Kurt Cobain Lists His 50 Favorite Albums: Features LPs by David Bowie, Public Enemy & More

Top50byNirvana

Cir­cu­lat­ing ‘round the inter­net recent­ly is, wouldn’t you know it, yet anoth­er famous list of favorites. But it’s not a “lis­ti­cle,” I’d say, one of those con­coct­ed click­bait hodge­podges that crop up in every cor­ner with some­times only the most ten­u­ous, or lurid, of orga­niz­ing prin­ci­ples. While we do have a tra­di­tion of show­cas­ing lists here, they are gen­er­al­ly on the order of those organ­i­cal­ly com­piled by sin­gu­lar cre­ative minds rank­ing and order­ing their uni­vers­es. I would say these things are true of Kurt Cobain’s list of albums above, which he titles “Top 50 by Nir­vana” (see a full tran­scrip­tion at the bot­tom of the post, cour­tesy of Brook­lyn Veg­an). It not only presents a pic­ture of the late Cobain and his band­mates’ musi­cal her­itage, it also offers us a gen­uine sam­pler of a generation’s protest music—plenty of clas­sic angry ’80s hard­core punk and post-punk, lo-fi indie, a smat­ter­ing of clas­sic rock, some fringe out­siders like The Shag­gs, and a rap album at #43, the fierce­ly polit­i­cal Pub­lic Enemy’s It Takes a Nation of Mil­lions to Hold Us Back, a record beloved of almost all chil­dren of the 80s.

Hav­ing had an almost iden­ti­cal musi­cal edu­ca­tion as Cobain, it seems from the list, I can’t say that I find any of the choic­es here par­tic­u­lar­ly sur­pris­ing. It almost looks to me like the ide­al code for pro­duc­ing a 90s alter­na­tive star—just add tal­ent, teen angst, and the look of a bedrag­gled home­less pup­py. But a Fla­vor­wire take on the list does call Pub­lic Ene­my (see their “Fight the Pow­er” video above) one of a hand­ful of “fas­ci­nat­ing sur­pris­es.” Oth­er than this styl­is­tic depar­ture, many of the selec­tions from the list are par­tic­u­lar­ly sig­nif­i­cant as influ­ences on Cobain’s song­writ­ing, and some of the artists list­ed are those the band cov­ered on occa­sion.

One of Cobain’s major influ­ences can also be eas­i­ly claimed by near­ly every indie artist of the 90s: Austin, Texas’ Daniel John­ston, a savant song­writer who has weath­ered a life­long strug­gle with bipo­lar dis­or­der yet pro­duced one of the most hon­est, touch­ing, and fun­ny bod­ies of work in the past few decades. Cobain namechecks Johnston’s 1983 Yip Jump Music, from which comes the song above, “Wor­ried Shoes,” an almost per­fect exam­ple of his poignant lyri­cism and deft han­dling of emo­tion­al dis­af­fec­tion. One can see the appeal of Johnston’s spare home­made folk-blues to a sen­si­bil­i­ty like Cobain’s: “I took my lucky break / And I broke it in two / Put on my wor­ried shoes / My wor­ried shoes.” Johnston’s reac­tion to the inter­est of artists like Nir­vana, Mud­honey, Beck, the But­t­hole Surfers, and Wilco is typ­i­cal­ly under­stat­ed. “Ah, it’s pret­ty cool,” he says, “The atten­tion was nice, ya know. Sells a few records.”

Cobain’s debt to David Bowie is evi­dent in his swip­ing of some of Bowie’s chord changes and melod­ic phras­ing. A touch­stone for the grunge star was “The Man Who Sold the World,” which of course the band cov­ered (above, unplugged) and which many a naïve Nir­vana fan assumes was a Cobain orig­i­nal. Cobain places the album, The Man Who Sold the World at #45. Bowie is quot­ed in rock bio Nir­vana: The Cho­sen Rejects as say­ing he was “sim­ply blown away” when he found out that Cobain liked his work. Bowie “always want­ed to talk to him about his rea­sons for cov­er­ing ‘The Man Who Sold the World’’ and said “it was a good straight for­ward ren­di­tion and sound­ed some­how very hon­est.” He also expressed sur­prise at being “part of America’s musi­cal land­scape.” How­ev­er, when young fans would approach Bowie and com­pli­ment him on his cov­er of a “Nir­vana song” after he played the tune, his reac­tions were less than polite. Accord­ing to Nicholas Pegg, Bowie said, “kids that come up after­wards and say, ‘It’s cool you’re doing a Nir­vana song.’ And I think, ‘Fuc& you, you lit­tle toss­er!’”

