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Ladies and gentlemen. It is an honour to be asked to provide the concluding remarks for this conference. As some of you already know, Charles Hamm, one of IASPM's elder statesmen, was originally supposed to have occupied this position in this hall on this occasion, but was unfortunately unable to travel to Japan for reasons of health. So, here I am in his stead and in some state of trepidation: I'm not so much scared of getting older (even less of being thought of as old) as I am uncertain of my ability to fill an elder statesman's shoes and to speak in a manner becoming the presenter of closing remarks at what I regard to be a highly significant international event.
There are in fact only three of us here in Kanazawa who also attended the first IASPM conference at Amsterdam in 1981: they are Paul Oliver, Val Oliver and myself. Since Paul and Val are both even older and certainly more statesman-like than I am, I assume I have been asked to deliver these closing remarks by virtue of my involvement in IASPM even longer than Paul and Val, and that it is the historical perspective of this long-term involvement, rather than my age or decidedly unstatesman-like manner, that has put me here. With this in mind, I promise that these concluding remarks will include a short, personal historical view of IASPM's origins and development. But I will also try to give an impression of what I think has made this conference into such a special event intellectually, culturally and personally. Moreover, I will try and present a few thoughts on tasks facing the association in the post-Kanazawa period, tasks that have not been discussed as part of conference proceedings.
IASPM started in a pragmatic and unpretentious way. In 1974 I met Gerard Kempers, jazz drummer and head of an arts college in the Netherlands, at a music education conference in Örebro, Sweden. It was at the same time and on the other side of the world, incidentally, that our host, Toru Mitsui, as I have only just recently learnt, embarked on an extensive research tour of the USA and the UK, meeting several leading popular music studies personalities of the time.1 Meanwhile, back at the conference in Sweden, Kempers and I, although both classically trained, felt really out of place, surrounded as we were by teachers of European classical song and piano. We made a noble but vain effort to convince other conference participants that it might be more effective to base music education on the real social and musical experience of young people than to force feed them gestural and aesthetic patterns of behaviour that were demonstrably foreign to them. Our words fell on stony ground and it was frustrating. Where, we wondered, was the logic in helping pupils express themselves in their mother tongue before learning Latin or reciting Shakespeare sonnets while at the same time expecting them to sing Schumann or play Mozart before they could express themselves on their own musical terms? This is of course a rhetorical question that still needs asking of far too many music educators as we enter the third millennium.
Gerard Kempers and I corresponded for some time, and when I finished my doctoral work in 1979, Gerard invited me to Holland to give a few lectures. I had by then read the trickle of informed popular music literature that had started to appear. There were names like Paul Oliver, Dave Laing, Simon Frith, John Shepherd, and I discovered that, in addition to popular music scholarship in Scandinavia,2 there was serious interest in popular music in both Germanies, in Italy, the USA, France and other European nations.
In short, it was clear there were lots of people all over the place trying to make sense of all that music which had been banished from the realms of institutionalised music education and research. The only problem at that time was that we were all isolated from each other, institutionally, nationally and professionally. It just seemed like a good idea then to try and convene as many as possible of all these various founts of knowledge in order to increase our own understanding of the ubiquitous phenomenon of music, most of which was, as I just mentioned, deemed unfit for inclusion in serious study and research. Gerard and I wanted to work towards a sharing of all that knowledge, in the broadest sense of the term, about all that music: knowledge from musicians and singers with their creative skills and practices, from academics in all sorts of disciplines, from music mediators in the private or public sector, from music educators and administrators, from dedicated record collectors and fans, from music librarians, sound technicians, media lawyers, computer programmers, instrument makers, etc.
