Academic literature on the topic 'Choral music – Venda (South Africa)'

The purpose of this study was to explore the culture of choral singing among children and youth in Pretoria East, South Africa. The philosophical underpinnings of the choirs, the roles of choirs within local and national communities, and the perceived values and benefits of participation were examined. This collective case study required the integration of standard ethnographic strategies employed over the course of a month-long period of fieldwork and two shorter follow-up visits. I observed approximately 40 hours of rehearsal and 25 hours of performance, focusing on five choirs in and around the University of Pretoria. I also conducted 22 semi-structured interviews with choristers, directors, staff members, and parents. Participants identified a philosophy of “message bearing” as the primary goal of choral performance. Innovation and diversity in programming and competition were additional emergent themes related to this philosophy. Choirs were found to have multiple roles, including recruiting and marketing, promoting diverse South African musical cultures, and cultivating a national, South African identity. Participants described a wide range of musical, social, educational, and personal benefits associated with participation, with choristers most commonly alluding to choir as a means of “relaxing.” Choir emerged as a source of bridging social capital, encouraging cooperation among participants from diverse racial and cultural backgrounds, promoting intercultural understanding and trust, and cultivating a broadened sense of national South African identity.

ABSTRACTThis article presents an ethnographic analysis of the popular economy of informal musical production in the Venda region of South Africa. It focuses on the activities surrounding the Burnin' Shak Studio, a recording house that specializes in reggae music. Reliant on second-hand computers, pirated software, borrowed instruments, networks of trust and cycles of debt, musicians and producers in the Burnin' Shak occupy a distinctly peripheral position in South Africa's music industry. Unlike artists in the formal sphere of musical production, who sign deals with specific record labels, musicians in the informal sector seek out sponsors – usually young local businessmen – to fund their recordings with local producers. Marketing and distribution is the sole responsibility of the artist and the sponsor, who often develop a ‘patron–client’ relationship. And yet whilst the artists' entrepreneurial activity often earns them significant airplay on local radio stations, and associated cultural capital, the financial benefits are slim. In order to convert their cultural capital into cash, musicians in the informal sector must compete in the market for performances at government-sponsored shows. These shows are well funded by lucrative tenders, but they present musicians with a double-edged sword. To secure a contract with tender holders – or to entertain hopes of regular paid performances – musicians must ensure that these performances do not express critical political sentiment. As purveyors of a genre renowned for its critical social commentary, reggae musicians are particularly affected by this expectation of self-censorship. Informal musical production in the post-apartheid era thus affords musicians little artistic freedom. Rather, whilst the products of this culture industry may appear to be part of a ‘secondary’ economy, removed from the spheres of formalized production and control, they are in fact regulated and standardized through the process of tender allocation.

The explosive development of a jazz-band tradition in South African cities from the 1920s – closely allied to the equally rapid maturation of a vaudeville tradition which has been in existence at least since the First World War – is one of the most astonishing features of urban-black culture in that country in the first half of the century. Surrounded by myriad other musics – styles forged by migrant workers; traditional styles transplanted from the countryside to the mines; petty bourgeois choral song; music of the church and of western-classical provenance – jazz and vaudeville quickly established themselves as the music which represented and articulated the hopes and aspirations of the most deeply urbanised sectors of the African working class.

This paper is an ethnomusicological and media studies collaborative study that discusses the politics of representation on media health images, especially HIV/AIDS in Africa, and how a South African AIDS support group and choral ensemble offers a counter-narrative to the images that are seen in the Western media. Using ethnographic data on the group’s organization, music events, and interviews with choir members, we argue that Siphithemba Choir’s story is a narrative of self-representation that subverts the appropriation of their story by the scientific community, and counters the helpless image of HIV-infected individuals that often comprise the face of HIV/AIDS in Africa in the mainstream media.

On a Saturday night of January 1930 several thousand African men clad in loin cloths and the calico uniforms of domestic servants thronged a concert in the Workers' Hall of the Durban branch of the Industrial and Commercial Workers' Union (ICU) in Prince Edward Street. To the pounding sounds of hundreds of sticks, successive teams of dancers, some of them trained by Union officials from the rural hinterland, rushed to the stage performing the virile, stamping ingoma dance. The Zulu term ingoma (lit. ‘song’) covers a broad range of male group dances like isikhuze, isicathulo, ukukomika, isiZulu, isiBhaca, umzansi and isishameni. The kinesic patterns of ingoma are inseparably linked to choral songs in call-and-response structure and, as such, constitute a complex statement of the unity of dance and song in Zulu performance culture. The peak of Zulu-speaking migrants' dance culture, ingoma evolved out of the profound transformation of traditional rural Zulu culture through impoverishment, dispossession and labour migration around the first World War. But on that night of January 1930, at the climax of the spectacle, the ingoma dancers struck a particularly defiant note:Who has taken our country from us?Who has taken it?Come out! Let us fight!The land was ours. Now it is taken.We have no more freedom left in it.Come out and fight!The land is ours, now it is taken.Fight! Fight!Shame on the man who is burnt in his hut!Come out and fight! (Perham 1974, p. 196

The distinguished music scholar John Blacking (1928-1990) made the study of music in culture and the nature of musical thought and behavior his lifelong quest. Although an anthropologist by training and an ethnomusicologist in his academic output, he produced a vast quantity of publications on the nature of musicality and musical development in the Venda children of northern Transvaal, South Africa. There are multiple purposes of this research, starting with a profile of the professional career of John Blacking, from his musical beginnings in England to his South African Odyssey of fieldwork and teaching of music as a social and cultural force, and finally to his teaching and scholarly contributions as an academic powerhouse and articulate advocate for the education of children in and through music in the United Kingdom, the United States, and internationally. An examination follows to gauge the extent of John Blacking's fieldwork and theoretical views relevant to music, education, and culture, with particular attention to Blackings approach to the study of children as a distinctive musical culture and the nature of their musicality, the central role of physical movement and dance as integrated within the musical experience, and the development of world musics in educational programs.