No short­age of ’90s artists, like their ’60s folk-rock fore­bears, named Lead­bel­ly as a pri­ma­ry influ­ence. Cobain places the icon­ic blues­man­’s Lead­bel­ly’s Last Ses­sions Vol. 1 at num­ber 33. Whether or not any­one can hear acoustic Delta blues in Nir­vana, most peo­ple are famil­iar with their unplugged cov­er of the Lead­bel­ly stan­dard “In the Pines,” aka “Where Did You Sleep Last Night” (Cobain learned the song from Scream­ing Trees singer Mark Lane­gan). Above is a rare, much dark­er, Nir­vana cov­er of the song from a boot­leg album of live record­ings called Ultra Rare Trax, per­formed at Pachy­derm Stu­dios in Can­non Falls, MN in 1993. (We will nev­er know, of course, what Lead­bel­l­ly would have thought of Kurt Cobain, though your guess­es are appre­ci­at­ed.)

If the Nir­vana list did not include Black Flag, some­one would have to add it. Cobain places the L.A. hard­core band’s My War at num­ber 11 on the list (first place is reserved for Iggy and the Stooges Raw Pow­er). Above, for­mer Black Flag vocal­ist Hen­ry Rollins explains in a 1992 seg­ment of MTV’s late-night alter­na­tive video show 120 Min­utes what he thought were the rea­sons for the band’s phe­nom­e­nal suc­cess. “It doesn’t take an idiot to real­ize that the mass media con­tin­u­al­ly under­es­ti­mates the intel­li­gence of their audi­ence,” he says, “You know how dis­sat­is­fied you’ve been with a lot of main­stream rock and roll.” Rollins goes on: “When a band like Nir­vana comes along who are kick­ing the real thing, you like it because it’s real.”

Not every one of the artists Cobain lists had such nice things to say about him in return, how­ev­er. The Sex Pis­tols’ Nev­er Mind the Bul­locks gets slot­ted at #14 on the list. In his auto­bi­og­ra­phy, for­mer Pis­tols leader and infa­mous con­trar­i­an John Lydon appar­ent­ly “reserved some ven­om for the likes of Nir­vana,” writes review­er Tim Kennedy, “com­par­ing them to the clue­less met­al bands [the Sex Pis­tols] were up against in the sev­en­ties.” For all the mil­lions of Nir­vana fans dur­ing the band’s hey­day, there was also a small con­tin­gent of kids who felt sim­i­lar­ly, no mat­ter how rar­i­fied or rep­re­sen­ta­tive Cobain’s musi­cal tastes. In some of those cas­es, no doubt, rival bands felt that way because, as Hen­ry Rollins describes it, while they were still tak­ing the bus, “the oth­er guy is sneer­ing at you from a block-long limo.”

