Three Historic Performances at Paris’ Le Bataclan: The Velvet Underground (1972), Genesis with Peter Gabriel (1973) & Jeff Buckley (1995)

After every ter­ri­ble tragedy in the West, we expect celebri­ties to weigh in. And they do, with com­ments insight­ful and heart­felt, appalling and boor­ish, per­func­to­ry and banal. Often, the larg­er the pub­lic pro­file, the more self-serv­ing the sound­bite. One take in par­tic­u­lar has pro­voked sneers and ridicule: Bono—who paid respects with his band at music venue Le Bat­a­clantold an inter­view­er, “this is the first direct hit on music we’ve had in this so-called War on Ter­ror.” Twit­terati, the Com­men­tari­at, and, well, folks, did not take kind­ly to the state­ment, with many point­ing out an ear­li­er “hit on music” in Feb­ru­ary and accus­ing U2’s front­man of mak­ing the mon­strous attacks on the Paris music venue about him­self.

One can under­stand the sen­ti­ment, with­out excus­ing the ver­biage. Le Bataclan—scene of what has right­ly been called a “blood­bath”—has occu­pied a sig­nif­i­cant place in pop music his­to­ry since it start­ed book­ing rock bands in the 1970s; and it has host­ed famous musi­cians and singers—like Edith Piaf—since its open­ing in 1864. It does not min­i­mize the tremen­dous pain of the hor­rif­ic mur­der of 89 Eagles of Death Met­al fans this past Fri­day to say that the assault has also deeply dis­turbed musi­cians and music fans world­wide.

Grief leads us to remem­brance, and we can memo­ri­al­ize le Bat­a­clan (named after the French operetta Ba-ta-clan) for its long his­to­ry before last Fri­day’s hor­ror. One of the most his­toric con­certs there occurred in 1972, when John Cale reunit­ed with his for­mer Vel­vet Under­ground band­mates Lou Reed and Nico for acoustic ren­di­tions of “Hero­in,” “The Black Angel’s Death Song,” and “Femme Fatale.” We cov­ered that con­cert in a pre­vi­ous post. See it again at the top of this one. The fol­low­ing year, a band at the height of its career—or the first phase of it anyway—graced le Bataclan’s stage before going on to blow minds at London’s Shep­per­ton Stu­dios. Just above, see the Peter Gabriel-front­ed Gen­e­sis play “The Musi­cal Box,” “Supper’s Ready,” “Return of the Giant Hog­weed,” and “The Knife.”

Too many oth­ers to name have played le Bat­a­clan through the years—from Prince (who jammed out Zeppelin’s “Whole Lot­ta Love”) to Oasis. Per­haps one of the most mov­ing per­for­mances the venue host­ed came from Jeff Buck­ley in 1995, whose con­cert there was released as a live album the fol­low­ing year. Buck­ley sang his med­ley of Edith Piaf’s “Je N’en Con­nais Pas La Fin/Hymne A L’Amour” (above)—in hind­sight an espe­cial­ly poignant ren­di­tion two years before his untime­ly death. “By the time Buck­ley switch­es over to French,” writes All­mu­sic, “the crowd erupts at the end of every phrase, catch­ing him off guard with their enthu­si­asm.” He end­ed the show with the near­ly 10-minute ver­sion of Leonard Cohen’s “Hal­lelu­jah” below, a song he became known for and that serves as well as any oth­er as a trib­ute to le Bat­a­clan in these dark days of mourn­ing, war, and ret­ri­bu­tion. “Love is not a vic­to­ry march,” sings Buck­ley, his voice crack­ing, “It’s a cold and it’s a bro­ken Hal­lelu­jah.”

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Watch Gen­e­sis (from the Peter Gabriel Era) Per­form in a Glo­ri­ous, 1973 Restored Con­cert Film

Lou Reed, John Cale & Nico Reunite, Play Acoustic Vel­vet Under­ground Songs on French TV, 1972

Édith Piaf’s Mov­ing Per­for­mance of ‘La Vie en Rose’ on French TV, 1954

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

Hear 2.5‑Hours of Great Jazz Songs Featured in Woody Allen Films: Sidney Bechet in Midnight in Paris, Louis Armstrong in Stardust Memories & More

It takes no great research pains to find out that Woody Allen loves jazz. He scores most of his movies with the music, nev­er fail­ing to include it at least under their sig­na­ture sim­ple black-and-white open­ing titles. He has worked jazz as a theme into some of the films them­selves, most notably Sweet and Low­down, the sto­ry of a dis­solute 1930s jazz gui­tarist who heads for Hol­ly­wood. He plays the clar­inet him­self, tour­ing with his jazz band as seen in the doc­u­men­tary Wild Man Blues. He makes no secret of his admi­ra­tion for fel­low clar­inetist (and also sax­o­phon­ist) Sid­ney Bechet, after whom he named one of his daugh­ters.

