Stream Loads of “City Pop,” the Electronic-Disco-Funk Music That Provided the Soundtrack for Japan During the Roaring 1980s

News about Japan today tends to focus on the coun­try’s long eco­nom­ic stag­na­tion and pop­u­la­tion decline, but in the 1980s it looked like the world’s next super­pow­er. Har­vard social sci­en­tist Ezra Vogel had just pub­lished the best­selling warn­ing Japan as Num­ber One. Post­war recon­struc­tion had turned into rapid growth, then into a kind of finan­cial gigan­tism. Inter­na­tion­al con­sumers drove Japan­ese cars and filled their homes with Japan­ese elec­tron­ics. Japan­ese con­glom­er­ates went on a world­wide spend­ing binge, snap­ping up oth­er coun­tries’ real estate, their man­u­fac­tur­ers, and even their movie stu­dios. Cam­era-wield­ing Japan­ese tourists replaced the “ugly Amer­i­can” as the boor­ish wealthy tourist of stereo­type.

What went on back in Tokyo as the rest of the devel­oped world looked on in amaze­ment (and a kind of hor­ror)? Out­side of Japan’s infa­mous­ly rig­or­ous work cul­ture — itself part of the rea­son for all the growth — its boom and con­se­quent­ly enor­mous asset bub­ble gave rise to new lifestyles and cul­tures, and the sound­track of the par­ty was “city pop.” Mix­ing Eng­lish lyrics in with Japan­ese, draw­ing influ­ences from West­ern dis­co, funk, and R&B, and using the lat­est son­ic tech­nolo­gies mas­tered nowhere more than in Japan itself, this new, slick­ly pro­duced sub­genre offered a cos­mopoli­tanism, accord­ing to Mori-ra at Elec­tron­ic Beats, that “appealed to those who ben­e­fit­ed from the so-called post-war ‘eco­nom­ic mir­a­cle.’ ” While out­side Japan “city pop might be viewed as gen­er­al 1980s Japan­ese music, now that Japan­ese music has become trendy, city pop has begun to be uncov­ered and even reis­sued.”

What’s more, city pop has become a sub­cul­ture again in our inter­net era, and a glob­al one at that. Its cur­rent enthu­si­asts, many of them not Japan­ese or in any case born too late to ben­e­fit from the boom, cre­ate and share their own city pop mix­es, care­ful­ly curat­ing the tracks (some­times even sup­ply­ing visu­als gath­ered from sources like the Japan­ese ani­ma­tion of the era, often with a Blade Run­ner aes­thet­ic) to per­fect­ly evoke the high life in 1980s Tokyo as they imag­ine it. (Friends who actu­al­ly lived in Japan then describe it as an envi­ron­ment of unal­loyed new-mon­ey obnox­ious­ness, but city pop, like all pop, sells fan­ta­sy, not real­i­ty.) You get a taste of that high life by sam­pling the many city pop mix­es freely avail­able on the inter­net. At the top of this post you’ll find the one post­ed to Youtube by a user called Van Paugam, whose chan­nel also fea­tures a 24-hour city pop radio stream (com­plete with night­time Tokyo dri­ving footage).

Below that, we have a 45-minute “Mix­tape from Japan” whose cre­ator goes by Star­funkel. It fea­tures not just city pop tracks but, for tran­si­tion­al mate­r­i­al, vin­tage record­ings and movie clips to do with the Land of the Ris­ing Sun. (Keep your ears open for the voice of Bill Mur­ray.) Then, the vinyl-only mix by I’m­manuel in Ams­ter­dam sim­ply titled “音楽 Ongaku #1” — Japan­ese for “music” — places city pop in a con­text with oth­er Japan­ese grooves of the era. You’ll find much more curat­ed city pop on Sound­cloud, from the ever-grow­ing “High School Mel­low” series to Brazil­ian funk musi­cian Ed Mot­ta’s 70s-ori­ent­ed mix to Mori-Ra’s own max­i­mal­ly mel­low “Japan­ese Breeze” col­lec­tion. Get too deep, though, and you’ll end up like me, mak­ing trips to Japan to go city pop-shop­ping and even (slow­ly) read­ing Japan­ese books on the sub­ject. The bub­ble may have long since burst, but the beat goes on.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Japan­ese Priest Tries to Revive Bud­dhism by Bring­ing Tech­no Music into the Tem­ple: Attend a Psy­che­del­ic 23-Minute Ser­vice

