This paper takes a close look at the music of Kraftwerk, perhaps the best known of the ‘electronic’ groups of former West Germany’s so-called neue Welle, in order to raise some fundamental questions about the politics of elektronische Musik before the dawn of the digital age and, in particular, how constructions and performances of the voice in late analogue technology rehearse new and critical strategies of resistance in the aftermath of 1968.

It is a commonplace of recent cultural-theoretical considerations of digital technology to ascribe to it a fundamental re-positioning of imaginations of the subject, of authorship and of agency in the broadest sense. What has never really been fully worked through in this (usually utopian) figuration of digital technology is the extent to which technology can be conceived as ‘autonomous’ (as Rosie Braidotti would have it) or whether new technologies in themselves are a guarantor of new cultural formations. In particular, this paper seeks to test the extent to which Kraftwerk’s pre-digital imagination can be read as an expression of the politics of the so-called Tendenzwende (a ‘turning inwards’ from explicitly activist politics to a more diffuse politics of the personal) of the Schmidt- and early Kohlzeit. The article looks in particular at Kraftwerk’s use of what might be termed the ‘electronic sublime’ as a way of disengaging the music from the ego-centred practices of earlier German rock music and as a way of anticipating new German subject positions and political identities in the light of de-industrialization and globalization.

After Cage and Tudor visited Japan in 1962, the term ‘Cage Shock’ circulated widely among the Japanese public. My interviews with Japanese composers suggest that the term ‘Cage Shock’ oversimplifies the reception of Cage's debut in Japan. Composer Yūji Takahashi stated that Cage would have met Japanese audiences well prepared for his visit by musical trends present in Japan as early as the late 1940s. Building on the statement that the Japanese avant-garde was thriving before Cage visited Japan in 1962, this article aims to deconstruct the term ‘Cage Shock’ by restoring the complexity of the reception of Cage in Japan and by analysing the reasons why critics adopted the term ‘Cage Shock’. I argue that ‘Cage Shock’ has functioned more as a media buzzword that sensationalizes the story of Cage's impact on Japan than as an objective description of Japanese reaction to Cage.

One dominant issue in the writing of music histories is the question of how (or indeed whether) a musician's life and work can be interwoven convincingly. In recent years, music biographers have begun to reassess the historical legacies of many significant musicians with this issue in mind, but their critical reflections have for the most part focused on composers. This article seeks to transfer some of this rethinking – particularly on the life/work question – to the twentieth-century classical performer. Doing so reveals a historiography of the performer which sharply divides life and work in a way that is disciplinarily entrenched between biographical approaches on the one hand and empirical approaches to recordings on the other. After illustrating the nature and development of this division, I conclude by calling for greater scholarly convergence and suggest two directions forward, taking leads from artistic research and popular music studies in doing so.

This Afterward reflects upon the three articles of the symposium by Francesca Royster, Jack Hamilton, and Loren Kajiwaka. The author considers the contemporary ramifications of popular music studies being overlooked by the field of musicology at large in the United States.

What are the consequences of understanding a musical score as an ‘action plan’ – a composed set of performance instructions – rather than as a document, a transcript, or a concretization of a composer's idea and, ultimately, of a fixed musical work? This question is discussed through a consideration of four examples of contemporary percussion music – solo pieces by Karlheinz Stockhausen, Morton Feldman, David Lang, and Helmut Lachenmann. Considering the musical text in relation to the dynamics of a work's execution and performance can give us not only a ‘sound picture’ but also a kinaesthetic picture of the performer on stage. Through this shift of perspective the score comes to be viewed as a script or an agent, which then acts as both a foundation and a catalyst for the actions of the performer and his or her production of sound.

Despite Nono's and Carter's opposing views, divergent compositional aesthetic, and applicability of twelve-tone music, the two composers shared their admiration for the works of the Second Viennese School. In this article, I examine Carter's 1957 and Nono's 1956 analyses of Schoenberg's pivotal twelve-tone work: Variations for Orchestra, Op. 31 (1926–28). The study offers a rare opportunity to look at the same piece analysed by two composers with unique points of view. Completed only a year apart, the analyses illuminate aspects of Schoenberg's work that each composer found most compelling and applicable to their own works. Thus, these analyses, combined with sketches housed at the Paul Sacher Stiftung (Basel), the Library of Congress (Washington, DC), and the Fondazione Archivio Luigi Nono (Venice), not only shed light on Schoenberg's system, but also become a valuable tool for tracking both Carter's and Nono's compositional processes, showing how Schoenberg influenced two schools of thought.