Kurt Cobain’s Favorite Albums
1. Iggy and the Stooges, “Raw Pow­er”
2. Pix­ies, “Surfer Rosa”
3. The Breed­ers, “Pod”
4. The Vase­lines, “Pink EP”
5. The Shag­gs, “Phi­los­o­phy of the World”
6. Fang, “Land­shark”
7. MDC, “Mil­lions of Dead Cops”
8. Scratch Acid, “Scratch Acid EP”
9. Sac­cha­rine Trust, “Pagan­i­cons”
10. But­t­hole Surfers, “Pee Pee the Sailor” aka “Brown Rea­son to Live”
11. Black Flag, “My War”
12. Bad Brains, “Rock for Light”
13. Gang of Four, “Enter­tain­ment!”
14. Sex Pis­tols, “Nev­er Mind the Bol­locks”
15. The Frogs, “It’s Only Right and Nat­ur­al”
16. PJ Har­vey, “Dry”
17. Son­ic Youth, “Day­dream Nation”
18. The Knack, “Get the Knack”
19. The Saints, “Know Your Prod­uct”
20. any­thing by Kleenex
21. The Rain­coats, “The Rain­coats”
22. Young Mar­ble Giants, “Colos­sal Youth”
23. Aero­smith, “Rocks”
24. Var­i­ous Artists, “What Is It”
25. R.E.M., “Green”
26. Shon­en Knife, “Burn­ing Farm”
27. The Slits, “Typ­i­cal Girls”
28. The Clash, “Com­bat Rock”
29. The Faith/Void, “Split EP”
30. Rites of Spring, “Rites of Spring”
31. Beat Hap­pen­ing, “Jam­boree”
32. Tales of Ter­ror, “Tales of Ter­ror”
33. Lead­bel­ly, “Lead­bel­ly’s Last Ses­sions Vol. 1”
34. Mud­honey, “Super­fuzz Big­muff”
35. Daniel John­ston, “Yip/Jump Music”
36. Flip­per, “Gener­ic Flip­per”
37. The Bea­t­les, “Meet the Bea­t­les”
38. Half Japan­ese, “We Are They Who Ache With Amorous Love”
39. But­t­hole Surfers, “Locust Abor­tion Tech­ni­cian”
40. Black Flag, “Dam­aged”
41. Fear, “The Record”
42. PiL, “Flow­ers of Romance”
43. Pub­lic Ene­my, “It Takes a Nation of Mil­lions to Hold Us Back”
44. Marine Girls, “Beach Par­ty”
45. David Bowie, “The Man Who Sold the World”
46. Wipers, “Is This Real?”
47. Wipers, “Youth of Amer­i­ca”
48. Wipers, “Over the Edge”
49. Mazzy Star, “She Hangs Bright­ly”
50. Swans, “Young God”

Relat­ed Con­tent:

An Awkward/NSFW Inter­view with Nir­vana Pro­duc­er Steve Albi­ni (Plus B‑52 Front­man Fred Schnei­der)

Ani­mat­ed Video: Kurt Cobain on Teenage Angst, Sex­u­al­i­ty & Find­ing Sal­va­tion in Punk Music

Josh Jones is a writer and musi­cian based in Durham, NC. Fol­low him at @jdmagness

Jack Kerouac’s Hand-Drawn Map of the Hitchhiking Trip Narrated in On the Road

KerouacMap

Sure­ly most ardent read­ers of Jack Ker­ouac’s nov­el On the Road have tried to map Sal Par­adise and Dean Mori­ar­ty’s Amer­i­can jour­ney. Above, par­tial­ly alle­vi­at­ing your own need to take the pains of sketch­ing out that great Beat jour­ney your­self, we have a map drawn by the author him­self. Pulled from Ker­ouac’s diary, it traces the route of a hitch­hik­ing trip of July through Octo­ber 1948, which no doubt fueled the still-potent lit­er­ary impact of his best-known book, which would see pub­li­ca­tion almost a decade lat­er in 1957. Each stop has a label, from the icon­ic Amer­i­can metrop­o­lis­es of New York City, Chica­go, San Fran­cis­co, Los Ange­les, and Wash­ing­ton, D.C. to the less-known but no less evoca­tive small­er towns like Des Moines, North Plat­te, Laramie, and Sel­ma.

hudson1949

For a rep­re­sen­ta­tion more strict­ly reflect­ing the fic­tion, see Michael J. Hess’ map of Par­adise and Mori­ar­ty’s route across the coun­try. It offers pas­sages straight from Ker­ouac’s text about all the places they stopped briefly, stayed a while, or only men­tioned, like Salt Lake City, “a city of sprin­klers” at dawn; Flagstaff, whose “every bump, rise, and stretch mys­ti­fied my long­ing”; Oma­ha, home to “the first cow­boy I saw”; and the Indi­anapo­lis Par­adise enters on a bus which has just “roared through Indi­ana corn­fields.” Writer Den­nis Mansker, on his own site, has cre­at­ed four sep­a­rate inter­ac­tive maps, each cov­er­ing one of the nov­el­’s parts. He also includes a run­down of the road sto­ry’s four major vehi­cles, includ­ing the 1949 Hud­son seen just above. “This is the car in which they blast off to New Orleans and the West Coast, Jan­u­ary 1949,” Mansker notes. “Like all of Dean’s cars, this one real­ly took a beat­ing.” But Dean’s cars just had to take it, since, as the band Guid­ed by Voic­es once sang, “Ker­ouac Nev­er Drove, So He Nev­er Drove Alone.”