The European (Victorian) missionary influence on traditional African music in South Africa is largely seen in a negative light and not much focus is placed on possible positive implications. This article therefore serves to explore how external European influences, harnessed by some African musicians, partially aided in preserving and generating conceivably ‘new’ Euro-African hybrid traditional music genres – while at the same time preserving some fragmented forms of indigenous music knowledge for future generations. In general, the ultimate aim for the European missionaries was to allow Africans to, in effect, colonize ‘themselves’ by using their influence of Victorian (British nationalist) religion, education, technology, music and language as a means to socially ‘improve’ and ‘tame’ the ‘wild’ Africans. However, specifically with reference to music, African composers and arrangers – despite this colonizing influence – occasionally retained a musical ‘uniqueness’. John Knox Bokwe, an important figure in what can be termed the ‘Black Intellect’ movement, displays this sense of African musical uniqueness. His arrangement of ‘Ntsikana’s Bell’, preserved for future generations in the Victorian style of notation (or a version thereof), best illustrates the remnants of a popular cultural African indigenous musical quality that has been combined with the European cultural tonic sol-fa influence. Furthermore, the establishment of the popular cultural ‘Cape coloured voices’ also serves to illustrate one dimension of the positive implications that the fostering of European industry (industrialized developments) and Victorian national feeling/nationalism left behind. This is largely because this choral genre can be termed as a distinctly ‘new’ African style that contains missionary influence but that still retains an exclusive African quality.

This article discusses and raises awareness about the socio-economic plight of indigenous musicians in South Africa. Through a qualitative case study of the Venda musician, Vho-Talelani Andries Ntshengedzeni Mamphodo, dubbed the “Father of mbila music,” the article highlights the fact that the welfare of Black South African artists, particularly indigenous musicians in South Africa, is generally a precarious affair. Their popularity, at the height of their careers, sometimes masks shocking details of exploitation, neglect, and the poverty they are subjected to, which are exposed only after they have died. Empirical data identifies this as a symptom of, among other things, cultural policy and arts management deficiencies in the promotion of indigenous music. The article aims to find ways to redress this unfortunate situation, which is partially a product of general apathy and scant regard that these artists have perennially been subjected to, even by their own governments, as well as some members of their societies. All these factors mentioned are compounded by ignorance on the part of South African artists. Part of the objective of this study was to establish whether the exposition of the Vhavenda musicians is a typical example of all Black South African indigenous musicians and, if this is the case, whether the suggested ways to redress this unfortunate situation could contribute to or play a role in alleviating the plight of such artists in the entire country.

Van der Wiel, Renée. The Swazi People. Gallo Manor, South Africa: Awareness Publishing Group, 2012. Print.South Africa describes itself as “one rainbow nation going forward”, but within that rainbow there are eleven indigenous South African peoples. The Swazi People is one of eleven volumes in the African Cultures of South Africa series, which presents the cultures for readers at the upper elementary level. The other volumes include the cultures of The Khoikhoi, The Ndebele, The North Sotho, The San, The South Sotho, The Tsonga-Shangaan, The Tswana, The Venda, The Xhosa, and The Zulu.In The Swazi People, Renée Van der Wiel describes their arts and crafts, beliefs, clothes, history, houses, language, leaders, marriage, music and dance, recipes, and way of life. The book incorporates many Swazi words, which are listed in the glossary at the back of the book. For example, mahiya (cotton cloth), gogo (grandmother) and lobola (marriage gift, usually cattle) are all listed in the glossary.This volume is attractively produced and brightly coloured. It opens with a full-page map of South Africa that shows the historical movements of the Swazi people and highlights their homelands. Text and images are presented on alternate pages. The professional quality images are usually full-page and are either historical black and white photos or modern colour photos of Swazi people engaged in traditional activities. There is also an index, which improves the book's usefulness as an elementary research text.The text is written in age-appropriate language and deals with the subjects in sufficient detail that as an adult, I was able to learn from it. In general, the tone is objective and non-judgemental. For example, "[i]n 1973, King Sobhuzall and the Imbokoduo National Movement stopped all other political parties from taking part in elections in Swaziland. (…) After only five years of being a democracy, Swaziland became a country ruled by a king." Where there is bias present, it is more in the form of presenting the Swazi point of view: "But the Boers did not care about looking after the Swazi people – all they wanted was to get through to the sea without having to travel through British territory.".This sturdily bound volume is an excellent work and is highly recommended for public and elementary school libraries. Highly recommended: 4 stars out of 4Reviewer: Sandy CampbellSandy is a Health Sciences Librarian at the University of Alberta, who has written hundreds of book reviews across many disciplines. Sandy thinks that sharing books with children is one of the greatest gifts anyone can give.