At this time (around 1979-80), both Gerard Kempers and I were in the fortunate position of being able to do something, however insignificant it might seem, about the kind of situation that caused us so much frustration at the Örebro conference. I had full support and backing from my professor and mentor, Jan Ling, at the Institute of Musicology at the University of Göteborg in Sweden, while Gerard was able to use his influence as head of an art college in the Netherlands. We were thinking in terms of running a one-off conference on popular music research, just to get as many knowledgeable people as possible together and to see what happened. However, both of us were working in small European nations and we realised that if we wanted the conference to have wider appeal we would need help from someone working in at least the anglophone world. To cut a long story short, David Horn, now director of the Institute of Popular Music at the University of Liverpool, joined Gerard and myself in 1980, and we set about organising a small conference in Amsterdam. Gerard ran the conference on a shoestring budget while David Horn and I started corresponding, a bit like children writing to Santa Claus just before Christmas, with all those names we hoped would become faces, i.e. with people like Paul Oliver, Simon Frith, Charles Hamm, Franco Fabbri, etc.
It was in fact at Christmas 1980, in a Lancaster fish and chip shop, that Gerard Kempers, David Horn and I first discussed the notion of some kind of association for research into popular music. I remember with some trepidation the hours I spent thumbing through photocopies of UNESCO documents, trying to discover how international non-governmental organisations should be constituted. It felt absurd because although I may have been a qualified music teacher, I had not the faintest clue about constitutional law, national or international. To save trouble, I ended up by virtually copying the constitution (statutes and rules of procedure) of the IAMCR (International Association for Mass Communication Research) and substituting, where applicable, 'popular music' for 'mass media'. I still do not understand how Gerard Kempers managed to organise the conference on such a tiny budget, but he did; and all three of us were both surprised and delighted when practically everyone we had invited, including Günther Mayer from the DDR and Professor Nestiev from the Soviet Union, actually turned up in Amsterdam.
The three of us were even more surprised when the proposal to set up IASPM was actually ratified by the meeting following the conference sessions at Amsterdam. The only major amendment to our proposal was both important and appropriate: that the name of the organisation be changed from the International Association for Popular Music Research (IAPMR) to the International Association for the Study of Popular Music (IASPM).3 The idea behind this nomenclature was that we would hopefully avoid the exclusivity of yet another club of academics, with the restrictively logocentric notions of 'knowledge', 'information' and 'communication' that still seem to plague, like some largely unquestioned vocational hazard, the world of scholarship many of us inhabit.
There are two main points to this short personal history of the origins or IASPM. One is that humble, unpretentious beginnings, including lack of money, lack of expertise, combined with extravagant doses of naivety and idealism should not stop anyone from trying to make reality out of a basically good idea. In the present political and economic climate of greed, cynicism and short-term profit that we have experienced in Western society at large, at least since the rise to power of the likes of Reagan and Thatcher, it is essential to provide alternative models of social, artistic and intellectual endeavour. The foundation of IASPM was an empowering experience, not just for the three of us that put forward the original proposal to do so, but, I would like to believe, for many of those who have gained some intellectual, social or cultural benefit from the association. The beginnings of IASPM show that naivety and idealism, lack of funds and expertise are far less destructive than the fear of failure and of the future endemic in the iniquitous type of dog-eat-dog competition and achievement rat race into which our young people are forcibly socialised these days.
The second main instructive point of my brief personal history of the origins of IASPM is that the association has come a very, very long way since its humble beginnings. This conference in Kanazawa bears eloquent testimony to that development.
I have been delighted by this conference: delighted and moved. I have also learnt much more over the last few days here at Kanazawa than at any other conference I have attended. I think the reasons for my enthusiasm are fourfold.
The preparation and running of this conference have been of a high standard: despite a number of unavoidable changes to the programme, there have been very few organisational hiccups. Although organising and running conferences usually involves generous doses of disappointment, disagreement and disillusionment, no such negative experiences have been passed on to the average conference participant. The whole event has gone smoothly.
The conference theme Intercultural Interpretations was well chosen. Both organisers and speakers have in general managed to keep conference sessions well within that thematic framework, thereby creating a sense of cohesion often absent at comparable events.
At the same time we have, I think, experienced an extraordinarily broad range of approaches to an equally broad range of musics from a wide variation of cultures and societies. The balance between point 2 (keeping to a general theme) and point 3 (a wide range of subjects and approaches) has been exemplary.