You can find lec­tures (1 + 2) on Ker­ouac’s writ­ing in Yale’s course, The Amer­i­can Nov­el Since 1945, which appears in our col­lec­tion of 825 Free Cours­es Online.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Jack Ker­ouac Lists 9 Essen­tials for Writ­ing Spon­ta­neous Prose

Pull My Daisy: 1959 Beat­nik Film Stars Jack Ker­ouac and Allen Gins­berg

Jack Ker­ouac Reads from On the Road (1959)

Jack Kerouac’s Naval Reserve Enlist­ment Mugshot, 1943

Col­in Mar­shall hosts and pro­duces Note­book on Cities and Cul­ture and writes essays on cities, Asia, film, lit­er­a­ture, and aes­thet­ics. He’s at work on a book about Los Ange­les, A Los Ange­les Primer. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall or on his brand new Face­book page.

The Problem with Facebook: “It’s Keeping Things From You”

You liked our Face­book page. Now you’re expect­ing to see our mate­r­i­al in your Face­book news feed. It’s not an unrea­son­able expec­ta­tion. But it’s also very unlike­ly to hap­pen. As Derek Muller, the cura­tor of sci­ence video blog Ver­i­ta­si­um, explains very artic­u­late­ly in the video above, “The prob­lem with Face­book is that it’s keep­ing things from you. You don’t see most of what’s post­ed by your friends or the pages you fol­low.” And that’s part­ly because, Muller goes on to explain, Face­book is over­whelmed by con­tent, and busy try­ing to find ways to mon­e­tize its news­feed. Fol­low­ing a change to an algo­rithm in Decem­ber, the prob­lem has only got­ten worse. (We have 245,000 fol­low­ers, and maybe 7,000 — or 2% — see a post on aver­age in Jan­u­ary, as com­pared to 30,000 in Novem­ber.) If you care about how you use Face­book — either to con­nect with friends, or gath­er infor­ma­tion — the video is well worth watch­ing. It clear­ly lets you know that Face­book is con­trol­ling your social media expe­ri­ence, when it should be you.

Note: If you want to make sure you receive all of our posts, get our dai­ly email or sign up for our RSS feed. Face­book does­n’t con­trol those … yet.

You can read more about this issue at Slate.

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Read Martin Luther King and The Montgomery Story: The Influential 1957 Civil Rights Comic Book

MLKComic

From the para­noid fun­da­men­tal­ist tracts of Jack Chick, to Ronald McDon­ald pro­mot­ing scout­ing, to an upcom­ing graph­ic nov­el explain­ing the sci­ence of cli­mate change, comics and graph­ic nov­els have long been a means of both pros­e­ly­tiz­ing and inform­ing, con­dens­ing com­plex nar­ra­tives into a digestible for­mat with broad appeal. The medi­um is so elas­tic, it can seem­ing­ly adapt itself to any kind of sto­ry, even the most sober­ly seri­ous and his­tor­i­cal­ly sig­nif­i­cant. For exam­ple, Geor­gia Con­gress­man John Lewis, vet­er­an of the Civ­il Rights move­ment, chose to tell his story—in col­lab­o­ra­tion with co-writer Andrew Aydin and artist Nate Powell—as a graph­ic nov­el called March (mak­ing him the first law­mak­er to appear at a Com­ic-Con). Part one of three was pub­lished late last year and rose to the top of the New York Times and Wash­ing­ton Post best­seller lists. March has also become an impor­tant resource for teach­ers and librar­i­ans (down­load a free 11-page teach­ers guide from pub­lish­er Top Shelf here).