Introduction: Socialism – from Eternal Reality to Passing DreamThe Year of Revolutions in 1989 presaged the end of the Cold War. For many people, it must have felt like the end of the Twentieth Century, and the 1990s a period of waiting for the Millennium. However, the 1990s was, in fact, a period of profound transformation in the post-Socialist world.In early representations of Socialism’s end, a dominant narrative was that of collapse. Dramatic events, such as the dismantling of the Berlin Wall in Germany enabled representation of the end as an unexpected moment. Senses of unexpectedness rested on erstwhile perceptions of Socialism as eternal.In contrast, the 1990s came to be a decade of revision in which thinking switched from considering Socialism’s persistence to asking, “why it went wrong?” I explore this question in relation to former-Yugoslavia. In brief, the Socialist Federal Republic of Yugoslavia (SFRY) was replaced through the early 1990s by six independent nation states: Bosnia and Herzegovina, Croatia, Macedonia, Montenegro, Serbia, and Slovenia. Kosovo came much later. In the states that were significantly ethnically mixed, the break-up was accompanied by violence. Bosnia in the 1990s will be remembered for an important contribution to the lexicon of ideas – ethnic cleansing.Revisionist historicising of the former-Yugoslavia in the 1990s was led by the scholarly community. By and large, it discredited the Ancient Ethnic Hatreds (AEH) thesis commonly held by nationalists, simplistic media commentators and many Western politicians. The AEH thesis held that Socialism’s end was a consequence of the up-swelling of primordial (natural) ethnic tensions. Conversely, the scholarly community tended to view Socialism’s failure as an outcome of systemic economic and political deficiencies in the SFRY, and that these deficiencies were also, in fact the root cause of those ethnic tensions. And, it was argued that had such deficiencies been addressed earlier Socialism may have survived and fulfilled its promise of eternity (Verdery).A third significant perspective which emerged through the 1990s was that the collapse of Socialism was an outcome of the up-swelling of, if not primordial ethnic tensions then, at least repressed historical memories of ethnic tensions, especially of the internecine violence engendered locally by Nazi and Italian Fascist forces in WWII. This perspective was particularly en vogue within the unusually rich arts scene in former-Yugoslavia. Its leading exponent was Slovenian avant-garde rock band Laibach.In this article, I consider Laibach’s career and methods. For background the article draws substantially on Alexei Monroe’s excellent biography of Laibach, Interrogation Machine: Laibach and NSK (2005). However, as I indicate below, my interpretation diverges very significantly from Monroe’s. Laibach’s most significant body of work is the cover versions of Western pop songs it recorded in the middle part of its career. Using a technique that has been labelled retroquotation (Monroe), it subtly transforms the lyrical content, and radically transforms the musical arrangement of pop songs, thereby rendering them what might be described as martial anthems. The clearest illustration of the process is Laibach’s version of Opus’s one hit wonder “Live is Life”, which is retitled as “Life is Life” (Laibach 1987).Conventional scholarly interpretations of Laibach’s method (including Monroe’s) present it as entailing the uncovering of repressed forms of individual and collective totalitarian consciousness. I outline these ideas, but supplement them with an alternative interpretation. I argue that in the cover version stage of its career, Laibach switched its attention from seeking to uncover repressed totalitarianism towards uncovering repressed memories of ethnic tension, especially from WWII. Furthermore, I argue that its creative medium of Western pop music is especially important in this regard. On the bases of ethnographic fieldwork conducted in Bosnia (University of Melbourne Human Ethics project 1544213.1), and of a reading of SFRY’s geopolitical history, I demonstrate that for many people, Western popular cultural forms came to represent the quintessence of what it was to be Yugoslav. In this context, Laibach’s retroquotation of Western pop music is akin to a broader cultural practice in the post-SFRY era in which symbols of the West were iconoclastically transformed. Such transformation served to reveal a public secret (Taussig) of repressed historic ethnic enmity within the very heart of things that were regarded as quintessentially and pan-ethnically Yugoslav. And, in so doing, this delegitimised memory of SFRY ever having been a properly functioning entity. In this way, Laibach contributed significantly to a broader process in which perceptions of Socialist Yugoslavia came to be rendered less as a reality with the potential for eternity than a passing dream.What Is Laibach and What Does It Do?Originally of the industrial rock genre, Laibach has evolved through numerous other genres including orchestral rock, choral rock and techno. It is not, however, a rock group in any conventional sense. Laibach is the musical section of a tripartite unit named Neue Slowenische Kunst (NSK) which also encompasses the fine arts collective Irwin and a variety of theatre groups.Laibach was the name by which the Slovenian capital Ljubljana was known under the Austrian Habsburg Empire and then Nazi occupation in WWII. The choice of name hints at a central purpose of Laibach and NSK in general, to explore the relationship between art and ideology, especially under conditions of totalitarianism. In what follows, I describe how Laibach go about doing this.Laibach’s central method is eclecticism, by which symbols of the various ideological regimes that are its and the NSK’s subject matter are intentionally juxtaposed. Eclecticism of this kind was characteristic of the postmodern aesthetics typical of the 1990s. Furthermore, and counterintuitively perhaps, postmodernism was as much a condition of the Socialist East as it was the Capitalist West. As Mikhail N. Epstein argues, “Totalitarianism itself may be viewed as a specific postmodern model that came to replace the modernist ideological stance elaborated in earlier Marxism” (102). However, Western and Eastern postmodernisms were fundamentally different. In particular, while the former was largely playful, ironicising and depoliticised, the latter, which Laibach and NSK may be regarded as being illustrative of, involved placing in opposition to one another competing and antithetical aesthetic, political and social regimes, “without the contradictions being fully resolved” (Monroe 54).The performance of unresolved contradictions in Laibach’s work fulfils three principal functions. It works to (1) reveal hidden underlying connections between competing ideological systems, and between art and power more generally. This is evident in Life is Life. The video combines symbols of Slovenian romantic nationalism (stags and majestic rural landscapes) with Nazism and militarism (uniforms, bodily postures and a martial musical arrangement). Furthermore, it presents images of the graves of victims of internecine violence in WWII. The video is a reminder to Slovenian viewers of a discomforting public secret within their nation’s history. While Germany is commonly viewed as a principal oppressor of Slovenian nationalism, the rural peasantry, who are represented as embodying Slovenian nationalism most, were also the most willing collaborators in imperialist processes of Germanicisation. The second purpose of the performance of unresolved contradictions in Laibach’s work is to (2) engender senses of the alienation, especially as experienced by the subjects of totalitarian regimes. Laibach’s approach in this regard is quite different to that of punk, whose concern with alienation - symbolised by safety pins and chains - was largely celebratory of the alienated condition. Rather, Laibach took a lead from seminal industrial rock bands such as Einstürzende Neubauten and Throbbing Gristle (see, for example, Walls of Sound (Throbbing Gristle 2004)), whose sound one fan accurately describes as akin to, “the creation of the universe by an angry titan/God and a machine apocalypse all rolled into one” (rateyourmusic.com). Certainly, Laibach’s shows can be uncomfortable experiences too, involving not only clashing symbols and images, but also the dissonant sounds of, for example, martial music, feedback, recordings of the political speeches of totalitarian leaders and barking dogs, all played at eardrum-breaking high volumes. The purpose of this is to provide, as Laibach state: “a ritualized demonstration of political force” (NSK, Neue Slowenische Kunst 44). In short, more than simply celebrating the experience of totalitarian alienation, Laibach’s intention is to reproduce that very alienation.More than performatively representing tyranny, and thereby senses of totalitarian alienation, Laibach and NSK set out to embody it themselves. In particular, and contra the forms of liberal humanism that were hegemonic at the peak of their career in the 1990s, their organisation was developed as a model of totalitarian collectivism in which the individual is always subjugated. This is illustrated in the Onanigram (NSK, Neue Slowenische Kunst), which, mimicking the complexities of the SFRY in its most totalitarian dispensation, maps out in labyrinthine detail the institutional structure of NSK. Behaviour is governed by a Constitution that states explicitly that NSK is a group in which, “each individual is subordinated to the whole” (NSK, Neue Slowenische Kunst 273). Lest this collectivism be misconceived as little more than a show, the case of Tomaž Hostnik is instructive. The original lead singer of Laibach, Hostnik committed ritual suicide by hanging himself from a hayrack, a key symbol of Slovenian nationalism. Initially, rather than mourning his loss, the other members of Laibach posthumously disenfranchised him (“threw him out of the band”), presumably for his act of individual will that was collectively unsanctioned.Laibach and the NSK’s collectivism also have spiritual overtones. The Onanigram presents an Immanent Consistent Spirit, a kind of geist that holds the collective together. NSK claim: “Only God can subdue LAIBACH. People and things never can” (NSK, Neue Slowenische Kunst 289). Furthermore, such rhetorical bombast was matched in aspiration. Most famously, in one of the first instances of a micro-nation, NSK went on to establish itself as a global and virtual non-territorial state, replete with a recruitment drive, passports and anthem, written and performed by Laibach of course. Laibach’s CareerLaibach’s career can be divided into three overlapping parts. The first is its career as a political provocateur, beginning from the inception of the band in 1980 and continuing through to the present. The band’s performances have touched the raw nerves of several political actors. As suggested above, Laibach offended Slovenian nationalists. The band offended the SFRY, especially when in its stage backdrop it juxtaposed images of a penis with Marshal Josip Broz “Tito”, founding President of the SFRY. Above all, it offended libertarians who viewed the band’s exploitation of totalitarian aesthetics as a route to evoking repressed totalitarian energies in its audiences.In a sense the