The emergence of the tablā as a solo instrument in the late 20th century, along with the shift from performances for musicians to those for non-musical audiences, transformed how performers discuss musical meaning. This change highlights the interaction between music and speech in shaping musical experiences, as well as the differences in communication between musicians and broader audiences. For renowned tablā players like Zakir Hussain, musical meaning conveyed through speech, supplemented what the music itself might not express. When musicians communicate with one another, the primary mode of discourse is bol, a language of spoken, onomatopoeic syllables that represent specific drum strokes, integral to the oral/aural tradition of music transmission.
Hussain’s global popularity played an integral role in bringing tablā and Hindustani music to the forefront of the international stage. Born in Mumbai in 1951, he began his training at an early age under the guidance of his father, the renowned tabla maestro Ustad Alla Rakha Khan. Hussain fondly recalled, “From the age of seven, I sat on the stage with Abba (his father) while he played with so many greats. It was a lived experience for me, and it allowed me to absorb all that I had heard over the years.” By his teenage years, Hussain was already performing alongside the legendary Indian sitarist and composer Pandit Ravi Shankar, playing over 150 concerts annually, both in India and abroad. Despite the vast opportunities and his exceptional talent, Hussain always remained humble, emphasizing, “This is music’s appeal, not mine. I am a worshipper of music, who presents it in front of people.”
Hussain performs with flutist Rakesh Chaurasia in 2018 (photo credit: Juha Uitto).
As Hussain became one of Hindustani music’s most sought-after accompanists, he shifted away from performing with established stars of the genre, instead choosing to collaborate with younger and lesser-known musicians. By doing so, he leveraged his fame to help elevate emerging Indian artists to the global stage. Hussain was also widely regarded as a key figure in the development of the contemporary world music movement, having worked with pioneers like John Handy and George Harrison early in his career, and later gaining international recognition as a member of Shakti alongside guitarist John McLaughlin. A four-time Grammy Award winner, Hussain’s most recent accolade came in 2023 for his album As we speak, performed with Béla Fleck and Edgar Meyer. Additionally, he was honored with the NEA National Heritage Fellowship and received numerous prestigious awards from the Indian government in recognition of his significant cultural contributions.
This according to “Ustād Zākir Hussain” by Sudhīr Bhāīṇakar (Sangeet 80/3 [2014] 24–25; RILM Abstracts of Music Literature, 2014-94395) and “On musicians’ speech about music: Musico-linguistic discourse of tabla players” by Lowell Lybarger (Discourses in music 2/2 [winter 2000-2001]; RILM Abstracts of Music Literature, 2000-5114).
Watch three performances by Zakir Hussain below. In the first video, listen for his vocalization of bol, the spoken onomatopoeic syllables representing specific drum strokes. The second video is a performance with his father Ustad Alla Rakha from 1976. The third is a 2023 performance of Shakti on NPR’s Tiny Desk Concert series.
One of Benny Golson’s earliest memories as a child was being taken to Minton’s Playhouse in Harlem, a now-legendary site of the earliest bop jam sessions, and seeing the house band play with Thelonious Monk, Joe Guy and Kenny Clarke. “I was 11 and didn’t know what the heck it was all about,” he admitted. “But Sugar Ray Robinson was there and my uncle [a bartender at the Playhouse] introduced me to him.” From 1947 to 1950, Golson studied music at Howard University in Washington, D.C., where he began composing and arranging music while playing in a big band. There, he met pianist and composer Tadd Dameron, whose style of composition and arrangement he admired. In 1953, briefly performing with Clifford Brown in Dameron’s band, Golson joined Lionel Hampton’s orchestra, where he met future collaborators Art Farmer and Quincy Jones.
Golson performs with Art Blakey & the Jazz Messengers in 1958.
From 1954 to 1956, he played in Earl Bostic’s band while also gaining recognition as a composer. One of his early compositions, Stablemates, was performed by the legendary Miles Davis Quintet (featuring John Coltrane, whom Golson knew as a boy while growing up in Philadelphia) in 1955 and recorded on The New Miles Davis Quintet album. Golson then joined Dizzy Gillespie’s orchestra in 1956, where he worked as both a composer and arranger. He toured South America with the band, which disbanded in early 1958. Golson was then invited by Art Blakey to become the tenor saxophone soloist and musical director of the Jazz Messengers. During his tenure with the band, he composed iconic pieces such as I remember Clifford, Whisper not, Blues march, and Along came Betty, helping propel the ensemble to prominence within the hard bop movement. Golson himself regarded his time with Blakey’s Jazz Messengers as the peak of his compositional achievements.