The location of the conference to Kanazawa was extremely propitious. Apart from the obvious advantage of being able to rely on our trusted friend and colleague Professor Mitsui's knowledge and experience at both local and international levels, the siting of the conference in Japan has contributed in a big way to some important insights, not only into the realm of popular music, but also into the far larger area of intercultural relations and human understanding.
If you think my enthusiasm is inordinate, please bear with me a moment and let me explain by providing a few examples of what I perceive to have been the unusually productive qualities of this conference. Rather than attempting to summarise, quasi-objectively and therefore probably inaccurately, all sessions I attended (and also run the risk of offending those whose names I would have to omit), I think it would be both more truthful and instructive if I stuck to a subjective account of my impressions. I will therefore concentrate on three small episodes that encapsulate my version of the Kanazawa conference experience.
On Tuesday afternoon, Shigeki Umeda, one of Toru Mitsui's students, explained to me that he wished to write a dissertation, as I interpreted him, about the fetish of high frequency sound since the advent of the CD. Mr Umeda's English may have been slow but his questions were always deliberate and well-directed, usually starting with 'how?', 'but what if?' or 'why?'. During the course of our conversation I was obliged to revise and radically expand theories of relationships between music, social power and the soundscape. We covered musical representations of social power, how these relate to the physical symbols and technological tools of power, how changes in these relationships influence musical gesturality and sound. We set up bipolar scales, not only of high and low frequency, but also of sounds ranging from clear to muddy, bright to dark, clean to dirty, shiny to matt, glossy to dull, cold to warm, small to large, etc. We also covered questions of changes from heavy to light industry, from coal, oil, steam and petrol to clean little transistorised machines, from old to new, and from European or North American to Asian or Pacific hegemony in the economic sphere. In sonic terms we were dealing, so to speak, with the transfer of power from 'bang', 'whack' and 'vroom' to 'beep', 'click' and 'peew' (laser gun sound).
The second episode involved Jonas Baes from the Philippines and his account of making music under the Marcos regime. He also told me about composition workshops he ran with people living in villages, forests or fishing communities, people whose physical and cultural survival is constantly under threat from the monetary greed and hired thugs of big business. I was reminded in a very tangible way of the role that music can play in the struggle for social justice and I am delighted, thanks to the initiative of Johan Fornäs, Hillevi Ganetz and Martin Cloonan, presented at this conference, that IASPM can actually contribute, albeit in a small way, to raising political awareness about basic issues of human rights.
I experienced the third episode on Sunday, the first day of the conference, during the session devoted to popular music in China. There I sat in a university teaching room that looked like it could have been anywhere in the industrialised world Finland, Australia or Canada, but was in fact Japan, listening to a discussion, half in English, half in Mandarin, about the influence of Japan, of British missionaries and even of an educator from Boston (Massachusetts) on the early development of Chinese urban popular music. In the same session, topics also ranged from a musicology of Cantopop to the ideology of recent rock sung in Mandarin. Since that session I have seen our colleagues from Beijing, Shanghai, Hong Kong, Taipei, Singapore and Urbana (Mao-Chun Liang, Xin Tao, 'Ivy' Man Oi Kuen, Lily Kong and Isabel Wong) joking together and talking in Mandarin about I know not what. Presumably some of their conversation has been about popular music! That Sunday session and the Chinese language group's obvious community of interest encapsulates the best of what our association can do by way of enabling people to come together who for reasons of division by discipline, institutional structure or national politics might never otherwise meet to exchange ideas.
The three episodes just mentioned are, I think, important and instructive. From a personal viewpoint I find it difficult to express the joy I feel when I think that what grew from such humble beginnings could have borne such fantastic fruit. Even though I am fully aware that if Gerard Kempers, David Horn and I had never started IASPM then some other equally naive and idealist idiots would have done something similar sooner or later somewhere else in the world, I still derive immense pleasure from the way IASPM has manifested itself here at Kanazawa.