libertarians were correct, for Laibach were quite explicit in representing a third function of their performance of unresolved contradictions as being to (3) evoke repressed totalitarian energies. However, as Žižek demonstrates in his essay “Why Are Laibach and NSK Not Fascists”, Laibach’s intent in this regard is counter-totalitarian. Laibach engage in what amounts to a “psychoanalytic cure” for totalitarianism, which consists of four envisaged stages. The consumers of Laibach’s works and performances go through a process of over-identification with totalitarianism, leading through the experience of alienation to, in turn, disidentification and an eventual overcoming of that totalitarian alienation. The Žižekian interpretation of the four stages has, however been subjected to critique, particularly by Deleuzian scholars, and especially for its psychoanalytic emphasis on the transformation of individual (un)consciousness (i.e. the cerebral rather than bodily). Instead, such scholars prefer a schizoanalytic interpretation which presents the cure as, respectively collective (Monroe 45-50) and somatic (Goddard). Laibach’s works and pronouncements display, often awareness of such abstract theoretical ideas. However, they also display attentiveness to the concrete realities of socio-political context. This was reflected especially in the 1990s, when its focus seemed to shift from the matter of totalitarianism to the overriding issue of the day in Laibach’s homeland – ethnic conflict. For example, echoing the discourse of Truth and Reconciliation emanating from post-Apartheid South Africa in the early 1990s, Laibach argued that its work is “based on the premise that traumas affecting the present and the future can be healed only by returning to the initial conflicts” (NSK Padiglione).In the early 1990s era of post-socialist violent ethnic nationalism, statements such as this rendered Laibach a darling of anti-nationalism, both within civil society and in what came to be known pejoratively as the Yugonostagic, i.e. pro-SFRY left. Its darling status was cemented further by actions such as performing a concert to celebrate the end of the Bosnian war in 1996, and because its ideological mask began to slip. Most famously, when asked by a music journalist the standard question of what the band’s main influences were, rather than citing other musicians Laibach stated: “Tito, Tito and Tito.” Herein lies the third phase of Laibach’s career, dating from the mid-1990s to the present, which has been marked by critical recognition and mainstream acceptance, and in contrasting domains. Notably, in 2012 Laibach was invited to perform at the Tate Modern in London. Then, entering the belly of what is arguably the most totalitarian of totalitarian beasts in 2015, it became the first rock band to perform live in North Korea.The middle part in Laibach’s career was between 1987 and 1996. This was when its work consisted mostly of covers of mainstream Western pop songs by, amongst others Opus, Queen, The Rolling Stones, and, in The Final Countdown (1986), Swedish ‘big hair’ rockers. It also covered entire albums, including a version of Andrew Lloyd Webber’s rock opera Jesus Christ Superstar. No doubt mindful of John Lennon’s claim that his band was more popular than the Messiah himself, Laibach covered the Beatles’ final album Let It Be (1970). Highlighting the perilous hidden connections between apparently benign and fascistic forms of sedentarism, lead singer Milan Fras’ snarling delivery of the refrain “Get Back to where you once belong” renders the hit single from that album less a story of homecoming than a sinister warning to immigrants and ethnic others who are out of place.This career middle stage invoked critique. However, commonplace suggestions that Laibach could be characterised as embodying Retromania, a derivative musical trend typical of the 1990s that has been lambasted for its de-politicisation and a musical conservatism enabled by new sampling technologies that afforded a forensic documentary precision that prohibits creative distortion (Reynolds), are misplaced. Several scholars highlight Laibach’s ceaseless attention to musical creativity in the pursuit of political subversiveness. For example, for Monroe, the cover version was a means for Laibach to continue its exploration of the connections between art and ideology, of illuminating the connections between competing ideological systems and of evoking repressed totalitarian energies, only now within Western forms of entertainment in which ideological power structures are less visible than in overt totalitarian propaganda. However, what often seems to escape intellectualist interpretations presented by scholars such as Žižek, Goddard and (albeit to a lesser extent) Monroe is the importance of the concrete specificities of the context that Laibach worked in in the 1990s – i.e. homeland ethno-nationalist politics – and, especially, their medium – i.e. Western pop music.The Meaning and Meaningfulness of Western Popular Culture in Former YugoslaviaThe Laibach covers were merely one of many celebrations of Western popular culture that emerged in pre- and post-socialist Yugoslavia. The most curious of these was the building of statues of icons of screen and stage. These include statues of Tarzan, Bob Marley, Rocky Balboa and, most famously, martial arts cinema legend Bruce Lee in the Bosnian city of Mostar.The pop monuments were often erected as symbols of peace in contexts of ethnic-national violence. Each was an ethnic hybrid. With the exception of original Tarzan Johnny Weismuller — an ethnic-German American immigrant from Serbia — none was remotely connected to the competing ethnic-national groups. Thus, it was surprising when these pop monuments became targets for iconoclasm. This was especially surprising because, in contrast, both the new ethnic-national monuments that were built and the old Socialist pan-Yugoslav monuments that remained in all their concrete and steel obduracy in and through the 1990s were left largely untouched.The work of Simon Harrison may give us some insight into this curious situation. Harrison questions the commonplace assumption that the strength of enmity between ethnic groups is related to their cultural dissimilarity — in short, the bigger the difference the bigger the biffo. By that logic, the new ethnic-national monuments erected in the post-SFRY era ought to have been vandalised. Conversely, however, Harrison argues that enmity may be more an outcome of similarity, at least when that similarity is torn asunder by other kinds of division. This is so because ownership of previously shared and precious symbols of identity appears to be seen as subjected to appropriation by ones’ erstwhile comrades who are newly othered in such moments.This is, indeed, exactly what happened in post-socialist former-Yugoslavia. Yugoslavs were rendered now as ethnic-nationals: Bosniaks (Muslims), Croats and Serbs in the case of Bosnia. In the process, the erection of obviously non-ethnic-national monuments by, now inevitably ethnic-national subjects was perceived widely as appropriation – “the Croats [the monument in Mostar was sculpted by Croatian artist Ivan Fijolić] are stealing our Bruce Lee,” as one of my Bosnian-Serb informants exclaimed angrily.However, this begs the question: Why would symbols of Western popular culture evoke the kinds of emotions that result in iconoclasm more so than other ethnically non-reducible ones such as those of the Partisans that are celebrated in the old Socialist pan-Yugoslav monuments? The answer lies in the geopolitical history of the SFRY. The Yugoslav-Soviet Union split in 1956 forced the SFRY to develop ever-stronger ties with the West. The effects of this became quotidian, especially as people travelled more or less freely across international borders and consumed the products of Western Capitalism. Many of the things they consumed became deeply meaningful. Notably, barely anybody above a certain age does not reminisce fondly about the moment when participation in martial arts became a nationwide craze following the success of Bruce Lee’s films in the golden (1970s-80s) years of Western-bankrolled Yugoslav prosperity.Likewise, almost everyone above a certain age recalls the balmy summer of 1985, whose happy zeitgeist seemed to be summed up perfectly by Austrian band Opus’s song “Live is Life” (1985). This tune became popular in Yugoslavia due to its apparently feelgood message about the joys of attending live rock performances. In a sense, these moments and the consumption of things “Western” in general came to symbolise everything that was good about Yugoslavia and, indeed to define what it was to be Yugoslavs, especially in comparison to their isolated and materially deprived socialist comrades in the Warsaw Pact countries.However, iconoclastic acts are more than mere emotional responses to offensive instances of cultural appropriation. As Michael Taussig describes, iconoclasm reveals the public secrets that the monuments it targets conceal. SFRY’s great public secret, known especially to those people old enough to have experienced the inter-ethnic violence of WWII, was ethnic division and the state’s deceit of the historic normalcy of pan-Yugoslav identification. The secret was maintained by a formal state policy of forgetting. For example, the wording on monuments in sites of inter-ethnic violence in WWII is commonly of the variety: “here lie the victims in Yugoslavia’s struggle against imperialist forces and their internal quislings.” Said quislings were, of course, actually Serbs, Croats, and Muslims (i.e. fellow Yugoslavs), but those ethnic nomenclatures were almost never used.In contrast, in a context where Western popular cultural forms came to define the very essence of what it was to be Yugoslav, the iconoclasm of Western pop monuments, and the retroquotation of Western pop songs revealed the repressed deceit and the public secret of the reality of inter-ethnic tension at the heart of that which was regarded as quintessentially Yugoslav. In this way, the memory of Yugoslavia ever having been a properly functioning entity was delegitimised. Consequently, Laibach and their kind served to render the apparent reality of the Yugoslav ideal as little more than a dream. ReferencesEpstein, Mikhail N. After the Future: The Paradoxes of Postmodernism and Contemporary Russian Culture. Amherst: U of Massachusettes P, 1995.Goddard, Michael. “We Are Time: Laibach/NSK, Retro-Avant-Gardism and Machinic Repetition,” Angelaki: Journal of the Theoretical Humanities 11 (2006): 45-53.Harrison, Simon. “Identity as a Scarce Resource.” Social Anthropology 7 (1999): 239–251.Monroe, Alexei. Interrogation Machine: Laibach and NSK. Cambridge, Mass.: MIT Press, 2005.NSK. Neue Slowenische Kunst. Ljubljana: NSK, 1986.NSK. Padiglione NSK. Ljubljana: Moderna Galerija, 1993.rateyourmusic.com. 2018. 3 Sep. 2018 <https://rateyourmusic.com/artist/throbbing-gristle>.Reynolds, Simon. Retromania: Pop Culture’s Addiction to Its Own Past. London: Faber and Faber, 2011.Taussig, Michael. Defacement: Public Secrecy and the Labor of the Negative. Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1999.Verdery, Katherine. What Was Socialism, and What Comes Next? Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press.Žižek, Slavoj. “Why Are Laibach and NSK Not Fascists?” 3 Sep. 2018 <www.nskstate.com/appendix/articles/why_are_laibach.php.>