MontgomeryMethod

Lewis’ choice of medi­um may seem moti­vat­ed by the cur­rent esteem in which the form is held in schol­ar­ly and pop­u­lar cir­cles alike, but he was pri­mar­i­ly influ­enced by a much ear­li­er civ­il rights com­ic book, Mar­tin Luther King and the Mont­gomery Sto­ry. (See cov­er up top. Read it online here.) Begun just five months after Rosa Parks’ his­toric refusal, the com­ic aimed to dis­sem­i­nate the epic tale of the Mont­gomery, AL bus boy­cott through­out the South. A sec­tion called “The Mont­gomery Method” (first page above) instructs read­ers on the non­vi­o­lent resis­tance tech­niques employed by civ­il rights work­ers in Alaba­ma, with a primer on Gand­hi and his influ­ence on King. In the short video below, see NYU pro­fes­sor and King schol­ar Sylvia Rhor explain the gen­e­sis of the com­ic in the work of Alfred Has­sler, then leader of Civ­il Rights orga­ni­za­tion Fel­low­ship of Rec­on­cil­i­a­tion. Has­sler, a lit­tle-known fig­ure who died in 1991, is now receiv­ing more recog­ni­tion through sim­i­lar means. He him­self recent­ly became the sub­ject of a graph­ic nov­el project (and now doc­u­men­tary) called The Secret of the 5 Pow­ers about his work with Bud­dhist peace activists Thich Nhat Hanh and Sis­ter Chan Khong dur­ing the Viet­nam War.

As Rhor notes above, the King com­ic has had tremen­dous influ­ence, not only in the past, and not only on Rep. Lewis in the present. In 2003–2004, The Mont­gomery Sto­ry was trans­lat­ed into Ara­bic, and Egypt­ian rev­o­lu­tion­ar­ies dur­ing the Arab Spring found inspi­ra­tion in the com­ic book that “turned Mar­tin Luther King into a super­hero”

Relat­ed Con­tent:

200,000 Mar­tin Luther King Papers Go Online

MLK’s Last Days and Final Speech

Nichelle Nichols Tells Neil deGrasse Tyson How Mar­tin Luther King Con­vinced Her to Stay on Star Trek

Josh Jones is a writer and musi­cian based in Durham, NC. Fol­low him at @jdmagness

Revisit the 1940 Map of American Diversity, Owned & Bitingly Annotated by Poet Langston Hughes

EthnicToleranceMapFinal.jpg.CROP.original-originalRebec­ca Onion, who occa­sion­al­ly con­tributes to Open Cul­ture, runs The Vault, a blog resid­ing at Slate.com that’s “ded­i­cat­ed to his­to­ry at its most beau­ti­ful, strange, fun­ny, and mov­ing.” It’s a great place to spend time if you enjoy revis­it­ing archival doc­u­ments of his­tor­i­cal inter­est — pho­tographs, pam­phlets, but­tons, toys and, yes, maps, like the one above. Fea­tured on The Vault last week, this curi­ous map was issued by the Coun­cil Against Intol­er­ance in Amer­i­ca in 1940 and depicts the “geo­graph­i­cal loca­tions, typ­i­cal employ­ment, and reli­gious com­mit­ments” of eth­nic groups liv­ing in the Unit­ed States at the time time. A copy of the map was owned and anno­tat­ed by poet Langston Hugh­es, the Amer­i­can poet, social activist, play­wright, who was a lead­ing fig­ure in the Harlem Renais­sance. If you enlarge the image (click here, then click again) and look care­ful­ly, you can see that he anno­tat­ed the map with a red pen. One such anno­ta­tion — where he placed a burn­ing cross and “K.K.K.” in the vicin­i­ty of African Amer­i­cans liv­ing in the South — appears in the image below. Head over to The Vault to get more on this sto­ry.

hughes annotation 2

If you would like to sign up for Open Culture’s free email newslet­ter, please find it here. Or fol­low our posts on Threads, Face­book, BlueSky or Mastodon.

