As early as the end of the nineteenth century, Wilhelm Tappert described songs as the ‘most indefatigable tourists of the earth’ (Tappert 1890: 5). Bruno Nettl drew on this concept, underscoring the transnational quality of popular songs: ‘Some of them behave as if they had lives of their own, moving across national boundaries, rivers, mountain ranges, oceans, across language and culture areas’ (Nettl 2005: 113). Of course, this assertion is valid about music in general, but popular music is particularly adept at crossing national borders. This reflects the fact that the market for popular music is more global than that for classical music, which tends to be protected by and embedded in national institutions, such as orchestras, opera houses and music conservatoires. It is also more international than folk music, which ostensibly reflects local culture and rarely reveals any ambition to conquer the world.
The transnational character of popular music is further strengthened by technological developments and changes in world politics. Cheap production, immediate and practically cost-free dissemination of music resulting from digitisation, as well as the availability of low-cost travel for musicians—assisted by the neoliberal policy of free movement of labour in some parts of the world—all facilitate the global flow of popular music. And, despite digital recording, social media, the piracy of records on the internet and, finally, the emergence of distribution platforms such as Spotify, live popular music has increased its share within the music industry and has made musicians ever more reliant on concerts, touring and festival appearances to sustain their income (Williamson and Cloonan 2007; Aspray 2008; Curien and Moreau 2009). In today’s world of weakened political and cultural borders, the popularity of performers and songs are measured by international visibility and integration into globally established styles and trends (Stokes 2012).
However, research into popular music in Eastern Europe shows that its transnational character has been limited. First, it is usually acknowledged how Eastern European popular music borrowed from western pop-rock during the period of state socialism (Ryback 1990; Ramet 1994; Risch 2015), which is seen as an act of resistance against oppressive states; and secondly, exclusive mention of the crossing of national borders by certain genres born in Eastern Europe—namely those regarded as particularly exotic or oriental: ‘Gypsy’ and ‘Balkan’ (Silverman 2012)—which are of interest to non-mainstream western musicians and audiences. Furthermore, the influence of Anglo-American music on Eastern European popular music during the period of state socialism is discussed predominantly in political terms, as a force challenging ideological principles and culture, promoted by state institutions and, consequently, playing an important role in dismantling state socialism and introducing a new system: that of market capitalism and parliamentary democracy.
It would be difficult to argue that Eastern European pop-rock has been immune to western influences or that the relationship between Anglo-American and Eastern European pop-rock was symmetrical. For the majority of musicians operating behind the Iron Curtain, music from Britain and the United States constituted the dominant model. Almost every popular rock musician from countries such as Hungary, Poland or Yugoslavia started his or her career by covering songs of famous Anglo-American artists and even when s/he did not, many of the local stars were hailed as local versions of the Beatles or the Rolling Stones . On the other hand, it would be difficult to find a band from the United Kingdom or the United States, which marketed itself as an act whose ambition was to appeal to Eastern European audiences or which was inspired by music from Eastern Europe. In cases where this did happen, inspiration coming from the Soviet bloc was overlooked by audiences and critics. The most recent case in point is the spectacular international career of Dua Lipa , a singer born in London from Kosovo Albanian parents who quotes her musician father as an important influence, yet who is not seen as being in any way (musically or culturally) Albanian.
This collection does not argue that there was ‘no West in the East’ or that popular music from Eastern Europe is more accomplished and influential than is normally assumed. Its aim is rather to investigate the complex phenomena that comprise the international dimensions of Eastern European popular music.
