Spooky Music!

Now in a nutshell, the history of Halloween and how it developed can be described in a few sentences.  You see, Halloween originated from the ancient Celtic festival of Samhain, which marked the end of summer and the harvest, and the beginning of the dark, cold winter. The Celts believed that on the night of October 31st, the boundary between the worlds of the living and the dead became blurred, allowing spirits to return to Earth. They would light bonfires and wear costumes to ward off ghosts. Later, the Roman Empire combined Samhain with their own festivals, and as Christianity spread, the church established All Saints' Day on November 1st, making October 31st "All Hallows' Eve," or Halloween.  In this episode,I would like to describe what I believe are the five best pieces of classical music associated with Halloween - in other words the scariest music.

I would like to start - in each case after an introduction and description -  with a beautiful piece of music by the great French composer Camille Saint-Saëns.  This music is from a CD I did called FallingWater Dreams where I used basic midi files to start with, and do some arrangements of classical music.  You know this was many years ago ago, because this was back in a time when basic midi files were not copyright. This selection is called Aquarium and is from the Carnival of Animals. In the spirit of this podcast episode, I think Aquarium has a beautiful, but extremely eerie quality about it - not the kind of hard-core horror that is associated with some upcoming pieces in this podcast episode.  You could almost call aquarium to be creepy creepy.  Again, first before playing each specific piece of music - and there should be five - I am going to make some comments about that piece of music, it's history, and in some cases = it's influences.

Transcript

Musical attributions at end of transcript

1 Wolf howling

Happy Halloween.  My name is George Bartley and this is episode 497 of celebrate creativity - Spooky Music!  Now let me warn you in advance - some of this music might be hard going - and this podcast might be a little bit longer than usual - but stick with me and I think you will be extremely rewarded!

But first, if you tuned in expecting an episode on Gustav Mahler, I apologize. I have already written the episode and intend to upload it in the very, very near future - but today's podcast episode is about what I consider the best five pieces of classical music associated with Halloween.

Now in a nutshell, the history of Halloween and how it developed can be described in a few sentences.  You see, Halloween originated from the ancient Celtic festival of Samhain, which marked the end of summer and the harvest, and the beginning of the dark, cold winter. The Celts believed that on the night of October 31st, the boundary between the worlds of the living and the dead became blurred, allowing spirits to return to Earth. They would light bonfires and wear costumes to ward off ghosts. Later, the Roman Empire combined Samhain with their own festivals, and as Christianity spread, the church established All Saints' Day on November 1st, making October 31st "All Hallows' Eve," or Halloween.  In this episode,I would like to describe what I believe are the five best pieces of classical music associated with Halloween - in other words the scariest music.

I would like to start - in each case after an introduction and description -  with a beautiful piece of music by the great French composer Camille Saint-Saëns.  This music is from a CD I did called FallingWater Dreams where I used basic midi files to start with, and do some arrangements of classical music.  You know this was many years ago ago, because this was back in a time when basic midi files were not copyright. This selection is called Aquarium and is from the Carnival of Animals                  . In the spirit of this podcast episode, I think Aquarium has a beautiful, but extremely eerie quality about it - not the kind of hard-core horror that is associated with some upcoming pieces in this podcast episode.  You could almost call aquarium to be creepy creepy.  Again, first before playing each specific piece of music - and there should be five - I am going to make some comments about that piece of music, it's history, and in some cases = it's influences.

The carnival of the animals is subtitled a (Grand zoological fantasy) and was written as a piece of fun and musical satire, which is why the composer was adamant that it should not be published or publicly performed during his lifetime, fearing it would damage his reputation as a serious composer—an irony, as it has become one of his most beloved works. Saint-Saëns composed the suite in a small Austrian village while taking a break from more serious work, intending it for a private Mardi Gras party. Only one movement, "The Swan," was published while he was alive; the full suite was released posthumously in 1922.

