Musica Elettronica Viva (MEV) enjoys cult status in the history of avant-garde music in the second half of the twentieth century. Founded in Rome at the turn of 1966 and 1967 on the initiative of the American composer and pianist Frederic Rzewski, MEV, together with the Gruppo di Improvvisazione Nuova Consonanza (GINC), introduced free improvisation to the European continent. However, many aspects of the group’s early years remain obscure, particularly with regard to their first performances and their transition to improvisation. Drawing on previously unpublished archives, in particular those of Frederic Rzewski preserved in Brussels, this article clarifies these aspects by establishing a precise chronology from 1966 to 1968. Far from following the aesthetics of GINC, MEV seems to have been more influenced by the Living Theatre, whose Artaudian and political approach encouraged its shift towards musical spontaneity and audience participation. This study thus offers a new perspective on the origins of MEV and its place within the Italo-American avant-garde of the period.

Kongolandsbyen was an ‘ethnographic village’ staged in Oslo as part of Norway’s Jubilee Exhibition of 1914. The ‘village’ housed and displayed a troupe of eighty Senegalese performers including musicians playing kora, balafon, and other instruments. Examining music’s performance and reception in Kongolandsbyen demonstrates how colonialist practices and beliefs influenced even European nations, such as Norway, that were nominally non-imperialist. Kongolandsbyen’s promoters mimicked exhibitions common in France and Germany at which audiences sought both to learn about unfamiliar societies and to be entertained by sensationalized, ostensibly ‘primitive’, performances. By demonstrating fluency in the tired but familiar genre of the ‘ethnographic village’, Norwegians emulated the prestige of European imperial powers to challenge Norway’s marginal status as a newly independent, small country with limited geopolitical influence. Kongolandsbyen’s Senegalese performers pushed back against colonialist, racist representations through both thoughtful presentations of their musical traditions and an insistence on their own modernity.

During the early twentieth century, Catalonia experienced a period of great cultural and musical development through the Noucentisme movement, which aimed to elevate its national culture to a symbol of high art. The xeremies (shawms) of the cobla ensemble, which played the sardana genre, were integrated into symphonic and chamber repertoire. This required the technical improvement of the tible (treble) and tenora (tenor) xeremies, but also encouraged the invention of new instruments in the shawm family. The barítona (baritone shawm) was premiered in 1930 by the Banda Municipal de Barcelona and represents a milestone in Catalan music in the tumultuous period before the Spanish Civil War.

London’s nineteenth-century sailortown – centred around Ratcliffe Highway and the surrounding docklands – was a vital hub of maritime activity. Yet much of what is known about this space derives from landsmen’s accounts: narratives by Victorian reformers, novelists and journalists who often portrayed the sailortown as a site of crime, vice and moral degeneration. In contrast, sea shanties, rooted in the lived experiences of sailors themselves, offer an alternative perspective, illuminating the values and self-perceptions of the maritime community. This article examines how London’s sailortown is represented in shanty repertoire, analysing the lyrics of shanties associated with the city to reveal recurring themes, such as encounters with women, financial exploitation, alcohol consumption and the dangers of the Highway. These songs provide insight not only into the everyday lives of sailors ashore but also into how they navigated and interpreted urban spaces. Furthermore, by considering the broader soundscapes of the docklands (including the influence of street performers, public houses and the music hall), this study explores how urban auditory culture shaped the content and form of shanties. By highlighting sailors’ voices through their songs, this article reconstructs a more nuanced and culturally embedded understanding of London’s sailortown and its place within the wider maritime world.

This article explores biophilic (nature-centred) instrument design and its intersection with architecture and music. While the connection between these disciplines is often discussed figuratively, they are less often combined in practice. The Biophilic Instrument Pavilion (BIP), a site-responsive sound and light installation, serves as a model for such a collaboration using biophilic design as a unifying principle. This multidisciplinary project demonstrates spatialisation in ecological, sonic, visual and social contexts, offering insights into environmental instrument practices and collaborative creative processes.

By eliminating spoken words and more novel musical and staging effects used in the original Ghost Opera, Tan Dun’s Concerto for String Quartet and Pipa offers an analytical opportunity to show how he uses more conventional musical techniques to depict an intercultural and personal ritual. Yet, studying Tan’s usage of borrowed musical elements illuminates the commonalities and irreconcilable differences between Eastern and Western sounds. The construction of such an intercultural soundscape nonetheless requires a distinction between Chinese and Western musical practices. The Chinese sounds used in this work are also mediated by the Chinese state or Tan himself from rural communities through modernist and Orientalist means, while Tan’s compositional approach remains centred on Western-based musical means. This shows Tan’s agency to both place Chinese peasant culture at the periphery and elevate such elements to high art for Western audiences.

While the relationship between space and openness has been explored in electroacoustic music since the 1960s, and contemporary composers have shown increasing interest in contingency, recent advancements in ambisonics, sound diffusion, and VR have granted composers greater control over the spatial image presented to the listener. This article revisits the discussion of space and openness through the lens of the author’s artistic practice and compositional experience, framed by new materialism, object-oriented philosophy and relational space theory. Through case studies from the author’s work, it examines spatialisation strategies that emphasise openness and the agency of sound materials. These strategies include sound source localisation, networks of family resemblances and parametric spatialisation, aiming to create an open sound experience that maintains identity while allowing agency for the sound material, the listener and the composer. In light of current global crises, partly driven by total control and exploitation, this article advocates for rethinking compositional practices to foster open sound experiences that reflect dynamic interactions between composer, material and listener.

The French poet Henri Chopin (1922–2008) was one of a generation of experimental young artists around 1955 who recognised new possibilities for innovation in the realm of expanded sonic assemblage that is at once viscerally embodied and highly mediated. The catalyst: the newfound availability and affordability of the portable reel-to-reel tape recorder. This article examines the relation between Chopin’s recorded ‘audiopoems’, which were built up over time by means of distortion, layering and looping, and the artist’s unusual approach to performing live with these recorded compositions. Through strategies of aural assemblage, including physically tampering with the tape, randomly cutting and splicing the reels, and accentuating feedback, Chopin circulated the voice in new ways, both intimate and collective. This article considers how he experimented with live performance as mediation par excellence, harmoniously juxtaposing live improvisation with the preceding mediation of sound recording technology, to create a ‘double extension’ that generated feedback as well as improvisatory spaces of encounter. This article examines several projects – both realised and speculative – as well as archival accounts of performances in the 1960s and 1970s to reflect on Chopin’s unwavering commitment to the very human scale, individual and collective, of mediated expression.