This thesis explores the genesis of black choralism in late-nineteenth-century colonial South Africa, attending specifically to its dialectic with metropolitan Victorian choralism. In two introductory historiographic chapters I outline the political-narrative strategies by which both Victorian and black South African choralism have been elided from music histories. Part 1 gives an account of the "structures" within and through which choralism functioned as a practice of colonisation, as "internal colonialism" in Britain and evangelical colonialism in the eastern Cape Colony. In chapter 1 I suggest that the religious contexts within which choralism operated, including the music theoretical construction of the tonic sol-fa notation and method as "natural", and the "scientific" musicalisation of race, constituted conditions for the foreign mission's embrace of choralism. The second chapter explores further such affinities, tracing sol-fa choralism's institutional affiliations with nineteenth-century "reform" movements, and suggesting that sol-fa's practices worked in fulfilment of core reformist concerns such as "industry" and literacy. Throughout, the thesis explores how the categories of class and race functioned interchangeably in the colonial imagination. Chapter 3 charts this relationship in the terrain of music education; notations, for instance, which were classed in Britain, became racialised in colonial South Africa. In particular I show that black music education operated within colonial racial discourses. Chapter 4 is a reading of Victorian choralism as a "discipline", interpreting choral performance practice and choral music itself as disciplinary acts which complemented the political contexts in which choralism operated. Part 1, in short, explores how popular choralism operated within and as dominant politicking. In part 2 I turn to the black reception of Victorian choralism in composition and performance. The fifth chapter examines the compositional discourse of early black choral music, focussing on the work of John Knox Bokwe (1855-1922). Through a detailed account of several of Bokwe's works and their metropolitan sources, particularly late-nineteenth century gospel hymnody, I show that Bokwe's compositional practice enacted a politics that became anticolonial, and that early black choral music became "black" in its reception. I conclude that ethno/musicological claims that early black choral music contains "African" musical content conflate "race" and culture under a double imperative: in the names of a decolonising politics and a postcolonial epistemology in which hybridity as resistance is racialised. The final chapter explores how "the voice" was crucial to identity politics in the Victorian world, an object that was classed and racialised. Proceeding from the black reception of choral voice training, I attempt to outline the beginnings of a social history of the black choral voice, as well as analyse the sonic content of that voice through an approach I call a "phonetics of timbre".

