Download Over 22,000 Golden & Silver Age Comic Books from the Comic Book Plus Archive

HORIZONTALBESTCOMICS

The decade begin­ning with the late 1930s is known as the Gold­en Age of com­ic books. Many of the super­heroes from today’s block­buster fran­chis­es, includ­ing Bat­man, Super­man, and Cap­tain Amer­i­ca, emerged dur­ing this peri­od, and the indus­try grew into a com­mer­cial pow­er­house. Fol­low­ing a sales dip dur­ing the ear­ly 1950s that marked the end of the Gold­en Age, the Sil­ver Age began (cir­ca 1956) and last­ed for some fif­teen years.

Dur­ing this era, super­hero com­ic books ini­tial­ly lost steam — let­ting sto­ries of hor­ror, romance, and crime grow in pop­u­lar­i­ty — before emerg­ing tri­umphant­ly once more with char­ac­ters like Spi­der-Man and The Flash. While copy­right remains very much in effect for such titles, a slew of com­ic books from the same peri­od, many of which have nar­row­ly missed attain­ing such icon­ic sta­tus, are avail­able online at Com­ic Book Plus.

DAREDEVIL

Sim­i­lar to the Dig­i­tal Com­ic Muse­um, which we wrote about last week, Com­ic Book Plus con­tains a near inex­haustible quan­ti­ty of Gold­en and Sil­ver Age com­ic books. The collection’s times­pan ranges from the late 1930s through to the ear­ly 1960s, and includes many thou­sands of com­ic books in the Super­heroSci-Fi, and Hor­ror gen­res.

LINDALARK

Those han­ker­ing for some­thing a lit­tle more unusu­al will also be in luck. Des­per­ate to read about a hos­pi­tal romance? Why not give Lin­da Lark Stu­dent Nurse a read in the Med­ical Love cat­e­go­ry? Sick of land­lub­bers hog­ging all the atten­tion in com­ic books? Head to the Water/Boats sec­tion, where you can read all about Davy Jones, the navy lieu­tenant who lives in Atlantis and does bat­tle with the evil Dr. Fang, in Under­sea Agent.

UNDERSEAAGENT

Com­ic Book Plus also has a ter­rif­ic selec­tion of for­eign com­ic books, includ­ing impres­sive col­lec­tions in Ger­man, Hin­di, Ital­ian, Por­tuguese, and Span­ish. You can see Super Hombre here.

SUPERHOMBRE

Final­ly, the site con­tains a num­ber of U.S. gov­ern­ment edu­ca­tion­al pam­phlets, includ­ing Bert The Tur­tle Says Duck And Cov­er, a guide to sur­viv­ing atom­ic bomb blasts.

BERTTHETURTLE

For fur­ther read­ing, head on over to Com­ic Book Plus. You can pre­view all mate­ri­als with­out reg­is­tra­tion. But you will need to reg­is­ter (for free) if you want to down­load the var­i­ous com­ic books.

H/T to Yoc­itrus for mak­ing us aware of this archive.

Ilia Blin­d­er­man is a Mon­tre­al-based cul­ture and sci­ence writer. Fol­low him at @iliablinderman, or read more of his writ­ing at the Huff­in­g­ton Post.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Down­load 15,000+ Free Gold­en Age Comics from the Dig­i­tal Com­ic Muse­um

Free Com­ic Books Turn Kids Onto Physics: Start with the Adven­tures of Niko­la Tes­la

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

The Pulp Fic­tion Archive: The Cheap, Thrilling Sto­ries That Enter­tained a Gen­er­a­tion of Read­ers (1896–1946) 

Martin Scorsese, Sonic Youth, Guillermo del Toro, Wes Anderson & Other Icons List Their Top 10 Art Films

the red shoes movie poster

If you are a movie maven, you know about the Cri­te­ri­on Col­lec­tion. Since the days of Laserdiscs, Cri­te­ri­on has made a name for itself by amass­ing a vast and thor­ough cat­a­log of indie films, art house flicks and the occa­sion­al block­buster. They dis­trib­ute DVDs of direc­tors as diverse as Aki­ra Kuro­sawa, Jane Cam­pi­on, and Stan Brakhage.