In 1959 he studied composition with Henry Brandt and founded the Jazztet together with trumpeter Art Farmer, which initially existed until 1962. For this ensemble, Golson composed and arranged a three-part wind section, including the hit song Killer Joe. The years 1956 to 1962 were the high point in Golson’s jazz career, and in 1963 he stopped playing music for several years. After further studies with Brandt, who also worked as a film composer, Golson received composition commissions in Europe, where he worked mainly from 1964 to 1966.
After moving to Hollywood in 1967, Golson wrote music for numerous films and television shows such as Mission: Impossible and M*A*S*H. From 1975 onwards, he was sporadically active as a tenor saxophonist, but only ambitiously from 1982, the year the Jazztet was re-founded with Farmer. The ensemble, which was again very successful, performed in Japan and Europe in 1982 and undertook a tour of Southeast Asia in 1987, where Golson was commissioned to compose music for the Bangkok Symphony Orchestra. His work Two faces for symphony orchestra was premiered in New York in 1992. In 1994, Golson won the Guggenheim Fellowship for Composers. He has also worked as a lecturer at several universities and colleges since the 1980s.
Golson’s playing has been characterized by a warm tone and melodious lines. Discussing his composition style in a 2009 interview with Downbeat, Golson said “What gives a composition validity is the knowledge of the person writing it, the experience he can draw on. But when you get to the meat of it, it’s in the intervals, what follows what. That’s what a melody is. When I write my songs, I’m conscious of intervals . . . You get the right intervals in place and you’ve got something that will live past your time.”
Golson was inducted into the Jazz Hall of Fame in 2009 and received the Grammy Trustees Award in 2021. His autobiography Whisper not was published in 2016. Benny Golson passed away in New York City on 21 September 2024 at the age of 95.
Read the full entry on Benny Golson, along with his obituary in MGG Online.
Golson performing I remember Clifford on German television in 2014.
After more than a decade of silence, the South Korean Ministry of Defense resumed its propaganda broadcasts into North Korea in August 2015. Although an agreement between North and South Korea led to the cessation of these broadcasts two weeks later, South Korea restarted its loudspeaker campaign in early January 2016 in response to North Korea’s latest nuclear test. Since then, South Korea has escalated its efforts along the Demilitarized Zone (DMZ), installing additional loudspeakers and broadcasting a variety of content, including popular K-pop songs from South Korea. While it is debatable whether South Korea’s K-pop broadcasts have had a direct impact on North Korean soldiers stationed at the DMZ, the sound of K-pop forced Kim Jong-un’s regime to address the globalization of the genre. More specifically, it showed how external cultural influences, particularly those from the south, could act as a threat to the regime’s authority and control over its citizens.
Although K-pop’s themes of love, desire, erotic pleasure, and physical attraction are not overtly provocative, its lyrics challenge North Korea’s ideological demand that expressions of affection be reserved solely for the leader, rather than between ordinary citizens. Although some North Korean pop songs aired on state media incorporate elements of romance and courtship, these are often stylized with a mix of electronic synthesizers, Western instruments, and an upbeat tempo. North Korean propaganda has historically emphasized the leader as the central object of affection, often promoting images of adoring citizens jubilantly rejoicing in his presence. In this context, the North Korean leader can be understood as what the French theorist Guy Debord calls “absolute celebrity”, where his image and authority dominate public devotion.
The Moranbong Band performs in front of an image of North Korea’s leader, Kim Jong-un.
Overt displays of affection for the North Korean leader are framed as demonstrations of familial love, positioning the leader as a father figure of the Korean race and all citizens as his children. In recent years, however, North Koreans have become more accustomed to expressing affection in public, with some young men and women serenading each other with South Korean pop songs. Kim Jong-un, the current leader, has not been oblivious to such behavioral changes among the younger generation, especially toward the libidinal pleasures offered by K-pop. In 2012, his establishment of the Moranbong Band could be seen as a strategic effort to draw North Korean youth back into the orbit of state-controlled entertainment, while channeling their enthusiasm in a way that reasserts the cult of absolute celebrity.
The band, dressed in military-inspired outfits, on the way to a performance.
The Moranbong Band has a number of distinct characteristics that make it appealing to a generation already familiar with foreign pop music. As North Korea’s first and only all-girl pop group, the band was modeled on South Korea’s popular all-girl groups. Although their fashion has been significantly toned down, with the adoption of more conservative dresses and military-inspired outfits, they still bear a striking resemblance to the sartorial styles of South Korean K-pop acts. This blend of familiar pop aesthetics with state-controlled messaging makes the Moranbong Band both accessible and captivating to many North Korean youth.
