In recent years, rap music has been growing rapidly within the Greek cultural landscape. This paper places emphasis on a particular politicised current within the genre, examining closely two recent examples from the Greek context. Although such performances have already been broadly discussed as ‘populist’ within public debate, this paper aims at rigorously assessing this claim. To do so, it first turns to contemporary populism research in order to articulate a consistent and operational approach that can be utilised in the analysis of rap performances. Against the background of a minimal definitional consensus highlighting populism's people-centrism and anti-elitism, this contribution will then focus on (a) the performative dimension of populism and its occasional extra-political conditioning and (b) populist performances within popular music, namely rap. Could one designate rap music as a locus of populist performance(s)? How could such a hypothesis be substantiated through the analysis of concrete examples from the contemporary Greek scene?

On 12 November 2017, the Philippine celebrity musician Pilita Corrales was singing the popular song ‘Ikaw’ (‘You’) at a gala event in Manila, attended by some of the world's most powerful politicians at the time, US President Donald Trump and Philippine President Rodrigo Duterte. Suddenly, she noticed a male voice singing along with her, its intonation off, its volume increasing. Aware that the event was being recorded, Corrales at first tried to disregard the intruding voice. Eventually however, she could no longer ignore it and, shielding her eyes from the lights with one hand, she tried to spot the uninvited singer in the audience. ‘Where are you, sir’? she asked. Realising that the singer was on one of the balconies, it dawned on her that he was none other than Duterte himself. After giving Duterte room to sing a section by himself, she then joined the president in the song's finale (BBC News 2017; Guardian News 2017; Rappler 2017).

Music sharing on social media increasingly involves ‘imagined listening’, a form of sociality based on how we think that others listen to music (as well as on our own imagining of sounds) and typically mediated by the exchange of visual prompts, such as the thumbnail images associated with a particular streaming link or recording. Drawing on ethnographic research conducted online and offline with Spanish migrants in London, I show how practices of music sharing based on imagined listening articulate specific moral economies. In these economies, users imbue the sharing of music with positive value, as something that contributes to human flourishing and balances the negative aspects of social media and the world. I also consider how users reckon with the algorithmic manipulations of social media platforms and the fleeting forms of user engagement characteristic of an online world in which there is more music than could ever be heard.

This article reviews studies that examine internationally circulating music which has reached the upper echelon of all-genre single charts in the 21st century. The examinations will be used as examples for the analysis of sonic aesthetics that are embedded in a particular frame of cultural debate, which the article conceptualises as ‘mainstream popular music’. The research field is then mapped and discussed with regard to prevailing objectives, methods and findings, including elaborations on how future research might advance understanding of the aesthetics within the discourses of mainstream popular music and, thus, of contemporary culture at large. The literature review focuses on music- and listener-based analytical directions and critically reflects on the frequent absence of theoretically well-founded and empirically underpinned, context-sensitive music examinations, particularly with regard to quantitative and audience research. The concluding section calls for a more integrated perspective on mainstream popular music as a discourse and praxis formation.

During the last two or maybe three years, people in the Netherlands have witnessed a big boom in popular songs in their own language: tear-jerkers, evergreens, easy listening and rock songs performed in Dutch have made a conspicuous conquest of the hit charts, usually dominated by Anglo-American songs. Most striking is the breakthrough of Dutch language rock groups, reflected in higher audience figures for specialised radio programmes, an expanding live performance circuit and high record sales (see Table 1).

On a common-sense or proto-sociological level, this phenomenon has been explained by referring to the end of so-called American ‘cultural imperialism’ – the native rock tradition has finally grown mature, as is the case in other countries on the European continent; or by alluding to the crisis of the modern welfare capitalist state – manifested in a range of aspects, from the economic crisis in the record industry to the cultural-ideological problem of modern people longing for a comprehensible world view in an abstract society. In this article I shall not touch upon these matters, but I shall discuss the reception of Dutch rock as such and try to unveil (some aspects of) the social meaning of this type of music.

Billy Joel's song ‘It's Still Rock and Roll to Me’, which rose to the top of Billboard magazine's ‘Hot 100’ chart in July of 1980, was intended as entertainment, not criticism. But it makes a more accurate statement about the present state of rock music in the USA than have the writings of certain journalists and critics over the past decade. Against a stripped-down instrumental accompaniment, parodying the ‘minimalism’ of much new wave music, Joel sings,

Everybody's talking about the new sound; funny, But it's still rock and roll to me.

As an artist understood to be foregrounding in hip hop topics such as the emotional experience of private relationships, Drake has the opportunity to shape the conceptions of masculinity that are especially hardened in the context of male rappers. Recognised for his niceness in terms of rap skill and personal decentness, Drake has established himself as a genuine person making intimate connections with his fans. However, this image depends on his disregard, in his interviews and his albums, for the effects of the commercialised hip hop genre on his music and his message. Although he presents himself as a model for his generation, this discounting of context limits Drake's possibilities as a public figure.