For their web­site, Cri­te­ri­on has asked a num­ber of film­mak­ers, writ­ers and oth­er cul­tur­al fig­ures to come up with their Top 10 Cri­te­ri­on movies ever. They are fas­ci­nat­ing, illu­mi­nat­ing and often sur­pris­ing.

The late, great band Son­ic Youth – which made a name for itself for its loud, growl­ing gui­tars and end­less lay­ers of noisy feed­back — picked some remark­ably qui­et, med­i­ta­tive movies: Yasu­jiro Ozu’s con­tem­pla­tive late mas­ter­piece Float­ing Weeds tops the list and Chan­tal Aker­man’s three-hour long min­i­mal­ist mas­ter­piece Jeanne Diel­man, 23, quai du Com­merce, 1080 Brux­elles comes in at num­ber two.

Like­wise, low-bud­get hor­ror leg­end Roger Cor­man picked Michelan­ge­lo Anto­nioni’s high art mas­ter­piece L’avventura as his top pick. “Nev­er has ‘wait­ing around’ been so glo­ri­ous,” he writes.

Less sur­pris­ing are Mar­tin Scors­ese’s picks. He puts Rober­to Rossellini’s Paisan at num­ber one and Michael Pow­ell and Emer­ic Pressburger’s Tech­ni­col­or mar­vel The Red Shoes at num­ber two. Scors­ese has on mul­ti­ple occa­sions declared his love of the for­mer and was cen­tral to get­ting the lat­ter restored.

Edgar Wright – direc­tor of Scott Pil­grim vs. the World and last summer’s apoc­a­lyp­tic com­e­dy The World’s End – proud­ly picked Bri­an DePal­ma’s Blow Out as his top movie. “I have heard peo­ple call them­selves Bri­an De Pal­ma apol­o­gists,” he writes. “I am proud to say that I am a huge fan with­out any caveats.”

And The Exor­cist direc­tor William Fried­kin reveals him­self to be a fan of Alain Resnais, plac­ing both Night and Fog and The Last Year at Marien­bad high on his list. His praise of the recent­ly depart­ed French New Wave icon’s most famous movie is also an elo­quent defense of any chal­leng­ing movie.

I’ve seen Marien­bad at least twen­ty times over the past fifty years, and I don’t under­stand one scene of it, but what a fan­tas­tic expe­ri­ence. I don’t 
under­stand the Grand Canyon or Schoenberg’s Trans­fig­ured Night, either, but they con­tin­ue to move me.

You can see all of the Cri­te­ri­on top ten lists here. Oth­er fig­ures on the list include Jonathan Lethem, the Beast­ie Boys’ Adam Yauch, James Fran­co, Lena Dun­ham, Guiller­mo del Toro, Wes Ander­son, John Lurie, Brie Lar­son, Don­ald Fagen & More.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

The 10 Great­est Films of All Time Accord­ing to 846 Film Crit­ics

Mar­tin Scors­ese Reveals His 12 Favorite Movies (and Writes a New Essay on Film Preser­va­tion)

Stan­ley Kubrick’s List of Top 10 Films (The First and Only List He Ever Cre­at­ed)

Jonathan Crow is a Los Ange­les-based writer and film­mak­er whose work has appeared in Yahoo!, The Hol­ly­wood Reporter, and oth­er pub­li­ca­tions. You can fol­low him at @jonccrow.

200 Free Documentaries: A Super Rich List of Finely-Crafted Documentaries on the Web

I’ve often called doc­u­men­tary my favorite kind of film, know­ing full well that the label des­ig­nates less a defined genre than a use­ful­ly mal­leable descrip­tion. What does a doc­u­men­tary have? An unscript­ed, non­fic­tion­al sto­ry; inter­views; footage can­did­ly shot — maybe. It may also include script­ed, staged, fic­tion­al mate­r­i­al, and may treat real events in a fic­tion­al­ized man­ner or search for the real­i­ty in events cloud­ed by fic­tion. For fine exam­ples of the last, see the works of Errol Mor­ris, four of which — A Brief His­to­ry of Time on Stephen Hawk­ing (above), Novem­ber 22, 1963 on JFK, They Were There on IBM, and Wern­er Her­zog Eats His Shoe on, well, sub­ject obvi­ous – you can see right here in our col­lec­tion of 200 free doc­u­men­taries online. And speak­ing of Her­zog, the oth­er liv­ing film­mak­er doing the most to push out­ward the bound­aries of doc­u­men­tary, we have From One Sec­ond to the Next, on the dan­gers of tex­ting while dri­ving, and Por­trait Wern­er Her­zog, on his own life and work.