Blade Run­ner Spoofed in Three Japan­ese Com­mer­cials (and Gen­er­al­ly Loved in Japan)

A Wealth of Free Doc­u­men­taries on All Things Japan­ese: From Ben­to Box­es to Tea Gar­dens, Ramen & Bul­let Trains

Based in Seoul, Col­in Mar­shall writes and broad­casts on cities and cul­ture. He’s at work on a book about Los Ange­les, A Los Ange­les Primer, the video series The City in Cin­e­ma, the crowd­fund­ed jour­nal­ism project Where Is the City of the Future?, and the Los Ange­les Review of Books’ Korea Blog. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall or on Face­book.

 

Watch Janis Joplin’s Breakthrough Performance at the Monterey Pop Festival: “One of the Great Concert Performances of all Time” (1967)

“No one to that point had seen a White girl sing the blues like she sang it. And she was a tough Texas girl, she lived real­ly tough, she drank tough, she did drugs, too many and too tough. But as a vocal­ist, her per­for­mance at Mon­terey was also one of the great con­cert per­for­mances of all time.”

That’s famed music and film pro­duc­er Lou Adler talk­ing in 2007 about Janis Joplin and her per­for­mance 40 years before at the Mon­terey Inter­na­tion­al Pop Fes­ti­val. After those three days of music (June 16-June 18, 1967) in the Sum­mer of Love, many of the acts cat­a­pult­ed to fame.

The Who explod­ed state­side, The Jimi Hen­drix Expe­ri­ence essen­tial­ly launched their career from that stage, Ravi Shankar got intro­duced to Amer­i­cans, and Otis Red­ding played to a most­ly white audi­ence for the first time. Lau­ra Nyro and Canned Heat became famous overnight.

And then there was Big Broth­er and the Hold­ing Com­pa­ny, front­ed by a 24 year-old Janis Joplin. Their first album wasn’t due until August, and most of the crowd had not heard of this blues band when they took the stage on Sat­ur­day after­noon, June 17. Five songs lat­er, and fin­ish­ing with “Ball and Chain,” the crowd had gone wild. They knew they had seen some­thing spe­cial.

But D.A. Pen­nebak­er, the doc­u­men­tar­i­an behind Dylan’s Don’t Look Back and Bowie’s “Zig­gy Star­dust” con­cert films, had not filmed the set. In an unprece­dent­ed move, Joplin and band were invit­ed back to recre­ate the set the fol­low­ing evening–the only band to do two sets at the festival–and that is the footage seen above. Joplin’s per­for­mance is just as good, maybe even bet­ter, though the Sun­day per­for­mance does not fea­ture James Gurley’s extend­ed gui­tar solo. That ver­sion can be found here.

Not only did Mon­terey Pop launched sev­er­al careers, it legit­imized the idea that rock music was mature and impor­tant enough to have its own fes­ti­val, just like the worlds of jazz and folk. For orga­niz­ers Adler, along with John Phillips of the Mamas & the Papas, Alan Paris­er, and Bea­t­les pub­li­cist Derek Tay­lor, it was a huge suc­cess. Two years lat­er a lit­tle gath­er­ing called Wood­stock went even fur­ther. And the rest as they say is…whoever’s head­lin­ing Coachel­la this year.

If you enjoy this footage, you will want to pick up a copy of the film, The Com­plete Mon­terey Pop Fes­ti­val, from the Cri­te­ri­on Col­lec­tion.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Watch Janis Joplin’s Final Inter­view Reborn as an Ani­mat­ed Car­toon

Wood­stock Revis­it­ed in Three Min­utes

Dick Cavett’s Epic Wood­stock Fes­ti­val Show (August, 1969)

Ted Mills is a free­lance writer on the arts who cur­rent­ly hosts the artist inter­view-based FunkZone Pod­cast and is the pro­duc­er of KCR­W’s Curi­ous Coast. You can also fol­low him on Twit­ter at @tedmills, read his oth­er arts writ­ing at tedmills.com and/or watch his films here.