During certain periods and in certain places I must admit that I have felt towards IASPM like Frankenstein towards the monster. Those places have mainly been in nation states where English has been the majority language, i.e. where music industry and linguistic cultural hegemonies coincide. Sometimes these occasions have degenerated into rather parochial affairs with prescriptive territorialisation and hierarchisation of knowledge, method, objects of study, etc., all marred by an unsavoury dose of academic careerism. Such spiritual stinginess has been conspicuously absent here in Kanazawa. As the importance of East Asian and Pacific countries in the global economy, including the music business, increases in inverse proportion to the role of the old West, we Europeans and North Americans, at least those of us with any self-respect, are obliged to reorientate our thinking in categories relevant to the global realities of today and tomorrow. This means abandoning neo-colonial assumptions about the centrality of North American or European popular music and ideas about popular music. It also means opposing, whenever necessary, the parochial ethnocentricity and racism, inverted or otherwise, that still appears in some Western writing on popular music.
In this perspective, it would have been advantageous for the 1999 IASPM conference to have been held in Mexico City. Speaking as a white European, I think that a predominantly Latin American presence at the next conference would have widened our horizons in yet another direction and contributed to a more democratically truthful and enlightened picture of music in the modern world, adding to the experience of the European, North American, African and East Asian conferences the association has already held. At the same time, the proposal to hold IASPM's next international conference in Australia provides an excellent opportunity for continuity of interculturalism in IASPM by virtue of that nation's economic, historical and cultural position in the world. Urban Australia is indubitably a multicultural society and part of the East Asian and Pacific economic region. At the same time, the national language is English and a majority of the Australian population is of white European, mostly British, origin, many of whom have close personal and cultural ties with the United Kingdom. In other words, despite the rantings of the likes of Pauline Hanson and the far right, white Australians have had to address issues of economic and cultural realignment to the Pacific Rim in a far more direct way than we Europeans and North Americans, simply because they are part of it while we are not. Australia, it could be argued, is in a unique position to bridge some of the gaps between the old West and the new East. I expect that the organisers of the 1999 conference are more than well aware of these issues and that they will opt for a continuation of the intercultural and interdisciplinary openness we have seen at Kanazawa, rather than reverting to the small-mindedly careerist territorialisation and hierarchisation of knowledge that has marred some previous IASPM events held in other English speaking countries.
Before winding up these remarks with some heartfelt thanks to those who have made this conference such a success, I would like to take the opportunity of introducing three issues that have not been raised during the proceedings as such but which I think it wise for us to address. The three points are (1) internationalism, (2) copyright and (3) European classical music.
I have already mentioned the community of interest that seems to have been established here in Kanazawa between our Chinese speaking colleagues. I sincerely hope that those contacts will be maintained and developed, and that the musical experience of that quarter of the world's population will become increasingly familiar to the rest of us.
At the same time, Africa, the Arab world and the Indian subcontinent have been conspicuously absent from this conference and from IASPM membership in general. Similarly, although one whole session was devoted to the Latin heritage, only two Latin Americans were able to present papers here.4 I take the liberty of repeating here what I had to say in my concluding remarks at the 1985 IASPM conference in Montréal:
If we really want to know more or to spread information about popular music in Africa or Latin America,... we shall have to find funds in proportion to the degree of [the industrial] world's exploitation of their world and their music. Charitable thoughts and naive goodwill may make us feel better but will never buy an air ticket in US dollars for a Bolivian colleague, nor finance distribution of Tanzanian jazz, nor pay for a conference in Ghana or for seminars on Indian film music. We should also bear in mind that if we multiply our own difficulties with a factor of 100 [or 1000], we might arrive at an understanding of the problems facing colleagues musicians, intellectuals, journalists, teachers, students in those parts of the world. The day-to-day running of IASPM and the recruitment of members from 'safe' nations must never overshadow this truly international aspect of IASPM's business.