But cin­e­ma had the doc­u­men­tary long before it had the likes of Mor­ris and Her­zog, and our col­lec­tion includes a diver­si­ty of such pic­tures from all over the past cen­tu­ry. 1958’s Ansel Adams: Pho­tog­ra­ph­er, for instance, pro­files in motion the prac­tice of the man whose work in still imagery antic­i­pat­ed, in many ways, the mod­ern nature doc­u­men­tary. Doc­u­men­tary films have arguably pro­vid­ed the rich­est means of view­ing every kind of cre­ative mind at work, from Alfred Hitch­cock (The Men Who Made the Movies: Hitch­cock, Dial H for Hitch­cock) to James Joyce (The Tri­als of Ulysses) to Joni Mitchell (Woman of Heart and Mind) to Charles Bukows­ki (Born Into This). Some of them even came as ear­ly entries from not-yet famous direc­tors, includ­ing Stan­ley Kubrick (Day of the FlightFly­ing Padre, The Sea­far­ers), Jean-Luc Godard (Oper­a­tion Con­crete), and Kevin Smith (Mae Day: The Crum­bling of a Doc­u­men­tary). Nobody can ever say where the doc­u­men­tary form will go next, but watch these 200 and you’ll have a pret­ty fair idea of all the excit­ing places — geo­graph­i­cal, intel­lec­tu­al, per­son­al, and artis­tic — it’s gone already.

See our col­lec­tion of 200 free doc­u­men­taries online, part of our larg­er col­lec­tion of 635 Free Movies Online.

Col­in Mar­shall hosts and pro­duces Note­book on Cities and Cul­ture and writes essays on cities, lan­guage, Asia, and men’s style. He’s at work on a book about Los Ange­les, A Los Ange­les Primer. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall or on Face­book.

Watch Alain Resnais’ Short, Evocative Film on the National Library of France (1956)

French New Wave film­mak­er Alain Resnais, who died at the age of 91 last week, changed cin­e­ma for­ev­er with a string of intel­lec­tu­al­ly rig­or­ous, non­lin­ear mas­ter­pieces like Hiroshi­ma Mon Amour (1959) and Last Year at Marien­bad (1961). Both films are about Resnais’s two obses­sions – time and mem­o­ry. Hiroshi­ma is about a doomed rela­tion­ship between a French actress and a Japan­ese archi­tect who are both haunt­ed by the war. Marien­bad is an enig­mat­ic puz­zle of a movie that sharply divid­ed audi­ences – either you were mes­mer­ized by the movie or you were bored and infu­ri­at­ed by it. For bet­ter or worse, Marien­bad influ­enced gen­er­a­tions of fash­ion pho­tog­ra­phers; Calvin Klein’s Obses­sion ads were direct­ly influ­enced by the film.

Resnais got his start just after the war mak­ing short doc­u­men­taries. His best known is Night and Fog (1955), a med­i­ta­tion on both the Holo­caust and the mem­o­ry of the Holo­caust. And above you can see anoth­er one of his doc­u­men­taries – his 1956 short Toute la mémoire du monde (All the World’s Mem­o­ries). It was put online by Cri­te­ri­on.

While the movie beau­ti­ful­ly shows off the labyrinthine expanse of the Bib­lio­thèque nationale de France – its vast col­lec­tion of books, man­u­scripts and doc­u­ments along with her­culean efforts to com­pile and orga­nize all of its infor­ma­tion – the film becomes a rumi­na­tion on the lengths that human­i­ty will go to keep from for­get­ting. The film fea­tures some gor­geous cin­e­matog­ra­phy by Ghis­lain Clo­quet and a sound­track by Mau­rice Jarre. Check it out.