Allen has pub­licly dis­cussed a dream project called Amer­i­can Blues, a movie about the very begin­ning of jazz in New Orleans seen through the careers of Bechet and Louis Arm­strong. He acknowl­edges that a sto­ry of that scale would require a far larg­er bud­get than the more mod­est films he makes just about every year, and so, in light of the unlike­li­hood of his com­mand­ing that bud­get, he has evi­dent­ly con­tent­ed him­self with infus­ing the work that does come out with as much jazz as pos­si­ble. You can hear almost two and a half hours of it in the Youtube playlist at the top of this post, which includes cuts from not just Bechet and Arm­strong but from Tom­my Dorsey, Bil­lie Hol­i­day, Djan­go Rein­hardt, Glenn Miller, Lester Young, Jel­ly Roll Mor­ton, and many oth­er respect­ed play­ers from pre­war and wartime Amer­i­ca. You can find a list of the songs fea­tured in the jazz playlist, com­plete with time­stamps, in the blurb beneath this YouTube clip.

Even apart from what film schol­ars would call the non-diegetic jazz in Allen’s pic­tures (i.e., the jazz we hear on the score, but the char­ac­ters them­selves pre­sum­ably don’t) he also includes some diegetic jazz, as in the end­ing of Star­dust Mem­o­ries, when Allen’s char­ac­ter puts on a Louis Arm­strong record. And isn’t now just the right time to revis­it the sequence from Mid­night in Paris just above, a mon­tage cel­e­brat­ing life in the City of Lights set to Sid­ney Bechet’s “Si tu vois ma mère”? After that, have a look at the clip below, in which the man him­self plays with the Woody Allen and Eddy Davis New Orleans Jazz Band at New York’s Cafe Car­lyle — where you can catch them every Mon­day night through Decem­ber 14th.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Woody Allen Tells a Clas­sic Joke About Hem­ing­way, Fitzger­ald & Gertrude Stein in 1965: A Pre­cur­sor to Mid­night in Paris

Woody Allen Lists the Great­est Films of All Time: Includes Clas­sics by Bergman, Truf­faut & Felli­ni

Watch an Exu­ber­ant, Young Woody Allen Do Live Stand Up on British TV (1965)

Watch a 44-Minute Super­cut of Every Woody Allen Stam­mer, From Every Woody Allen Film

Haru­ki Murakami’s Pas­sion for Jazz: Dis­cov­er the Novelist’s Jazz Playlist, Jazz Essay & Jazz Bar

1959: The Year that Changed Jazz

Col­in Mar­shall writes else­where on cities, lan­guage, Asia, and men’s style. He’s at work on a book about Los Ange­les, A Los Ange­les Primer, the video series The City in Cin­e­maand the crowd­fund­ed jour­nal­ism project Where Is the City of the Future? Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall or on Face­book.

Masterpieces of Western Art with All Gluten Products Removed: See Works by Dalí, Cézanne, Van Gogh & Others

Gluten Free Museum

left: Johannes Ver­meer, The Milk­maid. right: Arthur Coulet, d’après Johannes Ver­meer

It has been sug­gest­ed plau­si­bly that Ver­meer’s kitchen maid is mak­ing bread por­ridge, which puts stale bread—there is an unusu­al amount of bread on the table—to good use by com­bin­ing it with milk and a few oth­er ingre­di­ents to make a fill­ing mash or meal. 

Wal­ter Liedtke, Depart­ment of Euro­pean Paint­ings,  The Met­ro­pol­i­tan Muse­um of Art

It’s a mat­ter for con­jec­ture. Per­haps Ver­meer want­ed to title his paint­ing The Bread Por­ridge Maid, but caved to mar­ket research sug­gest­ing that Milk­maid would bet­ter appeal to what Liedtke calls “male view­er’s amorous mus­ings.”