"Aquarium" is a true gem of musical tone painting, perfectly evoking the serene, mysterious, and shimmering underwater world of marine life. Its instrumentation is one of the most distinctive in the suite, utilizing:

Flute Strings (two violins, viola, cello, double bass)Two Pianos and
Glass Harmonica (often substituted by a glockenspiel or celesta in modern performances due to the rarity of the original instrument)

The movement is structured to create a captivating ambiance through the layering of distinct musical textures. The two pianos are central, not carrying the main melody, but providing a continuous backdrop of sparkling arpeggios and glissando-like runs. These rapid, flowing notes suggest the gentle movement of water, the play of light on the surface, and perhaps the graceful, darting motions of small fish.

The flute carries the simple, subtle, and beautiful main melody, which is supported by the strings. The lightness of the flute’s sound creates a sense of weightlessness and etheric beauty - but in my opinion also a feeling of restlessness - that's something ominous is going to happen

The most unique and evocative instrumental color comes from the glass harmonica, or its substitute, the glockenspiel or celesta. This instrument adds glistening, ethereal, and magical chimes on the offbeats and provides gentle glissandos, mimicking the mysterious, unearthly beauty of a dimly lit underwater realm, or perhaps the playful rise of bubbles. The combined effect of the running arpeggios, the sustained strings, and the crystalline percussion creates an impressionistic and otherworldly sonic texture—a highly advanced and inventive piece of orchestration for its time.

The music balances a sense of peaceful tranquility with an underlying element of mystery and the unknown, reminiscent of the ocean's depths where light is filtered and unseen wonders lurk. The key of A minor contributes to this sense of quiet wonder.

The enduring legacy of "Aquarium" extends beyond the concert hall. Its distinct atmosphere and shimmering quality have made it a popular choice for film and television, often used to establish a magical or underwater mood. One particularly notable connection is its strong resemblance to the "Prologue" music in the Disney film "Beauty and the Beast." Reportedly, Saint-Saëns's "Aquarium" was used as a temp track (temporary music used during editing) for the film, and composer Alan Menken was subsequently tasked with writing a similar piece to evoke the same sense of mystery and magic, resulting in the iconic, spell-weaving music for the beginning of the movie.

The combination of its elegant composition, pioneering use of instrumental color (like the glass harmonica/celesta), and the successful capture of its zoological subject has cemented "Aquarium" as one of the most beloved and instantly recognizable pieces in the classical repertoire, a testament to Saint-Saëns's genius for orchestration and musical humor.

2 Aquarium

My second piece of music on the list is Camille Saint-Saëns's "Danse macabre" (Op. 40) - Halloween staple, embodying the very spirit of the macabre with a sophisticated French Romantic twist.

Now, Camille Saint-Saëns composed the symphonic poem Danse macabre (Dance of Death) in 1874, though it began its life two years earlier as an art song for voice and piano. The piece is a vivid example of Program Music, where the instrumental composition tells a specific story or paints a scene, in this case, the famous French legend of the Dance of Death on Halloween night.
 
