In 1953 Vaughan Williams' motet "A Vision of Aeroplanes" provided a sound portrait of airplanes as ominous and awesome. It's based on a passage in the biblical book of Ezekiel, in which the prophet recounts a terrifying vision of cherubim in otherworldly airborne vehicles. Williams interprets Ezekiel's vision as a premonition of airplanes. His flying machine is a metaphor for the scariest aspects of the transcendent: that which is utterly unfamiliar, majestic and terrifying.

Today, a century after the Wrights lifted off from the Carolina dunes in a contraption of wood and muslin, the experience of flight has become codified and mundane. With its familiar rituals and conventions, modern commercial air travel is so technologized, homogenized and sterilized that we've grown oblivious to the wonder of flight itself. As in many other areas of contemporary life, it's as though we've become uncomfortable with awe, choosing to insulate ourselves from occasions where we might feel it. And yet, beneath all of the trappings and obscuration, there remains a raw sense of beauty, amazement and fear. A few bold musicians have incorporated both the banality of modern air travel and its underlying exhilarations.

Brian Eno's "Music for Airports," released in 1979 and one of the granddaddies of what can loosely be defined as ambient music, does this indirectly. At first listen, it appears to present a sonic re-creation of the blandness of the modern terminal. But actually, rather than imposing a theme, Eno has created background music that's reflective and evocative -- not of the composer's emotions but of the listener's. Through a calm, meditative soundscape, it generates an atmosphere in which the listener can opt whether or not to listen; a space in which he can notice, if he chooses to, his surroundings, ideas and feelings.

The 1990s bring us Jonathan Dove's aforementioned opera "Flight" and New Zealand composer John Psathas' 1990 piano composition "Waiting for the Aeroplane." As recordings of the latter are not available in the U.S., we can only go with what Psathas says of it: "The emotion of farewells, the distance between the two countries, the power of aircraft and the frenetic activity of airports all managed to find their way into the piece."

"Flight" takes place entirely inside an airport waiting lounge and the control tower overlooking it. Of this unusual setting, Dove writes, "We're very used to the banal interiors of airports, and maybe we forget what extraordinary places they are, portals between the everyday world and the magical world of flying."

While "Flight" is the only opera set in an airport, it's not the first to include an airplane in key scenes. That honor goes to John Adams' 1987 "Nixon in China," the original staging of which included an immense replica of a 747. The plane had the role of the presidential Air Force One, named "The Spirit of '76," that Nixon rode to Peking on his historic visit in 1972. (The real Air Force One at the time was a much smaller 707; the set designers were apparently going for impact, not authenticity.) Though just one scene in a long opera, the plane is integral to the story line. Chinese Premier Chou En-Lai sings to Nixon, "Your flight was smooth, I presume?"

Going beyond either of these will be "Airline Icarus," a still unfinished chamber opera by Canadian composer Brian Current and librettist Anton Piatogorsky, commissioned by Opera Breve Vancouver. This opera takes place aboard a commercial jet and presents an ambiguous story line exploring the themes of "hubris mixed with technology, forced intimacy of strangers, and flying too close to the sun."

Elsewhere, the 21st century is represented by two very different, and differently skilled, artists. There's Yoyoman, aka Bruno Misonne, a Belgian composer of classical-influenced techno odes to airplanes and airports. Yoyoman manages to be simultaneously clichéd -- most of his beats and melodies are standard techno/trance -- and pleasingly ambitious. His incorporation of actual jet and propeller noises, air-to-ground communications and in-flight mechanical sounds helps lift his music beyond its own stylistic limitations.

Misonne happens to be an "Ask the Pilot" aficionado -- something I learned only after researching his material. Another fan is Bay Area musician Polly Moller. Moller was commissioned to write a flute quartet by the Hiller Aviation Museum in San Carlos, Calif. Earlier this fall she performed the piece, "Remove Before Flight," at the Hiller's annual fundraising gala. (The title is a play on the orange-flagged probe protectors worn by aircraft during extended layovers.) "Airplanes and flying have been a consistent source of musical inspiration for me for the past 10 years," explains Moller. Her upcoming fourth album will have a song called "Test Pilot's Lament."

Evan Ziporyn's marvelous 2004 "War Chant" (not yet available on CD, but expected next year from Cantaloupe Records) takes the listener on a journey by plane. Alongside snippets of brassy fanfare and high-hat, the orchestration ingeniously evokes the acceleration of engines during takeoff, while a taut and threatening energy builds beneath. There's a mounting internal and external tension -- that of the traveler and the airplane, until immediately upon liftoff we're swept away with a twinkling exhilaration and a strutting burst of brass. The tension is quelled and calmed, but never gone. On landing it flourishes again, until the turbines at last come to a halt. The cabin doors open as passengers unbuckle and rummage into the overhead compartments, switching on cellphones and assembling their belongings -- the quotidian noise of everyday stress sending us on our way.

[Cue finale music]

To finish off, here's that promised quiz, with a gratis copy of my book and a rousing round of applause in the balance:

My Macintosh tells me that the band Hüsker Dü -- the Minneapolis threesome that was, for many years, a musical infatuation of mine -- has been referred to in no fewer than 10 separate "Ask the Pilot" installments. To some that's more than enough proof of the author's dementedly allegiant psyche, but it also sets up a good contest question: Two indie-rock songs of the 1980s -- to the best of my knowledge there were only two -- pay tribute to Hüsker Dü with a direct mention of the band in their lyrics. What are these songs, and who performed them?

Next week: Do I smell curry? Nonstops to India, limos to London and Letters to the Pilot.

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Do you have questions for Salon's aviation expert? Send them to AskThePilot and look for answers in a future column.

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