Learning about music, sound or audio can present significant challenges for individuals who are deaf and hard of hearing (DHH). Given the advancements in technology and the increasing emphasis on equality, diversity and inclusion (EDI) in education, this article proposes pedagogical approaches aimed at facilitating the learning process for DHH students in the areas of music and audio production. These approaches encompass sound visualisation, haptic feedback, automated transcription, tactics in non-linear editing and digital signal processing. Importantly, these approaches do not necessitate advanced technical skills or substantial additional resources, thus lowering barriers for DHH students to overcome challenges in music and audio production. Furthermore, these strategies would enable content creation and editing for individuals with DHH, who may have previously been excluded from participating in music and audio production. Recommendations are provided for the implementation of these approaches in diverse educational settings to promote the integration of EDI in music and audio education.

Renowned for its 400-year-old Ottoman/Turkish/Armenian past and produced by “America's oldest family-run business,” the Zildjian cymbal is paradoxically rendered an unremarkable “humble object” in its assumed inclusion in orchestras and bands around the world. Tracing the lineages of the Zildjians and their cymbals through historical documentation, ethnography, and the materiality of the instruments themselves, I first discuss the cymbal's shifting musical contexts and functions in Ottoman Janissary mehter bands, European orchestras, American jazz bands, and many other ensembles over the past four centuries, as well as the role of the Zildjians in this musical expansion. Then, I examine how twentieth-century negotiations of Zildjian kinship emerged in contentions over the authenticity and ownership of cymbal production. Finally, I consider how the assimilatory pressures of nation-states shaped narratives of cymbal production as well as the Zildjians’ mobilities, particularly in the context of the ethnoracialization of minority populations in the late Ottoman Empire and Turkish Republic as well as the struggle of Armenian migrants to the United States to be recognized as valid U.S. American citizens at the turn of the twentieth century. By approaching the cymbal itself as the main interlocutor of this exploration, I aim to foreground the ways in which cymbals have sounded and resounded the mobility and kinships of its human creators. In doing so, I regard musical instruments as essential mediators of histories of cultural and musicological development as well as constructions of human identity and relationship, glimpsing how such objects may both reify and unsettle our epistemologies and the institutions of modern life.

In this article, DJ and scholar Jake Williams speaks with Maria Chavez and Elijah about their ideas concerning education and pedagogy in electronic music. Although they come from very different musical backgrounds, the rationale for the joint interview was twofold: first, they are both DJs who think deeply about their practice and have strong pedagogical commitments; and second, their pedagogical practices have led to them to work between informal and formal educational spaces, across a range of age groups. The talk touches on their views on music education, academia, definitions of success, what it means to be ‘open source’ and, of course, DJing.

Within computer-based and live electronic music, the values of competition, power, control and innovation dominate. Women continue to be under-represented in technical roles across production, management and software development. To address this imbalance, I examine how feminist frameworks and values can be applied to challenging the biases that influence uneven gender distribution within music technology development. Focusing on live embodied composition and computing where performative and design roles intersect, I explore the work of women composers who design or co-create bespoke systems that feature the body, reimagining the norms of music technology development while exposing insights about gender, race and body types in the sound and music industries. Referencing the work of Laetitia Sonami and Lauren Sarah Hayes, I argue that their embodied design practices constitute a type of activism that promote the feminist values of human computer interaction (HCI), including collaboration, transparency and empathy, countering dominant audio equipment and software design values oriented towards precise, perfected and disposable designs created in a hierarchical fashion.

Valencia, 2019, a queer tango festival: I had a first dance with [—], a transman I did not know. While I began with a typical “lead or follow” gesture, he offered only a leading position, and, intuiting that he wished to wholly occupy a “traditional” leading role, coded masculine, I stepped wholly into an extremely “feminine” mode of following: qualities I did not articulate at the time but might now gloss as extreme permeability and a kind of steady softness, an extreme availability and willingness I rarely, if ever, deploy while dancing with cis, straight men. Feeling increasingly sure of my intuition, noting the assertion in his lead, I melted a little further into his arms, softening the muscle tone in my chest, letting each lead reverberate through my body. Though we did not speak of it then, he later confirmed that our dynamic had given him something desired but not always offered.

In November 2016, Tatiana Navka—former Olympic champion and wife of Dmitry Peskov, Vladimir Putin’s press secretary—and her skating partner, actor Andrey Burkovsky, performed a Holocaust-themed ice dance on Ice Age, a Russian competition show similar to Dancing with the Stars.1 Sporting concentration camp uniforms emblazoned with Jewish stars, their mouths frozen into grins, the pair skated a routine inspired by Roberto Benigni’s 1997 Holocaust film Life Is Beautiful. Although well-received in Russia, the performance caused an international uproar. There were dozens of stories in mainstream Western news sources, Jewish and Israeli newspapers, and ironic commentary from Jewish comedians including Sarah Silverman (“Oh those wacky Holocaust victims”), Michael Ian Black (“This might be offensive if they didn’t take such care to recreate all the wonderful ice dancing going on at Aushwitz [sic],” and the Daily Show’s Adam Lowitz (“Judges can’t give Holocaust victims bad scores, they’ve been through enough”). There was also swift condemnation from Holocaust and Jewish studies scholars on twitter and a pointed response from Miri Regev, then Israel’s Culture Minister, who proclaimed that Holocaust themes are “not for dance and not for reality,” adding, “Not one of the six million danced.”2

‘Sound, Image and Motion’ (SIM) is a unique interdisciplinary programme in Brazilian higher education, blending visual arts, audiovisual and sound creation. We start with a brief historical overview of avant-garde traditions in Bahia and delve into the university’s principles and guiding plan in order to situate SIM among art courses and its available resources. We explore its flexible curriculum in detail, considering the limitations posed by a new university with scarce resources, and describe the curricular structure to analyse experiences with teaching and constructing an interdisciplinary sound creation qualification within this programme.

I write. I edit. I teach. I curate conferences. I am a full professor at Arizona State University (ASU), a large research-one public university, specializing in dance history, theory, and ethics. Here I reflect on these different processes, recognizing that these labels represent different avenues by which I manifest larger existential concerns. Driving this self-analysis is the cancer diagnosis I received in January 2023 and subsequent grueling treatments that interrupted my planned research agenda. Instead, what became urgent was making meaning of the strategies that have allowed me to navigate my academic career to date. In the process, I realized that I wanted to cultivate a poetic ‘voice’ to more accurately convey the underlying creative life force that drives all areas of my life and is helping me to survive. I hope through this process to inspire others in higher education to take stock of their efforts, especially in the face of major changes in their lives and the dance field more generally.

This article explores the Musical Design course offered at McGill University by Mario Bertoncini in 1975–6 in a collaboration between the music department and the department of mechanical engineering. Some of the students independently created a collective named Sonde (originally named MuD from the name of the course). This unique pedagogical experience, influenced by Bertoncini’s understanding of craftmanship in Renaissance workshops, will be presented as an antecedent of research-creation or artistic practice as research, a ubiquitous and vastly recognised modality of research that has been gaining more and more traction since the early 2000s.