Welcome to Chimères, a series of articles dedicated to exploring the connections between our music genres and their underlying themes. Whether drawn from literature, philosophy, or spirituality, the landscapes that shape music are fascinating to explore. This isn’t about reviewing each musical work as one would in a standard critique, but rather about delving into the thematic foundations that gave rise to them. Let’s take a closer look at the works that have inspired the artists we’ve been featuring for years. The articles in english are AI-translated, keep in mind that that some phrases and stylistic nuances might be altered by the tool.
If there is one text that captures the socio-cultural essence of late Medieval England, it is Geoffrey Chaucer’s monumental The Canterbury Tales, written at the very end of the 14th century by the London poet. Relatively unknown in France, these stories form a collection drawn from a variety of literary genres—lai, chivalric romance, fabliau, and allegory—that testify to the narrative richness of the era. Unveiled in a multilingual England, where Middle English coexisted with Medieval Latin as a lingua franca, as well as Anglo-Norman, derived from Old French, Chaucer’s work played a key role in spreading and asserting the Germanic language against its rivals. Often regarded as one of the fathers of English literature, Chaucer spent many years working on this human tapestry, which remains a true window into medieval England. This narrative, grounded in a style that is both grounded and deep, stands out for its naturalness and depth, continuing to inspire artists captivated by the end of the Middle Ages and its societal themes.
Indeed, six centuries after Chaucer laid the foundations of English literature with The Canterbury Tales, a singular musical project has sought to reinterpret this legacy through an equally eclectic aesthetic: The Canterbury Tales by Chaucerian Myth. This album, a notable representative of dungeon synth and its community’s inclinations, draws from medieval tradition while immersing it in an introspective atmosphere unique to this musical genre. Through its sound textures and seemingly minimalist melodies, it evokes both Chaucer’s narrative frescoes and the depth of a medieval world tinged with multiple influences. Far from simply offering a musical transcription, the artist behind Chaucerian Myth explores the suggestive potential of the tales by creating a monumental work, where each track takes on the challenge of building the unique setting of each story. In this alchemy between literature and music, one question arises: how can music act as a bridge between past and present, participating in the rediscovery and reinterpretation of ancient literary works?
First, we will revisit the context in which each of these works came into being and consider the artistic and stylistic elements that make them valuable. We will then focus on the musical reinterpretation of The Canterbury Tales and the mirror it represents with the considerations that were contemporary to it. Finally, we will explore the experience offered by Chaucerian Myth and the offshoot that its album represents within the framework of a transdisciplinary reading.
1. Chaucer and the Contemporary Imagination
A quintessential 14th-century man, Geoffrey Chaucer was born around 1340 in the heart of London, a city that would later witness his passing at the dawn of the 15th century. Throughout his life, the poet held positions of responsibility and mingled with the English high society of the late Middle Ages, and even that of other regions. In the course of his duties, Chaucer traveled extensively. He was notably taken prisoner in France during the Siege of Reims (1359–1360), but he was also seen on the other side of the Pyrenees, in Navarre, a region that most likely inspired him in his quest for accuracy when writing The Canterbury Tales. Above all, Chaucer journeyed to Italy, particularly to Genoa at least twice. There, he encountered the works of his contemporaries: Dante, Petrarch, and most notably Boccaccio. In the midst of a prefiguration of the English Renaissance, Chaucer delved into a rich literary tradition that transformed how language and narrative forms were conceived. Of all the texts he had the chance to read, it was Boccaccio’s Decameron (circa 1350) that fascinated him the most, and which perhaps inspired his desire to follow the same path as his Florentine contemporary.
