoc. Fiction blurs with reality, creating dangerous consequences for the characters, whose only hope lies in the magic of the written word.
Other than a few instances in my book where the troupe’s supporting actress, Chantal, listens to popular music (like Prince’s “Little Red Corvette”), almost all the music referenced is classical music by Russian composers. The troupe’s playwright, Fallon, frequently plays these compositions on the train, but not all the characters are on board, so to speak.
Chantal says, at one point: “I’m so sick of this shit Fallon listens to—music from the days of kings and queens.” When another character asks who composed it, Chantal tells him, “It’s always some Russian whose name sounds like a bunch of scuffling.” After he floats a few possible names, she settles on “tchotchke.”
And so we embark on our journey, hopefully a bit more willingly. While not all these individual pieces of music are specifically referenced in the book, they’re of the type I imagined while writing it.
“Etude No. 5 in E Major, Op. 8” by Alexander Scriabin
In my novel’s most abstract passage, the sound of a fox scuffling inside a trunk is equated to a list of Russian composers’ names: Tchaikovsky, Rachmaninoff, Shostakovich, Rimsky-Korsakov, Prokofiev, Stravinsky, and—you guessed it—Scriabin. You’ll find all of them on this playlist. I opened with this piece because it sets the mood with just the sort of brooding, tangled chords Fallon would be drawn to.
“Symphony No. 2 in C Minor, Op. 17, ‘Little Russian’: I. Andante sostenuto – Allegro vivo” by Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky
An early scene in Play, With Knives describes “a single, somber chord that struck, resonated and, from its haunches, launched into symphony.” I selected this symphonic movement because it starts exactly that way.
“Piano Concerto No. 3 in D Minor, Op. 30: I. Allegro ma non tanto” by Sergei Rachmaninoff
I first heard this piece in high school, when I learned about its legendary technical difficulty from the film Shine, starring Geoffrey Rush. The composition is absolutely incredible. My novel has a passage where the troupe is killing time, and “the only one toiling was Rachmaninoff, whose furious chords sparred on the CD player in the corner.” That line was inspired by sections of this piece, like those at 2:23 and 7:40.
“The Rite of Spring, Pt. 1 ‘Adoration of the Earth’: Introduction – Augurs of Spring – Dances of the Young Girls – Ritual of Abduction” by Igor Stravinsky
In another scene, I write that “Stravinsky’s dissonance collided in Fallon’s compartment.” This piece best showcases the composer’s experimentation in that area. When it debuted in Paris in 1913, its jarring, clashing tones and unstructured melody incited a riot. Fallon would love that.
“Swan Lake Suite, Op. 20a: I. Scene ‘Swan Theme’ – Moderato” by Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky
Another piece by Tchaikovsky, and it’s basically heavy metal. So great.
“Così fan tutte, K588 / Act I, Scene II” by Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart
In an early draft of my novel, this aria played during a scene where a wannabe gangster was being executed by machine gun in slow motion. I ended up cutting the death, but I still associate the piece with my book. In the film Liberal Arts, a character claims that if you listen to it on headphones while walking past other pedestrians, you’ll see the beauty in each of them.
“Jazz Suite No. 2: VI. Waltz II” by Dmitri Shostakovich
Although Shostakovich is named in my book’s sound poem of Russian composers, this is the only one of his works I’m familiar with. It was included on the soundtrack of Kubrick’s Eyes Wide Shut and is incredibly atmospheric.
“Tsar Saltan, Op. 57: Flight of the Bumblebees” by Rimsky-Korsakov
In college, I had an album of Rachmaninoff playing piano—what I thought were all his own works—and this piece was included. So it wasn’t until compiling this playlist that I learned it wasn’t written by him. It’s prevalent in pop culture, but that doesn’t make it any less impressive. My book’s title was partly inspired by my playful approach to its language, and I suspect Rimsky-Korsakov came to this piece similarly.
“Peter and the Wolf, Op. 67” by Sergei Prokofiev
This is the wolf’s theme from Prokofiev’s symphonic tale. I had the Disney animated short as a small child, so the overall work feels incredibly familiar. For this playlist, I chose the darkest part, as I think it best fits the mood of my book.
“Romeo and Juliet, Op. 64, Act. I: Dance of the Knights” by Sergei Prokofiev
The previous Prokofiev piece was only a minute long, so I figured we needed a bit more. This one rocks. I love how it’s able to transition from a heavy beat to a light romantic mood and then back again.
“O sole mio (Arr. Ciaramello for Tenor & Orchestra)” performed by Luciano Pavarotti
In my novel, the theater troupe’s tour includes only small towns named after European cities. Rome, North Dakota, is one of them, and when the actors arrive, they find that the place has gone all-in. It’s filled with Italian-themed restaurants piping Sinatra, “That’s Amore,” and well-known arias. This piece is specifically named during a scene where the set designer gets into a bar fight with an accordion player. I decided to end my playlist with it, since its mood is a little different from the other pieces.