Recent­ly, graph­ic artist Arthur Coulet made bread a focal point in Vermeer’s Milk­maid and oth­er icon­ic works, iron­i­cal­ly by Pho­to­shop­ping it out.

His online Gluten Free Muse­um is a nod to détourne­ment, manip­u­la­tions of exist­ing works born of Let­ter­ist Inter­na­tion­al and the Sit­u­a­tion­ists. Gone are the crusty loaves, fields gold­en with wheat, and any­thing con­tain­ing grains that could cause dis­com­fort to those afflict­ed by gluten intol­er­ance or celi­ac dis­ease.

Gluten Free Museum 2

Even the pitch­fork in Grant Wood’s Amer­i­can Goth­ic gets the dig­i­tal heave ho…with noth­ing to har­vest, what’s the point?

Gluten Free Museum 3

Pieter Bruegel’s the Har­vesters gets the most rad­i­cal redo.

Gluten Free Museum 4

Cezanne’s Still Life with Bread and Eggs is now just Eggs…

Gluten Free Museum 5

…and Sal­vador Dali’s Eucharis­tic Still Life has been reduced to mere fish­es.

Gluten Free Museum 6

By con­trast, the pic­nick­ers in Édouard Manet’s Le Déje­uner Sur L’Herbe prob­a­bly don’t even notice the omis­sion.

See more, includ­ing work by Jean-François Mil­let, Vin­cent van Gogh, Car­avag­gio, Giuseppe Arcim­bol­do, and Jeff Koons in Coulet’s Gluten Free Muse­um.

A quick image search using the phrase “bread paint­ing” sug­gests that much work remains to be done.

via So Bad So Good

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Philoso­pher Por­traits: Famous Philoso­phers Paint­ed in the Style of Influ­en­tial Artists

What Hap­pens When a Cheap Ikea Print Gets Pre­sent­ed as Fine Art in a Muse­um

Sal­vador Dalí’s Melt­ing Clocks Paint­ed on a Lat­te

Ayun Hal­l­i­day is an author, illus­tra­tor, and Chief Pri­ma­tol­o­gist of the East Vil­lage Inky zine. Her play, Fawn­book, is play­ing in New York City through Novem­ber 20. Fol­low her @AyunHalliday

Free Entertainment for Cats and Dogs: Videos of Birds, Squirrels & Other Thrills

Before Fri­day, we had nev­er man­aged to cov­er NASCAR, but we crossed that off the list when we fea­tured Ter­ry Gilliam’s mock­u­men­tary The Leg­end of Hal­lowde­ga. And now today we have anoth­er Open Cul­ture first: yes, an archive of free, enter­tain­ing videos for cats and dogs.

Over the past 6 years, Paul Din­ning has cre­at­ed a YouTube chan­nel packed with over 400 videos fea­tur­ing the wildlife of Corn­wall, Eng­land. And, from that footage, he has cob­bled togeth­er playlists designed to delight all cats and dogs with access to the inter­net. And, appar­ent­ly cats and dogs are watch­ing. The first video above, called “Squir­rel and Bird Fun,” has clocked some 863,000 views over the past year. And the next video, “The Ulti­mate Videos of Birds for Cats To Watch,” has 946,000 views since Jan­u­ary. I showed the videos to my cat Coc­co [sic] and, I kid you not, he was trans­fixed.

A longer playlist of videos for cats and dogs can be viewed here.

Fol­low Open Cul­ture on Face­book and Twit­ter and share intel­li­gent media with your friends. Or bet­ter yet, sign up for our dai­ly email and get a dai­ly dose of Open Cul­ture in your inbox. And if you want to make sure that our posts def­i­nite­ly appear in your Face­book news­feed, just fol­low these sim­ple steps.

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Voltaire: “Those Who Can Make You Believe Absurdities, Can Make You Commit Atrocities”

Voltaire

Voltaire, the clear­est of Enlight­en­ment thinkers wrote those words in his 1765 essay, “Ques­tions sur les mir­a­cles.” And they res­onate as much now, 250 years lat­er, as they did then.