By 1387, Chaucer was a mature man when he began writing his Canterbury Tales, a project that would take a decade to complete, lasting until his death in 1400. It is important to consider the form given to his work to grasp its significance, even on a material level. In its final version, The Canterbury Tales comprises twenty-four stories, not including its prologue, in which Chaucer succeeded in bringing to life a remarkable number of finely crafted and surprisingly vivid storyteller characters—quite unlike the somewhat flat figures found in Boccaccio’s Decameron, which, as we’ve seen, had greatly influenced the English poet. Chaucer never had the chance to witness the success of his work firsthand, as he died in the autumn of 1400, but his Tales did indeed create a stir among his contemporaries, who were touched by their diversity, the realism of the characters—who were no more and no less than figures from everyday life—and their accessibility to the literate. Among his early admirers was the monk John Lydgate, himself a poet and an epic genre enthusiast, who placed Chaucer among the great authors of his time without hesitation. This esteem has scarcely waned over the centuries. The text did suffer from its image as a dated curiosity during the 17th century, when its language confined it to scholarly circles. However, the work experienced a resurgence of interest in the 18th century—which has remained uninterrupted since—largely thanks to modernized editions that made the text accessible to a broader audience, notably the edition by Thomas Tyrwhitt, published between 1775 and 1778.
In short, since its first publication at the very end of the Middle Ages, The Canterbury Tales has rarely strayed from the ranks of absolute classics in English literature. It is in this context of near-sacred primacy—where the text is widely scrutinized and analyzed in academic circles, and consulted and appreciated by both scholarly and general readers—that a singular album was born in the summer of 2016. For its debut release, the American dungeon synth project Chaucerian Myth—whose creator is Andrew Oliver, hailing from North Carolina—unveiled a remarkable album entitled The Canterbury Tales, initially released under the Out of Season label, and later under Foreign Sounds in 2019. Not content with using such an evocative title, the album also boasts a cover that is equally recognizable, provided one knows where to place its origin. Chaucerian Myth chose to adorn The Canterbury Tales with an illustration on vellum—a type of parchment that emerged in the late Middle Ages—dating back to the early 15th century, by an unknown artist, but most notably depicting pilgrims leaving Canterbury. This image is drawn from an edition of The Book of Troy and the Siege of Thebes, a work by John Lydgate, whose contribution to the literature of his time we mentioned earlier. It is, of course, anything but trivial on the part of the American artist, who is keenly aware of the literary monument he is engaging with when he brings its lines and characters to life in a way that goes beyond a purely textual approach.
Medieval and contemplative by nature, dungeon synth is a fitting choice to set music to such a pillar of medieval literature. In keeping with its origins, Chaucerian Myth has created an album that spans well over three hours of content. This is already unusual for a musical work, but it becomes an absolute rarity when speaking of dungeon synth, a genre that typically favors shorter formats—demos, EPs, and sometimes even rehearsal recordings. It likely required no less from the American artist to capture all the richness that emanates from The Canterbury Tales.
2. A Society in the Mirror: From Medieval Issues to Their Modern Echoes
The first setting of Chaucer’s Tales is located not far from London, in a tavern in Southwark, as detailed in the prologue of the work. There, twenty-nine pilgrims gather, heading to Canterbury, where the shrine of Thomas Becket lies. Becket was Archbishop of the city between 1162 and 1170, and was canonized in 1173. It’s worth noting that this religious title still exists today in its French form as « Archbishop of Canterbury. » Canterbury is no ordinary destination, and Geoffrey Chaucer was well aware of its political and religious significance. By making this major spiritual center the destination of his group of pilgrims, Chaucer seeks to engage his audience, who were more likely to identify with his characters, as Chaucer himself had undertaken this famous pilgrimage in the past.
As for the characters, the prologue offers a remarkably varied gallery, almost a living portrait of late 14th-century English society. Among those represented are:
The lower nobility and knights, such as the Knight, his Squire, and their Yeoman;
The clergy, including the Prioress, the Monk, the Friar, and the Oxford Scholar, among others;
The bourgeoisie and artisans, represented by the Merchant, the Cook, the Physician, and the Miller, among others;
Women, primarily embodied by the Wife of Bath, one of Chaucer’s key figures.