Toute la mémoire du monde will appear in our col­lec­tion of 200 Free Doc­u­men­taries Online, part of our larg­er col­lec­tion, 4,000+ Free Movies Online: Great Clas­sics, Indies, Noir, West­erns, Doc­u­men­taries & More.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

A Young Jean-Luc Godard Picks the 10 Best Amer­i­can Films Ever Made (1963)

Meetin’ WA: Jean-Luc Godard Meets Woody Allen in 26 Minute Film

The Film­mak­ing of Susan Son­tag & Her 50 Favorite Films (1977)

Jonathan Crow is a Los Ange­les-based writer and film­mak­er whose work has appeared in Yahoo!, The Hol­ly­wood Reporter, and oth­er pub­li­ca­tions. You can fol­low him at @jonccrow.

William S. Burroughs Reads From Naked Lunch, His Controversial 1959 Novel

burroughs reading

Pub­lished in 1959, Williams S. Bur­roughs’ Naked Lunch ranks with oth­er mid-twen­ti­eth cen­tu­ry books like Hen­ry Miller’s Trop­ic of Can­cer and the works of Jean Genet as lit­er­a­ture that sharply divid­ed both crit­i­cal and legal opin­ion in argu­ments over style and in ques­tions of obscen­i­ty. Among its dis­turb­ing and sub­ver­sive char­ac­ters is the socio­path­ic sur­geon Dr. Ben­way, who inspired the med­ical hor­rors of J.G. Bal­lard and was inspired in turn by Aldous Huxley’s Brave New WorldBen­way pro­vides some of the more satir­i­cal moments in the book, as you can hear in the sec­tion below, which Bur­roughs reads straight with his dis­tinc­tive nasal­ly Mid­west­ern twang. A short film of the scene (sad­ly unem­bed­d­a­ble), called “Dr. Ben­way Oper­ates,” has Bur­roughs him­self play­ing the doc­tor, in a drama­ti­za­tion that looks like low rent farce as direct­ed by John Waters.

A series of loose­ly con­nect­ed chap­ters that Bur­roughs said could be read in any order, Naked Lunch seems both fas­ci­nat­ed and repelled by the gris­ly med­ical­ized vio­lence in scenes like those above (one vignette, for exam­ple, presents “a tract against cap­i­tal pun­ish­ment”). This ambiva­lence was not lost on writ­ers like Nor­man Mail­er. The high­est praise of the nov­el prob­a­bly came from Mail­er dur­ing the novel’s 1966 obscen­i­ty tri­al before the Mass­a­chu­setts Supreme Court. In one among a hand­ful of lit­er­ary depo­si­tions, includ­ing one from Allen Gins­berg, Mail­er described Bur­roughs’ “extra­or­di­nary style,” and “exquis­ite poet­ic sense.” Despite the fact that its images were “often dis­gust­ing,” Mail­er called the book “a deep work, a cal­cu­lat­ed work” that “cap­tures that speech [‘gut­ter talk’] like no Amer­i­can writer I know.”

Per­haps one of the work’s most damn­ing pieces of crit­i­cism comes from the Judi­cial Offi­cer for the U.S. Postal Ser­vice, who called for the book’s ban­ning, apprais­ing the writ­ing as “undis­ci­plined prose, far more akin to the ear­ly work of exper­i­men­tal ado­les­cents than to any­thing of lit­er­ary mer­it.” Mail­er, Gins­berg, and the book’s oth­er sup­port­ers won out, a fact beat essay­ist Jed Birm­ing­ham laments, for a sur­pris­ing rea­son: The unban­ning of Naked Lunch led to the book’s tam­ing, its gen­tri­fi­ca­tion, as it were: “The wild, exu­ber­ant offen­sive­ness of the nov­el fades,” he writes, “in the face of all the legal argu­ments and the process of can­on­iza­tion.” In fact, the full nov­el may nev­er have been pub­lished at all had it not been for the Post Office in Chica­go seiz­ing sev­er­al hun­dred copies of The Chica­go Review, which con­tained some few Naked Lunch sec­tions. Hear­ing of the con­tro­ver­sy, French pub­lish­er Mau­rice Giro­dias hasti­ly threw togeth­er a man­u­script of the first 1959 text.