Musical performances on the bass guitar, able to be felt bodily beyond the ear, connect into the many layers of affect that music excites; but they are particularly potent as a means of communicating embodied masculinity for one young man with a hearing disability. Masculinity as a social code enacted within practices of the everyday involves both the affect and the effect of difference. The bass guitar, the instrument which drives a band's sound and rhythm, is part of the performativity of masculinity within popular music – visually, and at the level of sound, as auricular materiality – an embodied sensation where the ‘feel’ of sound through the body constitutes a language in which ‘desirable’ and ‘undesirable’ modes of masculinity become appropriated and defined.

Displays of musical prowess on the bass guitar open a space for becoming ‘unfixed’ from the identity and abject status of the hearing-disabled Other. This ‘Othering’ occurs primarily in everyday spoken encounters where difficulties with hearing and speech limit opportunities for occupying a viable masculine positioning. By contrast, the capacity to ‘fit’ the sensory and sensual prompts that trigger recognition of masculinity within popular music enables the re-assembling of an embodied masculine identity for a hearing-disabled young man. Masculinity and disability are rendered reversible and exchangeable – performative productions that are excessive and transgressive, contingent on the sensory perceptions of self and others.

This emphasis on embodied communicative practice through the play of bass guitar provides an important counterweight to representational forms of embodied gendered subjectivity that continue to predominate in some modes of disability and gender theorising. It constitutes a forceful assertion of how everyday embodied interactions are irrevocably coupled with mobile and transient masculine and disabled aesthetic identifications.

The phrase ‘big in Japan’ has become a popular cliché, used to describe acts which are meant to be enjoying Japanese success: anyone from Kylie Minogue to Primal Scream; from Dead or Alive to Blur. It seems that even the most unregarded artists can make it in Japan. Even Spinal Tap – the fictional, washed-up heavy metal band from Rob Reiner's film of the same name – were finally able to find success in Japan. The implication seems to be that the Japanese hunger for Western culture is so strong that even bands who have failed in their own countries can succeed in the Japanese market. Indeed, an expressed belief that Japanese listeners could not get enough of Western music was the usual reaction when I told acquaintances that I was studying the Japanese pop music market. This belief is perpetuated by music magazines, which regularly print stories detailing bizarre acts of devotion by Japanese fans.

This article examines the relationship between music and sponsorship by drinks companies. Glasgow Jazz Festival has taken place annually since 1987 and is the city's longest running music festival. In its early years, the Festival enjoyed both cash and in-kind sponsorship from a wide range of organisations, including breweries and distilleries along with companies specialising in non-alcoholic drinks. In 2015 sponsorship was more difficult to secure, with cash sponsorship proving to be particularly elusive. The article focuses on cash sponsorship from drinks companies from 1987 to 2001, arguing that the decline in this form of sponsorship is a result of a shifting commercial and cultural landscape. Changes in Glasgow's festival calendar have resulted in a crowded marketplace which not only makes it harder for arts organisations to secure funds, but also makes relationships with sponsors more challenging to manage. Meanwhile, legislative and social changes have meant that the role of alcohol in the city's cultural life has been subject to adjustment throughout the Festival's history.

In recent years, historians have belatedly recognised the growth of the British brass band as one of the most remarkable developments in the sphere of popular music-making in the second half of the nineteenth century. Not only did ‘banding’ provide an absorbing pastime for tens of thousands of amateur musicians, but brass band performances also fulfilled an important cultural and educational role in introducing the standard classics of the bourgeois musical canon to mass audiences who never saw the inside of an opera house or a concert hall. In addition, satisfying the needs of these new-style bands for music, instruments, uniforms and other impedimenta led to the growth of a group of small, specialised and resourceful enterprises which successfully developed a mass market for their wares in Britain and the colonies. By the end of the 1890s, there could have been few towns or villages, whether in the remoter parts of the British Isles or even the most far flung corners of the white dominions, where some kind of brass band did not add its distinctive tones to the annual cycle of formal and informal events which made up their community's social calendar.

We all know the foreigner who survives with a tearful face turned towards the lost homeland. Melancholy lover of a vanished space, he cannot, in face, get over his having abandoned a period of time. The lost paradise is a mirage of the past that he will never be able to recover. (Kristeva 1991, p. 9)

To a considerable extent, the mythology of rock and roll rebellion is predicated upon a similarly mythologised male sexual potency that Simon Frith and Angeld McRobbie have characterised as ‘aggressive, dominating, and boastful, … [constantly seeking] to remind the audience of [its] prowess, [its] control’ (Frith and McRobbie 1990, p. 319). In this article, I look to Roy Orbison – a musician who was a key figure in the genesis of rock and roll, but who nevertheless subverts this phallocentric meta-narrative. Focusing on the 1987 concert film, Roy Orbison and Friends: A Black and White Night, I argue that Orbison's staid performance style, unusual voice and unconventional songwriting as evidenced (and amplified) by that film trouble the purportedly monolithic rock and roll masculinity, and the concomitant mythology of rebellion. At the same time, however, I propose that even as normative masculinity appears to be destabilised, a close reading of the film reveals that the performance situates Orbison within a different masculinist discourse: the 19th-century Romantic discourse of masculine genius that continues to inflect 21st century notions about artists and art music. Thus, in Black and White Night, normative and non-normative masculinities are thoroughly imbricated, each simultaneously destabilising and reaffirming the other.