Hitler Was ‘Blitzed’ On Cocaine & Opiates During World War II: Hear a Wide-Ranging Interview with Best-Selling Author Norman Ohler

His­to­ri­ans have writ­ten an extra­or­di­nary amount about Hitler, the Third Reich, and World War II–so much, that it’s hard to imag­ine any­one could find some­thing nov­el to say about this dark peri­od of his­to­ry. But Ger­man jour­nal­ist Nor­man Ohler has done just that. In his new book, Blitzed: Drugs in the Third Reich, Ohler looks at how Hitler became increas­ing­ly depen­dent on a mix­ture of cocaine and opi­ates dur­ing the wartime years, all of which could have influ­enced his deci­sion mak­ing. Mean­while, despite Nazi pro­pa­gan­da against “degen­er­ate” cul­ture, Ger­man troops con­sumed large quan­ti­ties of crys­tal meth dur­ing major mil­i­tary oper­a­tions. Some 35 mil­lion meth tablets were ingest­ed dur­ing the 1940 inva­sion of France alone.

Ohler gath­ered much of his evi­dence while review­ing the papers of Hitler’s pri­vate physi­cian, Dr. Theodor Morell. And while some schol­ars have crit­i­cized Ohler’s account, Ian Ker­shaw, arguably the world’s lead­ing author­i­ty on Hitler and Nazi Ger­many, has called Blitzed “a seri­ous piece of schol­ar­ship” and “very well researched.”

Below you can hear Ohler talk about Nazi drug use in a 35-minute inter­view with Ter­ry Gross.

If you want to down­load Blitzed as a free audio­book, you could always get it through Audible.com’s 30-day free tri­al. Find more details on that here. Audiobooks.com also offers a sim­i­lar deal.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

The Nazi’s Philis­tine Grudge Against Abstract Art and The “Degen­er­ate Art Exhi­bi­tion” of 1937

The Nazis’ 10 Con­trol-Freak Rules for Jazz Per­form­ers: A Strange List from World War II

Fritz Lang Tells the Riv­et­ing Sto­ry of the Day He Met Joseph Goebbels and Then High-Tailed It Out of Ger­many

How Did Hitler Rise to Pow­er? : New TED-ED Ani­ma­tion Pro­vides a Case Study in How Fas­cists Get Demo­c­ra­t­i­cal­ly Elect­ed

The New York Times’ First Pro­file of Hitler: His Anti-Semi­tism Is Not as “Gen­uine or Vio­lent” as It Sounds (1922)

Leni Riefenstahl’s Tri­umph of the Will Wasn’t a Cin­e­mat­ic Mas­ter­piece; It Was a Stag­ger­ing­ly Effec­tive Piece of Pro­pa­gan­da

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How Orson Welles’ F for Fake Teaches Us How to Make the Perfect Video Essay

If you don’t under­stand what makes Cit­i­zen Kane so impor­tant, just watch a few movies made before it. In his first out­ing as a film­mak­er, Orson Welles, whether by igno­rance or oth­er virtues, pio­neered so many aes­thet­ic and nar­ra­tive tech­niques that we can now hard­ly imag­ine how the medi­um ever did with­out. If you don’t under­stand what makes Welles’ last pic­ture, the qua­si-doc­u­men­tary on fact and false­hood F for Fake so impor­tant, just com­pare it to all the video essays pro­lif­er­at­ing on the inter­net today.

If Cit­i­zen Kane was just slight­ly ahead of its time in 1940, F for Fake, which came out in 1973, now looks more than three decades ahead of the curve. Nobody knows that bet­ter than Tony Zhou, cre­ator of the pop­u­lar cin­e­ma-focused video essay series Every Frame a Paint­ing.

“I’ve stolen more ideas from this film than from any oth­er,” he admits at the begin­ning of his trib­ute to F for Fake. “Every­thing I know about edit­ing” — and he knows a lot — “I’ve learned from this film.”

