Welcome to to the second edition of the Scene Report Report. To satisfy my love of unnecessary alliteration, I’ve decided to make this a regular feature on the second Sunday of each month. As a result, I’m sending this out a bit later than planned, so some of the articles may have been published more than one month ago. That said, they’re unlikely to be stale (the music world doesn’t move that fast).
Sudanese rap is having a moment, and Amuna Wagner asks in OkayAfrica if the world is finally ready to give the country’s musicians a fair shake.
Resident Advisor takes the listicle approach in their article on 90s Latin house, with Boricua DJ and scene leader Louie Vega providing the liner notes.
Norman Goh’s write-up of Asia’s music scene (or, more accurately, its Cantopop scene) for Nikkei Asia often reads more like a music industry report, illustrating how many of the challenges that career musicians face cut across geographies.
David Murrieta Florres explores the turbulent history of Mexican psychedelic rock in Cosmic Magazine. The article has no time stamp; was it published one month or one year ago? Who cares – as a matter of historical record, the piece is evergreen.
In another take on China’s punk scene, Ashley Fike pens a passionate (if somewhat short) account for VICE that highlights Hiperson and Gong Gong Gong, two very good bands that are not always considered punk.
Sometimes undercovered scenes can hide in well-covered places. Caroline Whitely and Meena Sears argue this is the case for Berlin R&B and Atlanta house, respectively.
Nadia Says takes a different approach to a scene report for Mixmag, interviewing six artists and curators on Tunisia’s contemporary electronic underground. Her interviews turn up some true gems, such as this beautifully incisive quote from the archivist and DJ Tengal Beatz:
TB: Tunisia has been looking north for too long. It forgot it had roots that dig deep into the African soil. It forgot that its rhythms are more aligned with the Sahel than with Paris, that its chants are closer to the Sudan than to the Seine. The club scene reflects that confusion. For years, Tunisian DJs have been obsessed with European validation, playing cold techno in hot cities, forcing a Berlin aesthetic onto a land that pulses with Mezoued, Raï, Gnawa, Stambeli. But there’s a shift happening, there’s a generation that no longer sees itself as the periphery of Europe, but as the northern heartbeat of Africa.