I rarely say much about myself on the site. But I’ll just say today that I did my doc­tor­al work on the French Rev­o­lu­tion, spent a cou­ple years liv­ing in Paris, and devel­oped a deep affec­tion for the city, as many oth­ers have. What hap­pened tonight is heart­break­ing, trag­ic and down­right mad­den­ing. My thoughts are with all Parisians tonight, friends and strangers alike.

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NASCAR Meets the Paranormal in Terry Gilliam’s Short Film, The Legend of Hallowdega

I think we here at Open Cul­ture can freely own up to a defi­cien­cy in our con­tent: despite its out­sized pres­ence in Amer­i­can cul­ture, we’ve real­ly neglect­ed to post much about NASCAR. Luck­i­ly, film direc­tor, ani­ma­tor, and Mon­ty Python mem­ber Ter­ry Gilliam has giv­en us rea­son to change our ways by shoot­ing a short film at Alaba­ma’s Tal­lade­ga Super­speed­way, one of the best-known venues for NASCAR races. But The Leg­end of Hal­lowde­ga, made to pro­mote some­thing called AMP Ener­gy Juice, tells not a straight (or rather, con­stant­ly left-turn­ing) sto­ry about rac­ing, but adds anoth­er lay­er of intrigue: the para­nor­mal.

That might sound like a ran­dom con­cep­tu­al mashup, but a lit­tle bit of research reveals Tal­lade­ga as a reg­u­lar Over­look Hotel, what with its his­to­ry of mys­te­ri­ous com­pul­sions, freak injuries and deaths, and unex­plained acts of sab­o­tage. (Some even chalk all this up to a curse placed on the Tal­lade­ga’s val­ley by its orig­i­nal Native Amer­i­can inhab­i­tants, dri­ven out for their col­lab­o­ra­tion with Andrew Jack­son.) Enter tat­tooed, Fu-Manchu’d, bead-fes­tooned ghost hunter Kiyash Mon­sef, here to answer the ques­tion, “What is the truth? And what is truer that the truth?” — the words of the kha­ki-wrapped host of World of the Unex­plained, the fic­ti­tious, high­ly sen­sa­tion­al­is­tic, and not espe­cial­ly com­pe­tent tele­vi­sion show that frames The Leg­end of Hal­lowde­ga’s sto­ry.

Noth­ing in the first few min­utes of the film gives it away as a Ter­ry Gilliam project, but as soon as it enters Mon­se­f’s elab­o­rate yet makeshift, thor­ough­ly ana­log lair — locat­ed under­neath Tal­lade­ga itself — the famous­ly imag­i­na­tive direc­tor starts mak­ing his touch appar­ent. We could eas­i­ly dis­miss David Arquet­te’s per­for­mance as Mon­sef as over-the-top, but to many of us, he sure­ly comes off as no more unfa­mil­iar than some of the locals pro­vid­ing their own tes­ti­mo­ny about the curse in the inter­view seg­ments. Where has the oft-lament­ed “old, weird Amer­i­ca” gone? In (the Amer­i­can-born but British-nat­u­ral­ized and thus suf­fi­cient­ly dis­tanced) Ter­ry Gilliam’s eyes, it lives on, espe­cial­ly in places like Tal­lade­ga.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Ter­ry Gilliam Reveals the Secrets of Mon­ty Python Ani­ma­tions: A 1974 How-To Guide

Ter­ry Gilliam’s Lost Ani­ma­tions from Mon­ty Python and the Holy Grail Are Now Online

Watch Ter­ry Gilliam’s Ani­mat­ed Short, The Christ­mas Card (1968)

4,000+ Free Movies Online: Great Clas­sics, Indies, Noir, West­erns, Doc­u­men­taries & More

Col­in Mar­shall writes else­where on cities, lan­guage, Asia, and men’s style. He’s at work on a book about Los Ange­les, A Los Ange­les Primer, the video series The City in Cin­e­maand the crowd­fund­ed jour­nal­ism project Where Is the City of the Future? Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall or on Face­book.

A 103-Year-Old Harlem Renaissance Dancer Sees Herself on Film for the First Time & Becomes an Internet Star

The Harlem Renais­sance lives in the form of Alice Bark­er, a soft spo­ken lady who just last week received a belat­ed Hap­py 103rd Birth­day card from the Oba­mas.

