Roma wedding (Photo: Cosmin Mirea)
In today’s Romanian society, few topics have the power to polarize as much as Manele (the more commonly used plural for manea) music – a genre of contemporary pop music with Oriental/Balkan influences – owned, produced, and played by the Roma societies spread for centuries throughout various geographic areas of the country. Although over time, several ethnomusicologists, researchers, and scholars (such as Cerasela Voiculescu, Margaret Beissinger, Speranța Rădulescu, Anca Giurchescu, Victor Stoichiță, Adrian Schiop) have tried to explain Manele as a social phenomenon, the public discourse around it remains truncated and spectacle-driven. More often than not, the deeper issues and dynamics behind understanding this phenomenon are left untouched, and are instead being treated from a scandalous and tabloid angle.
I conducted a brief content analysis of media mentions regarding events where Manele bands were invited and observations from my own experience on this topic to illustrate how the public discourse around Manele has been constructed and how we relate to Roma cultural goods.
The topic of Manele, with all its social, geopolitical, economic, and cultural implications, continues to provoke Romanian society. Whenever it comes up, whether in public discussions or more private settings, it sparks a wave of reactions, impressions, and often contradictory opinions. Besides being among Romania’s most popular music genres, Manele act as a social and cultural agent, spreading rapidly amid a storm of stereotypes and prejudices. No one is immune to this “contagion,” and those who distance themselves from Manele position their public discourse in opposition to those who embrace them.
Paradoxically, Manele are scorned during the day and desired at night. They have even come under restrictions by state authorities. For instance, in Cluj-Napoca (a city in northwestern Romania, is the unofficial capital of the Transylvania region), a law prohibiting taxi drivers from playing Manele while on duty was passed. In Timișoara, Mayor Nicolae Robu banned the performance or broadcasting of Manele in public spaces, as well as the practice of making song dedications, “regardless of who requests them and for whom.” His decision was later sanctioned with a warning by the National Council for Combating Discrimination (CNCD).
On the other hand, Manele are eagerly requested at Romanian parties, where, as the night intensifies, people admit with a hand on their heart that “maybe a manea would hit the spot.” Manele are simultaneously loved and despised, an ambivalent reaction to a cultural product that reminds us of the repressed ghost of Balkanism and the period when the region was under Ottoman occupation. Manele contain that seductive, intriguing, inexplicable “something” that makes people move impulsively and embrace friends over a drink, evoking strong feelings that rarely leave anyone indifferent. They leave a powerful mark on the collective affect.
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