Midnight's Arrival: The legend states that every year on Halloween night (All Hallows' Eve), Death himself appears at midnight.
The Summoning: Death, personified as a fiddler, strikes up a tune on his violin to summon the dead from their graves.
The Ghoulish Waltz: Skeletons emerge, their bones clattering, and they begin a frantic, perverse waltzled by Death. The poem emphasizes that Death is the great equalizer, with kings and peasants alike all forced to join the dance.
Dawn and Retreat: The eerie revelry continues until the cock crows at dawn, a signal that the dead must immediately return to their tombs and rest for another year.
The piece begins with one of the most iconic openings in all of classical music. The harp plays twelve quiet, single notes on D, accompanied by a
As the frantic, waltz-like dance begins (in 3/4 time), the orchestra swells with two primary themes. The most vivid sound effect comes from a then-uncommon orchestral instrument: the xylophone. Saint-Saëns uses the xylophone's dry, wooden sound to perfectly imitate the chilling sound of skeletons rattling their bones as they leap and spin. This was one of the earliest and most effective uses of the xylophone in a major orchestral work.
The core theme of the danse macabre tradition is that death equalizes everyone. Saint-Saëns reinforces this with musical puns, a technique he also used extensively in The Carnival of the Animals:
The day of wrath: At the height of the dance, the woodwinds introduce a direct quote of the (Day of Wrath), a famous Gregorian chant from the Requiem Mass, long associated with death and the Last Judgment. Saint-Saëns plays this solemn, sacred chant in a light, slightly perverse waltz rhythm, creating a humorous, yet unsettling, satire that suggests even the most sacred symbols are caught up in the dead's irreverent carnival.
The frenzy builds to a spectacular climax, depicting the wild abandon of the graveyard orgy. Suddenly, the pace is brutally cut short by a brief, high, and clear solo from the oboe—the sound of the cockerel crowing at dawn. The skeletons must flee. The dance is over.
The final moments see the solo violin (Death) briefly return with a plaintive, mournful lament, perhaps disappointed that the fun is over. The piece ends quietly, as the spirits vanish back into the earth.
Danse macabre was initially met with mixed reviews upon its 1875 premiere, largely due to its bold instrumental choices and grotesque subject matter. However, it quickly became a massive popular hit, largely due to a virtuoso piano transcription by Franz Liszt.
Today, it is globally recognized by many individuals as the official orchestral anthem of Halloween.
3 Dance macabre
Now next on my list is Edvard Grieg's "In the Hall of the Mountain King"  a quintessential piece of dramatic, driving music that builds tension to an almost unbearable degree.
It is the final movement of Suite No. 1, Op. 46, extracted from the incidental music Grieg composed in 1875 for the Norwegian playwright Henrik Ibsen's 1867 verse play, Peer Gynt.
"In the Hall of the Mountain King" musically narrates a dramatic scene from the second act of Ibsen's play:
The Scene: The arrogant, boastful title character, Peer Gynt, finds himself deep within the mountain and enters the magnificent, yet sinister, hall of the (the Mountain King, a powerful troll).
The Conflict: Peer Gynt has courted the Mountain King's daughter and is offered the chance to become a troll—on the condition that he give up his humanity and live by the troll motto: "Be true to yourself (and to hell with the world)." Peer eventually decides against becoming a troll and attempts to sneak out of the hall.
The Chase: The piece depicts the frantic chase and flight of Peer Gynt as he is pursued by the Mountain King, his daughter, and a large crowd of enraged trolls, gnomes, and goblins who want to tear him to pieces for insulting their king.
The Escape: The chase accelerates to a deafening frenzy until, in the play, the sound of distant church bells rings out, causing the terrified trolls to scatter and the mountain to collapse, allowing Peer to barely escape.
Grieg himself actually had mixed feelings about the work, once writing that it "reeks of cowpats, ultra-Norwegianism, and 'to-thyself-be-enough-ness' that I cannot bear to hear it," hoping the inherent irony would be felt by the audience—a clear sign that he wrote it as a deliberate piece of musical satire aimed at a provincial mindset.
4 In the Hall of the Mountain King
And before we get to the final selection,  I'd like to see a few words about Mars, the Bringer of War from The Planets by Gustav Holst. Though Holst was not aiming for a military march but rather an astrological and psychological portrait of conflict, the music has become synonymous with relentless, overwhelming, and brutal force—qualities that are the very essence of horror