Chaucer’s narrative device is clever. The shift is made by the tavern keeper, who suggests that each pilgrim tells four stories—two on the way there, two on the way back—and the one who tells the best story will be rewarded with a free meal upon their return. Once again, we can observe the heavy influence of Boccaccio’s Decameron on the English poet. In Boccaccio’s work, the plague forces ten young people to retreat to a villa in the Florentine countryside, where each tells one story per day for ten days to their fellow players. Chaucer, too, aims to make his Tales a window into the issues of his time. They are a collection that plays on social and moral contrasts, opposing piety to debauchery, scholarship to ignorance, chivalric ideals to the cunning of merchants. Each tale can be linked to one or more themes, depending on its tone, message, or literary genre, beginning with those that are moral and religious in nature.
Closely intertwined in medieval thought, morality and piety are found throughout much of Chaucer’s Tales. Chaucer warns his readers about the dangers of flattery and vanity in the Nun’s Priest’s Tale, an animal fable whose accessible form makes its moral particularly intelligible—though it ultimately occupies a modest place within the tale. It features a rooster named Chanticleer, who, charmed by the flattery of a fox, is eventually captured. We can also consider the Prioress’s Tale, which tells the story of a young boy who is martyred for singing a hymn to the Virgin Mary in a Jewish neighborhood in Asia. Despite his death, he continues singing due to a host placed under his tongue. This tale is an ode to Marian piety and the power of miracles—although it is marked by overt anti-Semitism, reflecting medieval prejudices towards Jews. Finally, the Clerk’s Tale praises the virtues of Christian patience. It tells of Grisildis, a woman of exemplary obedience, whose husband, the Marquis, makes her believe her children are murdered, that she is repudiated, and that he has married another woman. Grisildis remains docile through these trials until her husband reveals the truth and restores her status. It is worth noting, however, that this tale can also be interpreted as a critique of abuse of power and the submission of women. Women, in fact, hold a central place in Chaucer’s work.
As we mentioned, women are major figures in The Canterbury Tales. They sometimes deviate from the classical roles found in medieval texts, but it’s essential not to succumb to a too-modern reading of the roles Chaucer assigns them. Many readers of the Wife of Bath’s Tale view her as a proto-feminist figure. In this tale—the longest of the work—the wife of a knight is raped by a nobleman, who is sentenced to death. He is given an alternative: if he can answer the question « What do women truly desire? », he will be spared. For a year, he meets with various women but finds that they cannot agree on an answer. He hears talk of money, affection, glory—and even female pleasure, which was rare for the time. Finally, at the end of his search, he meets an old woman who will provide him with the answer (that women desire mastery over their husbands) in exchange for marrying her. The nobleman is given a choice by the old woman: she can remain old and faithful, or become beautiful and unfaithful. He wisely answers that he will submit to her choice, which was the expected answer. She then becomes both beautiful and faithful.
Behind this narrative pattern endemic to medieval literature—one naturally thinking of Perceval and the question of the Grail—lie many elements that our contemporary eyes might mistakenly interpret as militant stances. While Chaucer incorporates into his Tales things that his contemporaries considered rare, it would be a mistake to view it as an ancient form of feminism. Chaucer questions the stereotypes of his time and adopts a more nuanced, even reflective, approach. He gives the women in his stories their own voices. Less dogmatic, yes; feminist, no. We have focused particularly on the Wife of Bath’s Tale because of its central role in the work, but it is worth mentioning others with similar themes. The Man of Law’s Tale tells the story of Constance, a Christian princess who faces a series of injustices: a forced marriage, exile, false accusations, etc. By maintaining her unwavering faith, she becomes a model of feminine virtue within the Tales. To a lesser extent, we could also mention the Second Nun’s Tale, which recounts the story of Saint Cecilia, a Christian martyr who converts her husband before being executed. She embodies a form of sanctity and ideal femininity typical of medieval religious thought.
The themes addressed by Chaucer are complex and varied, reflecting the rich legacy left by medieval literature, and it would not be necessary to cover them all here. However, we could shift the scene to discuss some of the critiques Chaucer directs at ecclesiastical corruption and abusive political power. In the Friar’s Tale, a church bailiff is tasked with dragging a woman accused of having had an affair with a churchman before the ecclesiastical courts. Unable to travel due to her ill health, the bailiff tries to extort some money from her, then a kitchen utensil. Refusing to repent, the bailiff is eventually dragged to Hell. In a more virtuous vein, Chaucer denounces the hypocrisy of some preachers in the Pardoner’s Tale. This storyteller is directly criticized in his own tale, in which he condemns sinners who are guilty of greed. He details the story of three men who try to kill Death after the death of their companion. Their plan is disrupted when they find a treasure that each wants to enjoy for himself. They each end up succumbing, as each tries to get rid of the other two. The Pardoner himself is guilty of the same thing he criticizes in his tale, as he attempts to sell his relics to his listeners at the end of his sermon.