The first les­son it teach­es has to do with how to struc­ture, or rather, how not to struc­ture: instead of mak­ing cuts that feel like a repet­i­tive series of “and then“s, make cuts that, in the words of South Park co-cre­ator Trey Park­er, stands for “either the word there­fore or but.” In oth­er words, whether mak­ing a video essay, a fea­ture film, or any­thing in between, build the struc­ture not out of sim­ple, unordered list-like sequences, but out of caus­es, effects, and con­tra­dic­tions.  Through­out F for Fake, “Orson Welles does the exact same thing, except he does­n’t con­nect scenes; he con­nects thoughts. Even though this movie is an essay, each moment has the con­nec­tive log­ic of a South Park episode.”

This leads into the sec­ond les­son: “Have more than one sto­ry mov­ing in par­al­lel,” so that when­ev­er one “reach­es peak inter­est,” you can oscil­late to the oth­er. (No less an edit­ing mas­ter than Alfred Hitch­cock also sub­scribed to this prin­ci­ple, describ­ing it with the phrase “Mean­while, back at the ranch…”) Welles’ bravu­ra per­for­mance, how­ev­er, rotates between no few­er than six sto­ries: of art forg­er Elmyr de Hory, of “hoax-biog­ra­ph­er” Clif­ford Irv­ing, of Irv­ing’s sub­ject Howard Hugh­es, of Welles’ girl­friend Oja Kodar, of Welles him­self (and his infa­mous War of the Worlds broad­cast), and even of the mak­ing of F for Fake itself.

Tech­ni­cal points aside, Zhou draws from all this a per­spec­tive on his work: “It’s not about what you get. It’s about how you cut it, and what comes out the oth­er end. Remem­ber, video essays aren’t essays, they’re films, so you want to struc­ture and pace them like a film­mak­er would.” And in this final major work that he him­self describes as a “film about trick­ery and fraud,” Welles presents that and every­thing else he’d learned about film­mak­ing over the past forty years doing it. Even if some say we live a “post-fact” era — a term that would have end­less­ly amused Welles, or at least the “char­la­tan” ver­sion of him­self he plays in F for Fake — the laws of cin­e­ma retain their truth.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

F for Fake: Orson Welles’ Short Film & Trail­er That Was Nev­er Released in Amer­i­ca

Orson Welles Explains Why Igno­rance Was His Major “Gift” to Cit­i­zen Kane

Every Frame a Paint­ing Explains the Film­mak­ing Tech­niques of Mar­tin Scors­ese, Jack­ie Chan, and Even Michael Bay

The Alche­my of Film Edit­ing, Explored in a New Video Essay That Breaks Down Han­nah and Her Sis­ters, The Empire Strikes Back & Oth­er Films

Alfred Hitchcock’s 7‑Minute Mas­ter Class on Film Edit­ing

Based in Seoul, Col­in Mar­shall writes and broad­casts on cities and cul­ture. He’s at work on a book about Los Ange­les, A Los Ange­les Primer, the video series The City in Cin­e­ma, the crowd­fund­ed jour­nal­ism project Where Is the City of the Future?, and the Los Ange­les Review of Books’ Korea Blog. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall or on Face­book.

Introduction to Philosophy: A Free Online Course

From John Sanders, Pro­fes­sor of Phi­los­o­phy at the Rochester Insti­tute of Tech­nol­o­gy, comes Intro­duc­tion to Phi­los­o­phy. In 10 lec­tures, Sanders’ course cov­ers the fol­low­ing ground:

Phi­los­o­phy is about the rig­or­ous dis­cus­sion of big ques­tions, and some­times small pre­cise ques­tions, that do not have obvi­ous answers. This class is an intro­duc­tion to philo­soph­i­cal think­ing where we learn how to think and talk crit­i­cal­ly about some of these chal­leng­ing ques­tions. Such as: Is there a sin­gle truth or is truth rel­a­tive to dif­fer­ent peo­ple and per­spec­tives? Do we have free will and, if so, how? Do we ever real­ly know any­thing? What gives life mean­ing? Is moral­i­ty objec­tive or sub­jec­tive, dis­cov­ered or cre­at­ed? We’ll use his­tor­i­cal and con­tem­po­rary sources to clar­i­fy ques­tions like these, to under­stand the stakes, to dis­cuss pos­si­ble respons­es, and to arrive at a more coher­ent, more philo­soph­i­cal­ly informed, set of answers.