This thesis explores connections between British amateur singers and black South African choral music that, over the past fifty years, have grown in strength and significance. By concentrating on a set of representative case studies, it investigates how and why this music is learned, performed and rehearsed within a variety of choirs and ensembles of different styles and experiences. In addition, the thesis focuses on certain songs that have become popular within specific choral contexts, and discusses the reasoning behind their enthusiastic reception and attractive power. My approach is ethnographical, and the material I present is taken from my own participant-observations of choir rehearsals, workshops and performances, as well as from interviews I conducted with choir members and leaders. On a theoretical level, this thesis engages critically with ethnomusicological and anthropological debates surrounding cultural appropriation. Particularly pertinent to each chapter are discussions concerning authenticity, cultural authority and power relations, and I explore the politics and logistics that are associated with British singers’ encounters with black South African choral music. By discussing critically these different levels of encounter and engagement, I offer some new and intriguing standpoints from which to consider existing debates surrounding cultural appropriation and, in so doing, suggest approaches for theorising cross-cultural encounters through a more nuanced postcolonial lens.

This thesis focuses on the articulation in music of human worldviews, and the social contexts in which they emerge. It suggests that people project various forms of social reality through symbolic systems which operate dynamically to maintain and recreate cultural patterns. The symbolic system investigated in support of this suggestion is that constituted by Venda guitar songs. In the performance of these songs, social reality emerges in a combination of symbolic forms: verbal, musical and somatic. The combination of these symbolic forms serves as a medium for individual self-awareness basic to the establishment of social reality and identity, and the drive for social power and legitimacy. A study of these symbolic forms and their performance indicates that musicians invoke the potential of communal music to increase social support for certain principles on which survival strategies in a turbulently changing society might be based. The discourse of Venda guitar songs incorporates modes of popular expression and consciousness, and thus attempts to invoke states of intensified emotion to promote these survival strategies. Performance occasions emerge as a focus for community orientation and the exploration of social networks. They promote stabilizing social and economic interaction, and serve as a basis for moral and cooperative action. Social reality also emerges in musical style, which is treated as the audible articulation of human thought and emotion. Stylistic choices are treated as integral to the conceptualization of contemporary existence. A study of these choices reveals varying degrees of cultural resistance and assimilation, ranging from musical styles which are essentially rooted in traditional social patterns, to styles which integrate traditional and adopted musical elements as articulations of changing self-perceptions, social aspirations, and quests for new social identity.