And yet, pri­or to the mid-six­ties, the deci­sion to ban Naked Lunch, “even before it was pub­lished in book form,” meant “that ques­tions of obscen­i­ty and cen­sor­ship dic­tat­ed the aca­d­e­m­ic and pub­lic recep­tion” of the book. Bur­roughs  com­ment­ed on the effects of such censorship—using an anal­o­gy to “the junk virus”—in part of a new pref­ace to the 50th edi­tion called “After­thoughts on a Depo­si­tion.” The heath risks of opi­ates “in con­trolled dos­es,” he writes,“maybe be min­i­mal,” yet the effects of crim­i­nal­iza­tion are out­sized “anti-drug hys­te­ria,” which “pos­es a threat to per­son­al free­doms and due-process pro­tec­tions of the law every­where.”

Since the novel’s vin­di­ca­tion, crit­i­cal con­sen­sus has cen­tered around sober, rev­er­ent judg­ments like Mailer’s—and to some less­er extent Ginsberg’s terse, irri­ta­ble tes­ti­mo­ny. While there are still those who despise the book, it’s sig­nif­i­cant that Bur­roughs’ work—which the Wash­ing­ton Post called the first of his “homo­sex­u­al planet-operas”—has achieved such wide­spread admi­ra­tion amidst the noto­ri­ety. The nov­el deals in themes we’re still adju­di­cat­ing dai­ly in courts legal and pub­lic some 55 years lat­er, point­ing per­haps to the con­tin­ued gulf between the thoughts and aims of the read­ing pub­lic and those of hys­ter­i­cal author­i­tar­i­ans and “the media and nar­cotics offi­cials,” as Bur­roughs has it. After all, at its 50th anniver­sary in 2009, Naked Lunch was pro­nounced “still fresh” by such main­stream out­lets as NPR and The Guardian, evi­dence of its per­sis­tent pow­er, and maybe also of its domes­ti­ca­tion.

Clips of Bur­roughs read­ing Naked Lunch can also be found on this Colum­bia Uni­ver­si­ty site.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

William S. Bur­roughs Reads His First Nov­el, Junky

William S. Bur­roughs on the Art of Cut-up Writ­ing

William S. Bur­roughs Explains What Artists & Cre­ative Thinkers Do for Human­i­ty: From Galileo to Cézanne and James Joyce

550 Free Audio Books: Down­load Great Books for Free

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

Explosive Cats Imagined in a Strange, 16th Century Military Manual

catpigeon

Paw prints and feline urine stains on a medieval scribe’s man­u­script, per­haps they weren’t entire­ly out of the ordi­nary in the 15th cen­tu­ry. But cats strapped to mini-pow­der kegs, bound­ing off to burn down a town — now that’s pret­ty unusu­al.

The incen­di­ary feline fea­tured above (and else­where on this page) comes from a dig­i­tized ver­sion of an ear­ly 16th cen­tu­ry mil­i­tary man­u­al writ­ten by Franz Helm. An artillery mas­ter, Helm wrote about a broad and imag­i­na­tive set of destruc­tive ideas for siege war­fare. Although my Ger­man is some­what rusty, I got the sense that he was awful­ly fond of explod­ing sacks, bar­rels, and var­i­ous oth­er recep­ta­cles, and even­tu­al­ly decid­ed to com­bine these ideas with an unwit­ting ani­mal deliv­ery sys­tem. These ani­mals, accord­ing to Helm’s guide, would allow a com­man­der to “set fire to a cas­tle or city which you can’t get at oth­er­wise.”

runningcat1

The text was orig­i­nal­ly dig­i­tized by the Uni­ver­si­ty of Penn­syl­va­nia, and a UPenn his­to­ri­an named Mitch Fraas decid­ed to take a clos­er look at this strange explod­ing cat busi­ness. Accord­ing to Fraas, the accom­pa­ny­ing text reads:

“Cre­ate a small sack like a fire-arrow … if you would like to get at a town or cas­tle, seek to obtain a cat from that place. And bind the sack to the back of the cat, ignite it, let it glow well and there­after let the cat go, so it runs to the near­est cas­tle or town, and out of fear it thinks to hide itself where it ends up in barn hay or straw it will be ignit­ed.”

