Steven Van Zandt Creates a Free School of Rock: 100+ Free Lesson Plans That Educate Kids Through Music

When I think of rock ‘n’ roll high school, I think of the Ramones, but in the 1979 Roger Cor­man film no one real­ly learns much. In real­i­ty, how­ev­er, anoth­er leg­endary musi­cian, still going strong after five decades in the busi­ness, has put his cred to seri­ous use, lever­ag­ing star­dom as a musi­cian and actor to cre­ate a music cur­ricu­lum teach­ers can use for free, with lessons on rock his­to­ry, Native Amer­i­can pol­i­tics, Bob Dylan’s poet­ry, immi­gra­tion and the blues, civ­il dis­obe­di­ence, the fight to end Apartheid, and much more. That man is Steven Van Zandt—aka Lit­tle Steven of the E Street Band, or Sil­vio Dante of The Sopra­nos, or Frank Tagliano of Lily­ham­mer, or a few oth­er alias­es and fic­tion­al char­ac­ters.

“For the past decade,” writes John Seabrook at The New York­er, the ban­dana-clad gui­tarist has been “work­ing on a way to recre­ate” a “dynam­ic, out-of-school learn­ing expe­ri­ence inside class­rooms, through his Rock and Roll For­ev­er Foun­da­tion.” Work­ing, that is, to recre­ate his own expe­ri­ence as a dis­af­fect­ed youth who “had no inter­est in school what­so­ev­er,” he recalls. What inter­est­ed him was music: the Bea­t­les, at first, but as he learned more about them, he picked up “bits of infor­ma­tion” about East­ern reli­gion and orches­tra­tion. He learned about lit­er­a­ture from Dylan.

“You didn’t get into it to learn things,” he says, “but you learn things any­way.” At least if you’re as curi­ous and open-mind­ed as Van Zandt, who came to val­ue edu­ca­tion through his non-tra­di­tion­al course. Over ten years ago, when the Nation­al Asso­ci­a­tion for Music Edu­ca­tion told him that “No Child Left Behind leg­is­la­tion was real­ly dev­as­tat­ing art class­es,” he con­front­ed Ted Kennedy and Mitch McConnell, telling them, “did you ever hear that every kid who takes music class does bet­ter in math and sci­ence?” They apol­o­gized,” he says, “but they said they weren’t going to fix it.”

So Van Zandt decid­ed to do it him­self with a pro­gram called TeachRock. Work­ing with two eth­no­mu­si­col­o­gists, he built the cur­ricu­lum to con­nect with kids through music. “Instead of telling the kid, ‘Take the iPod out of your ears,’” he told a crowd of teach­ers gath­ered at Times Square’s Playsta­tion The­ater in May, “we ask them, ‘What are you lis­ten­ing to?’” Van Zandt calls his cur­ricu­lum “teach­ing in the present tense,” and while his own back cat­a­log may not nec­es­sar­i­ly be stream­ing on kids’ cur­rent playlists, he incor­po­rates not only his music and the fifties and six­ties rock ‘n’ roll he loves, but also hip-hop, pop, punk, and the “Latin rhythms of ‘Despaci­to.’” He even uses Beyoncé’s “Sin­gle Ladies” video to prompt a dis­cus­sion on the slave trade.

The focus on pop­u­lar music as a force for change is ful­ly in keep­ing with Van Zandt’s own path. His self-edu­ca­tion led him into activism in the 80s when he wrote and record­ed “Sun City” with 50 oth­er artists to protest South African Apartheid. Unlike some oth­er ben­e­fit songs of the time (like the cringe-induc­ing “Do They Know It’s Christ­mas”), “Sun City,” with its accom­pa­ny­ing video (above), took effec­tive polit­i­cal action—a blan­ket boy­cott of the Sun City resort—and didn’t sug­ar-coat the issues one bit (“relo­ca­tion to pho­ny homelands/separation of fam­i­lies, I can’t under­stand”). The Sun City boy­cott gets its own mod­ule.

As Van Zandt told Fast Com­pa­ny in 2015, “I had been research­ing Amer­i­can for­eign pol­i­cy post-World War II just to edu­cate myself, which I had nev­er done, being obsessed with rock ‘n’ roll my whole life. I was quite shocked to find that we were not always the good guys.” His dis­cov­er­ies com­pelled him to vis­it South Africa and to “ded­i­cate my five-record solo career to that learn­ing process, and also com­bine a bit of jour­nal­ism with the rock art form.” That same pas­sion for jus­tice informs all of the TeachRock lessons, which you can browse and down­load for free at the TeachRock site. The mul­ti-media units incor­po­rate video, audio, images, activ­i­ties, infor­ma­tive hand­outs, and oth­er resources.