This thesis explores the dynamics of HIV/AIDS in the Venda region of South Africa through an exploration of post-apartheid traditionalism and the anthropology of knowledge at the juncture of planned AIDS interventions. It argues that current policies of peer education act to reinforce the patriarchal Venda aetiology through which men and older women explain sexually transmitted infections in terms of blood related taboos and the build up of pollution. This has resulted in a situation where many Venda men are more concerned with who they sleep with, rather than how "safe" the encounter may be, and has reinforced or even given rise to widely held idea that condoms cause AIDS. By looking at AIDS education through the political economy of traditional leadership in the region, the thesis locates concepts of AIDS, musical performance, power, generational authority, death and secrecy in the context of a post-apartheid struggle for the consolidation of political power between the royal houses of Mphephu and Tshivhase. This has exacerbated historical tensions between the rival centres of power, and encouraged the implementation of policies through which the ANC doctrine of African renaissance has taken centre stage. It argues that, in this context, official attempts to increase the frequency of female initiation schools have bolstered the generational authority of older women and increased the extent to which HIV/AIDS is understood through the "folk model" of blood taboos and pollution. Although peer education creates a space in which younger women - mostly through the singing of songs - promote biomedical notions of sexual health and healing, this space should not be conceptualised simply as a site of "resistance" against these structural forms of authority. It also provides them with a basis for securing positions of employment in health-related government programmes, and as such acts as a potential vehicle for upward mobility among the rural poor. Their desire to change the social/sexual health environment is thus matched by their desire to transcend and move away from it, given that it constructs them as vectors of the virus.

Thesis (MMus (Music))--Stellenbosch University, 2008.
The Libertas Choir occupies an exceptional place in the history of choral music in South Africa, especially in the Western Cape. The research on this choir is presented here in the form of a historical study, tracing the details chronologically from a politically inspired mass choir in 1986 to the founding of the Libertas Choir in 1989, and then following its history until the end of 2006. The first three chapters contain highlights of the first 17 years (1989-2006) while the subsequent chapters contain compositions specifically composed or arranged for the choir, a profile of the conductor, issues that the choir faced as well as an insight into the choir as “ambassador” for South Africa. Documenting the history of this multiracial choir in South Africa, the thesis includes an account of the contribution the choir has made to the development of music in a multicultural society as well as how it has fostered the belief that music sets no social or cultural boundaries. This study also documents the choir’s contribution to the development of multicultural choir performances. The research covers indigenous South African music that has been performed by the choir, as well as new compositions and choral arrangements that were instigated and disseminated by the choir. A selection of programmes sung by the choir during this time is included.

Thesis (MA. (African Languages)) --University of Limpopo, 2013
Mushumo uno wo sumbedza ṱhalutshedzo dza nyimbo dza sialala dza Tshivenḓa, kukhethekanyele kwa nyimbo dza sialala, zwifhinga zwa u imba nyimbo dza sialala, tshakha dza nyimbo dza sialala dza Vhavenḓa na tsumbo dzadzo, vhathu vhane vha imba nyimbo dza sialala, zwilidzo na mutengo wa zwilidzo zwa nyimbo dza sialala, mishumo ya nyimbo dza sialala dza Tshivenḓa, nḓila dza u tsireledza nyimbo dza sialala dza Vhavenḓa uri dzi songo ngalangala.

Thesis (MMus (Music))--University of Stellenbosch, 2009.
The goal of this study is to explore three different models that three selected university choirs chose to accommodate diversity: two choirs with different identities existing independently alongside each other on one campus (model A), one choir, implementing diversity (model B) and one choir with a Eurocentric character (model C). Each university was treated separately, collecting qualitative data to provide historical insight into the choir, to determine profiles of the relevant conductor(s) and choristers and to determine the management body’s views regarding the role of the choir(s) within the institution. Information on repertoire indicates preference for musical styles, favouring an African or Western perspective or showing measures of cultural adaptability. Data was collected from choristers, conductors, organisers and university representatives by questionnaires and personal interviews as well as historical data in the form of concert programmes of the selected university choirs. The research findings indicated that the three universities concerned chose to handle their cultural diversities in completely different ways, resulting in creating unique choral identities which are evident in aspects such as repertoire, choristers’ experience and the support from the institution.

akKOORd, a community choir in the relatively small southern region of the Overberg, was formed in 2006, and although the choir has only a brief history, its spirit, activities, and concerts have inspired and touched many people. This qualitative study pays attention to aspects of the choir’s history, its performance practice and of the “web” of community members connected to and involved in its activities. Through interviews and personal notes this in-depth study provides a “micronarrative” of this choir within the “web” of the Overberg community itself. It aims to not only interpret this narrative with regard to the meaning behind actions and their symbolic importance in society, but also to explore its relevance in the broader context of current South African cultural discourse. During this research it became evident that policy makers and potential funders regard this predominantly white choir with its Western repertoire as a form of undesirable exclusivity and elitism. This study opposes such a point of view, contending instead that elitism in the form of excellence has the power to defy barriers of social standing and ethnicity, and to unite people through a collective sense of ownership.