That’s her on the right in the first clip, below. She’s in the back right at the 2:07 mark. Perched on a lunch counter stool, show­ing off her shape­ly stems at 9:32.

Barker’s new­found celebri­ty is an unex­pect­ed reward for one who was nev­er a mar­quee name.

She was a mem­ber of the chorus—a pret­ty, tal­ent­ed, hard­work­ing young lady, whose name was mis­spelled on one of the occa­sions when she was cred­it­ed. She danced through­out the 1930s and 40s in leg­endary Harlem venues like the Apol­lo, the Cot­ton Club, and the Zanz­ibar Club. Shared the stage with Frank Sina­tra, Gene Kel­ly, and Bill “Bojan­gles” Robin­son. Racked up a num­ber of film, com­mer­cial and TV cred­its, get­ting paid to do some­thing she lat­er con­fid­ed from a nurs­ing home bed she would have glad­ly done for free.

Barker’s cho­rus girl days had been moth­balled for decades when she crossed paths with video edi­tor David Shuff, a vol­un­teer vis­i­tor to the nurs­ing home where she lives. Shuff seems to be a kin­dred spir­it to the writer David Green­berg­er, whose Duplex Plan­et zines—and lat­er books, comics, and performances—captured the sto­ries (and per­son­al­i­ties) of the elder­ly res­i­dents of a Boston nurs­ing home where he served as activ­i­ties direc­tor.

Intrigued by glim­mers of Barker’s glam­orous past, Shuff joined forces with recre­ation­al ther­a­pist Gail Camp­bell, to see if they could truf­fle up any evi­dence. Bark­er her­self had lost all of the pho­tos and mem­o­ra­bil­ia that would have backed up her claims.

Even­tu­al­ly, their search led them to his­to­ri­ans Ali­cia Thomp­son and Mark Can­tor, who were able to iden­ti­fy Bark­er strut­ting her stuff in a hand­ful of extant 1940s juke­box shorts, aka “soundies.”

Though Bark­er had caught her­self in a cou­ple of com­mer­cials, she had nev­er seen any of her soundie per­for­mances. A friend of Shuff’s serendip­i­tous­ly decid­ed to record her reac­tion to her first pri­vate screen­ing on Shuff’s iPad. The video went viral as soon as it hit the Inter­net, and sud­den­ly, Bark­er was a star.

The loveli­est aspect of her late-in-life celebri­ty is an abun­dance of old fash­ioned fan mail, flow­ers and art­work. She also received a Jim­mie Lunce­ford Lega­cy Award for excel­lence in music and music edu­ca­tion.

Fame is heady, but seems not to have gone to Bark­er’s, as evi­denced by a remark she made to Shuff a cou­ple of months after she blew up the Inter­net, “I got jobs because I had great legs, but also, I knew how to wink.”

Shuff main­tains a web­site for fans who want to stay abreast of Alice Bark­er. You can also write her at the address below:

Alice Bark­er
c/o Brook­lyn Gar­dens
835 Herkimer Street
Brook­lyn, NY11233

Relat­ed Con­tent:

The Great­est Jazz Films Ever Fea­tures Clas­sic Per­for­mances by Miles, Dizzy, Bird, Bil­lie & More

Cab Calloway’s “Hep­ster Dic­tio­nary,” A 1939 Glos­sary of the Lin­go (the “Jive”) of the Harlem Renais­sance

A 1932 Illus­trat­ed Map of Harlem’s Night Clubs: From the Cot­ton Club to the Savoy Ball­room

Ayun Hal­l­i­day is an author, illus­tra­tor, and Chief Pri­ma­tol­o­gist of the East Vil­lage Inky zine. Her play, Fawn­book, is run­ning through Novem­ber 20 in New York City. Fol­low her @AyunHalliday

Punk & Heavy Metal Music Makes Listeners Happy and Calm, Not Aggressive, According to New Australian Study

Gary Holt Slayer

Cre­ative Com­mons pho­to by Met­al Chris

In My Day, so much of the music we lis­tened to seemed angri­er, more rau­cous and unruly—more aggres­sive and plain­ly evil—than music today. Not that I have any hard evi­dence for these asser­tions; cus­tom­ar­i­ly none is required for an In My Day rant. But I sub­mit to you this: all that musi­cal rage, in my opin­ion, was a good thing.