Despite employing many of the stylistic elements of K-pop, one key aspect noticeably absent from the Moranbong Band’s repertoire is the lyrical incitement to libidinal pleasure. Instead, their songs focus on the familiar themes of party loyalty, military prowess, national prosperity, and the benevolence of the leader. For example, North Korean state media reported that the Moranbong Band’s concert commemorating the 1953 armistice agreement with South Korea featured a song titled Our beloved leader, which portrayed Kim Jong-un caring for the “big family” of the country and providing it with happiness. This song reinforced the state’s effort to align popular culture with its ideological framework, emphasizing devotion to the leader rather than personal desires or individual expression.
This according to “Rockin’ in the unfree world: North Korea’s Moranbong Band and the celebrity dictator” by David Zeglen (Celebrity studies 8/1 [2017] 142–150; RILM Abstracts of Music Literature, 2017-64247).
Below, the Moranbong Band performs Our beloved leader in 2012.
In recent years, digital technologies have enabled a blending of the real and imaginary within the broader event sector. Such events have blurred the lines between art, leisure, information, and entertainment, offered in an expanding array of multimedia spectacles. These advancements have enhanced visual presentations, incorporating programming, lighting, projections, special effects, and holograms to create seamless combinations of reality and fantasy. The rise of holographic companies in stage design has allowed audiences to experience performances by deceased musicians such as Tupac Shakur, Maria Callas, Roy Orbison, Teresa Teng, and Whitney Houston. Digital holography has also paved the way for virtual pop stars, including Hatsune Miku from Japan and Luo Tianyi from China. These characters are products of a blend of voice software, idol industry frameworks, and fan-driven creativity, enabling entirely new forms of entertainment and audience engagement.
Promotional material for a Whitney Houston hologram concert.
Luo Tianyi, a virtual pop star from China.
A Tupac Shakur hologram performs a live concert.
Like digital technologies, social media and smartphones are deeply embedded in the environments and material circumstances through which we experience, interpret the world, and connect with others. Rather than external forces acting on us, such tools are integral to our daily lives. Platforms–the systems, processes, and relationships they encompass–have also become increasingly significant in shaping, mediating, and expanding our understanding and experience of popular music. The rise of digital platforms, streaming services, and social media requires a rethinking of the economies and industries of popular music, along with the evolving dynamics between recorded and live music. This is particularly relevant in the context of live performances, where digital technology has played a significant role during a period when live events gained increasing commodity value within the “experience economy”, especially as concert ticket prices skyrocketed and the cost of recorded music formats fell.
This according to “Stages, platforms, streams: The economies and industries of live music after digitalization” by Zhang Qian and Keith Negus (Popular music and society 44/5 [2021] 539–557; RILM Abstracts of Music Literature, 2021-17913).
Below, watch a Maria Callas hologram performance, backed by a live symphony orchestra and a video of a Teresa Teng hologram performance with Jay Chou.
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At the end of the 19th century, a series of narrative essays published in The Atlantic Monthly by Dakota composer and activist Gertrude Bonnin, better known by her self-chosen name Zitkala Ša, focused on the violence of compulsory U.S. boarding schools. Existing research on her activism, however, has overlooked the subversive role of music, dance, and sound in her literary and musical projects, which reveal Zitkala Ša’s sophisticated sonic politics.
The historical tension between the prohibition and appropriation of Indigenous sounds highlights how the boarding school press functioned as a powerful engine for assimilation projects. A close reading of Zitkala Ša’s essay, The Indian dance: A protest against its abolition, along with an examination of its reception, reveals her reverse-gaze strategy and demonstrates her effectiveness in challenging aggressive assimilationists. Similarly, her collaboration on The sun dance opera resulted in a project that defied neat categorization and withheld complete disclosure of the ceremony, establishing its own sonic politics of self-determination. Zitkala Ša wrote the libretto and the songs for the opera, while William F. Hanson, a professor of music at Brigham Young University, composed the score. The songs were inspired by a sacred ritual that was federally outlawed from 1904 to 1978. The opera was groundbreaking, allowing Zitkala Ša to bridge her worlds through music. It premiered in February 1913 at Orpheus Hall in Vernal, Utah, featuring performances by members of the Ute Nation residing on the Uintah-Ouray Reservation.
Zitkala Ša’s years on the Uintah-Ouray Reservation, often mischaracterized as a period of domesticity in her literary career, were marked by significant creative sonic productivity, representing an important phase in her evolving activism that bridged her earlier years of serial publication with the sophisticated vocal activism of her later work.