If you would like to sup­port the mis­sion of Open Cul­ture, con­sid­er mak­ing a dona­tion to our site. It’s hard to rely 100% on ads, and your con­tri­bu­tions will help us con­tin­ue pro­vid­ing the best free cul­tur­al and edu­ca­tion­al mate­ri­als to learn­ers every­where. You can con­tribute through Pay­Pal, Patre­on, and Ven­mo (@openculture). Thanks!

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Poems as Short Films: Langston Hugh­es, Pablo Neru­da and More

The Uni­ver­si­ty of Rich­mond Ani­mates the 1932 Atlas of the His­tor­i­cal Geog­ra­phy of the Unit­ed States

Visu­al­iz­ing Slav­ery: The Map Abra­ham Lin­coln Spent Hours Study­ing Dur­ing the Civ­il War

How to Build a Fictional World: Animated Video Explains What Makes Lord of the Rings & Other Fantasy Books Come Alive

Today, I was eaves­drop­ping on a young cou­ple in a cafe. The man asked the woman to rec­om­mend a book, some­thing he would­n’t be able to put down on a long, upcom­ing plane ride. The woman seemed stymied by this request. Exhaust­ed, even. (A stroller in which a fair­ly new­born baby slum­bered was parked next to them).

It must’ve been obvi­ous that my wheels were turn­ing for the woman turned to me, remark­ing, “He does­n’t like books.”

“I’m all about mag­a­zines,” the man chimed in.

Hmm. Per­haps Kather­ine Anne Porter’s Ship of Fools was­n’t such a good idea after all. What would this stranger like? With­out giv­ing it very much thought at all, I reached for The Spir­it Catch­es You And You Fall Down, Anne Fadi­man’s Nation­al Book Crit­ics Cir­cle Award-win­ning non-fic­tion account of a West­ern doc­tor’s tus­sle with the fam­i­ly of an epilep­tic Hmong child. It seems unlike­ly my impromp­tu ele­va­tor pitch con­vinced him to nip round the cor­ner to see if Green­light Book­store had a copy in stock. More prob­a­bly, I impressed him  as one of those New Age‑y matrons eager to pub­licly iden­ti­fy with what­ev­er trib­al cul­ture lays with­in reach.

(Lest you think me an insuf­fer­able busy­body, the man at the next table horned in on the con­ver­sa­tion too, rec­om­mend­ing a col­lec­tion of mod­ern-day Sher­lock Holmes sto­ries and a nov­el, which we all said sound­ed great. Because real­ly, what else were we going to say?

A read­er’s taste is so sub­jec­tive, is it any won­der I felt leery going into “How to Build a Fic­tion­al World,” an ani­mat­ed Ted-Ed talk by chil­dren’s book author and for­mer mid­dle school teacher, Kate Mess­ner? The titles she name-checks—The Lord of the Rings, The Matrix,  and the Har­ry Pot­ter series—are all wild­ly suc­cess­ful, and far—as in light yearsfrom of my cup of tea.

That’s not to say I’m opposed to fan­ta­sy. I adore Dun­geon, Lewis Trond­heim and Joann Sfar’s out­ra­geous­ly fun­ny, anthro­po­mor­phic graph­ic nov­el series. Ani­mal FarmA Clock­work Orange…all of these per­son­al favorites are easy to decon­struct using Mess­ner’s recipe for fic­tion­al world-build­ing. (Those whose tastes run sim­i­lar to mine may want to jump ahead to the 3:15 minute mark above.)

Kudos to ani­ma­tor Avi Ofer, for the wit with which he con­cep­tu­al­izes Mess­ner’s ideas. The way he choos­es to rep­re­sent the inhab­i­tants’ rela­tion­ships with the plants and ani­mals of their fic­tion­al world (4:13) is par­tic­u­lar­ly inven­tive. His con­tri­bu­tions alone are enough to make this must-see view­ing for any reluc­tant  — or stuck — cre­ative writer.