That’s the mil­i­tary strat­e­gy in a nut­shell. Seems like a great idea, apart from the fact that cats are noto­ri­ous­ly unpre­dictable. In any case, it’s Fri­day, so here are more illus­tra­tions of weaponized cats to round out your work week.

runningcat2

For more of Helm’s work, head on over to Penn in Hand: Select­ed Man­u­scripts.

via Nation­al Post

Ilia Blin­d­er­man is a Mon­tre­al-based cul­ture and sci­ence writer. Fol­low him at @iliablinderman, or read more of his writ­ing at the Huff­in­g­ton Post.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Medieval Cats Behav­ing Bad­ly: Kit­ties That Left Paw Prints … and Peed … on 15th Cen­tu­ry Man­u­scripts

How to Pot­ty Train Your Cat: A Handy Man­u­al by Charles Min­gus

Humans Fall for Opti­cal Illu­sions, But Do Cats?

Thomas Edison’s Box­ing Cats (1894), or Where the LOL­Cats All Began

Andy Warhol’s 1965 Film, Vinyl, Adapted from Anthony Burgess’ A Clockwork Orange

Sure­ly you’ve seen Stan­ley Kubrick­’s ver­sion of A Clock­work Orange. But have you seen Andy Warhol’s? Antho­ny Burgess’ 1962 nov­el of the robust cul­ture of teenage vio­lence in our freak­ish dystopi­an future caught the eye of not just the man who had pre­vi­ous­ly made 2001: A Space Odyssey, but that of the man who had pre­vi­ous­ly made the eight-hour still shot Empire as well. Warhol and Kubrick­’s sen­si­bil­i­ties dif­fered, you might say, as did the means of pro­duc­tion to which they had access, and a com­par­i­son of their Clock­work Orange adap­ta­tions high­lights both. Using three shots in this 70-minute film instead of Empire’s one, Warhol cre­ates, in the words of Ed Howard at Only the Cin­e­ma, “a strange and intrigu­ing film which, like most of Warhol’s movies, often toes the line between slow and down­right bor­ing, a piece of “alien­at­ing, atti­tude-based cin­e­ma” that “pro­vides no easy plea­sures,” “replac­ing the con­ven­tion­al nar­ra­tive dri­ve with a clut­tered mise-en-scene of bod­ies.” For all its cheap­ness, Warhol’s  lo-fi cin­e­mat­ic ren­di­tion did at least come first, in 1965 to Kubrick­’s 1971 — plus, you can watch it free on Youtube above.

Vinyl is such a loose adap­ta­tion of the source nov­el that even peo­ple who have seen it should be for­giv­en for not real­is­ing that it is built on Burgess’s lit­er­ary scaf­fold,” says the web site of the Inter­na­tion­al Antho­ny Burgess Foun­da­tion. “The film is pre­sent­ed as a series of images of bru­tal­i­ty, beat­ings, tor­ture and masochism all per­formed by a group of men under the gaze of a glam­orous woman. In its pre­oc­cu­pa­tions with pornog­ra­phy and vio­lence, it bears many of the oblique hall­marks of Warhol’s work, along with a famil­iar cast of Fac­to­ry reg­u­lars such as Ger­ard Malan­ga, Edie Sedg­wick and Ondine. The fin­ished film is dis­turb­ing, con­tains unsim­u­lat­ed vio­lent acts and is not very audi­ence-friend­ly.” Either a strong dis­rec­om­men­da­tion or a strong rec­om­men­da­tion, depend­ing on your pro­cliv­i­ties. And if none of that draws you, maybe the sound­track includ­ing Martha and the Van­del­las, The Kinks, The Rolling Stones, and the The Isley Broth­ers will. Did Warhol pay to license their songs? Giv­en that he cer­tain­ly did­n’t look into obtain­ing the rights even to A Clock­work Orange, some­thing inside me doubts it.

You can watch Three More 1960s “Anti-Films” by Andy Warhol — Sleep, Eat & Kiss — in our 2011 post. They are oth­er­wise list­ed in our col­lec­tion of 635 Free Movies Online.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Andy Warhol Cre­ates Album Cov­ers for Jazz Leg­ends Thelo­nious Monk, Count Basie & Ken­ny Bur­rell

The Mak­ing of Stan­ley Kubrick’s A Clock­work Orange

Andy Warhol Shoots “Screen Tests” of Nico, Bob Dylan & Sal­vador Dalí

Col­in Mar­shall hosts and pro­duces Note­book on Cities and Cul­ture and writes essays on cities, lan­guage, Asia, and men’s style. He’s at work on a book about Los Ange­les, A Los Ange­les Primer. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall or on Face­book.