This according to “Tiny taps and noisy hacks: Listening to Zitkala Ša’s sonic politics” by Kristen Brown (Resonance: The journal of sound and culture 2/1 [spring 2021] 348–362; RILM Abstracts of Music Literature, 2021-7615).
Watch a short documentary on Zitkala Ša’s life in music and activism below.
Japanese conductor Seiji Ozawa (1935–2024), who served as music director of the Boston Symphony Orchestra for 29 years and led the Vienna State Opera for eight years, was celebrated for his dynamic and limpid style on the podium and his distinctive mop of hair, reminiscent of Beethoven’s famous portrait. In 2010, during his hiatus following a major cancer surgery, Ozawa had a series of recorded conversations with Japanese novelist Haruki Murakami, who transcribed and compiled their conversations into the book Absolutely on music.
In light of Ozawa’s death earlier this year, Absolutely on music remains the only published literature that substantially captures Ozawa’s own words and memories. The English title of the book is somewhat misleading. Although the book contains extensive discussions about music—mostly German classical music, which was Ozawa’s favorite—the conversations delve into much more, illuminating Ozawa’s life stories and personality.
At just 25 years old, Ozawa began his career as an assistant conductor under Leonard Bernstein at the New York Philharmonic, where he quickly demonstrated both talent and dedication. Ozawa recalled his audition with Bernstein in Berlin:
“After a concert, we all piled into cabs and went to this sort of strange bar called Rififi where we drank and did the interview. They used the bar’s piano and did a kind of test of my ear…. My English was terrible at the time, so I could hardly understand what anybody was saying, but somehow I managed to pass [laughter] and become an assistant.”
Seiji Ozawa conducting. (Photo: Donald Jones)
Shown out-and-out favoritism by Bernstein, Ozawa made his debut with the New York Philharmonic at Carnegie Hall in early 1961. Unlike other assistants, Ozawa was given opportunities to conduct the premiere of Toshiro Mayuzumi’s Bacchanale alongside other major works, including the finale of Stravinsky’s Firebird, during the orchestra’s tour of the U.S. and Japan. Ozawa remembered Bernstein introducing him to the audience saying, “Here’s a young conductor. I’d love to have you listen to him perform.”
Ozawa did not earn this favoritism by mere good fortune. Earning $150 a week, Ozawa lived with his wife in a small apartment near Broadway. During the sweltering summers, without air conditioning, they spent nights in the cheapest all-night movie theater, where they would get up every two hours as each movie ended, waiting in the lobby before the next one began. But Ozawa had no time for side jobs. He dedicated every spare minute to studying each week’s music, while living backstage at the concert hall. He was the hardest worker among his cohort, often covering for the other two assistants when they had side gigs. Essentially doing the work of three, Ozawa studied scores until he had memorized them. “You have to prepare every last detail,” said Ozawa. And luck, as they say, was what happened when preparation met opportunity.
Ozawa maintained such rigorousness throughout his career. In Boston, he dedicated his early morning–as early as four o’clock–to score reading before rehearsing with the orchestra at ten. In Vienna, where Ozawa did not have a piano at home, he went to the conductor’s room in the opera house and sounded the score on piano until all hours of the night–just as he had done in New York 40 years earlier. Ozawa was a disciplined musician, but he also had a mischievous side when he put down (or occasionally borrowed) the baton. In the mid-1960s, aside from his tenure in Toronto, Ozawa was often invited by Eugene Ormandy to guest conduct the Philadelphia Orchestra. As Ozawa recalled,
“Eugene Ormandy was a tremendously kind man…. He once gave me a baton of his, and it was terrific, a special-order item, very easy to use. I had so little money in those days, I couldn’t afford a custom-made baton. One day I opened his desk drawer and found a whole row of them. I figured he wouldn’t miss a few batons if they were gone for a while and helped myself to three. But I got caught right away. [Laughter.] He had this scary woman for a personal secretary. She probably made a habit of counting the batons in his drawer and she grilled me. “You took them, didn’t you?” “Yes, I’m sorry, I took them.”
Murakami: How many batons were there in the drawer?
Ozawa: I don’t know, maybe ten.
Murakami: Well of course they caught you if you took three out of ten!
In 1963, Ozawa was appointed as the music director of the Ravinia Festival in the Chicago area. A rising star, he soon made his television debut on CBS’s game show What’s my line?
Ozawa on the game show What’s my line? in 1963.
Absolutely on music came out as an intermezzo anticipating Ozawa’s ongoing musical career, though illness ultimately curtailed his public activities in the following decade. For readers discovering the book after Ozawa’s death, this intermezzo becomes an echo of his finale. Reading it during my daily subway commute to Manhattan, I could literally hear the rumble of the train that Ozawa had grumbled about while recalling a live recording at Carnegie Hall. I was on the R train, passing right underneath the venue. For an instant, my ear connected with Ozawa’s, reactivating a strand of his memory from 1977.