In these tales, Chaucer points to greed and avarice, even corruption within the clergy. In others, he addresses the position of women, as we have detailed, but also courtly love, chivalric virtues, social satire, trickery and deceit, and sometimes even deeper questions related to fate, free will, or human morality. After exploring some of these thematic pillars, we gain a clearer understanding of the monumental task involved in grasping such a vast work. Yet, this endeavor did not prevent a dungeon synth artist from setting Chaucer’s Tales to music, resulting in a colossal album. And the content of the titles seems almost to provide clues about the sources of inspiration behind them.
3. The Sound Amplification of the Word
As expected — though we can certainly commend it — Chaucerian Myth did not seek to deconstruct Chaucer’s work when illustrating it with music. The album consists of twenty-five tracks, one for the prologue and one for each of the tales that make up the work we are striving to praise for its depth. The American artist follows both the structure and the order of the original text. This order can largely be attributed to Thomas Tyrwhitt and his edition from 1775-1778, which permanently stabilized the arrangement of the Canterbury Tales. However, it is worth noting that Henry Bradshaw, a 19th-century British scholar, proposed a different arrangement, grouping the tales in ways he considered more coherent. In short, Chaucerian Myth chose not to disrupt the traditional structure, showing great respect for the work that serves as its narrative foundation. This tribute manifests in the refusal to make too free a reinterpretation, where others might have sought to modernize or shake things up. The result is a clear, almost transparent musical reading that gives full space to the source material.
Once the brief introductory « General Prologue » is out of the way, the listener is immediately immersed in the atmosphere with Chaucerian Myth’s first illustration, « The Knight’s Tale. » With this first substantial track — more than twelve minutes long — we can already make a few observations about the style that serves as the framework for the American artist. Faithful to the medieval-reminiscent tradition of dungeon synth, the sounds are electronic and relatively raw. There are some instrumentations that could have been appreciated by Utred and Sagenhaft, albeit in a style that is a bit more rustic and stripped-down. For the delight of lo-fi sound aficionados, the overall production leans into a certain texture and sounds that stand out for their depth. All this results in a piece rich in roughness — a tendency that will never really fade — and gives The Canterbury Tales a remarkable homogeneity, for an album that, let us remind you, spans over three hours. Returning to this first substantial track, the artist opts to make it musically rich, with melodies that are at times epic and catchy, at other times more convoluted and dense. It emerges, at the very least, that Chaucerian Myth did not spare any effort in illustrating this hefty tale, adding an opulent and varied track whose slow pace inevitably evokes the weight of the text it illuminates.
After a careful listen to the album, any expert of the collection will easily draw some conclusions. Firstly, from a technical perspective, Chaucerian Myth shows a noticeable difference in treatment between the tales that are considered major within the work and those of lesser importance. Despite its magnificent melody — probably the most beautiful on the album — « The Reeve’s Tale » is one of the shortest tracks composed by the artist. This tendency to give less attention to minor tales is especially evident in the second half of the album. « The Manciple’s Tale » is indeed one of the shorter tracks, and even if we focus on the way the themes are represented, some elements raise questions. This is the case with « The Canon’s Yeoman’s Tale, » whose difficult-to-read character struggles to connect with the tale it illustrates — unless the goal of Chaucerian Myth was to emphasize the hermetic-alchemical elements found in the tale of the Canon’s Yeoman, which are by nature obscure to the uninitiated. In a more conscious approach, however, the artist sometimes takes a contrarian stance to the message conveyed by Chaucer’s tales. The most striking example concerns « The Tale of Melibee, » which in the poet’s collection is less of a tale than a moral treatise about reason, and is, in fact, adapted — or even translated — from a Latin text by Renaud de Louens. Perhaps Chaucerian Myth sought to disavow its content, as despite the fact that the tale is unbearably heavy and didactic, the American artist made it the shortest and most neutral track on the album, including the prologue.