Mapping the Field
The concept of the ‘international in Eastern European popular music’ is problematic on several accounts. First, there is a question of the boundaries of Eastern, as well as Western Europe. Even during the Cold War these terms were not straightforward, because between the (socialist) ‘East’ and the (capitalist) ‘West’ proper, there were countries which enjoyed having one foot in each camp, such as Finland and Yugoslavia. The politics of organizing the Eurovision and the Intervision Song Contests (ISC) reflects this non-binary approach to the East and the West, as discussed in the chapter by Dean Vuletic. Moreover, within specific political blocs there were also hierarchies, reflecting the political leanings and economic power of specific countries, as well as their music. For these reasons, again, Yugoslav, as well as Hungarian and Polish pop-rock has traditionally been valued more highly within the bloc than Romanian, Bulgarian and Albanian pop-rock, which was presumed to be less developed due to their more oppressive political regimes. Second, for consumers of popular music from Eastern Europe, music produced in the English-speaking countries was valued more highly than that coming from the rest of Western Europe; for example, Belgium and Austria. In this case attitudes reflected more the ‘global core-periphery’ dynamics pertaining to popular music at large (Azenha 2006; Stokes 2012) rather than a ‘West is best’ attitude, widespread in Eastern Europe. The above claims are well-illustrated by the emergence of special stores in the Soviet bloc countries, offering premium products. Under various names—Tuzex in Czechoslovakia, Pevex in Poland, Konsumex in Hungary, Intershops in East-Germany, and Corecom in Bulgaria—were ‘outposts of capitalism’ in state socialist countries where, amongst others, recordings of western music could be bought for hard currency.
Another problem with defining Eastern Europe has to do with the status of Russia and its republics, which in some contexts is included in the investigations of Eastern Europe and in others is treated as a separate entity. For pragmatic reasons we decided to exclude Russia from our investigation, because its very size and specific relation to the rest of Eastern Europe would result in marginalizing many countries we would like to cover and add to the complexity of the investigation. We also omitted the majority of ex-Soviet republics, leaving only Estonia. Timothy Ryback described Estonia as the ‘California coast of the Soviet Union’ (Ryback 1990: 111) and which, in the words of Aimar Ventsel, author of a chapter in this collection, in the mind of many visitors functions as a frontier, dividing and connecting the current ‘wild East’, epitomised by Russia with the allegedly more democratic, gentler ex-Eastern Europe.
For some researchers the term ‘Eastern Europe’ is now obsolete, as it recollects the Cold War with its relatively neat division between the East and the West, which was overcome by the fall of the Berlin Wall . Consequently, they prefer terms such as ‘East-Central Europe’ or ‘Central Europe,’ which includes much of the areas that once belonged to the Austro-Hungarian Empire or pits the newly westernised part of the old Eastern Europe, as demonstrated by its accession to such institutions as the European Union and NATO, against those remnants of the old European East, which have remained outside these structures, such as Serbia, Russia and some ex-Soviet republics. Such change in terminology reflects what Immanuel Wallerstein describes as a ‘game of geographical musical chairs’ (Wallerstein 1984: 9) in what he terms the ‘world-economy’, namely some states moving upward, others downward, usually following a significant political and economic upheaval. We opt for the term ‘Eastern Europe’ for two reasons. One is the simple fact that this book covers both the period of state socialism and the subsequent 30 or so years, a period labelled postcommunist or postsocialist. The second reason is our desire to account for continuities and disruptions in the popular music produced and consumed in Eastern Europe. In the existing histories of Eastern Europe, the discontinuities have attracted more attention: the end of state socialism was a dramatic change, as symbolised by the spectacle of the fall of the Berlin Wall , which opened a new and arguably happier era of freedom and prosperity. However, we believe that although much changed, much remained the same.
It is worth evoking two categorisations of states: one proposed by Wallerstein, concerning world economies at large and one by Lee Marshall, who limits himself to the discussion of power within popular music. The main idea we take from Wallerstein is that the world economy is dynamic. In particular, the statuses of core and periphery are not fixed geographically, but are relative to each other. A zone defined as ‘semi-periphery’ acts as a periphery to the core and as a core to the periphery. Nevertheless, countries comprising Eastern Europe are seen by Wallerstein as ‘semi-periphery’, along with countries such as Brazil and Mexico (Wallerstein 1984: 142–143).
According to Marshall, the global recording industry is made up of three concentric circles, with the centre called ‘hegemonic mainstream’ located in countries such as the United States, United Kingdom, Germany, France and Japan. The next circle consists of ‘integrated countries,’ such as Canada and Finland, which, although they take part in economic exchange with central countries, they are the weaker partner; and the third and last circle includes ‘periphery nations’, including territories in which global record labels do not have a very strong position or are not present at all (Marshall 2013: 3).
