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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The hsaìng waìng ensemble of Myanmar (Burma) derives its name from its primary instrument, a circular drum set consisting of 21 drums suspended in a round wooden frame. The ensemble leader plays melodies on this drum, also known as the pat waìng. The frame comprises eight gold-plated sections adorned with inlaid glass pieces. Inside, the 21 double-headed drums are conical with a rounded bulge at the top, and while they have two membranes, only the upward-facing one is struck. Each drum is tuned to a fixed pitch using paste and has a range of over three octaves. Alongside the oboe, the drum serves as a leading melodic instrument in the ensemble.
Myanmar’s relative geographic isolation has allowed certain traditional instruments, such as the bow harp and drum circle, to endure from earlier periods of Indian influence in Southeast Asia, while such instruments have largely disappeared in neighboring countries. The distinctive sound character of the hsaìng waìng is strongly influenced by Indian traditions, particularly in how its drums are tuned to a fixed pitch. Unlike many membranophones that produce rhythmic beats, the drum circle in the hsaìng waìng plays melodies. The hsaìng waìng is closely connected to the orchestral traditions of the neighboring countries including Thailand, Cambodia, and Laos, as well as Java and Bali (Indonesia). These ensembles play an integral role in accompanying religious ceremonies and theatrical performances, highlighting their cultural significance in the region. They typically combine hump gongs with wind and string instruments, drums, cymbals, and other percussion instruments, often incorporating related phase structures characterized by repeating counts of four.
Watch a contemporary performance by a hsaìng waìng ensemble.
The oldest surviving musical instruments from Myanmar are bronze drums, likely cast in the last centuries B.C.E. and now held in private collections. The earliest descriptions of musical instruments can be found in the annals of the Tang Dynasty, which provide detailed accounts of the 35 musicians and dancers from the Pyū Kingdom who performed at the Chinese imperial court in Chang’an during the New Year celebrations of 801/802. Their ensemble included four cymbals, two iron clappers, four conch shells, two harps with phoenix heads, two zithers with crocodile heads, a lute with a dragon head, another lute with a cloud-shaped neck, five stick zithers, four flutes, a pipe, six drums, and two large and two small mouth organs, each with eight pipes. Additionally, there was a unique mouth organ featuring two elephant tusks as a calabash wind chamber, along with two mouth organs made from two or three ox horns for pipes.
The image at the beginning of the post is of Burmese musicians at the Shwedagon Pagoda in Rangoon circa 1895. Below are two images of hsaìng waìng ensembles performing. In the first, the ensemble is accompanied by three women singers.
A monster’s vocality and capacity for communication have been complicated themes since the earliest adaptations of the novel. The evolution of the monster’s speech, along with the dynamics of its silence, reveals how essential vocality is to forming a sympathetic portrayal of the character. Each new version highlights this relationship, demonstrating that even in adaptations where the monster’s voice is largely absent, vocality remains crucial to shaping audience empathy.
This dynamic mirrors what performance theorist Marvin Carlson describes as “ghosting”, a phenomenon where theater productions are infused with multiple layers of history. This creates interpretations linked to the audience’s memories of the written text, the performers, props, and even the performance space. In the case of Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein, these layers are even more complex and elusive, reflecting its extensive and varied influence over the two centuries since the novel’s publication.
Within this context, the monster is frequently depicted as dim-witted and inarticulate, if not entirely silent. Restoring the creature’s voice–along with the eloquence and insight it can convey–highlights an often-overlooked aspect of Shelley’s novel, particularly in relation to the pop culture narrative surrounding the “Frankenstein complex”, which influences how we interpret all Frankenstein texts, from film adaptations to staged dramas and the original novel. In this sense, the silencing of the monster significantly affects our capacity to empathize with them and shapes our understanding of their connection to our own humanity.
This according to “Listening to the monster: Eliding and restoring the creature’s voice in adaptations of Frankenstein” by Jude Wright (Journal of adaptation in film & performance 8/3 [2015] 249–266; RILM Abstracts of Music Literature, 2015-90335).
The scene below from the 1931 film Frankenstein (directed by James Whale), illustrates how vocality can shape character empathy.
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DEUMM Online digitizes, enhances, and extends the Dizionario enciclopedico universale della musica e dei musicisti (DEUMM), the most important modern music dictionary in the Italian language. Comprising a broad range of entries (persons, topics, dances, genres, geographical locations, institutions, instruments, and works), DEUMM Online uses advanced and intuitive search and translation functionalities. This venerable music encyclopedia, which has set the standards in modern Italian music lexicography, is, in its new online format, once again an indispensable node in a comprehensive, international, networked research experience.
For those unable to join the Rome event in person, the event will be live streamed on YouTube by Fondazione Roma Tre Teatro Palladium, accessible directly from the following QR code:
The program (below) will include Daniele Trucco’s DEUMM-inspired music, greetings from Luca Aversano (President, ADUIM), Marcoemilio Camera (President, IAML Italia), and Tina Frühauf (Executive Director, RILM), as well as presentations by Zdravko Blažeković (Executive Editor, RILM), Stefano Campagnolo (Director, Biblioteca Nazionale Centrale di Roma), Alex Braga (composer), and DEUMM Online’s general editors Antonio Baldassarre and Daniela Castaldo. Pianist Giuseppe Magagnino will also perform works by Ellington, Beethoven, The Beatles, and more.
And mark your calendars: DEUMM Online will be featured again at the following events:
19 November 2024: Turin, hosted by Istituto per i Beni Musicali di Piemonte at the Teatro Regio
21 November 2024: Milan, hosted by the Archivio Storico Ricordi in the Biblioteca Nazionale Braidense
Historical and contemporary Japanese attitudes toward the ukulele have framed both the instrument and Hawaii as objects of idealized longing and utopian desire. This yearning embodies what Christine Yano describes as a “plucked paradise”—a concept that combines music-making on a stringed instrument with the imagery of flowers being harvested for personal enjoyment. In this context, plucking a string creates a soft, fleeting sound, while plucking a flower represents a subtle act of aesthetic appropriation. Both evoke a paradise that is temporary, sensual, and aestheticized.
Cover of a Japanese book of ukulele sheet music.
These perspectives raise important questions about the meanings that participants ascribe to the ukulele and its music in Japan. How do infrastructural elements, particularly the influence of Japanese Americans, contribute to the growth of ukulele culture in Japan? For instance, Japanese Americans like Haida “Harry” Yukihiko, considered the “Father of Hawaiian music in Japan”, and his brother Katsuhiko brought their knowledge of and enthusiasm for the ukulele to Japan in the 1920s when they visited to repatriate the ashes of their father but stayed to study at a university. Their enthusiasm for Hawaiian music and in-between status, with direct access to both Hawaii and Japan, helped foster the first ukulele boom in Japan. By examining the various dimensions involved in creating this “plucked paradise,” we can uncover the tensions, conflicts, and creative forces that shape this cultural exchange.
This according to “Plucking paradise: Hawaiian ukulele performance in Japan” by Christine R. Yano (Japanese studies 35/3 [2015] 317–330; RILM Abstracts of Music Literature, 2015-82904).
Below, the Japanese duo Fukulele perform Clap your hands and sing with me, a song about world peace composed by Roy Sakuma. The group played the song at the 2022 Ukulele Festival Hawaii’s Global Play Along. The following video features the Japan Junior Ukulele Orchestra performing the same song.
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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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