The military dictatorship in Burma / Myanmar oversees an ecosystem of cultural production that includes films, print media, standup comedy, and music recordings. These recordings, which are the focus of this presentation, are called colloquially “army songs” or “soldier songs,” and are disseminated via regime-controlled television programs and on social media. Many contemporary army songs evince a masculinist hard rock aesthetic, featuring a male solo singer with an aggressive vocal style, virtuosic electric guitar solos, and heavy drumming. On social media, army songs are accompanied by videos featuring still photographs and film footage of soldiers marching and fighting. Burmese people usually dismiss army songs, along with all regime-produced materials, as nothing but lies. I argue that army songs do include lies of commission and of omission, but they are best understood as propaganda. Scholars of musical propaganda (eg. Perris 1985, Morris 2014, Fauser 2019, Godfrey 2019, Sultanova 2025) have often declined to engage with the founding theories of propaganda studies, with the result that propaganda in music is only fuzzily understood. In this presentation I analyze several Burmese army songs using Alfred McClung’s seminal appeal-bond-commodity framework for defining propaganda, demonstrating that the army songs push a consistent commodity using number of different appeals. I contextualize these appeals by explaining how they are relevant to Burmese listeners, the intended audience for army songs. This presentation also reveals that propaganda theory, which was first developed to address government messaging in liberal democracies, is also useful in illuminating the manipulative music produced by one of the world’s most repressive governments.

The Malay world has a long history of integrating musical influences from the Middle East, particularly through the gambus tradition. However, despite the adoption of maqamat (Arabic modal system), there exists a prevalent misidentification of Maqam Bayati and Maqam Kurd among Malay musicians and scholars. While these maqamat are distinct in Arab theoretical frameworks, they are often used interchangeably or incorrectly categorized in Malay musical contexts. This paper examines the historical, pedagogical, and cultural factors contributing to this misidentification and explores how local adaptation has shaped the perception of these modes in the Malay world. Drawing from postcolonial theory, this study situates the misidentification within a broader discourse of knowledge transmission and cultural hybridization. Using Homi Bhabha’s “third space”, the paper argues that the Malay interpretation of maqamat exists within a liminal space where Arabic theoretical structures merge with localized musical aesthetics, resulting in new, hybridized understandings. Additionally, Appadurai’s framework of global cultural flows helps contextualize how the transmission of maqamat—via oral tradition, migration, and media—has led to shifts in meaning, reinforcing localized reinterpretations rather than direct preservation of original structures. To address these challenges, this paper introduces the KIG (Kaedah Improvisasi Gambus) Model, a structured approach to gambus improvisation developed through performance-based research. The KIG model provides a systematic framework for maqam articulation, reinforcing proper modal structures and distinguishing Maqam Bayati from Maqam Kurd through intuitive note choices, phrasing, and transitions. By incorporating this approach into pedagogy and performance, the model offers a practical method to clarify maqam distinctions, preserve authenticity, and enhance the understanding of maqamat within the Malay world. This study contributes to ethnomusicological discourse by examining how misidentification reflects broader issues of cultural adaptation, negotiation of authenticity, and localized knowledge production. Ultimately, it advocates for a more nuanced and structured approach to maqam education that respects historical accuracy while acknowledging the evolution of musical identity in the Malay world.

In Metro Manila and other major cities in the Philippines, a system of hiring musicians—known locally as nombrahan—has existed long before the term “”gig economy”” became widely recognized. Derived from the Spanish word nombrar, meaning “”to designate”” or “”to call,”” nombrahan refers to the informal practice of booking musicians for parties, weddings, private events, and other performances. This system involves musicians across various genres, including string players, rock and jazz bands, singers, and even chamber orchestras.

At the heart of this system is the nombrador, the individual responsible for securing performance deals with clients and handling the musicians’ payments. However, many musicians face challenges such as unfair compensation, lack of transportation support for distant venues, and the absence of proper provisions for food and other expenses. These exploitative conditions highlight the precarious nature of the local gig circuit. Moreover, recent government efforts to regulate this economy—including taxation measures—further complicate the situation for musicians who already struggle with financial instability.

This paper aims to trace the historical roots of Manila’s nombrahan system and its connection to the modern gig economy. It seeks to identify key factors influencing this practice while exposing the economic struggles and social realities faced by local musicians in the current landscape.

On March 29th, 2025, isaNight, an Indigenous dance party, took place in central Taipei. This experimental and unprecedented nightlife event centers Indigenous music while intersecting with global genres such as Hip-Hop and Afro-Beats. Organized by Indigenous youth from both tribal and urban areas—including myself, a Puyuma youth from Taitung currently studying Entertainment Arts Management with academic experience in Canada and the U.S.—isaNight responds to the need for self-defined cultural spaces for what I call “urban transmitters”: Indigenous people navigating their identities and searching for meaningful community in urban environments.
Unlike government- or NGO-sponsored cultural events, which often feel tokenistic or disconnected from the lived experiences of Indigenous youth, isaNight emerges from within our communities, rooted in shared cultural expression, humor, and movement.

Drawing inspiration from DJs like Dungi Sapor—who blends techno with Amis music—and fueled by a DIY spirit of collective organizing, isaNight embodies a new kind of cultural performance that is grounded, playful, and politically significant.
This paper frames isaNight through Liz Przybylski’s concept of sonic sovereignty—the assertion of Indigenous self-determination through musical expression—and asks: What forms of cultural and sonic agency emerge when Indigenous youth claim nightlife spaces as their own? Through recurring events held every other month, this research explores whether isaNight can evolve into a hybrid urban community where Indigenous people feel free to live and express themselves authentically. It also considers whether Indigenous music, in conversation with global sounds, can begin to shape new trajectories in Taiwan’s popular music and nightlife scenes.

More than a party, isaNight is a sonic and social experiment—one that reclaims sound, space, and joy as central elements of Indigenous futurity.

This study will discuss the historical changes, characteristics, and driving forces behind the transnational flow of Vietnamese pop music to China, as well as the localized Chinese discourses of understanding. At the same time, we will also treat it as a contact zone for cultural exchange between the two countries to explore in greater depth the underlying processes of Southeast Asian globalization and power relations. This study will use the phenomenon of ‘Vietnamese drums/Vina House’ as one of the research examples by critical multimodal discourse analysis and in-depth interview with Chinese DJ and audience. This is an electronic music genre with a strong bass drum beat. It became popular through the fast-paced, short-video culture of the TikTok platform. It has merged with China’s local ‘tuhai DJ’ (countryside, grounded DJ music genre) culture by chance. In the process of circulation, it usually appears in the image of a female DJ, which contains elements of gender imagination and power relations. In addition, the Chinese audience does not passively accept this music. Some listeners use this Vietnamese pop music as material for learning and spreading ‘Chữ Nôm (a Vietnamese script used in the past, based on the structure of Chinese characters) ’ culture , which reflects the cultural acceptance framework of nationalism behind geopolitics.