Thinkers cov­ered include Aris­to­tle, Pla­to, and Descartes, among oth­ers. And along the way, the course intro­duces you to empiri­cism, ratio­nal­ism, onto­log­i­cal and tele­o­log­i­cal arguments–essentially the nit­ty grit­ty of phi­los­o­phy.

You can stream all the lec­tures above, or find them all on this YouTube playlist.

Sanders has also made oth­er cours­es avail­able on YouTube, includ­ing Social and Polit­i­cal Phi­los­o­phy, Phi­los­o­phy of Sci­ence, Pro­fes­sion­al Ethics, and Sym­bol­ic Log­ic.

They’ve all been added to our list of Free Phi­los­o­phy Cours­es, a sub­set of our meta col­lec­tion, 1,700 Free Online Cours­es from Top Uni­ver­si­ties.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Intro­duc­tion to Polit­i­cal Phi­los­o­phy: A Free Yale Course

Free: Lis­ten to John Rawls’ Course on “Mod­ern Polit­i­cal Phi­los­o­phy” (Record­ed at Har­vard, 1984)\

Oxford’s Free Course A Romp Through Ethics for Com­plete Begin­ner­sWill Teach You Right from Wrong

Oxford’s Free Course Crit­i­cal Rea­son­ing For Begin­ners Will Teach You to Think Like a Philoso­pher

The His­to­ry of Phi­los­o­phy With­out Any Gaps – Peter Adamson’s Pod­cast Still Going Strong

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Albert Camus Explains Why Happiness Is Like Committing a Crime—“You Should Never Admit to it” (1959)

Note: You can read a trans­la­tion below.

Hap­pi­ness, as it has been con­ceived for at least the past cou­ple thou­sand years in West­ern phi­los­o­phy, is a prob­lem. For the Greeks, hap­pi­ness was only one com­po­nent of Eudai­mo­nia, a gen­er­al human flour­ish­ing that must be devel­oped along with ethics, per­son­al growth, and social and civic duty in order for a life to have pur­pose and mean­ing. “Pos­i­tive psy­chol­o­gy speak­er” Dr. Nico Rose reminds us that the con­cept con­trasts with Hedo­nia (as in “hedo­nism”), which relates sole­ly to per­son­al plea­sure and enjoy­ment, such as the kind famous­ly indulged in by many an ancient tyrant.

These are not mutu­al­ly exclu­sive cat­e­gories. “Mean­ing­ful expe­ri­ences can cer­tain­ly bring about plea­sure,” writes Rose, “and tak­ing care of our­selves can cer­tain­ly add mean­ing to our lives.” We should, he cau­tions “refrain from equat­ing the pur­suit of hedo­nia with shal­low­ness.”

The prob­lem, as the Greeks under­stood it—and as pro­po­nents of pos­i­tive psy­chol­o­gy like Jonathan Haidt and founder Mar­tin Selig­man rec­og­nize as well—is that sub­jec­tive hap­pi­ness for some can mean deep unhap­pi­ness, or tyran­ny, for oth­ers. It can mean pet­ti­ness, apa­thy, and emo­tion­al imma­tu­ri­ty, qual­i­ties that may not nec­es­sar­i­ly be immoral but are cer­tain­ly unpleas­ant and social­ly cor­ro­sive.

But we might refer to the dif­fer­ence between Hedo­nia and Eudai­mo­nia anoth­er way. Matthew Pianal­to at Phi­los­o­phy Now dis­cuss­es the con­trast as one between “psy­cho­log­i­cal and philo­soph­i­cal con­cepts of hap­pi­ness.”

When hap­pi­ness is equat­ed with sub­jec­tive well-being, the vast major­i­ty of peo­ple turn out to be rel­a­tive­ly hap­py. Aris­to­tle and the oth­er Greeks, how­ev­er, were not con­cerned with rel­a­tive or sub­jec­tive hap­pi­ness – they want­ed to know what the objec­tive fea­tures of a tru­ly hap­py life would be. Greek inquiries into the nature of the good life were real­ly inquiries into the nature of the best life. Thus, when the var­i­ous Greek philoso­phers rec­om­mend­ed the cul­ti­va­tion of virtue in order to live hap­pi­ly, and since the word we trans­late as ‘virtue’ real­ly means ‘excel­lence’, the Greeks were basi­cal­ly telling us that the hap­pi­est (and the best) life is the most excel­lent life.