Memory is such a powerful human ability. It freezes a snippet of time and preserves it like amber, shareable through storytelling and, in that way, multiplies and remains alive. In the book’s afterword, Ozawa wrote, “Once I started remembering, I couldn’t stop, and the memories came back with a nostalgic surge . . . Thanks to Haruki, I was able to recall Maestro Karajan, Lenny, Carnegie Hall, the Manhattan Center, one after another, and I spent the next three or four days steeped in those memories.” Reading these memories, we thus keep them alive, through which we commemorate their owner, Seiji Ozawa.
–Written by Stella Zhizhi Li, Associate Editor, RILM
Read more in Absolutely on music: Conversations with Seiji Ozawa by Murakami Haruki (New York City: Alfred A. Knopf, 2016; RILM Abstracts of Music Literature 2016-23727). Besides the English translation, find the Japanese original and translations of the book in 11 languages in RILM Abstracts of Music Literature.
As a child prodigy, Quincy Jones was awarded a scholarship to what would later become the prestigious Berklee College of Music, where he began his studies in 1951. He further honed his skills by studying arranging in Paris under the guidance of the highly influential teacher Nadia Boulanger. Born in Chicago and raised in Seattle, Jones was immersed in music from a young age. At just 12, he performed in a gospel group, and by the age of 14, he formed his first band with a young Ray Charles. Despite their early collaboration and lifelong friendship, Jones and Charles surprisingly did not work together more closely in later years. Reflecting on their bond, Charles once remarked, “Quincy had a loving style about him. He was genuine. We hit it off right away.” Their relationship, formed during their teenage years in Seattle, remained a strong and enduring one throughout their lives.
In the 1950s, Quincy Jones moved to New York, where his reputation as an arranger quickly began to flourish. He worked as a freelancer on recording sessions for labels such as Epic and Mercury, collaborating with a range of iconic artists including Clifford Brown, Tommy Dorsey, Count Basie, and Sarah Vaughan. In 1953, Jones joined Lionel Hampton’s Orchestra, further cementing his place in the jazz world. By 1956, he became the musical director for an orchestra that toured internationally with the legendary Dizzy Gillespie, marking a pivotal moment in his career and solidifying his role as one of the most sought-after arrangers and conductors of his time.
Jones returned to New York long enough to become the musical director for Harold Arlen’s blues opera Free and Easy, which featured a band that included renowned musicians such as Clark Terry, Phil Woods, and Budd Johnson. The production toured Europe in 1959 and 1960, further expanding Jones’ influence in the jazz and music world. During this period, he also arranged songs for artists like Peggy Lee and Billy Eckstine and conducted the Count Basie Orchestra during joint performances with Frank Sinatra.
In the 1960s, Jones served as an artist and repertoire (A&R) director for the Mercury label, where he played a key role in producing a string of chart-topping pop hits for a variety of artists. He also established himself as a prolific composer of soundtracks and a recording artist in his own right. However, in 1974, Jones suffered a near-fatal stroke, which posed a serious threat to both his career and his life. Despite this setback, his resilience and dedication to music would help him recover and continue to shape the music industry for decades to come.
Quincy Jones with Michael Jackson (early 1980s).
Jones’ success continued throughout the 1970s and 1980s. He produced albums for iconic artists like George Benson and Chaka Khan, further establishing his versatility and influence across genres. However, it was his legendary partnership with Michael Jackson that truly cemented his place in music history. Jones played a pivotal role in producing Jackson’s first three platinum solo albums, Off the Wall, Thriller, and Bad, albums that propelled Jackson to global megastardom.
Besides his work with pop and jazz musicians, Jones earned widespread recognition for his film and television scores. He won an Academy Award in 1967 for his work on the score for In cold blood, showcasing his talent as a composer for cinema. His contributions to the music world were not limited to recording; he also became co-producer of the Montreux Jazz and World Music Festival, further solidifying his influence in shaping the direction of both jazz and international music.
This according to the Encyclopedia of music in the 20th century (2013). Find it in RILM Music Encyclopedias.
Watch a 1965 performance the Quincy Jones Orchestra (with Jones directing) below.