The question which interests us is whether, since the early 1990s, have Eastern European countries such as Hungary, Poland and the Czech Republic evolved from ‘periphery’ to ‘integrated countries’. The answer to this question depends largely on whether we consider the position of the creators or the consumers of music from these countries and whether we take into account the position of Eastern European music within the continent or globally.
Without doubt the fall of the Berlin Wall was an important factor in facilitating access to music from the West by Eastern European audiences. The lifting of restrictions on importing western music and to travel, allowed, for example Eastern European fans of electronic music to visit techno clubs in Berlin or London. The same restrictions were lifted for Eastern European musicians, who were now allowed to knock on the doors of club managers in Berlin or Brussels and approach foreign labels. Some artists took advantage of this opportunity; for example, some Polish and Hungarian electronic musicians signed record deals with German labels. For many others, however, the doors remained locked. By and large, the lifting of barriers was not accompanied by an increased penetration of the West by Eastern European music. It could even be argued that the position of this music declined, because it lost its old protection on the domestic and regional markets, as import embargos of western music were lifted. This situation is well illustrated by the fate of recording companies in Eastern Europe.
Having served the agenda of their governments, which prioritised products from the Eastern Bloc, while also specializing in producing and distributing music of local artists and those from ‘brotherly countries’, these record companies were purchased by western companies, such as EMI or Warner during the course of the 1990s. It was noticed that these subsidiaries do not use their position to nurture local talent and promote it abroad, but merely treat Eastern Europe as a market to sell music produced in the centre, deemed more competitive (Elavsky 2011). Moreover, as these companies became subjects of EU legislation, which often requires further changes in ownership, one effect was weakening the agency of local actors. Hence, we argue that joining the West by Eastern Europe resulted, on some occasions, not in diminishing distance from the core, but increasing it.
Wallerstein’s understanding of world economy as a dynamic system is equally applicable to the popular music industry and its institutional actors. We only need to remind ourselves of the 1990s, when declining record sales were balanced by the increasing role of revenues generated through live music. Within the industry, this change resulted in artists being less dependent on producers and record company executives, radio programmers and radio station personnel, while being increasingly reliant on personal managers, talent agents, promoters, venue managers, and the creative and operative staff involved in organising summer and other kinds of festivals.
While the infrastructure of the music industry came into being in Eastern Europe with institutional actors serving as facilitators and gate-keepers for performers and music genres, the political economy of popular music was distorted by ideological premises and the constant search for the role of popular culture in state socialist society. Such external restrictions posed on Eastern Bloc music industries severely restricted them from following the market principles of supply and demand and contributed to the peripheral role of Eastern European music compared to the free-market—oriented Anglo-American one. Beside the negligible market share of Eastern Europe within global sales, which did not improve much post-1990, weak contacts between industry actors from the West and the East further added to the marginal status of the region’s popular music. Even those industrial actors who joined and gained senior positions within major record companies had little economic incentive to support local representatives of mainstream genres which, given the linguistic barriers between Eastern Europe and the rest of the world, were difficult to promote abroad.
Although not in a systematic and methodologically homogenous manner, this volume maps up the transnational dimension of Eastern European popular music by emphasising the role of institutional and non-institutional actors of the music industry: performers, record companies, organisers of megafestivals, booking agents, television and radio broadcasters, small venue operators, smugglers and black-market racketeers. Besides factors shaping the production, distribution and commodification of music, authors of this volume also draw attention to the role of consumers, such as fans, fellow artists and opinion-leaders of the music press, in shaping trends and, ultimately, influencing what forms of international contacts prove to be viable while others fail. Reflections on the consumers of music emphasise the intermeshing of music and personal and group identity, including class identity. Exploring the post-communist correlation between market forces and consumer identity, Zsolt Győri’s chapter about Hungary’s largest summer festival, the Sziget Festival , argues that the business model of the event increasingly favoured the musical taste of affluent, Western European fans, even at the cost of marginalising local talent and depriving them of the opportunity to internatio...