Irish rebel songs afford Scotland's Irish diaspora a means to assert, experience and perform their alterity free from the complexities of the Irish language. Yet this benign intent can be offset by how the music is perceived by elements of Scotland's majority Protestant population. The Scottish Government's Offensive Behaviour Act (2012) has been used to prosecute those singing Irish rebel songs and there is continuing debate as to how this alleged offence should be dealt with. This article explores the social function and cultural perception of Irish rebel songs in the west coast of Scotland, examining what qualities lead to a song being perceived as ‘sectarian’, by focusing on song lyrics, performance context and extra-musical discourse. The article explores the practice of lyrical ‘add-ins’ that inflect the meaning of key songs, and argues that the sectarianism of a song resides, at least in part, in the perception of the listener.

The use of computers is continuously changing the sound of records but also increasingly challenging established forms of live concert aesthetics. So what becomes of creativity and expressivity in the live performance? In this study, we present an artist-oriented approach to this question through interviews with artists invested in performing studio works on stage, as well as improvising musicians using studio technology in their concerts. We find that challenges to creative authorship and expressive agency are constantly negotiated through evolving practices of up- and down-scaling particular aspects of studio works on stage, as well as designing technological setups tailored to individual forms of improvisation. While these practices challenge deep-rooted notions of the ‘right’ or appropriate bond between musician and music, the appropriation of studio technology in live performance has clearly become an integral part of many artists’ continual exploration of their musical agency.

The rediscovery of democratic traditions of folk song in Germany after the Second World War was not just the counter-reaction of singers and academics to the misuse of German folk song by the Nazis. Such a shift to a more ‘progressive’ interpretation and promotion of folk tradition at that time was not distinct to Germany and had already taken place in other parts of the Western world. After firstly examining the relationship between folk song and national ideologies in the nineteenth century, this article will focus on the democratic ideological basis on which the 1848 revolutionary song tradition was reconstructed after the Third Reich. It will look at how the New Social Movements of West Germany and the folk scene of the GDR functioned in providing channels of transmission for this, and how in this process a collective cultural memory was created whereby lost songs – such as those of the 1848 Revolution – could be awakened from extinction. These processes will be illustrated by textual and musical adaptations of key 1848 songs such as ‘Badisches Wiegenlied’ (Baden Lullaby), ‘Das Blutgericht’ (The Blood Court) and ‘Trotz alledem’ (For all that) within the context of the West German folk movement and its counterpart in the GDR.

Kadongo kamu is a Ugandan guitar-based genre recognisable by its dense storytelling lyrics in Luganda language. This article offers a close analysis of kadongo kamu musical style, focusing on the interface between speech rhythm and musical rhythm. The style's poetic-musical ‘flow’ to be structurally analysed is interpreted with reference to a historically evolved language ideology which construes Luganda to be exceptionally ‘rich’ and ‘deep’. I show how specific musical techniques are used to foreground aspects of Luganda that speakers prize as elegant and learned. This musical artistry enhances listeners’ impressions of the proverb-rich ‘deep Luganda’ poetry for which kadongo kamu singers are famous.

Throughout the history of music recording, the use of certain technologies and instruments has left distinctive marks on recordings – marks that imply an intrinsic relationship between an era and a sound. At the same time, producers and artists have taken advantage of this relationship, constructing and otherwise exploiting what I have elsewhere conceptualised as sonic markers. This study explores how Beck's use of sound as a compositional tool constructs sonic markers that have in turn contributed profoundly to the formation of his musical identity. First, I take into account Beck's use of various pop aesthetics to explore how sonic markers are constructed through appropriation. Second, I offer an assessment of the ways in which Beck's musical identity has been formed from his play with the sonic markers of other eras. Third, I provide an analytical account of ‘Sexx Laws’ (1999) to illustrate how Beck's play with sonic markers of time also informs individual song structure and composition.

In rock historiography, Abbey Road Studios is depicted as the rock canon's ultimate recording house; home to the Beatles, Pink Floyd and a generation of classic rock album production. In recent years, the studio has struggled to maintain itself as an operational recording house, yet effectively exploits its past to secure its future. This article considers issues of heritage, pilgrimage and tourism before elucidating brand ‘Abbey Road’ as a conflation of geographical location, zebra crossing, graffiti wall, recording house and aura. In separating the tangible aspects of Abbey Road's heritage – the zebra crossing, graffiti wall and the Beatles Abbey Road album – out from its intangibles – its ‘magic’, legacy and studio ‘vibe’ – Abbey Road's studio aura is exposed as a commodity in its own right.