In other words, although IASPM has become more intercultural since 1985, we still have a long way to go. I hope the organisers of the 1999 conference will set aside an adequate part of their budget to facilitate participation from those parts of the world whose music is exploited by the international music business but whose financial resources are severely limited by the machinations of international capitalism. I also think it would be advisable for the incoming membership secretary to liaise with those of us who have popular music contacts in the nations absent from or underrepresented in IASPM, and to initiate a recruitment drive in those parts of the world. Of course, there is very little kudos to be gained in the academic back yard (or duck pond) of Western universities by striving for internationalisation of the type just mentioned; but that is beside the point because the advancement of individual careers has never been one of IASPM's aims.
Another important issue for our field of study is raised by Sheila Whiteley in a recent number of Popular Music . I strongly agree with Whiteley's views on the absurd relationship that exists between copyright protection and popular music studies. Speaking with my musician's hat on, I think it is quite right that I be recompensed if someone steals my labour and either misuses it (breach of moral rights) or knowingly feigns authorship of what I have produced. However, from the viewpoint of music educator with little or no chance of deriving any financial benefit from quoting, analysing or transcribing a musical work under copyright, I think it is totally absurd that I be asked to pay to carry out my contractual duty to increase my own and my students' understanding of how existing musical works are actually constructed (their musical materials) and of what these works are likely to communicate in given social circumstances. This scholarly and educational duty presupposes that I have to have access to the musical work in question, as a whole and, if I am to carry out any detailed analysis, as discretised soundbytes.
As things currently stand I cannot publish a proper musicological analysis containing the full transcription of any work without obtaining permission from the owners of that work's publishing rights. And if you think that's fair, try this: I can be refused the right to quote mere snippets of music if the publishing rights owners see fit. Such copyright fetishism can sometimes become quite absurd. Alec Wilder, for instance, was denied permission to quote a single note of any of Irving Berlin's songs in his book about the great US songwriters of the interwar years, while Sheila Whiteley had to pay Alan Klein, whose Abco controls rights on Rolling Stones Songs, £70 for each occurrence of 'I've tried' (as in 'I've tried and I've tried and I've tried' from Satisfaction ), i.e. £210 for four seconds' worth of lyrics. Sheila did not take the joke too well because she had to fork out the fee herself: her publishers took no responsibility and academics are increasingly obliged to carry the can for copyright clearance on their work.
Unfortunately, copyright control mania has more far-reaching repercussions on the development of popular music studies. Let me explain. I have for many years campaigned for greater involvement in IASPM from musicians and musicologists. One obvious reason for the dearth of music-immanent studies of popular music is of course the dogged conservatism and, I would say, suicidal elitism of many traditional institutes of music and musicology. Another reason is that it is virtually impossible to publish musicological texts about popular music because it is almost inevitably under copyright. As I have already intimated, if you aren't denied permission to quote (as notation or stored sound), you'll have to pay through the nose. On top of this, the often futile chase for permission to quote assumes that you have the time and resources to find out who owns the publishing rights for whatever you want to quote, a wild goose chase which often ends up by discovering that the publishing company in question no longer exists. Under these circumstances we can hardly expect to recruit any talented young musicologists to our area of inquiry if they cannot quote the music they are analysing. Therefore, if IASPM is serious about its intention to include music in popular music studies, then the contradiction of the individual musician's right to remuneration versus the individual's right to understand the conditions of musical structuration and communication have to be solved. IASPM should accord this matter high priority.
The third and final task that I would like to mention concerns the relationship between popular music and the European classical tradition as areas of scholarship. Once again, let me illustrate this point with an example.
In 1991, Swedish musician Gunno Klingfors completed a doctorate entitled 'The Return of Bach' at the Department of Musicology at the University of Göteborg.5 Klingfors started out as a 'bilingual' musician, playing both bass guitar in a rock band and classical woodwind instruments. After studying woodwind at the Royal College of Music in Stockholm, he toured and played with Harmoncourt's Concentus Musicus for several years. Returning to Sweden, he contacted Jan Ling in Göteborg with the idea of researching contemporary performance practice in relation to the Baroque period and the music of Bach in particular. Klingfors' basic idea was, to simplify matters considerably, a critique of 'articulation fetishism', i.e. the fixation on the precise equal tone temperament articulation of individual pitches (a bit like the sonic equivalent of classical ballet's predilection for dancing tiptoe) at the expense of harmonic, timbral, periodic and rhythmic elements. Klingfors presents exhaustive evidence from historical sources demonstrating such points as the following.
