During the 1990s, the Conurbano, the vast urban area surrounding Buenos Aires, became the site of an innovative popular politics, as poor people responded to a deepening crisis provoked by neoliberalism with a new repertoire of collective action. At the same time, the Conurbano was also the site of a hugely popular music and dance scene, the so-called Movida Tropical. Breaking with interpretations that depict tropical music as explicitly apolitical, consumerist, even frivolous, this article argues that the Movida Tropical helped create the conditions that made possible a political culture of resistance to neoliberalism. The Movida constituted its participants as a counterpublic, a visible, audible collective whose joyful social interactions expressed opposition to dominant aesthetic hierarchies. Operating within the spaces afforded by neoliberalism’s contradictions, it embodied a working-class aesthetic that resisted appropriation, marginalization, and dismissal while revalorizing provincial roots and sparking new Latin American affiliations.

This article examines “Salām Farmāndeh” as a case study of soruds (state-sponsored songs produced to advance ideological narratives and maintain cultural hegemony). The article argues that “Salām Farmāndeh” represents a significant shift in the Islamic Republic’s cultural strategy: blending religious themes, nationalist sentiment, and popular music elements to mobilize younger generations, particularly Generations A and Z. Through qualitative analysis of the song’s musical structure, lyrical content, and state-led promotional campaigns, the article demonstrates how “Salām Farmāndeh” operates as an ideological state apparatus (ISA)—a tool for reinforcing loyalty to the principles of velāyat-e faqīh (guardianship of the Islamic jurist) and the Islamic Republic’s ideological foundations. Guided by Gramsci’s theory of cultural hegemony and Althusser’s concept of ISAs, this study reveals how contemporary soruds such as “Salām Farmāndeh” reflect the regime’s adaptation of propaganda techniques to secure consent, not merely through coercion, but via emotional, cultural, and generational appeal. The findings contribute to broader discussions on the intersection of music, power, and ideological reproduction in modern Iran.

This article explores the impact of LM Radio—Rádio Clube de Moçambique’s B-Station, broadcasting in English and Afrikaans—in colonial southern Mozambique. Drawing on 441 issues of Rádio Moçambique magazine (1935–1973) and interviews with announcers, directors, and musicians, it reconstructs the station’s history and production practices and examines its reception among Mozambican musicians through the lenses of modernity and cosmopolitanism. Often regarded as apolitical, LM Radio’s trajectory reveals a complex engagement with the Portuguese colonial project and urban youth culture. The article also considers how these dynamics inform postcolonial memory, highlighting media’s role in shaping colonial modernity in southern Africa.

Making a living from music is an endeavour fraught with challenges associated with building a career in a rapidly changing, digitalised world and a labour market characterised by intermittency and the need for diversification. It is difficult to achieve a sustainable career that provides sufficient income to make music one’s primary occupation. As a result, many musicians explore different opportunities beyond performance to make ends meet. This article focuses on artists working in jazz and other popular genres on Barcelona’s music scene, with the aim of analysing how contemporary musicians in these genres combine artistic and professional activities. Using a qualitative methodology, including semi-structured interviews and participant observation, the study examines musicians who have attained relative stability and recognition. It identifies three key profiles of the professional musician (the ‘musician-teacher’, the ‘musician-composer’, the ‘musician-performer’) and reveals how these roles often overlap and contribute to the complex multiactivity of artistic careers.

Cinco do Oriente is Timor-Leste’s most famous band. It was active for a relatively short period (1972 to 1975) and mainly performed songs made famous by Western groups. Yet Cinco do Oriente is praised today as a pioneer of the local music scene. The band was definitely popular, but it was not the only one performing at the time, and it was not the first. It is argued here that Cinco do Oriente has become a legend, not because of its music, but as a symbol of the resistance movement against Indonesia. This is because three of its members are believed to have been killed by the Indonesian military due to alleged revolutionary activities. This is discussed referencing various popular culture theorists. The article also examines the development of other bands of the era, Portuguese and Indonesian cultural missions in Timor, the Indonesian invasion and occupation, and other matters.

Although some modern popular songs are deliberately composed for the purpose of commentary or protest, most are produced for commercial reasons. However, such songs may nonetheless be adopted by political, cultural, and social movements, and in these cases, fans’ participatory meaning-making has an important role in the songs’ new purpose. Taking the 1935 Korean ballad ‘Tears of Mokp’o’ as a representative example, this article traces how the melancholy love song acquired successive layers of meaning against the backdrop of changing politico-economic contexts throughout the twentieth century. Drawing on political, popular music, and sports histories, I first examine how ‘Tears of Mokp’o’ became known as an anti-colonial anthem under Japanese rule, a position that persisted in postwar South Korea. I then investigate the ways in which fans of the Haitai Tigers, a professional baseball team, utilized the song to express a complex set of emotions and commitments regarding their politically oppressed and economically neglected home region of Chŏlla. Against the backdrop of their traumatic memories of the 1980 Kwangju Uprising, Haitai fans, through their collective singing of ‘Tears of Mok’po’ in stadiums during games, transformed it from a colonial-era pop hit/anti-colonial anthem into a baseball fight song that expressed their spirit of regional insubordination in the 1980s and 1990s. Entering the twenty-first century, ‘Tears of Mok’po’ no longer played the same role for the Tigers and their fans, and it receded into historical memory. This change in meaning and association shows how the political and historical meaning-making of popular songs can be constructed, reintegrated, and even dismissed.

This article forwards an alternative perspective on how authenticity can be constructed through popular music tribute show performances. It adopts Edward Bruner’s (1994, American Anthropologist, 96, 397–415) categorisation of authenticity in relation to the replication of ‘historical sites’ in museum exhibitions. It argues that rather than focusing on sonic and historical ‘accuracy’, tribute musicians strive to curate their history and personal experiences with the music they play to prove their ‘authority’ as cultural ambassadors. Drawing on ethnographic fieldwork conducted in Perth, Western Australia, and a case study of a UK-based international touring tribute to The Smiths, this article highlights how some tribute musicians may purposely ‘put themselves in the music’ to conjure a sense of legitimacy and connect with audiences.

Recent studies have urged us to consider the materialities of popular music to evaluate its environmental cost. This article orients this discussion towards the materiality of popular music production. It argues that industrial discussions on sustainable music production practices can overlook the ideologies associated with recording technologies that prompt consumption activities. It highlights the key themes discussed in the industry regarding sustainability in music production across various media platforms. It then analyses how these themes relate to the construction of recording studios instead of their everyday use. Although technologies like compressors are not typically considered in this discussion, this article suggests that aesthetic preferences often lead to consumption activities that must be factored in when considering the ecological costs of music production. This practice indicates that music producers tend to focus on sustainability practices that will not interrupt their core business.

This article explores popular music of Japan's Cold War era, with a special focus on singing duo The Peanuts and the film Mothra. It argues that Japanese culture of the Cold War must be understood as participating simultaneously in all three networks of the Cold War order—the First World of capitalist liberal democracies, the Second World of the socialist bloc, and the Third World of the decolonizing and nonaligned Bandung Movement.