The foundation of "Mars" is its motor-like, primal rhythm, which begins almost immediately and rarely lets up - This is musical dread manifested: the audience knows something terrible is coming, and they can hear every chilling step of its approach. The listener is pulled forward into a pattern that is both predictable and alien, contributing to a sense of growing anxiety and disorientation perfect for a horror theme
Holst’s genius in “Mars” lies in his masterful avoidance of conventional melody, choosing instead to build tension using only texture and volume. The entire piece lives in the lower registers of the orchestra. The powerful theme, built around a pair of tritones (often called "the devil in music" for their dissonant quality), is delivered by the trombones, tubas, and tenor horns—heavy brass instruments that project crushing weight rather than triumphant brilliance.
As the piece builds, the intensity is amplified by the sheer volume and density of the sound. Holst calls for two pairs of timpani, a huge ensemble that includes bass drum and cymbals, and eventually the organ, joining the final, deafening climax. This overwhelming sonic saturation creates a feeling of panic, claustrophobia, and absolute lack of escape. It is the sound of inevitability, a relentless, all-consuming power that cannot be reasoned with or stopped.
The techniques pioneered in “Mars” have become foundational to film scoring, particularly in genres associated with fear and conflict. Composers from Miklós Rózsa to John Williams (who famously admitted to the influence of Holst in his iconic Imperial March for Star Wars) have adapted this sound of rhythmic inevitability and heavy, low brass menace. When we hear a slow, grinding, rhythm-driven piece signaling the arrival of a major antagonist, we are hearing the spirit of Holst’s Mars. It is the sound of an ancient, cold, and terrible force, making it an essential, if non-traditional, piece of scary music.
The techniques in "Mars" didn't just influence Star Wars; they laid the groundwork for the modern psychological horror score. The incessant pulse, driven by percussive strings and low brass, is the classical predecessor to the relentless, low-frequency pulsing found in contemporary soundtracks, such as the work of Hans Zimmer in high-tension thrillers such as Inception. These modern scores often trade Holst's orchestral might for synthesizers and deep, booming bass notes, but the psychological effect is the same: the rhythmic repetition denies resolution, forcing the listener into a state of sustained, grinding anxiety. Both "Mars" and its modern counterparts communicate through music that danger is not a sudden jump scare, but an inescapable, slowly unfolding reality.
The foundation of "Mars" is its motor-like, primal rhythm, which begins almost immediately and rarely lets up - like the inevitable, approaching tread of some colossal, emotionless machine. This is musical dread manifested: the audience knows something terrible is coming, and they can hear every chilling step of its approach.
The listener is pulled forward into a pattern that is both predictable and alien, contributing to a sense of growing anxiety and disorientation perfect for a horror theme.
Holst’s genius in “Mars” lies in his masterful avoidance of conventional melody, choosing instead to build tension using only texture and volume. The entire piece lives in the lower registers of the orchestra. The powerful theme, built around a pair of tritones (often called "the devil in music" for their dissonant quality), is delivered by the trombones, tubas, and tenor horns—heavy brass instruments that project crushing weight rather than triumphant brilliance.
As the piece builds, the intensity is amplified by the sheer volume and density of the sound. Holst calls for two pairs of timpani, a huge ensemble that includes bass drum and cymbals, and eventually the organ, joining the final, deafening climax. This overwhelming sonic saturation creates a feeling of panic, claustrophobia, and absolute lack of escape. It is the sound of inevitability, a relentless, all-consuming power that cannot be reasoned with or stopped
When we hear a slow, grinding, rhythm-driven piece signaling the arrival of a major antagonist, we are hearing the spirit of Holst’s Mars. It is the sound of an ancient, cold, and terrible force, making it an essential, if non-traditional, piece of scary music.
5 Mars, the Bringer of War
I'd like to end this podcast episode with some music that I frequently used in podcast episodes regarding Edgar Allan Poe. That music is J.S. Bach’s Toccata and Fugue in D minor, BWV 565.