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As classic exponents of producer Phil Spector’s “wall of sound”, The Ronettes combined their striking beehive hairstyles and heavy mascara to add a tough, sultry edge to the girl-group genre. The trio, consisting of sisters Veronica and Estelle Bennett and their cousin Nedra Talley, were a group of multiracial women from New York’s Spanish Harlem, born during World War II. They began their musical journey as the Darling Sisters and by 1961, were performing a song-and-dance routine inspired by Chubby Checker’s version of The twist at the Peppermint Lounge. They later recorded for Colpix Records (1961–1962) under the name Ronnie and the Relatives, while also performing alongside disc jockey Murray the K’s (Murray Kaufman) rock shows and providing backup vocals for some of the era’s biggest pop stars.
Signed by Spector to his Philles label in 1963, the Ronettes achieved major success with their debut single, Be my baby, which reached number two on the Billboard Hot 100. While their subsequent releases continued to showcase Spector’s signature production style, none managed to break into the Top 20. By 1966, Spector had lost interest in recording and married Ronnie Bennett. Following a few unsuccessful attempts to launch her solo career, the couple divorced in 1974.
The Ronettes with producer Phil Spector (1963).
Classifying The Ronettes’ sound strictly as pop overlooks the complexities of their artistry, particularly since they did not write the lyrics or produce the instrumental layers that accompanied their vocals. Instead, by examining how their vocal style and visual presentation diverged from the polished tone and conformity typical of 1960s pop girl groups, their contribution may be recognized as a subtle form of rock and roll disguised as pop. The Ronettes crafted a sound and image that embodied proto-rock transgressions and a quasi-drag “bad girl” persona. This blurring of genre boundaries reveals that the distinctions between sonic categories are often more fluid than listeners may acknowledge, especially during the formative years of rock, with The Ronettes skillfully navigating and challenging these boundaries.
This according to the entry on The Ronettes in the Encyclopedia of recorded sound (2005, find it in RILM Music Encyclopedias and “It’s time to recognize The Ronettes as rock and roll pioneers” by Hilarie Ashton (NPR Music [12 March 2018]; RILM Abstracts of Music Literature, 2018-46676).
Below is an AI colorized version of The Ronettes performing Be my baby in 1966.
The 42nd session of the General Conference of UNESCO in November 2023 designated October 17 as the International Day of Intangible Cultural Heritage (ICH). Today marks the inaugural celebration of this significant day. To commemorate the historic day, we explore research on China’s ICH, which boasts the highest number of recognized ICH items, as examined by both Chinese and international scholars.
– Mu Qian, Editor, RILM
Xiang, Yang. “Dui ‘huo huashi’ yuezhong de sikao” (Thoughts on “living fossil” musical genres), Zhongguo yinyue/Chinese music 2/90 (2003) 12–15. [RILM Abstracts of Music Literature, 2003-18281]
Abstract: Numerous musical genres of remote historical periods continue to exist in China, such as guqin music, Fujian nanyin, Xi’an guyue, and the Buddhist ritual music of Wutai Shan in Shanxi province; these provide valuable evidence of the history of the imperial court, local governments, military and religious establishments, and social change. Through a comprehensive account of such genres, the system of Chinese music can be deeply analyzed and the characteristics of traditional Chinese music culture understood. If they are not carefully studied and protected, the cultural tradition of Chinese music will be irremediably lost; legislation at the national level is needed to declare them as part of the “oral and intangible heritage”.
Wang, Yong. “Guojia yujing zhong de fei wuzhi wenhua yichan: Yi guqin wei ge an yanjiu” (Intangible cultural heritages in the nation-state context: A case study of guqin), Nanjing Yishu Xueyuan xuebao (Yinyue yu biaoyan ban)/Journal of Nanjing Arts Institute (Music & performance) 3/121 (fall 2009) 111–117. [RILM Abstracts of Music Literature, 2009-7652]
Abstract: The emphasis on national cultures of a nation state is a sign of the use of state power. Nation states make requisitions of historical and cultural resources to create cultural images of the state, integrate nations, reinforce national pride, and acquire international prestige and resources. Therefore, arts have political overtones. In the theoretical frame of sociology, this study inspects the renaissance of intangible cultural heritage, the universal imagination of national culture, and the power of the state in arts in the context of nation states. The focus of discussion is the relationship between the image of the state and the ideology of arts.
