How do filmmakers work with pre-existing music? To answer this question, I conducted interviews with the musicians, composers, editors, sound designers, and music researchers for Lars von Trier's films. This article combines previously unpublished insider information with an original analytical methodology to clarify the working processes of contemporary filmmakers who utilize pre-existing music. I build on Ian Macdonald's production-situated conception of the ‘Screen Idea Work Group’ to posit the ‘Musical Idea Work Group’, a notional framework emerging from the teams who develop film-musical ideas. While previous film music research tends to analyse artists (persons) or music (products), here I focus on contrasting descriptions of highly collaborative working processes with the prescriptive mechanisms of film reception. In this way, I demonstrate a more holistic understanding of filmic authorship while accounting for previous constructions of Trier as an ‘auteur mélomane’ based on critical perceptions of how he utilizes music.

Global Musical Modernisms – the formulation heralds expansion into new arenas of music research.1 For while certain pairings of the component terms are familiar enough, the concatenation of all three is novel. In music studies, the most notable trend is the flurry of activity around global music history, with study groups in two societies historically focused on Western musics, and one focused on ethnomusicology.2 Global music history derives strength and in turn strengthens movement towards disciplinary convergence, or at least greater interaction – an important precondition for the study of global musical modernisms.3 There has also been renewed interest in musical modernism, though not so much, at least at first glance, in the direction of the global, and with less interdisciplinary synergy. By contrast, the global figures very prominently in what has been termed the ‘new modernist studies’, a field that coalesced in the late 1990s.4 As one indication, its global turn had gathered enough momentum for Oxford University Press to publish a handbook on ‘Global Modernisms’ in 2013, just three years after its handbook on ‘Modernisms’.5 Despite aspirations to coverage of modernism in all its forms, the field is populated predominantly by literary scholars, with minimal attention to music.

This article focuses on the documentary The Songs of Fire by Nikos Koundouros (1975). Shot immediately after the fall of the military dictatorship (1967–74) in Greece, it exhumes the elation of three public concerts and demonstrations, capturing the enthusiasm for the return to democracy expressed through singing and chanting. The article focuses on the ways in which popular songs became the vehicles of the popular demand for democracy during the early transition to democracy. It shows how the film was crucial in establishing a narrative of resistance in collective memory that was centred on singing and listening, investigating the ways in which this sonic narrative, performed collectively and publicly, also betrays a latent reaction to a brutal regime fought by the few. It argues that collective singing seems to merge in memory with the ‘singing resistance’ performed individually and in secret during the dictatorship. Extended back in time, this sonic narrative registers an unconscious desire to repress the fact that large parts of society had remained silent during the regime's seven-year rule.

When is it modernism? This article poses this question to traditionally based Indonesian musik kontemporer, as an occasion to examine a distinctive instance of musical modernism, but most importantly to illuminate issues with the question itself. Taking it literally, I identify when musik kontemporer was most clearly modernist, recognizing that modernism, and its conception of history, itself has a history. Scrutinizing the question's more usual goal of drawing a distinction between that which is and is not modernist, I show how the case of Rahayu Supanggah – a musician with a deep and primary commitment to the traditional performing arts, whose work has been shaped by his adoption of modernist ways of thinking without being fully defined by them – defies a simple answer. Ultimately, the article is concerned with what is at stake when invoking modernism, and what this means for the larger project of understanding musical modernism as a global phenomenon.

This article examines the reception of Shostakovich's symphonies in the Parisian press, from the late interwar period to the years immediately following the Second World War. In doing so, it continues the conversation around international responses to Shostakovich's music in the twentieth century, adding a consideration of the composer's symphonies in France from 1936 to 1946 to the existing literature on Shostakovich reception in the United States, Britain, and Germany. By interrogating the commentary of Parisian critics and music writers during this period, the article reveals how the reception of Shostakovich's symphonies in Paris reflects the rising and falling influence of the French Communist Party, and offers a novel way to view the shifts in Franco-Soviet relations either side of the Second World War.

This article examines how musical practices in 1970s Spain formed ways of imagining democracy and how they participated in the wider social struggle to define freedom and equality for the final years of Franco's dictatorship and its immediate aftermath. I shall analyse two case studies: a large-scale experimental art festival held in the streets of Pamplona in 1972 and a grassroots musical collective created in 1973 on the initiative of the composer Llorenç Barber. Drawing on previous studies on the relationship between music and democracy, participatory art and the politics of spectatorship, and the insights of political science and philosophy into democracy, I offer a critical reassessment of the Pamplona festival and explore the relationship between grassroots collaboration and ideas of participatory democracy, and analyse the significance of this relationship in 1970s Spain.

While the idea that Beethoven had African ancestry became popular in the 1960s during the Civil Rights struggle in the United States, its conception arose during an earlier moment: the global New Negro movement of the 1920s. Appearing in newspaper columns, music journals, and essays, Black American writings on Beethoven challenged white musicians’ claims to the canon of Bach, Beethoven, and Brahms. This article argues that the project of making Beethoven Black belonged to a greater and more ambitious endeavour to rewrite Western music history. Black musicologists sought to globalize the Western canon, and in so doing, critique its grand narratives. Locating Black musical idioms in eighteenth-century piano sonatas or conducting archival research on Black European figures such as George Bridgetower, their music histories challenged readers to re-examine just who, exactly, had contributed to the project of cultural modernity and on what grounds.