The Last Time Lennon & McCartney Played Together Captured in A Toot And a Snore in ’74

The num­ber of Bea­t­les bootlegs—in every pos­si­ble medi­um and state of quality—must approach infin­i­ty. A per­son could spend a life­time acquir­ing, cat­a­logu­ing, scru­ti­niz­ing, and dis­cussing the rel­a­tive mer­its of var­i­ous out­takes, live record­ings, demos, and stu­dio goof-offs from the band and its indi­vid­ual mem­bers. It should go with­out say­ing that a great many of these arti­facts have more his­tor­i­cal than musi­cal inter­est, giv­en their frag­men­tary and unse­ri­ous nature—and the sim­ple bar­ri­ers posed by bad record­ing. But while I imag­ine some angry anti­quar­i­an or zeal­ous devo­tee inter­ject­ing here to tell me that absolute­ly every­thing the fab four touched turned direct­ly to gold, I remain unsold on this arti­cle of faith.

So where are we aver­age fans to place A Toot and a Snore in ’74, the boot­leg album (above) record­ed at Bur­bank Stu­dios and fea­tur­ing musi­cal con­tri­bu­tions from Ste­vie Won­der, Har­ry Nils­son, Jesse Ed Davis, and Bob­by Keys? Well, its his­tor­i­cal val­ue is beyond ques­tion, since it rep­re­sents the only known record of John Lennon and Paul McCart­ney play­ing togeth­er after the Bea­t­les’ breakup. Though their mutu­al dis­like at this time was well-estab­lished and they hadn’t seen each oth­er in three years, the tapes doc­u­ment a very laid-back ses­sion with the two legends—John on lead vocal and gui­tar, Paul singing har­monies and play­ing Ringo’s drumkit—letting go of the past and hav­ing some fun again. Lennon first men­tioned the record­ing while dis­cussing the pos­si­bil­i­ty of reunion in the 1975 inter­view below (he’s sur­pris­ing­ly warm to the idea). At 1:45, he says, “I jammed with Paul. We did a lot of stuff in LA. There was 50 oth­er peo­ple play­ing, but they were all just watch­ing me and Paul.”

How does McCart­ney remem­ber the ses­sion? “Hazy,” he said in a 1997 inter­view, “for a num­ber of rea­sons.” The drugs were sure­ly one of them. The title refers to Lennon offer­ing Ste­vie Won­der coke in the open­ing track: “do you want a snort Steve? A toot? It’s going round….” The impromp­tu gath­er­ing con­vened on March 28 dur­ing the record­ing of Har­ry Nilsson’s Pussy Cats, which Lennon was pro­duc­ing. This was dur­ing Lennon’s so-called “lost week­end,” the year and a half dur­ing which he sep­a­rat­ed from Yoko, lived with their assis­tant May Pang, and did some seri­ous drink­ing and drugs (as well as record­ing three albums).

Pang, who was present and plays tam­bourine, recalls it as a night of “joy­ous music” in her 1983 book Lov­ing John, but you prob­a­bly had to be there to ful­ly appre­ci­ate it. As Richard Met­zger at Dan­ger­ous Minds notes, “it’s basi­cal­ly just a drunk, coked-up jam ses­sion.” But, he adds, “a drunk, coked-up jam ses­sion of great his­tor­i­cal sig­nif­i­cance.” And for that rea­son alone, it’s worth a lis­ten. Or, if you like, you can read a tran­script of the ram­ble and ban­ter over at Boot­leg Zone. Con­sist­ing of lots of stu­dio crosstalk, noodling improv, and a few attempt­ed cov­ers, the ses­sion was released by Ger­many’s Mis­tral Music in 1992, cred­it­ed sim­ply to “John and Paul.”

via Dan­ger­ous Minds

Relat­ed Con­tent:

The Bea­t­les: Unplugged Col­lects Acoustic Demos of White Album Songs (1968)

The 10-Minute, Nev­er-Released, Exper­i­men­tal Demo of The Bea­t­les’ “Rev­o­lu­tion” (1968)

Hear the 1962 Bea­t­les Demo that Dec­ca Reject­ed: “Gui­tar Groups are on Their Way Out, Mr. Epstein”

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

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