Because of their brevity, many pop songs of the last 50 years seemingly elude the application of narrative theory. But the deliberate lengthening of individual tracks during the early years of progressive rock exposes them to precisely that kind of examination. One such song is ‘Supper's Ready’, which closes the 1972 Genesis album Foxtrot. This allegorical 23-minute epic, abundant with references to the Book of Revelation, provides an intriguing model for the ‘concept song’, and confounds the listener's expectations – lyrical, musical, narrative, structural and temporal. In this article I explore the seven tableaux of ‘Supper's Ready’, paying particular attention to the treatment of the apocalyptic theme, apply formalist and narrative theories of interpretation, and consider ways in which the song's design demands that the listener engage with both its concept and its construction.

Much has been written about the cultural, social and political impact of German popular music within the country, but the role of German popular music outside of Germany has not been sufficiently examined. The research presented here is designed to investigate an example of Germany’s export of contemporary popular music as state-sponsored promotion of its national (pop) culture. San Francisco’s weekly radio programme Radio Goethe – The German Voice, which distributes popular music from German-speaking countries to English-speaking audiences, is explored. The main purposes of this programme are to portray a modern Germany to a foreign audience and to arouse interest in the country. The weekly 60-minute series began airing in 1996 and is sponsored by the German federal government. Radio Goethe is carried by over thirty college radio stations in the USA, Canada and New Zealand, and in 2004 the German creator and host of the series received a Federal Cross of Merit (Bundesverdienstkreuz) for his intercultural work. This article briefly documents the history of the series and critically examines the presentation, style and language of the music. The results of qualitative research on the meanings that listeners assign to the music – based on questionnaires and focus group interviews with American members of the show’s audience – are presented. This case study is framed within existing debates about the relationships between popular music, national identity, cultural representation, and state-supported music export. Data from interviews with the founder of the show and the cultural ambassador of Germany in San Francisco are analysed to clarify the goals of and assumptions behind the radio series.

Léo Ferré exemplifies what is now widely regarded in France as the golden era of la chanson française during the 1950s and 1960s. This article examines how one singer-songwriter attempted to deal in his own, highly idiosyncratic way with the contraints of working within the record industry, and focuses on the development of his ambivalent relationship with the record label owner and producer, Eddie Barclay. Although sympathetic to Ferré's cause, Barclay also adopted a pragmatic approach, particularly where questions of censorship were concerned, as he attempted to balance commercial necessity, legal requirements as well as the creative demands of the artist. The discussion also explores how Ferré has contributed to contemporary intellectual debates relating to the significance of popular music within a French context. Ferré showed marked resistance to North American influence and middle-of-the-road pop music, particularly la chanson yéyé, but he was by no means not-influenced by the arrival of rock in France.

This article explores the relationship between the meaning of style in Idol-format TV shows, and the political style which many scholars consider central for understanding populism today. Inspired by Jacques Rancière's notion of aesthetic regimes, I theorise what I call ‘the regime of style’ as a set of aesthetic principles shared across these fields. I explore the case study of Miri Regev's term as Israel's Minister of Culture and Sports, showing how she implemented a long-term strategy combining deliberate scandals that pitted her against ‘the cultural elite’, and the endorsement of pop music styles associated with publics that traditionally support her party (Likud). What ties these complementary strategies together is that they perform a ‘flaunting of the low’ (Ostiguy 2017). In refocusing the conversation on contested hierarchies of taste, Regev's own appeal partakes in the aesthetic economy of Idol-format shows, where style is fetishised as a transparent performance of identity.

Rap on Trial, the treatment of rap music as evidence in the American criminal legal process, is well-documented and increasingly scrutinised. Research has shown that – with little restraint – police, prosecutors, probation officers and judges use rap lyrics to investigate, prosecute and punish individuals. Less noticed is that a similar phenomenon is occurring in the American K–12 educational system, which disciplines school-age youth who participate in rap culture and sometimes refers them to the juvenile or criminal legal systems for additional punishment. This article describes and analyses a small set of identified cases of this scenario, demonstrating that rap music is used to funnel youth, including vulnerable Black and Brown youth, into what has been coined the school-to-prison pipeline and exposing the extreme dissonance between hip hop and the educational system.