Is this mor­al­iza­tion real­ly nec­es­sary for human flour­ish­ing, and does it actu­al­ly pro­mote a supe­ri­or form of hap­pi­ness? Or does it sim­ply intro­duce a means for con­trol­ling oth­er people’s behav­ior and sham­ing them for their sup­posed lack of virtue? If you were to ask Albert Camus this ques­tion, he might have sug­gest­ed the lat­ter, and any­one who has read The Stranger and thought about the social coer­cion the nov­el por­trays will hard­ly be sur­prised. In the video above, Camus strong­ly implies his own view with an imag­ined Stranger-like dia­logue, in French. A trans­la­tion (gen­er­ous­ly pro­vid­ed by @TOS1892) rough­ly reads:

“Today hap­pi­ness is like a crime—never admit it. Don’t say ‘I’m hap­py’ oth­er­wise you will hear con­dem­na­tion all around.”

“’So you’re hap­py, young man? What do you do with orphans from Kash­mir? Or the New Zealand lep­ers who aren’t “hap­py” as you say?’” 

“Yes what to do with the lep­ers? How to get rid of them as Ionesco would say? And all of a sud­den, we are sad as tooth­picks.”

As Maria Popo­va points out at Brain Pick­ings, Camus con­sid­ered this kind of labored, almost rig­or­ous, kind of unhap­pi­ness a “self-imposed prison,” writ­ing in a 1956 let­ter that “those who pre­fer their prin­ci­ples over their hap­pi­ness… refuse to be hap­py out­side the con­di­tions they seem to have attached to their hap­pi­ness. If they are hap­py by sur­prise, they find them­selves dis­abled, unhap­py to be deprived of their unhap­pi­ness.” (I can’t help but think of these lines: “And if the day came when I felt a nat­ur­al emo­tion / I’d get such a shock I’d prob­a­bly jump in the ocean.”)

Camus rec­og­nized emo­tions not as abstract prin­ci­ples, but as deeply con­nect­ed to “the sol­i­dar­i­ty of our bod­ies, uni­ty at the cen­ter of the mor­tal and suf­fer­ing flesh.” The cor­rec­tive to a shal­low hedo­nism that might over­ride our ethics is not a striv­ing after philo­soph­i­cal notions of “excel­lence,” but anoth­er emo­tion, unhap­pi­ness, which we should also not be ashamed to feel. “No,” wrote Camus, “it is not humil­i­at­ing to be unhap­py.” The philoso­pher wrote these words to a hos­pi­tal­ized friend who was suf­fer­ing phys­i­cal­ly, a con­di­tion, he admits, that is “some­times humil­i­at­ing.” But the more exis­ten­tial “suf­fer­ing of being can­not be” a humil­i­a­tion. “It is life,” and it forces us to see things we would rather not see.

Do these alter­na­tions of hap­pi­ness and unhap­pi­ness point toward some­thing larg­er than the fleet­ing whims of phys­i­cal pain or per­son­al sat­is­fac­tion? Yes, Camus thought, but the fact that we need them does not speak espe­cial­ly well of peo­ple in what he called a “servile cen­tu­ry.” In his note­books, Camus con­sid­ered how, through sor­row, Oscar Wilde came to under­stand art as some­thing that “must blend with all” rather than tran­scend ordi­nary life. “It is the cul­pa­bil­i­ty of this era,” he writes, “that it always need­ed sor­row… to catch a glimpse of a truth also found in hap­pi­ness.”