For those of you who enjoy fan­ta­sy and sci­ence fic­tion, how do your favorite titles cleave to Mess­ner’s guide­lines? Let us know in the com­ments below.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Ani­mat­ed Video Explores the Invent­ed Lan­guages of Lord of the Rings, Game of Thrones & Star Trek

“The Tolkien Pro­fes­sor” Presents Three Free Cours­es on The Lord of the Rings

Free Audio: Down­load the Com­plete Chron­i­cles of Nar­nia by C.S. Lewis

Ayun Hal­l­i­day will be hon­or­ing fic­tion­al worlds with a trip to Urine­town this spring. Fol­low her @AyunHalliday

David Bowie’s Final Gig as Ziggy Stardust Documented in 1973 Concert Film

We’ve pre­vi­ous­ly brought you the ori­gin sto­ry of Zig­gy Star­dust, David Bowie’s first and most flam­boy­ant rock & roll char­ac­ter, as well as his lat­er rec­ol­lec­tions of those times in a 1977 inter­view on Cana­di­an tele­vi­sion. Above, see the doc­u­men­tary that marked the end of that piv­otal era, D.A. Pennebaker’s Zig­gy Star­dust and the Spi­ders from Mars, a con­cert film of Bowie’s last show as the glam rock kabu­ki space alien. (Part 1 can be found above, remain­ing parts reside here.) Bowie had grown tired of the char­ac­ter, feel­ing forced by his man­ag­er Tony DeFries to put on big­ger, more elab­o­rate stage shows (though there is spec­u­la­tion that record com­pa­ny RCA refused to finance planned US and Cana­di­an sta­di­um shows). In a lat­er rec­ol­lec­tion, Bowie stat­ed he was ready to move on:

I want­ed the whole Main­Man thing away from me. It was cir­cusy. I was nev­er much of an entourage per­son — I hat­ed all of that. It’s a relief for all these years … not have a con­stant stream of peo­ple fol­low­ing me around to the point where, when I sat down, fif­teen oth­er peo­ple sat down. It was unbear­able. I think Tony [DeFries] saw him­self as a Sven­gali type, but I think I would have done okay any­way. Now, I look back on it with amuse­ment more than any­thing else.

Along with broth­ers Albert and David Maysles, who made Gimme Shel­ter, Pen­nebak­er had an uncan­ny knack for being in the right place at exact­ly the right time in music his­to­ry. His Dont Look Back defined Bob Dylan for a gen­er­a­tion and launched the much-imi­tat­ed pro­to-music video with cue cards for “Sub­ter­ranean Home­sick Blues.”

The epony­mous Mon­terey Pop doc­u­ment­ed the explo­sive 1967 fes­ti­val that “crystallize[d] the ener­gy of a coun­ter­cul­ture that by then seemed both bless­ed­ly inevitable and dan­ger­ous­ly embat­tled,” accord­ing to Robert Christ­gau. In 1973, Pen­nebak­er found him­self again posi­tioned per­fect­ly to doc­u­ment a piv­otal moment—the end of Bowie’s Zig­gy Star­dust per­sona at London’s Ham­mer­smith Odeon in what became known as “The Retire­ment Gig.”

Pen­nebak­er, who’d only just signed on dur­ing the final Lon­don leg of the tour to make a full-length film and who knew lit­tle of Bowie’s music, was as sur­prised as any­one when Bowie announced Ziggy’s retire­ment by say­ing “this show will stay the longest in our mem­o­ries, not just because it is the end of the tour but because it is the last show we’ll ever do.” No one knew at the time that Bowie would return, trans­formed into Aladdin Sane in an album of the same name that year (with the same band—watch them do a ver­sion of Lou Reed’s “White Light/White Heat” above at 1:18:10, a track record­ed for, but cut from, 1973 cov­ers album Pin Ups). The farewell con­cert opened with a med­ley of Bowie songs on solo piano per­formed by Mike Gar­son, who called the show “phe­nom­e­nal” (hear Garson’s med­ley above, begin­ning at 2:30, after the intro­duc­tion).