The preponderance of high-pitched sounds in current performance practice rhymes badly with the instrumentation details either stipulated or used by Bach which were much more 'bottom heavy'. This observation is further substantiated by the large number of low-register stops on organs played by Bach, registers virtually unused in modern performances of cantatas, passions, etc.
Driving rhythm and a solid sense of beat were central to the performance of Bach's music.
To further substantiate this second point, Klingfors supplies the following four contemporary quotations:6
'People with no sense of regular pulse have no honour'. 'Regular time is the soul of music' (Beer 1719: 166, ff.).
'Accompanists who cannot keep to a regular beat are vulgar and amateurish' (Leopold Mozart 1756: 266).
'A good music teacher always keeps his pupils on various types of dance music so they become rooted in the automatic aspect of the beat' (Kirnberger 1771).
'He was a very accurate conductor and in matters of tempo ... extremely reliable' (J S Bach's obituary 1754. Bach-Dokumente III, 1972: 666).
The testimony of J S Bach's pupil Kirnberger, of Bach's obituary, of Leopold Mozart's and of a whole host of others about the central importance of keeping to the beat is apparently of little interest to self-styled keepers of the classical seal. It also appears to be either unknown or irrelevant to popular music researchers. My point here is that this conference has shown that together we have considerable breadth of knowledge and approach which, combined with the work of 'alternative' musicology, as exemplified here by the work of Klingfors, could help defalsify the history of European music as it is still currently taught in most places. I feel that this is another of the important tasks facing IASPM and it is the last one I intend to mention in this context.
I will now finish these concluding remarks by thanking all those involved in making this conference such a success. Since there is such a lot to be thankful for, I am both pleased and honoured to express our appreciation officially and 'on the record' as follows.
Firstly, I would like to thank the Prefecture of Ishikawa and the City of Kanazawa, along with all the other organisations, private and public, who have supported this magnificent event. UK participants are particularly grateful to donations from the Great Britain-Sasakawa Foundation which enabled many of us to attend. A special 'thank you' should go to Kanazawa University for its support and for having made premises available to us on Sunday.
Secondly, I think all speakers should give themselves a round of applause for having made it to Kanazawa, for having covered a wide range of topics from a wide variety of angles while sticking to the conference theme, for having avoided elitism and hidden agendas, and for having shown openness and intellectual generosity.
Next, I think it is essential to extend our thanks to staff and management of the Ishikawaken Seinen-Kaikan Hotel. Few things can be more distressing than a group of Westerners in a foreign country. Reception staff have treated us with great friendliness, showing admirable tolerance at our somewhat erratic nocturnal habits. I would also like to thank the kitchen staff for their patience and kindness. Similarly, let me thank the cleaning staff who must have found this week heavier than most, at least when I think of the amount of beer cans and cigarette butts that emanated from one particular evening in one part of this hotel. We are also grateful to the person who refills the magnificent vending machines and I think a special word of thanks should go to whoever it is that washes and irons the kimonos and then folds the kimono belts diagonally into those beautiful little bundles.
The success of evening events, often extending into the night, is of course due to the hard work and enthusiasm of a large number of individuals and organisations. Thanks should certainly go to the following: to my coffee buddies Neil Rosenberg and Peter Narvaez for some outstanding bluegrass playing; to Kanazawa University MJS Big Band for some really tight and funky soul; to Tony Sheridan for reminding us in convincing musical terms of the R&B origins of the Beatles; to Mr Hiraga, generous owner of the Mokkiriya club, where many of us were allowed to make music, and of the Paper Moon bar with its superb collection of jazz records; to the amazing shop Record Jungle that makes our Virgin Megastores look pretty 'Micro' by comparison; to the restaurant 'Fish Forever' ( Uotsune ) for its outstanding service, local cuisine and local sake; and, of course, to Shuhei Hosakawa and his superbly informative and richly illustrated history of pop music in Japan: his presentations should be turned into a TV series at the earliest opportunity.