It is entire­ly pos­si­ble to be hap­py and vir­tu­ous, authen­tic, and truth­ful, Camus sug­gests, “when the heart is wor­thy.” In some ways, it seems, he reframed the ancient Greeks’ idea of Eudai­mo­nia from an abstract philo­soph­i­cal prin­ci­ple to a sub­jec­tive psy­cho­log­i­cal state, since there is no clear, objec­tive way in an absurd uni­verse, he thought, to know what an “excel­lent” life should look like. Still, like Aris­to­tle, Camus sug­gests that pur­su­ing mean­ing­ful hap­pi­ness is a “moral oblig­a­tion” writes Popo­va. But he under­stands this pur­suit as per­ilous and poten­tial­ly dev­as­tat­ing, neces­si­tat­ing “an equal capac­i­ty for con­tact with absolute despair.”

via @pbkauf

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Albert Camus, Edi­tor of the French Resis­tance News­pa­per Com­bat, Writes Mov­ing­ly About Life, Pol­i­tics & War (1944–47)

Hear Albert Camus Read the Famous Open­ing Pas­sage of The Stranger (1947)

Albert Camus Talks About Nihilism & Adapt­ing Dostoyevsky’s The Pos­sessed for the The­atre, 1959

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

Pink Floyd’s “Echoes” Provides a Soundtrack for the Final Scene of Kubrick’s 2001: A Space Odyssey

What hap­pens when you cue up The Wiz­ard of Oz (1939) and Pink Floy­d’s Dark Side of the Moon (1973), and play them togeth­er? You get some­thing mag­i­cal. Or, to be more pre­cise, you get “Dark Side of the Rain­bow,” a mashup that first began cir­cu­lat­ing in 1995, back when the inter­net first went com­mer­cial. Watch “Dark Side of the Rain­bow” (here) and you could believe that Floyd wrote Dark Side as a stealth Wiz­ard of Oz soundtrack–though that’s some­thing the band firm­ly denies. And, we believe them.

But bury one rumor, and anoth­er takes its place. The Vimeo cap­tion accom­pa­ny­ing the oth­er mashup above reads as fol­lows:

It has long been rumoured that Pink Floyd set ‘Echoes’ to the final sequence of Stan­ley Kubrick­’s, ‘2001: A Space Odyssey’. Two years before pro­duc­ing their album ‘Med­dle’, fea­tur­ing the 23 minute piece ‘Echoes’, Pink Floyd worked on the ‘More’ French film sound­track, where they worked with film syn­chro­ni­sa­tion equip­ment. From there the rumours blos­somed, with Roger Waters being mis­quot­ed as say­ing the band were orig­i­nal­ly offered to do the sound­track (they in fact turned down an offer to fea­ture the ‘Atom Heart Moth­er’ suite in ‘A Clock­work Orange’). Whether or not the rumours have any basis in fact, there is an unde­ni­able beau­ty when watch­ing the com­bi­na­tion of Kubrick­’s intri­cate stop-motion uni­verse, cou­pled with the psy­che­del­ic won­ders of Pink Floyd.

This last thought is sec­ond­ed by phi­los­o­phy pro­fes­sor Joe Steiff, who, writ­ing in the edit­ed col­lec­tion, Pink Floyd and Phi­los­o­phy, adds this:

A less­er-known mashup is the sync­ing of “Echoes” (from Med­dle) with the final twen­ty min­utes of Stan­ley Kubrick­’s 1968 film 2001: A Space Odyssey (begin­ning with “Jupiter and Beyond the Infi­nite”)… [T]he mashup is coher­ent and cohe­sive. The emo­tion­al tone of the music and the images work in near-har­mo­ny, result­ing in a mashup that stands up to repeat­ed view­ings.… Both the movie and the music feed into and expand the sense of mys­tery and unknowa­bil­i­ty that each explores inde­pen­dent­ly.

Watch “Echoes Odyssey” above and see for your­self.

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Relat­ed Con­tent:

Dark Side of the Rain­bow: Pink Floyd Meets The Wiz­ard of Oz in One of the Ear­li­est Mash-Ups

Hear Lost Record­ing of Pink Floyd Play­ing with Jazz Vio­lin­ist Stéphane Grap­pel­li on “Wish You Were Here”

Pink Floyd’s David Gilmour Sings Shakespeare’s Son­net 18

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Download Russian Futurist Book Art (1910–1915): The Aesthetic Revolution Before the Political Revolution

Giv­en the image of Com­mu­nist Rus­sia we’ve most­ly inher­it­ed from Cold War Hol­ly­wood pro­pa­gan­da and cher­ry-picked TV doc­u­men­taries, we tend to think of Com­mu­nist art as ster­ile, bru­tal­ist, devoid of expres­sive emo­tion and exper­i­ment. But this has nev­er been entire­ly so. While Par­ty-approved social real­ism dom­i­nat­ed in cer­tain decades, exper­i­men­tal Russ­ian ani­ma­tion, film, design, and lit­er­a­ture flour­ished, even under extreme­ly harsh con­di­tions one wouldn’t wish on any artist.