Now two years ago, I went to Christ Emmanuel Church in Indianapolis on the Sunday before Halloween - and yes there's a point to this - the organist played a great version of Toccata and Fugue in D minor directly after the service

Then the next year I went to Trinity Episcopal Church in Indianapolis on the Sunday before Halloween a - totally different church - and there the organist also played a version of Toccata and Fugue in D minor directly after the service.  In both cases members of the congregation gathered around the organ and applauded when the organist was finished. I guess you could say when it comes to OrgAn music the tocatto and fugue in D minor is a real crowd pleaser
You could also wasiksay that this piece is the undisputed, unofficial theme song of Halloween. But here’s the spooky little secret: Bach didn't write it to scare anybody. It was just a showcase piece for the organ. Today, I want go break down how a beautiful piece of 18th-century Baroque music became the universal soundtrack for mad scientists and haunted houses.

You might ask - why does the music sound so spooky?   Well, "First, we have to talk about the instrument: the pipe organ. It’s massive, it’s loud, and its primary job was in the church, making a powerful, majestic sound. When filmmakers decided to use the pipe organ for horror, it had this immediate effect of taking something monumental and sacred and turning it on its head. It suggests a grand, but ultimately evil, power.

Listen to the opening notes .  - 6 toccado.  We are instantly in a minor key (D minor), which sets a tone of darkness and melancholy. But what makes it so dramatic is the toccata form. Toccata is Italian for 'to touch,' and it’s meant to be a show-off piece.

With the music, Bach uses techniques on the organ: fast, descending runs like a lightning strike, followed by big, sustained chords, and moments of unsettling silence. This structure creates an emotional roller coaster—a palpable feeling of suspense and high drama that works perfectly for a horror setup.

And then, Hollywood Cemented the Cliché. The association began long before sound was added to movies. In the early 1900s, theater organists had to improvise background music for silent films. If a scene called for a vampire, a mysterious villain, or a spooky castle, the Toccata was the most dramatic, high-impact piece they knew. It became the instant musical shorthand for ‘macabre.

Now the moment that truly solidified it was in 1931: the classic film, 'Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde.' The Toccata plays over the opening credits, instantly tying it to the theme of gothic horror and a respected figure's descent into monstrous evil. Once it was linked to that specific film, it seemed that every subsequent horror movie used the toccata as a clear signal to the audience. It was used to underscore the villain in 'The Phantom of the Opera,' the eccentric genius in '20,000 Leagues Under the Sea,' and, of course, it was played straight in Disney's 'Fantasia.' The constant repetition eventually turned it from genuinely scary music into something nostalgic and even a bit cheesy... which is perfect for Halloween.  Now here's a fun fact - we know about the music was not meant to be scary, but here’s the final twist: most music scholars agree there’s a good chance Bach didn't even write it!”  You see, The original manuscript is a copy made by a student of a student of Bach, not Bach himself. Some features—like the use of parallel octaves and the simplicity of the fugue section—are considered highly unusual for Bach’s genius. This has led to speculation that the piece was actually an arrangement of an earlier solo violin piece by someone else.”Conclusion" The identity of the true composer remains a mystery. So, the iconic theme of spooky suspense is a piece of music with its own spooky, unresolved mystery!

And to end this podcast episode is a version of Bach’s Toccata in D.  By the way. join celebrate creativity episode 497 for that look at a fascinating composer - Gustav Mahler.

But one more note, before I end this podcast, I was lucky enough to accidentally run across a recording of Bach’s Tocatta in D minor as played by the great theologian, organist, musicologist, writer, humanitarian, philosopher, and physician - Dr. Albert Schweitzer

7. Bach’s Toccata in D

Aquarium from Carnival of the Animals, Composed by Camille Saint-Saëns, Performed by George Bartley, Source: Fallingwater Dreams (not associated the Western Pennsylvania Conservatory) License: Public Domain (composition) / Creative Commons (recording).

Danse Macabre, Composed by Camille Saint-Saens, Source: https://cdn.pixabay.com/download/audio/2025/10/24/audio_9d35dae8ec.mp3?filename=camille-saint-saens-danse-macabre-425423.mp3, License: Public Domain (composition) / Creative Commons (recording).

Peer Gynt Suite No. 1, Op. 46 - IV. In the Hall Of The Mountain King by Edvard
Grieg, performed by Czech National Symphony Orchestra, Source: https://www.classicals.de,  Publisher: Musopen Kickstarter Recording Project, License: Public Domain (composition) / Creative Commons (recording).

The Planets, Op. 32 - I. Mars, the Bringer of War Composed by Gustav Holst, Performed by the Skidmore College Orchestra, Source: https://musopen.org/music/43775-the-planets-op-32/#google_vignette, License: Public Domain (composition) / Creative Commons (recording).

Toccata and Fugue in Dm, BWV 565, Composed by Johann Sebastian Bach, Performed by Albert Schweitzer, Source: https://dl.musopen.org/recordings/48cbd238-bd7c-424c-816e-c9ed4cc59a47.mp3
filename=Toccata%20and%20Fugue%20in%20Dm%2C%20BWV%20565.mp3,  License: Public Domain (composition) / Creative Commons (recording).