This unique volume explores the relationship between music and crime in its various forms and expressions, bringing together two areas rarely discussed in the same contexts and combining them through the tools offered by cultural criminology. Contributors discuss a range of topics, from how songs and artists draw on criminality as inspiration to how musical expression fulfills unexpected functions such as building deviant subcultures, encouraging social movements, or carrying messages of protest. Comprised of contributions from an international cohort of scholars, the book is categorized into five parts: The Criminalization of Music; Music and Violence; Organised Crime and Music; Music, Genocide, and Crimes Against Humanity and Music as Resistance. Spanning a range of cultures and time periods, Crime and Music will be of interest to researchers in critical and cultural criminology, the history of music, anthropology, ethnology, and sociology.

A critical examination of the ways in which music is understood and exploited in American law enforcement and justice

Hinduja examines the social, psychological, criminological, and behavioral aspects of Internet crime. Guided by the most prominent general theories of criminal behavior, he explores music piracy - an all too-common form of cybercrime - by attempting to answer a number of questions. Does stress and strain play a role? What about low self-control? Is music piracy learned within intimate social groups? Do rationalizations and justifications contribute to participation? Is the behavior strengthened or weakened through rewards and punishments? Hinduja then proposes a model which integrates both "social" and "technical" factors to inform and guide strategies to combat music piracy, and potentially other variants of high-tech crime.

Using a critical criminological approach, this book analyses what is deviant and transgressive about music, focusing on three main parts; the concept of 'harmful' or deviant music; the use of music as punishment and the censorship and silencing of music.

A “wickedly entertaining” crime thriller from a renowned chronicler of the world of rap music (Kirkus Reviews). Finalist for the NAACP Image Award in Literature The stabbing murder of esteemed music critic Dwayne Robinson in a Soho office building has been dismissed by the NYPD as a gang initiation. But his old friend, bodyguard and security expert D Hunter, suspects there are larger forces at work. D Hunter’s investigation into his mentor’s murder leads into a parallel history of hip hop, a place where renegade government agents, behind-the-scenes power brokers, and paranoid journalists know a truth that only a few hardcore fans suspect. This rewrite of hip hop history mixes real-life figures with characters pulled from the culture’s hidden world, including Jay-Z, Kanye West, and Russell Simmons. “This hard-boiled tale is jazzed up with authentic street slang and name-dropping (Biggie, Mary J. Blige, Lil Wayne, and Chuck D) . . . George’s tightly packaged mystery pivots on a believable conspiracy . . . and his street cred shines in his descriptions of Harlem and Brownsville’s mean streets.” —Library Journal “George is a well-known, respected hip-hop chronicler . . . Now he adds crime fiction to his resume with a carefully plotted crime novel peopled by believable characters and real-life hip-hop personalities.” —Booklist “Reads almost like Thomas Pynchon's Inherent Vice, but in the world of rap music . . . If you love crime fiction and you love hip hop, this book is a must read.” —BookRiot “Part procedural murder mystery, part conspiracy-theory manifesto . . . .The writing is as New York as ‘Empire State of Mind,’ and D is a detective compelling enough to anchor a series.” —Time Out New York

The return of Frank Marr, the "refreshing" protagonist of one of the New York Times' Best Crime Novels of 2016. Frank Marr was a good cop with a bad habit, until his burgeoning addictions to alcohol and cocaine forced him into retirement from the DC police. Now barely eking out a living as a private investigator, he agrees to take on a family case: a favor for his aunt, who was like a second mother to him growing up. Frank's surveillance confirms that his cousin Jeffrey is involved with a small-time drugs operation. Modest stuff, until Frank's own home is burglarized, leaving a body on the kitchen floor: Jeffrey. Worse, Frank's .38 revolver-the murder weapon-is stolen, along with his cherished music collection, his only possessions of sentimental value: dozens of vinyl albums that belonged to his late mother. Only Frank's stash, his dwindling supply of the cocaine he needs to get through the day, is untouched. Why? Clearly, his cousin was deeper in the underworld than anyone realized. With the weight of his family, his reputation, and his own life on the line, he'll have to find the culprit by following the stolen goods through a tangled network of petty thieves, desperate addicts, deceiving fences, good cops, bad cops, and one morally compromised taxi driver. Frank's as determined to uncover the truth as he is to feed his habit, and both pursuits could prove deadly. This time, it may just be a question of what gets him first.

A groundbreaking exposé about the alarming use of rap lyrics as criminal evidence to convict and incarcerate young men of color Should Johnny Cash have been charged with murder after he sang, "I shot a man in Reno just to watch him die"? Few would seriously subscribe to this notion of justice. Yet in 2001, a rapper named Mac whose music had gained national recognition was convicted of manslaughter after the prosecutor quoted liberally from his album Shell Shocked. Mac was sentenced to thirty years in prison, where he remains. And his case is just one of many nationwide. Over the last three decades, as rap became increasingly popular, prosecutors saw an opportunity: they could present the sometimes violent, crime-laden lyrics of amateur rappers as confessions to crimes, threats of violence, evidence of gang affiliation, or revelations of criminal motive—and judges and juries would go along with it. Detectives have reopened cold cases on account of rap lyrics and videos alone, and prosecutors have secured convictions by presenting such lyrics and videos of rappers as autobiography. Now, an alarming number of aspiring rappers are imprisoned. No other form of creative expression is treated this way in the courts. Rap on Trial places this disturbing practice in the context of hip hop history and exposes what's at stake. It's a gripping, timely exploration at the crossroads of contemporary hip hop and mass incarceration.