Conversely, the more significant tales are, of course, treated with the utmost respect, given their central role within The Canterbury Tales. We’ve already taken the time to explore « The Knight’s Tale, » but the highlight of the album is undoubtedly the track inspired by the Wife of Bath’s Tale. Nearly twenty minutes of musical content — and even several pieces in one, if you pay attention to the structure of this substantial musical work. While the tale is often distinguished by its mocking tone, the opening presents an incredibly heroic introduction — perhaps an audacious reference to the very beginning of the tale, where the Wife of Bath enumerates her past marriages. But it’s especially in the subsequent sections that Chaucerian Myth shows its deep regard for a text that likely holds great importance for the artist, in a perfectly legitimate way. This respect is evident when listing the sounds used: harpsichord, piano, brass, and even some choirs at the end of the track, as if to close a true fresco. « The Wife of Bath’s Tale » is an incredibly rich, catchy, and even polymorphous track. It alone justifies the major interest one can place in Chaucerian Myth’s work on this album. It would be too cumbersome to attempt to analyze all twenty-four tracks created to illustrate The Canterbury Tales, but a few elements are truly fun in how they represent the storylines. Two characters are interrupted in the midst of their narration, the Squire and the Pilgrim Chaucer (whose first story displeases) — respectively by the Franklin and the Host. Chaucerian Myth thus made its illustrations of these two tales relatively short tracks that end abruptly, leaving space for the following narrative. Similarly, since the Cook’s Tale is considered unfinished in scholarly circles, the American artist did not wish to extend it unnecessarily.
These subtle details may seem insignificant, and in reality, they likely are, but they show that Chaucerian Myth took the time to read and study The Canterbury Tales. It is clear that much inspiration was found there, for it takes no small effort to undertake such a project of this scale. The result is undeniable, and The Canterbury Tales is a colossal work, perfectly worthy of Geoffrey Chaucer’s collection and the finesse with which he sought to portray the society of his time. Chaucerian Myth’s first album has thus become indispensable, even a classic, for any dungeon synth enthusiast, as it is the perfect illustration of a major work of medieval literature, this dizzying and often overlooked period, which the community continues to champion. Geoffrey Chaucer and Chaucerian Myth thus become an absolutely essential starting point.
In Conclusion
Each in its context and in its own way, the works of Geoffrey Chaucer and Chaucerian Myth are considerable collections of pieces that are fascinating to explore in order to shed light on late Medieval England and the images that persist from this captivating period, on the brink of the socio-cultural upheavals of the Renaissance. Six centuries separate the two works, but both emerge from the same desire: to portray a world in transition, to give voice to marginalized figures, and to convey, through fiction, the tensions of a society in the making. One was a privileged spectator of it, while the other had to reconstruct its contours from the vantage point of centuries passed. By transposing the structure of The Canterbury Tales into a modern musical language—albeit using a niche musical genre—yet one that remains respectful, Chaucerian Myth does not merely pay homage to the London poet; it extends his gesture. Through the lo-fi aesthetic of dungeon synth, a different pilgrimage begins: that of memory, reinterpretation, and resonance.
In this way, The Canterbury Tales does not simply illustrate a medieval classic. It becomes its renewed echo, the resonance chamber of a medieval imagination that, far from fading, continues to nourish creative margins, especially when dealing with such a substantial text as The Canterbury Tales. And while dungeon synth sometimes seems to rest on a mimetic appetite for the medieval period, which is often poorly documented, Chaucerian Myth masters its subject and serves as a privileged gateway to late medieval British society, a pivotal moment in European history in many ways. By reading The Canterbury Tales and listening to The Canterbury Tales with rigor and curiosity, one quickly realizes that many of the issues of the time still echo today. Chaucer and Chaucerian Myth, each in their own way, remind us that the voices of the past have never ceased to speak — all it takes is a little listening for them to still touch us today.
