We trace the history of Indonesian Islamic metal bands, including Purgatory, Tengkorak and Kodusa, and the One Finger Movement that revolved around these bands (centred mainly on Jakarta). We look at the differences in symbols, heroes, rituals and values between One Finger Movement bands and the Bandung (Indonesia) secular Death Metal scene. We also study Bandung Death Metal band Saffar, which was known for its Islamic lyrics on its debut album but which has been for a few years in something of a limbo owing to the departure of vocalist and lyricist Parjo. We also look at Saffar's positioning of itself as a ‘secular’ band with Islamic and Anti-Zionist lyrical themes rather than as an Islamic band per se. This dichotomy can be best explained by the phrase ‘a band of Muslims rather than a Muslim band’. The secular Bandung scene context is a significant explanatory factor here.

Popular music in Israel has recently seen a surge in the use of Arabic in music made by Israeli-Jewish musicians. Most of these, although descendants of immigrants from Arab countries, never acquired Arabic at home or in school, owing to national ideology which sought to label Arabic as the language of the non-Jewish other. This article reveals and contextualises this recent trend, offering a typology of the ways in which musicians engage with Arabic, their motivations for doing so and the challenges that they face. Discussing musicians who approach Arabic as Jewish heritage, as an aesthetic repository, or even as mere sound, we identify these mobilisations of Arabic as postvernacular uses of language, which often privilege its non-semantic qualities. Observed in the context of Israeli–Arab enmity, this trend appears to have emerged surprisingly not in spite of, but partly because of, the decline in peace prospects.

Although there has recently been significant work published on the relationship between twentieth-century French (anti-)philosopher Georges Bataille's theories of religion and violence, and the sound and politics of black metal, little has been done to address Bataille's and black metal's shared concern with the problem of ‘authenticity’. Their concern, determined by their complicity with ‘evil’, is centred on a critique of modernity. I will read, with a specific focus on the second wave of Norwegian black metal, black metal's connivance with evil through Bataille's notion of authentic literature. Although two very different mediums – literature and music – Bataille's concept is applicable to a reading of black metal because of his invocation of evil and the Luciferian in his interpretation of authenticity. Bataille argues that authentic literature is necessarily diabolical because of the Nietzschean form of sovereignty that the author momentarily attains at the conception of the modern world – that is, in the wake of the death of God. The authenticity that Bataille and black metal seek is therefore bound up both with godlessness and the satanic.

When the English blues scholar Paul Oliver, who died in 2017 aged 90, was interviewed for a special issue of Popular Music in his honour, on the occasion of his 80th birthday (issue 26/1, January 2007), it was striking how much of the conversation revolved around a recurring flow of ideas for future research, to be undertaken by him or by anyone else who came with credentials appropriate to the enterprise (such as musicology, a discipline that he never considered himself well enough versed in to allow engagement). It didn't enter his mind that he might become a research subject himself. Now, with Christian O'Connell's book, he has; and it is his own methods that are under scrutiny, not, or not directly, the blues that he spent a long adult lifetime investigating (and for which he was such a knowledgeable and, for many who read his books or heard him speak live or on air, inspiring advocate), nor the social and economic life of the African American working class who created the music that continued to fascinate him. What is under the microscope is how he depicted both of those things.

Country music has a reputation for being the music of the American white working-class South and being closely aligned with conservative politics. However, country music has also been played by non-white minorities and has been a vivid way of expressing progressive political views. In the hands of the Indigenous peoples of Australia, country music has often given voice to a form of life-writing that critiques colonial power. The songs of Dougie Young, dating from the late 1950s, provide one of the earliest and most expressive examples of this use of country music. Young's songs were a type of social-realist satire and to be fully understood should be placed within the broader socio-political context of 1950s and 1960s Australia. Young's legacy was also important for Aboriginal musicians in the 1990s and the accompanying reassessment of Australia's colonial past. Country music has provided particular opportunities for minority and Indigenous groups seeking to use popular culture to tell their stories. This use of country music provides a new dimension to more conventional understandings of its political role.

This article examines how Roberto Leydi and Giovanna Marini, two important figures of the Italian ‘folk revival’, negotiated diverse American cultural influences and adapted them to the political context of Italy in the 1950s and 1960s. I argue that American musical traditions offered them valuable models even as many Italian intellectuals and artists grew more critical of US society and foreign policy. To explore this phenomenon in greater depth, I take as examples two particular moments of exchange. I first discuss American folklorist Alan Lomax's research in Italy and its impact on Leydi's career. I then examine how Marini employed American talking blues in order to reject US society in her first ballad, Vi parlo dell'America (I Speak to You of America) (1966). These two cases provide specific examples of how American influence worked in postwar Italy and the role of folk music in this process.