The conception of death among indigenous cultures of the Southern Chaco has been frequently explored in anthropology and ethno-history. From the pioneering works of Enrique Palavecino (1944) and Alfred Métraux (1946) to recent studies by Alejandro López (2009), Florencia Tola (2012), Silvia Citro (2016), and Agustina Altman (2017), it is possible to observe—albeit in a fragmented manner—that the act of dying and the very notion of death were linked to characteristic sonorities. However, despite mentions of the “sonic” dimension in ethnographic and historical studies, it has not been a central focus for examining Chaco indigenous societies.

This presentation deepens the analysis of the sound-death relationship through three case studies: the Mocoví, Abipón, and Qom cultures of the Southern Chaco. Based on historical and ethnographic sources that cover an extended period of time, the discussion is structured into four sections. The first one (sounds in front of death) examines sound practices in mourning and funeral rites. The second one (sounds from death) explores sonic manifestations of the nequi’í (soul) in the realm of the living. The third one (sounds that warn of death) focuses on netanec (signals) that foretell death. The fourth one (sounds to prevent death) discusses sonic practices used for healing and avoiding demise.

By addressing these dimensions, this work argues that the sound-death relationship extends beyond funeral rites (the preferred event for analyzing the sonic aspect related to death) to encompass interactions among diverse ontological agents—humans, animals, celestial bodies, and powerful non-human entities.

Mahraganat, a rap-driven and EDM-based musical style that emerged in the late 2000s, has amplified subaltern voices in Egypt. Its dominant presence recently waned, however, in the face of rising nostalgic pop music featuring the “Spanish tinge” of flamenco guitar and rhythms, used by the likes of Amr Diab in the 1990s (Frishkopf 2003). This nostalgic turn often includes visuals of an idealized Cairo, featuring classic affluent neighborhoods like Zamalek rather than new, flashy modern suburbs, while strategically employing typography characteristic of mid-20th century Egyptian cinema. This paper argues that today’s nostalgic turn signals a musical and visual shift in response to socio-economic instability and anxieties surrounding the erosion of a much-beloved image of Cairo. Drawing on evidence from chart trends and audiovisual analysis, I detail how this turn involves two key dynamics: first, nostalgia adapts ‘90s-era Egyptian pop by integrating elements characteristic of the Spanish tinge, such as instrumentation, rhythm, mode, and harmonic progression. Second, it resists the perceived erasure of Egypt’s cultural identity by reinforcing the image of a traditional Cairo. Emerging artists like TUL8TE, known for absurdist humor and masked anonymity, use these elements to negotiate a new sonic identity, presenting nostalgia not just as a longing for the past but as a psychological resource for reclaiming cultural agency. Engaging with frameworks regarding nostalgia in music and culture (e.g., Shannon 2015; Williams 1976), this paper examines nostalgia’s evolving role as a mode of cultural discourse and identity formation in contemporary Egypt.

Sephardic Jews trace their linguistic lineage back to medieval Spain, prior to expulsion from the Iberian Peninsula in 1492. Subsequently, many Sephardic communities found refuge in neighboring Muslim lands in North Africa and the vast Ottoman Empire of the Mediterranean. In this state of diaspora, they continued for hundreds of years to preserve Judeo-Spanish language and song through practices embedded into the fabric of daily life and ritual. In the 20^th century, the centuries-old oral transmission of Judeo-Spanish song was interrupted and largely halted. However, a few rare folksingers retained this lore as part of a living culture amidst the challenges of colonialism, migration, and national pressures toward homogenization. These singers partnered with institutions to produce a multi-faceted array of representations of Sephardic lore, however these studies primarily focused on communities and groups. In contrast, the following article will illuminate the biographies of two prominent Judeo-Spanish folk singers who acted as nodes of memory for Eastern and Western poles of the Mediterranean: Alicia Benassayag de Bendayan of Morocco and Bienvenida “Berta” Aguado of Turkey. Their stories expose a complex web of agents that have shaped contemporary notions of Sephardic song, touching upon the role of mentorship, patrimony in ethnography, the agency of songbooks and recordings, and the entanglements of national and colonial interests in folksong preservation. Understanding their roles as individuals invites larger questions into the forefront regarding the role of the archive, the nature of representation in ethnography, and the relationship of the individual to broader group identity formation.

This paper explores the critical role of music in the expression of solidarity with Palestine for Northern Ireland’s Catholic Nationalist Republicans (CNRs); this solidarity arises from shared experiences of settler colonialism and movements for national sovereignty. In the long shadow of the Troubles and the immediate aftermath of October 7th, I explore the sonic landscape of Palestine solidarity. I use the palimpsestic painting practices of Belfast’s mural artists as a template for investigating the broader processes of cultural layering–particularly the ways that local musicians rework existing songs (oftentimes, well-known “rebel” songs that narrate proud moments in Irish anti-colonial history) to celebrate Palestinian resistance. Because local audiences know the songs’ original stories, they engage in a palimpsestic listening in which the original texts, now written over, make their way back to the “threshold of visibility” (Daughtry 2013). I analyze representative songs from the Troubles-era to the present day, including Men of No Property’s 1971 song “Wee White Turban,” a reworking of “The Broad Black Brimmer,” “Fields of Palestine,” a recent re-write of Pete St. John’s 1979 “Fields of Athenry,” and bar chants of “Go on Home British Soldiers” which transformed into “Go on Home Israeli Soldiers.” I argue that for CNRs, palimpsests reflect a discursive tradition that conceptually links a particular past and an imagined future to artistic practice/praxis in the present (Asad 2009, 20). In a divided society where physical space remains highly contested, palimpsests radically combat the limitations that time and space so often impose.