And it seems at least in this case, I can sub­stan­ti­ate my opin­ion with sci­ence. This past sum­mer, we report­ed on a study done by researchers at Hum­boldt State, Ohio State, UC River­side, and UT Austin show­ing that kids who lis­tened to heavy met­al in the 80s were “sig­nif­i­cant­ly hap­pi­er in their youth and bet­ter adjust­ed cur­rent­ly than either mid­dle-aged or cur­rent col­lege-age youth com­par­i­son groups.” Despite heat­ed debates in the 80s and 90s over objec­tion­able lyri­cal con­tent in both pop­u­lar and alter­na­tive music (remem­ber the “Cop Killer” con­tro­ver­sy?), researchers con­clud­ed that angry rock did­n’t turn peo­ple into alien­at­ed mani­acs. Instead, they found, “par­tic­i­pa­tion in fringe style cul­tures may enhance iden­ti­ty devel­op­ment in trou­bled youth.”

Now, even more recent research into the effects of angry hard­core punk and met­al on the psy­ches of young peo­ple seems to con­firm these results and fur­ther sug­gest that aggres­sive music has a para­dox­i­cal­ly calm­ing effect. In a study titled “Extreme met­al music and anger pro­cess­ing,” Uni­ver­si­ty of Queens­land psy­chol­o­gists Leah Shar­man and Genevieve Din­gle describe how they sub­ject­ed “39 extreme music lis­ten­ers aged 18–34 years of age” to “anger induc­tion,” dur­ing which time, writes Con­se­quence of Sound, “they talked about such irri­tat­ing things as rela­tion­ships, mon­ey, and work.” Once the test sub­jects were good and stressed, Shar­man and Din­gle had them lis­ten either to a “ran­dom assign­ment” of “extreme music from their own playlist” for ten min­utes or to ten min­utes of silence.

As uni­ver­si­ty pub­li­ca­tion UQ News sum­ma­rizes, “In con­trast to pre­vi­ous stud­ies link­ing loud and chaot­ic music to aggres­sion and delin­quen­cy,” this study “showed lis­ten­ers most­ly became inspired and calmed” by their met­al. “The music helped them explore the full gamut of emo­tion they felt,” says Shar­man, “but also left them feel­ing more active and inspired.” The researchers also pro­vide a brief his­to­ry of what they call “extreme music” and define it in terms of sev­er­al gen­res and sub­gen­res:

Fol­low­ing the rise of punk and heavy met­al, a range of new gen­res and sub­gen­res sur­faced. Hard­core, death met­al, emo­tion­al/e­mo­tion­al-hard­core (emo), and screamo appeared through­out the 1980s, grad­u­al­ly becom­ing more a part of main­stream cul­ture. Each of these gen­res and their sub­gen­res are socio-polit­i­cal­ly charged and, as men­tioned ear­li­er, are char­ac­ter­ized by heavy and pow­er­ful sounds with expres­sive vocals.

“At the fore­front of [the] con­tro­ver­sy sur­round­ing extreme music,” they write, “is the promi­nence of aggres­sive lyrics and titles.” In addi­tion­al exper­i­ments, Shar­man and Din­gle found that “vio­lent lyrics” did increase “par­tic­i­pants’ state hos­til­i­ty,” but the effect was fleet­ing. Against pre­vail­ing assump­tions that angry-sound­ing, aggres­sive music caus­es or cor­re­lates with depres­sion, vio­lence, self-harm, sub­stance abuse, or sui­cide, the Queens­land researchers found exact­ly the opposite—that “extreme music” alle­vi­at­ed lis­ten­ers’ “angst and aggres­sion,” made them hap­pi­er, calmer, and bet­ter able to cope with the anger-induc­ing stres­sors that sur­round us all.

via Con­se­quence of Sound

Relat­ed Con­tent:

1980s Met­al­head Kids Are All Right: New Study Sug­gests They Became Well-Adjust­ed Adults

New Research Shows How Music Lessons Dur­ing Child­hood Ben­e­fit the Brain for a Life­time

The Neu­ro­science of Drum­ming: Researchers Dis­cov­er the Secrets of Drum­ming & The Human Brain

This is Your Brain on Jazz Impro­vi­sa­tion: The Neu­ro­science of Cre­ativ­i­ty

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

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