In the ear­ly days of the Rev­o­lu­tion, one of the most influ­en­tial forms of expres­sion, Russ­ian Futur­ism, brought its avant-gardism to the mass­es, and praised the Rev­o­lu­tion while for­mal­ly chal­leng­ing every received idea or doc­trine. Begin­ning in the ear­ly 20th cen­tu­ry and work­ing until the Sovi­et Union was formed and Trot­sky ban­ished, Futur­ist poets and artists like Vladimir Mayakovsky, Kaz­imir Male­vich, Nalia Gon­charo­va, and Velimir Khleb­nikov con­tributed to a style called “Zaum,” a word, as we not­ed in a pre­vi­ous post, that can mean “tran­srea­son” or “beyond sense.” (A very unsci­en­tif­ic, bour­geois approach, it would lat­er be alleged by the Cen­tral Com­mit­tee.)

Like mod­ernist move­ments all over Europe, Russ­ian Futur­ism took risks in every medi­um, but took a much more Dadaist approach than the Ital­ian Futur­ists who had part­ly inspired them. They pub­lished prolifically—creating hun­dreds of books and jour­nals between 1910 and 1930. A new book from Get­ty Research Insti­tute cura­tor Nan­cy Perloff, Explodi­ty: Sound, Image, and Word in Russ­ian Futur­ist Book Art, cov­ers the first five years of that period—pre-Revolutionary but no more nor less rad­i­cal. Her book is accom­pa­nied by an “inter­ac­tive com­pan­ion,” a site that allows users to see the pub­li­ca­tions and poems Perloff exam­ines. If you scroll down to the bot­tom of the page, you’ll find a link to “dig­i­tized Russ­ian avant-garde books from the Get­ty Research Insti­tute.”

This archive con­tains about four dozen books by artist/poets like Khleb­nikov whose 1914 Old-Fash­ioned Love; Forest­ly Boom, you can see pages from at the top of the post. Fur­ther up and just above, we see excerpts from Alex­ei Kruchenykh’s 1913 Vzor­val’ (Explodi­ty), a most­ly hand-let­tered pub­li­ca­tion with whim­si­cal, dynam­ic draw­ings alter­nat­ing with and sur­round­ing the text. You’ll find over four dozen of these books at the Get­ty Research Insti­tute. As you browse or search their cat­a­logue, then click on an entry, you’ll want to click on the “View Online” but­ton to see scanned images.

Each of these books—like Vladimir Mayakovsky’s 1913 play, Vladimir Mayakovsky: A Tragedy, above and below—makes a force­ful visu­al impres­sion even if we can­not under­stand the text. But in many ways, this is beside the point. Zaum poet­ry was meant to be heard as sound, not sense, and looked at as a phys­i­cal arti­fact. Perloff’s book, writes the Get­ty, “uncov­ers a wide-rang­ing lega­cy in the mid­cen­tu­ry glob­al move­ment of sound and con­crete poet­ry (the Brazil­ian Noigan­dres group, Ian Hamil­ton Fin­lay, and Hen­ri Chopin), con­tem­po­rary West­ern con­cep­tu­al art, and the artist’s book.” In many ways, these artists rep­re­sent a par­al­lel tra­di­tion in mod­ernism to the one we gen­er­al­ly learn of in West­ern Europe and the U.S., and one just as rich and fas­ci­nat­ing.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Down­load 144 Beau­ti­ful Books of Russ­ian Futur­ism: Mayakovsky, Male­vich, Khleb­nikov & More (1910–30)

Hear Russ­ian Futur­ist Vladimir Mayakovsky Read His Strange & Vis­cer­al Poet­ry

Hear the Exper­i­men­tal Music of the Dada Move­ment: Avant-Garde Sounds from a Cen­tu­ry Ago

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

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Open Culture was founded by Dan Colman.