Geographic distribution of ICH sites in China (2021). Source: Institute of Geographical Sciences and Natural Resources Research, Chinese Academy of Sciences (https://www.geodoi.ac.cn/WebEn/doi.aspx?Id=1925)
Yao, Hui. “Pochu ‘pochu mixin’: Dui Jing xi minjian Foshi yinyue baohu qianti ji fangfa de tanjiu” (Breaking the “breaking the superstition”: An investigation into the premises and methods of protecting Buddhist music in west Beijing), Zhongguo yinyuexue/Musicology in China 1/106 (2012) 14–23, 31. [RILM Abstracts of Music Literature, 2012-27995]
Abstract: The idea of “breaking the superstition” is the primary obstacle to the safeguarding of intangible cultural heritage (ICH) of west Beijing, and breaking the “breaking the superstition” is a premise for all the protection work of Buddhist music and religious ICH. The theoretical and ideological discussion in this paper demonstrate the relationship between religion, funerary customs, and superstition. On this basis, it is argued that the safeguarding of Buddhist music in west Beijing cannot be separated from the cultural whole that religion and mourning have built together, and corresponding countermeasures for the problems existing in the safeguarding of Buddhist music and religious ICH in west Beijing are proposed.
Hu, Xiaoman . “Cong hunduanzi kan min’ge Jicheng baohu wenhua yichan de queshi” (The lack of preservation of cultural heritage in the traditional song Jicheng from the perspective of erotic songs), Renmin yinyue/People’s music 6/566 (2010) 48–50. [RILM Abstracts of Music Literature, 2010-31307]
Abstract: The publication of Zhongguo minjian gequ jicheng (Collection of Chinese traditional song) has become a landmark achievement in the preservation of China’s musical and cultural heritage. While we rejoice in such an achievement of traditional song culture, we should also see its shortcomings. The Jicheng‘s shortcoming in documenting musical heritage is examined in terms of the absence of erotic songs to promote the in-depth development of musical heritage preservation.
Rees, Helen. “Intangible cultural heritage in China today: Policy and practice in the early twenty-first century”, Music as intangible cultural heritage: Policy, ideology, and practice in the preservation of East Asian traditions, ed. by Keith Howard (Farnham: Ashgate, 2012) 23–54. [RILM Abstracts of Music Literature, 2012-6419]
Abstract: Reflects on how attitudes towards local and traditional music have changed and evolved over a 25-year engagement with Chinese music. Noting the legacy of Mao Zedong’s 1942 Zai Yan’an yishu zuotanhui shang de jianghua (Talks at the Yan’an forum on literature and art), in which artists were required to guide the masses, she explores how attitudes began to shift from developing and modernizing arts (including music) towards an acceptance that something needed to be done to encourage the performance and transmission of traditional music. She sets out the major official policies that have been enacted and outlines the discussions and rhetoric that surrounds them. She then offers three case studies to illustrate practice on the ground, which lead her to conclude that the shift in attitudes can be put down to several factors that include nationalism and international competitiveness, the rise of the market economy in China, and the emergence of environmental and ecological agendas. Her first case study concerns ritual music in Yunnan, specifically the dongjing associations (dongjinghui) of lay musicians and ritualists that have a documented history among Han Chinese and certain minorities stretching back some 450 years. In some areas these amateur groups are flourishing today, while in others they are on the decline. Rees explores the social and economic reasons for this and focuses on two groups and traditions that are being maintained, noting their historical depth as well as their close ties to place and their community cohesion. Her second case study concerns the Naxi ethnic minority, the majority of whose members live in Lijiang county, Yunnan. She considers the survival and use of folksong and folk dance, the revival underway in the training of young dongba religious specialists, and the grassroots use of the Naxi dongjing tradition for tourism—initially local, but then showcased in international tours, and coupling to changed contexts for performance and pride in music as intangible cultural heritage. Her third case study moves to the world of the literati, and the music of the seven-stringed zither, guqin (or qin). Rees learned the guqin at the Shanghai Yinyue Xueyuan in the late 1980s, when it was marginal and had little presence within the institution; today it is a UNESCO Masterpiece, and many studios flourish in Beijing and Shanghai that teach and sell the instrument. Antique instruments are highly sought, and new instruments have multiplied in price some 60 or more times over two decades.
Kuutma, Kristin. “Inside the UNESCO apparatus: From intangible representations to tangible effects”, Safeguarding intangible heritage: Practices and politics, ed. by Laurajane Smith and Natsuko Akagawa (Abingdon: Routledge, 2018) 68–83. [RILM Abstracts of Music Literature, 2018-100476]
Abstract: Explores the case of Taiwan and the People’s Republic of China (PRC) in translating the term “intangible cultural heritage” to illustrate how translations can vary, even when the same target language is used, revealing the complicacy of cultural politics. To many people in Asian regions, cultural heritage is a translated term. Variations in the translated expression mirror diversified notions of intangibility rooted in different knowledge traditions, which in turn may lead to distinct policies implemented and heritage discourses. Which translation to adopt reveals something of the cultural politics at the state level. In the first place, which source language version among the authoritative texts is taken as the base for translation is indicative of diplomatic relations, knowledge genealogy, and often postcolonial interconnections. For numerous local or Indigenous communities, gaining recognition of their intangible cultural heritage would entail a formidable process involving re-translation, re-interpretation and negotiation, inevitably endowing power to those eligible to translate.