This article responds to Alan Lomax's pronouncement that the mid-twentieth century constituted ‘the age of the golden ear’, when ‘a passionate aural curiosity overshadowed the ability to create music’. It examines a project born out of Lomax's own aural curiosity and his foregrounding of recording technology – the Columbia World Library of Folk and Primitive Music (1955) – using it to sound out the history of mid-century ethnographic field recording. By retracing the production of the World Library, this article explores the various agencies compressed into the audible exteriors of field recordings, as they were produced by and for specific technologies and formats, circulated through international networks, and as they became part of the aural public sphere of post-war Europe. It concludes by considering some of the implications of this sonic labour as field recordings find their way into new, digital, listening environments.

This collection of articles proposes a theoretical model for understanding and analysing the persistence of music making as a response to urban catastrophe. In the Introduction, the authors present an overview of recent humanistic literature on ruin aesthetics, positioning music as a vital yet overlooked dimension of aesthetic responses to disaster. The forum delves into the moral and ethical complexities of performing in ruins from second-century Jerusalem to contemporary Haiti. By tracing the sound of music in and about ruins, this forum offers a timely reflection on the nature of post-catastrophic music making, proposing new directions for analysing the relationships between music, traumatic memory, and spaces of performance.

By the outbreak of the Second World War in Britain, critics had spent several decades negotiating the supposed distinctions between highbrow and lowbrow culture, as recent scholarship has shown. What has received comparatively little attention is how the demands of wartime living changed the stakes of the debate. This article addresses this lacuna, exploring how war invited a reassessment of the relative merits of art and popular music. Perhaps the most iconic British singer of the period, Vera Lynn provides a case study. Focusing on her first film vehicle, We'll Meet Again (1942), I explore how Lynn's character mediated the highbrow/lowbrow conflict – for example, by presenting popular music as a site of community, while disparaging art music for its minority appeal. In so doing, I argue, the film not only promoted Lynn's star persona, but also intervened in a broader debate about the value of entertainment for a nation at war.

This article demonstrates how migration formed a process of memory construction in the work and thought of Russian émigré composer Arthur Lourié (1891–1966). It analyses Lourié’s song cycle Recollection of Petersburg, composed over two decades and across four countries, providing close readings of music and poetry and exploring the network of intertextual connections the cycle activates. Lourié has proven a difficult subject because of the diversity of aesthetic positions he took from decade to decade. Recollection allows us to trace a line of continuity as he passed through these incarnations, revealing an aesthetics of accumulation and arrangement with origins in Acmeist poetics. This aesthetics, in turn, served as a coping strategy for Lourié’s life in emigration, as he sought to order the voices of memory and escape the flow of time. Lourié’s case will contribute to our understanding of the profound impact of migration on music in the twentieth century.

This article attends to the conjuncture in the early 1970s of post-Cagean musical practice and poststructuralist theory associated with the journal Musique en jeu and the music department of the Centre universitaire expérimental de Vincennes. Reading the theoretical writing of figures including Daniel Charles and Ivanka Stoïanova alongside the music of Costin Miereanu, the article elaborates the account of the open work that emerges there, before turning to an LP by Miereanu, Luna cinese (1975), which grapples with the aporetic figure of the open record and in so doing takes the ‘openness’ of post-Cagean experimentalism in new directions. In conclusion, I begin to theorize what Miereanu's open record suggests about the listening that records call for and the fixity of records in general.

This essay explores the perceptions of value that circulate around Arvo Pärt’s early tintinnabuli works Tabula Rasa (1977) and Spiegel im Spiegel (1978). Western reception hears Pärt’s music as either ‘spiritually deep’ or musically ‘flat’. By understanding how modernist subjectivity translates into standards of musical value, I attempt to dismantle the biases inherent in both camps and go on to consider Pärt’s early tintinnabuli works in terms of both spirituality and postmodernism. Couched in the religious revivalism of the 1970s, Tabula Rasa offers a narrative of transcendence that performs a Neoplatonic model of subjectivity built directly from Orthodox praxis and supplies an alternative to dominant Soviet cultural narratives. By the 1980s Western marketing of tintinnabuli transformed the influence of religion into the visual and linguistic rhetoric of ‘holy minimalism’. Does commodification leech out spiritual ‘depth’ from Pärt’s music? The essay responds to this question by turning to Fredric Jameson’s ‘antinomies of postmodernism’ and an analysis of Spiegel im Spiegel’s musical stasis, process, surface, and depth. While Jameson’s postmodernism still finds value in modernist subjectivity, this essay suggests an alternative way of understanding musical value through a consideration of Pärt reception and experiences of illness.

This article is a study of Chilean popular music produced during the 1990s, the first decade following the end of the Pinochet dictatorship. The return of democracy and a period of strong economic growth contributed to a boom in the Chilean music industry. A wealth of music was recorded and the opportunities for listening to live music multiplied. The article's main objectives are to illuminate the ways in which Chilean popular music addressed democracy's inspiring promises and frustrating limits and to consider how Chileans used popular music to foster new post-authoritarian identities. First, it argues that music was used to reclaim national symbols that had been coopted by the dictatorship. Second, it considers the music of two generations of musicians who returned to the country after living in exile. Finally, it focuses on punk and hip-hop, the styles that produced the most significant examples of protest music in the post-authoritarian period.