I think that we are all extremely grateful to those that organised and ran the actual conference, not least to the Programme Committee, to our excellent interpreters, and to members of both IASPM-Japan and JASPM.
I have been advised at this final stage of thanks to follow Japanese custom and to mention by name only the general (Taicho) and front-line soldiers (Heitai) of the operation.
I will start with the latter. It is a great pleasure to wholeheartedly acknowledge and express our appreciation of the efforts of this younger generation of front-liners and to thank all those students, undergraduate and postgraduate, who worked so hard for the IASPM 1997 conference in Kanazawa and who treated us so kindly. Their names are: Yasushi Ogasawara, Shigeki Umeda, Masahiro Yasuda, Atsushi Koda, Edgar Pope, Mosahiko Oyama, Aki Yamazaki, Sachio Kushida, Mamoru Toya, Emika Yamaguchi, Hideko Haguchi, Keiji Okada, Kei Kawano, Ryotaro Nishimoto, Ryoko Kato, Nozomi Takahira, Yukiko Yoshida, Kanae Kaeriyama, Tomoyo Kyotani, Satoshi Masuda, Saku Mochizuki, Naoyuki Ishikaza, Mari Shinohara and Toru Seyama. Please forgive me if some important names are missing, but we really do appreciate you all and everything you have done for us.
It only now remains for me to thank Professor Toru Mitsui for having so hospitably invited us to Kanazawa and for having arranged and coordinated preparations in an exemplary fashion. Without his efforts and dedication to the development of our field of studies none of us would be here. Kanazawa will, I am sure, go down in history as one of IASPM's major high points. I'd like to thank you all once again from the bottom of my heart.
1. These personalities included Paul Williams and Neil Rosenberg, both at this conference, as well as Norm Cohen, Tony Russell and Mike Leadbitter.
2. Notably at the Department of Musicology at the University of Göteborg under Professor Jan Ling.
3. The amendment was proposed by Martin Tegen, then professor of musicology at Stockholm University.
4. Pátria Román-Velásquez from Puerto Rico and Steve Loza, of part Mexican parentage, living in Los Angeles.
5. Klingfors, Gunno (1991). Bach går igen. Göteborg: Skrifter från Musikvetenskapliga institutionen, 23.
6. I have translated the citations colloquially. The original versions are as follows.  'Wer nicht tactfest ist / ist auch selten Ehrenfest' ... 'so kann auch kein practicus, als ein musicus bestehen / der die mensur nicht vor die Seele der music lässet' (Johann Beer: Musicalische Discurse. Nürnberg, 1719, cited in Klingfors 1991: 347).  'De som inte har något begrepp om god smak håller inte tempot när de ackompanjerar (niemals bey der Gleichheit des Tactes bleiben)' (Leopold Mozart: Grundliche Violinschule, I. Salzburg, 1756, cited in Klingfors 1991: 347).  'Gute Tonlehrer haben ihre Schüler allezeit hauptsächlich zu Tanzstücken vershiedener Art angehalten, damit sie sich in dem Mechanischen des Takts festsetzen und ordentlich denken lernen ... Dies was zugleich die beste übung im Vortrag' (Bach pupil Johann Philipp Kirnberger: 'Tanzstück'. In Allgemeine Theorie der schönen Künste. Leipzig, 1771, cited in Klingfors 1991: 347).  'Im Dirigieren war er sehr accurat; und im Zeitmaaße, welches er gemeinglich sehr lebhaft nahm, überaus sicher' (Bach-Dokumente III, ed. Schulze. Leipzig & Kassel, 1972, in Klingfors 1991: 355).