Su, Junjie. “Understanding the changing intangible cultural heritage in tourism commodification: The music players’ perspective from Lijiang, China”, Journal of tourism and cultural change, 17/5 (2019) 247–268. [RILM Abstracts of Music Literature, 2019-19251]
Abstract: While intangible cultural heritage (ICH) has been an emerging topic in the fields of heritage studies and tourism studies, the relationship of ICH and commodification is still under-researched. The tension between protection and commodification of ICH is intensified when the term “heritage” is used as a form of protection and a resource for commodification. Using musical elements of ICH in Lijiang, China as a case study, a critical heritage studies approach is used to investigate the values and components of ICH from the perspective of musicians. The study shows that the musicians construct their own values of ICH in a diverse and dynamic process. Commodified forms of performance are not clearly differentiated; rather, they are regarded as equally important to realize musicians dynamic and subjective needs. This study reveals the dynamic aspects of ICH, rethinks the commodification of ICH, and examines the creation of ICH from a critical approach.
D’Evelyn, Charlotte. “Khöömii, chooryn duu, and dissonant heritage in Inner Mongolia, China”, Asian music: Journal of the Society for Asian Music, 52/2 (summer-fall 2021) 139–169. [RILM Abstracts of Music Literature, 2021-5617]
Abstract: Sheds light on the logics that informed China’s 2009 successful application and nomination of höömii as UNESCO Intangible Cultural Heritage of China. It explores how bureaucrats charged with overseeing cultural heritage applications, while expertly aware of the requirements to satisfy the terms of the UNESCO Convention, often unknowingly distance and disenfranchise local knowledge in the process. Just such a phenomenon occurred in Inner Mongolia, in which bureaucrats created a new musical taxonomy to justify the existence of and need for safeguarding of höömii in China. Offering a close investigation into the UNESCO application, this article spotlights the practice of chooryn duu (tsooryn duu, chogur-un dagu) and the logic through which it became strategically subsumed within and conflated with höömii for the purposes of the UNESCO application.
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Brazilian pianist and bandleader Sergio Mendes began studying piano at a young age, continuing his education under Carmelita Lago. However, drawn to jazz and popular music, he eventually departed from his classical training and embarked on a successful career in commercial pop music around 1960. Mendes participated in jam sessions at the Little Club in Rio de Janeiro and, in 1961, led the Brazilian Jazz Sextet at the Third South American Jazz Festival in Montevideo. Following the military coup d’état in Brazil in 1964, Mendes relocated to Los Angeles, where he restarted his career by auditioning at various local jazz clubs.
That same year, Mendes, along with bassist Tião Neto and drummer Edson Machado, formed the Sergio Mendes Trio, touring North and South America as well as Japan. In the United States, the trio recorded the groundbreaking LP The Swinger from Rio for the Atlantic label. Mendes also created another group called Brasil 65, which lasted for seven months and produced the LP Brasil 65. He later achieved international acclaim with his next ensemble, Brasil ’66. While in New York, Mendes collaborated with renowned musicians such as Art Farmer, Bud Shank, and Tom Jobim on new bossa nova recordings. For this new group, he secured a contract with Herb Alpert, the leader of Tijuana Brass and owner of A&M Records.
Alongside singers Lani Hall, Sílvia Vogel, and later Karen Phillips, Mendes recorded the album Sergio Mendes & Brazil ’66, which sold over a million copies. Their vibrant cover of Jorge Ben‘s song Mas que nada became a number one hit, with other tracks from the album also climbing into the top 40 charts. To align with U.S. market preferences, Mendes produced stylistic arrangements of Brazilian songs by composers like Chico Buarque, Edu Lobo, and Gilberto Gil. The following year, his group ranked as the third most popular act in U.S. pop music. Each decade brought updates to his ensemble’s name and style: Brasil ’77, Brasil ’86, Brasil ’88, and Brasil ’99. The stylistic evolution of these groups spanned from early bossa nova in the 1960s to more sophisticated interpretations of well-known songs, culminating in an experimental blend of jazz, funk, and modern Brazilian pop. Mendes won a Grammy Award in 1993 for the album Brasileiro, and in 1997, Down Beat magazine honored his album Ocean as the best album of the year in the “beyond jazz” category.
Sergio Mendes passed away on 5 September 2024 at the age of 83. Read more a out his life and career in MGG Online.
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