Inspired by Brittany Howard's solo album Jaime (2019), this contribution creates a conversation between music studies, queer studies, African American Literature, and memoir to think about lived ways of understanding, performing, and participating in music to create a future of inclusion. I argue that Black queer strategies of listening and musicking contributes to a new layer of music, the dream space, which helps us understand the impact of music on everyday life.

‘The new art of music is derived from the old signs – and these now stand for the musical art itself.’1 With this statement, Ferruccio Busoni (1866–1924) summarized his main criticism of traditional music notation – that it was lifeless and outdated. Based on an analysis of Busoni's organic method of keyboard notation (1909), an examination of composition sketches and performance scores, and an investigation of his writings about notation in aesthetic texts – in particular the Sketch of a New Aesthetic of Music (1907) – this article shows how Busoni's multifaceted views about notation forged a middle ground between the work as text and the work as performance in an age enthralled to the idea of Werktreue. In addition, it traces the continuing influence of Busoni's ideas about notation on Arnold Schoenberg and other contemporaneous theorists and composers.

This article examines the meeting point of Olivier Messiaen, Australia and birdsong, particularly as it relates to the transcription of pied butcherbird (Cracticus nigrogularis) vocalizations. It draws upon correspondence from Messiaen to the Australian ornithologist Sydney Curtis, printed here for the first time, as well as two recordings not previously available to musicologists, from which Messiaen transcribed. Both the recorded birdsong models and Messiaen's transcription of them in his cahiers are subjected to sonographic and waveform analysis. In analytical scrutiny of eight of these transcriptions, I demonstrate that Messiaen's pied butcherbird transcriptions conform to their models in a partial and highly personal way. I propose a provisional template for Messiaen's approach to birdsong transcription, in order to answer Alexander Goehr's question: ‘Why do birds sound like birds, but Messiaen's birds sound like Messiaen?’

Utilizing the ideas of convivencia (convivial interaction) and Barbara Tomlinson and George Lipsitz's framework of ‘accompaniment’, I suggest that the ‘modern-urban’ mariachi, often characterized as an expression of standardization and commodification, has established a capacity for facilitating culture that contributes to the development of convivial communal spaces. In the midst of marginalization and systemic oppression, migrant and aggrieved communities throughout Greater Mexico engage in cultural practices and actions to reaffirm a sense of belonging, to which mariachi musicians have contributed and at times served as cultural bearers. I examine mariachi practices of apprenticeship learning and chambas (contractual gigs), the emergence of the Misa Panamericana (the mariachi mass) in Cuernavaca, and the integration of Mexican cultural expressions in San José, California to illuminate the convergence of political, cultural, and religious action and how the mariachi expression has played a role in these intersections.

In this article David Osmond-Smith discusses the ‘creative cross-fertilization’ between Luciano Berio and the poet Edoardo Sanguineti. Berio first approached Sanguineti at the suggestion of Umberto Eco, and the article begins with a discussion of Berio and Eco's radiophonic project Onomatopea nel linguaggio poetico, which in turn stimulated one of the composer's most celebrated electroacoustic works, Thema/Omaggio a Joyce (1958). The author argues that the preoccupation revealed there with ‘working at the boundary where the word as bearer of meaning dissolves into the word as reservoir of sonic potentials’ remained central to the collaborations of Berio and Sanguineti, principally Passaggio (1961–2), Laborintus II (1965), and A-Ronne (1974–5). In particular, the former two works explore their ‘aesthetics of fragmentation and juxtaposition’ in the context of a music theatre that embraces Umberto Eco's poetics of the opera aperta (open work), Guy Debord's notion of ‘spectacularity’, and various dimensions of political and social critique. (CW)

György Ligeti has stated that his micropolyphonic compositions were ‘governed by rules as strict as Palestrina's’ (Ligeti 1983, 14); some of these rules are preserved directly in his sketches and others can be derived from the compositions themselves. This article discusses the artistic context in which Ligeti developed systems of rules for individual compositions, and investigates in depth the composer's rules for the organization of pitch and rhythm in two of his seminal works from the 1960s, transmitting the explicit rules for pitch in sketches for the ‘De die judicii’ movement of the Requiem and uncovering implicit rules for rhythm in Lux aeterna. By examining both the rules and their application in composition, with the exceptions that arise therein, we come to a better understanding of the aesthetic goals Ligeti's rules were devised to meet, and the balance of stricture and freedom that was essential to the composer's persona.