Musical biography, particularly that which focuses on non-Western performers, has long been marginalized in musicology. This article critically examines the performing career and performance style of China's first recital and recording pianist, Ding Shande, by scrutinizing written documents and analysing recordings. It was found that Ding's performing career was short-lived, peaking in 1935 and ending in the 1950s, and that he tended to play with fast and even tempo, emphasize metrical organizations, and highlight structural divisions through long-range dynamic variation. These findings shed light on how the changing concept of semi-colonialism influenced the career trajectories and performance styles of the earliest Chinese pianists, and hence offer insights into early history of piano performance in China. This article shows that performers’ performances are just as important in biographical writings as is the story of their lives, and that interweaving the two helps develop a more thorough and comprehensive understanding of a performer's biography.

After 1917 the word ‘jazz’ disseminated rapidly throughout the world attaining, along the way, a multiplicity of meanings, sometimes related to musical practices from the United States, but often associated with a diverse array of things, objects, ideas, and situations in the worlds of music entertainment, dance, leisure, and fashion. In the Caribbean, this process entailed not only the constitution of jazz as a symbol of social modernity but also revealed a long history of exchanges between the United States and the Caribbean – not to mention the Afrodiasporic origins of jazz. By examining jazz as a by-product and an expression of Caribbean modernity, this article disentangles some of the cultural meanings of the word ‘jazz’ in the Caribbean between 1917 and 1920, considering, ultimately, how imagining jazz as Caribbean was inevitably intertwined with imagining it as modern.

This article weaves a story around the scant evidence that survives of the first university-based electroacoustic studio in Africa and the musical experimentalism that developed alongside it at the fledgling music department of what was then the University of Natal. The time is the early 1970s, the setting the eastern seaboard city of Durban, the local political context the ‘Durban moment’ of growing political unrest infused by Steve Biko's Black Consciousness movement and the radical politics of Richard (Rick) Turner, the red herring an ARP-2500 modular synthesizer, and the key figures the German-born experimental composer Ulrich Süsse and South Africa's foremost musicologist at the time Christopher Ballantine. By tracing the genealogy of Ballantine's ideas in post-1968 British counterculture and in musical collaborations with the physics department at the University of Natal – and by juxtaposing and contrasting the Durban New Music Group's activities with Turner's contemporaneous and often seething critique of white liberalism – the article offers perspectives on the globalization of the avant-garde, the expression of musical vanguardism in the problematic and contradictory spaces of twentieth-century white liberal South Africa, and the dialectics between the ‘experimental’ and the ‘avant-garde’ that informed alternative institution-building at what was to become the first department in South Africa to include African music, jazz, and popular music in their curricula in the early 1980s.

During South Korea's authoritarian period (1961–87), student activists employed songs to express their anti-government and pro-democratic views. Known as minjung kayo (people's songs), these protest songs can be traced to the modern American folk music embraced by South Korean youth in the 1960s. By the late 1980s, however, minjung kayo carried emphatically anti-American, nationalistic, and socialist tones, echoing the minjung ideals that strove to achieve authentic ‘Koreanness’. This article unravels the complexities underlying the process of minjung kayo's development into an emblem of the pro-democratic movement, which entailed a shift away from its initial reflective and poetic style inspired by American folk music (exemplified in the songs of Kim Min-ki) and a move towards the militant style influenced by the Marxist composer Hanns Eisler. It argues that minjung kayo embodied the complex relationship South Korean activists held with their colonial past and autocratic present, as well as visions of their democratic future.

The opening of the Berlin Wall in November 1989 provided a spectacular climax for Samuel Huntington's third wave of democracy. It represented the triumph not only of a people over their oppressive regime but also, ultimately, of Western economic liberalism; the post-socialist democracy of German reunification was a singular one with consumerism at its core. In the early 1990s, many East German reform socialists resisted this inevitability, and exploited the temporary political and bureaucratic void that emerged in East Berlin as a space in which to imagine alternative democratic futures from the socialist past. In this article I explore the attempts by two very different East Berlin musical communities to incubate anti-capitalist worlds from the legacies – both official and unofficial – of the German Democratic Republic (GDR). First, I reflect on the autonomous musical worlds that were created by members of the GDR's alternative bands in occupied buildings in Prenzlauer Berg and Mitte. Second, I consider the articulation by the ZwischenWelt-Festival, a reincarnation of the GDR's Festival of Political Song, of a more outward-looking future for East Germany, based on the ideals of international solidarity.

During the Spanish Civil War, cinema became one of the most powerful weapons of propaganda. The music of the films, full of anthems and political references, was an essential tool for displaying the documentary's intentions and for influencing spectators’ reactions. Between 1936 and 1939, there was a surge in the production of documentaries targeting international audiences, as they were an invaluable resource for engaging the European countries that had signed the Non-Intervention Agreement against involvement in the Spanish conflict. The objective of this article is to analyse the music of the documentaries set in Spain that were exhibited internationally during the years of the war. We will study the politically tendentious uses of anthems and popular songs on the soundtracks, as well as the importance of the figure of the composer – for those documentaries with original music – attending to the social and political circumstances surrounding their participation in the production.

The idea of global modernisms rests upon freighted power relationships. Far from decolonizing, this concept reinscribes values of Euro- and US-centric discourses. This article addresses the inherent friction of global musical modernisms through Carlos Chávez's 1940 composition La paloma azul, written for concerts at New York's Museum of Modern Art. Tasked with appealing to a US audience, Chávez created work that participates in modernism's hierarchical frame, where Mexico provides exotic fantasy for bourgeois New Yorkers.

Chávez was not alone in having been positioned as ‘modernism's shadow’ – the negative counterexample that confirms modernism's progressive image. Global musical modernism suggests that modernism can shed its exclusionary identity and encompass more. But it hides how modernism has always been international, and how composers such as Chávez have been central to its construction. By ignoring modernism's historical realities, global musical modernism shores up existing understandings and maintains the marginal status of whatever is categorized as ‘global’.

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.