The retire­ment gig was the 60th of 40 tour dates on the third Zig­gy UK tour and was, in fact, a replace­ment for a can­celled gig at Earl’s Court. Find a full list of the set here. Bowie and the Spi­ders were joined onstage by Jeff Beck for two songs before Bowie’s farewell speech, but Beck lat­er had him­self cut from Pennebaker’s film, unhap­py with his solos, and per­haps his wardrobe. Though Beck was Bowie gui­tarist Mick Ronson’s hero, Ron­son remem­bers being too dis­tract­ed to be over­whelmed: “I was too busy look­ing at his flares. Even by our stan­dards, those trousers were exces­sive!” See grainy boot­leg footage from the show of Beck and his trousers in “Jean Genie,” and a snip­pet of “Love Me Do” (above), and Chuck Berry’s “Round and Round” (below).

via Net­work Awe­some

Relat­ed Con­tent:

The Sto­ry of Zig­gy Star­dust: How David Bowie Cre­at­ed the Char­ac­ter that Made Him Famous

David Bowie Recalls the Strange Expe­ri­ence of Invent­ing the Char­ac­ter Zig­gy Star­dust (1977)

Lego Video Shows How David Bowie Almost Became “Cob­bler Bob,” Not “Aladdin Sane”

Josh Jones is a writer and musi­cian based in Durham, NC. Fol­low him at @jdmagness

Federico Fellini, Born 94 Years Ago Today, Writes a Gushing Letter to Legendary Cartoonist, Moebius

FelliniGiraud

If you believe that artis­tic col­lab­o­ra­tions occur in the after­life, few could sound more intrigu­ing than one between the cre­ators pic­tured, in life, above: Fed­eri­co Felli­ni, born 94 years ago today and gone for the past twen­ty, and Jean Giraud, who passed in 2012. The Ital­ian direc­tor Felli­ni, we need hard­ly explain, made such haunt­ing­ly flam­boy­ant films as La Dolce Vita, and Satyri­con. The Fran­co-Bel­gian com­ic artist Giraud, bet­ter known as Mœbius, took his form to its high­est aes­thet­ic lev­el with works like Arzach, The Air­tight Garage of Jer­ry Cor­nelius, The Incal, and, under his alter­nate pseu­do­nym Gir, the uncon­ven­tion­al Wild-West series Blue­ber­ry. (You can learn more by watch­ing the doc­u­men­tary In Search of Mœbius, pre­vi­ous­ly fea­tured here.) Reflect, for a moment, on what bizarre, fan­tas­ti­cal, yet psy­cho­log­i­cal­ly con­crete visions these two imag­i­na­tions could togeth­er real­ize.

MoebiusFellini
Click for larg­er image

Felli­ni quite admired Giraud, con­sid­er­ing him at the lev­el of Picas­so and Matisse. On Ital­ian tele­vi­sion, he once called him “a unique tal­ent endowed with an extra­or­di­nary vision­ary imag­i­na­tion that’s con­stant­ly renewed and nev­er vul­gar” who “dis­turbs and con­soles” and pos­sess­es “the abil­i­ty to trans­port us into unknown worlds where we encounter unset­tling char­ac­ters.” The 1979 let­ter above, which Felli­ni wrote while shoot­ing City of Women, con­tin­ues this line of praise in a direct man­ner. “Every­thing you do pleas­es me,” he says. “Even your name pleas­es me.” He describes the qual­i­ties of Mœbius’ work that con­tin­ue to win him admir­ers, from “the joy and enthu­si­asm your draw­ings exude” (which “demand of me a great pre­ci­sion”) to “the light­ing tech­nique you use” to feel­ing “sus­pend­ed weight­less­ly in one of your oblique uni­vers­es.” But above all the oth­er lines, one aside in par­tic­u­lar gets my own imag­i­na­tion run­ning: “What a great film direc­tor you would make! Have you ever thought about it?”

Relat­ed Con­tent:

The Inscrutable Imag­i­na­tion of the Late Com­ic Artist Mœbius

Fed­eri­co Felli­ni Intro­duces Him­self to Amer­i­ca in Exper­i­men­tal 1969 Doc­u­men­tary

Fellini’s Fan­tas­tic TV Com­mer­cials

Felli­ni + Abrams = Super 8½

Col­in Mar­shall hosts and pro­duces Note­book on Cities and Cul­ture and writes essays on cities, Asia, film, lit­er­a­ture, and aes­thet­ics. He’s at work on a book about Los Ange­les, A Los Ange­les Primer. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall or on his brand new Face­book page.

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