Thesis (Ph.D. (African Languages)) --University of Limpopo, 2005
This study investigates the expression of women abuse through female songs. Groups of singers from twenty-two communities were listened to during the study. A qualitative analysis was undertaken. Songs obtained from secondary sources, were compared and analysed in the same way in which those obtained from the singers themselves were analysed. In particular, the usefulness of these singing groups was examined. It was found that most of the women who are experiencing abuse of some kind, derive perceived social support from fellow singers. All the women in the different singing groups declared that they were not singing for the sake of singing but that they were sending messages to the perpetrators of abuse in the expectation that a change will be realized. Singing groups were found to be effectively providing assistance in dealing with emotional abuse. The study thus illuminates the subjective use of referential expressions in expressing abuse. This emphasizes the challenge for singers to check whether or not the manner in which they present their pleas is appropriate.

Black choral music composers in South Africa, inspired by the few opportunities available to them until recent times, have nonetheless attempted to establish, perhaps subconsciously, some choral tradition and, in doing so, incorporate African musical elements in their works. My research traces the foundations and historical development of choral music as an art amongst Vhavenda, and the contributions made thereto by a number of past and present Venda composers that this researcher could manage to identify and trace, to the music of the people. The selected composers are Stephen Maimela Dzivhani, Matthew Ramboho Nemakhavhani, Derrick Victor Nephawe, Joseph Khorommbi Nonge, Israel Thinawanga Ramabannda and Fhatuwani Hamilton Sumbana. Through the application of multiple methodological lenses, the study sets out to analyse, describe, and interpret Venda choral music. Of particular interest is the exploration of the extent to which the ”formal” education that was brought by the Berlin Missionaries influenced Venda choral musicians, particularly the selected Venda choral music composers. Also crucial to this research is the exploration and identification of elements peculiar to indigenous Venda traditional music in the works of these composers. The question is whether it was possible for these composers to realize and utilize their potentials fully in their attempt to evoke traditional Venda music with their works, given the very limiting Western tonic sol-fa notational system they were solely working with. The project also briefly traces the place of Venda choral music within the South African music context and its role within the search for cultural identity. The research has found that the majority of Venda choral music written so far has generally not been capable of evoking indigenous Venda traditional music. Whilst these composers choose themes that are akin to their culture, social settings, legend and general communal life, the majority of the music they set to these themes does not sound African (Venda in particular) in terms of the rhythms and melodies. The majority of the compositions under scrutiny have inappropriate settings of Venda words into the melodies employed. This can be attributed to the limitations imposed by the tonic sol-fa notational system, which was the only system they were taught in the missionary schools established around Venda and which, itself, was flawed as well as the general lack of adequate music education on the part of the composers themselves. Despite these limitations and the very few opportunities available to them, Venda choral music composers nonetheless managed to lay a foundation for choral music as an art amongst their people (Vhavenda).
Art history, Visual Ars and Musicology
D. Mus

This text explores varied perspectives on teaching, learning, and performing choral music. Authors are academic scholars and researchers as well as active choral conductors. Topics include music programming and the selection of repertoire; the exploration of singer and conductor identity; choral traditions in North America, Western Europe, South America, and Africa; and the challenges conductors meet as they work with varied populations of singers. Chapters consider children’s choirs, world music choirs, adult community choirs, gospel choirs, jazz choirs, professional choruses, collegiate glee clubs, and choirs that meet the needs of marginalized singers. Those who contributed chapters discuss a variety of theoretical frameworks including critical pedagogy, constructivism, singer and conductor agency and identity, and the influences of popular media on the choral art. The text is not a “how to” book. While it may be appropriate in various academic courses, the intention is not to explain how to conduct or to organize a choral program. While there is specific information about vocal development and vocal health, it is not a text on voice science. Instead, the editors and contributing authors intend that the collection serve as a resource to inform, provoke, and evoke discourse and dialogue concerning the complexity of pedagogy in the domain of the choral art.

The domba school of girls’ initiation is recognizable to many ethnomusicologists from John Blacking’s historic work in Venda communities in South Africa in the 1950s. Blacking’s study illuminated the central role of music in children’s lives in Venda communities. However, at present, domba and the unique songs and stories of Venda childhood are highly endangered, with significant ramifications for contemporary children’s education, cultural practices, and well-being in Venda communities. This chapter explores collaborative research that aims to draw together ethnomusicological methodologies such as audio and video documentation with community-driven efforts to embed the teaching and learning from domba into the school curriculum. Because children have historically been viewed as research objects, rather than participants, this collaborative effort highlights the significance of including children and young people in the research process. By connecting music to a broader cultural context, our research explores the emotional, physical, and socio-cultural transition from childhood to adulthood that is embodied musically in initiation schools and through the transmission of traditional Venda children’s musical arts practices (song, dance, instrumental performance). Our research aims to contribute to knowledge about critical issues, including the connection of well-being to arts education and the sustainability of intangible cultural heritage through unique and collaborative methodologies that prioritize the engagement of children and young people.