Each les­son also explains how its objec­tives meet Com­mon Core State Stan­dards (or the state stan­dards of New Jer­sey and Texas). “TeachRock is root­ed in a teach­ing phi­los­o­phy that believes stu­dents learn best when they tru­ly con­nect with the mate­r­i­al to which they’re intro­duced,” notes the site’s “Wel­come Teach­ers” page. “Obvi­ous­ly, pop­u­lar music is one such point of con­nec­tion.” Per­haps not every kid who learns through music as Van Zandt did will go out and try to change the world, but they’re more than like­ly to stay engaged and stay in school. And that’s exact­ly what he hopes to accom­plish.

“Teach­ing kids some­thing they’re not inter­est­ed in,” he told the teach­ers in New York, “it didn’t work then, and it’s even worse now. We have an epi­dem­ic dropout rate.” Then, in his refresh­ing­ly hon­est way, he con­clud­ed, “Where are we going to be in twen­ty years? How are we going to get smarter look­ing at this Admin­is­tra­tion? You know, we’re just get­ting stu­pid­er.” Not if Lit­tle Steven has any­thing to say about it. He’s cur­rent­ly on tour with his Dis­ci­ples of Soul, and offer­ing free tick­ets to teach­ers, pro­vid­ed they show up ear­ly for a TeachRock work­shop. Sign up here!

For more, check out Steve’s new mem­oir, Unre­quit­ed Infat­u­a­tions.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Cheap Trick’s Bassist Tom Peters­son Help Kids With Autism Learn Lan­guage With Rock ‘n’ Roll: Dis­cov­er “Rock Your Speech”

David Byrne & Neil deGrasse Tyson Explain the Impor­tance of an Arts Edu­ca­tion (and How It Strength­ens Sci­ence & Civ­i­liza­tion)

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

The Con­cept of Musi­cal Har­mo­ny Explained in Five Lev­els of Dif­fi­cul­ty, Start­ing with a Child & End­ing with Her­bie Han­cock

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

 

Stanley Kubrick’s Annotated Copy of Stephen King’s The Shining

The web site Over­look Hotel has post­ed pic­tures of Stan­ley Kubrick’s per­son­al copy of Stephen King’s nov­el The Shin­ing, which is nor­mal­ly kept at the Stan­ley Kubrick Archive, but has been mak­ing the rounds in a trav­el­ing exhi­bi­tion. The book is filled with high­light­ed pas­sages and large­ly illeg­i­ble notes in the margin—tantalizing clues to Kubrick’s inten­tions for the movie.

The site fea­tures a pic­ture of the book’s care­worn cov­er along with two spreads from the book’s inte­ri­or —pages 8–9, where Jack Tor­rance is being inter­viewed by hotel man­ag­er Mr. Ull­man, and pages 86–87 where hotel cook Dick Hal­lo­rann talks to Jack’s son Dan­ny about the tele­path­ic abil­i­ty called “shin­ing.” (Click on the images to enlarge.)

Much of the mar­gin­a­lia is mad­den­ing­ly hard to deci­pher. One of the notes I could make out reads:

Maybe just like their [sic] are peo­ple who can shine, maybe there are places that are spe­cial. Maybe it has to do with what hap­pened in them or where they were built.

Kubrick is clear­ly work­ing to trans­late King’s book into film. Oth­er notes, how­ev­er, seem whol­ly unre­lat­ed to the movie.

Any prob­lems with the kitchen – you phone me

When The Shin­ing came out, it was greet­ed with tepid and non­plussed reviews. Since then, the film’s rep­u­ta­tion has grown, and now it’s con­sid­ered a hor­ror mas­ter­piece.

At first view­ing, The Shin­ing over­whelms the view­er with pun­gent images that etch them­selves in the mind—those creepy twins, that rot­ting senior cit­i­zen in the bath­tub, that del­uge of blood from the ele­va­tor. Yet after the fifth or sev­enth view­ing, the film reveals itself to be far weird­er than your aver­age hor­ror flick. For instance, why is Jack Nichol­son read­ing a Play­girl mag­a­zine while wait­ing in the lob­by? What’s the deal with that guy in the bear suit at the end of the movie? Why is Dan­ny wear­ing an Apol­lo 11 sweater?

While Stephen King has had dozens of his books adapt­ed for the screen (many are flat out ter­ri­ble), of all the adap­ta­tions, this is one that King active­ly dis­likes.

“I would do every­thing dif­fer­ent,” com­plained King about the movie to Amer­i­can Film Mag­a­zine in 1986. “The real prob­lem is that Kubrick set out to make a hor­ror pic­ture with no appar­ent under­stand­ing of the genre.” King lat­er made his own screen ver­sion of his book. By all accounts, it’s nowhere as good as Kubrick’s.

Per­haps the rea­son King loathed Kubrick’s adap­ta­tion so much is that the famous­ly secre­tive and con­trol­ling direc­tor packed the movie with so many odd signs, like Danny’s Apol­lo sweater, that seem to point to a mean­ing beyond a tale of an alco­holic writer who descends into mad­ness and mur­der. The Shin­ing is a semi­otic puz­zle about …what?

Crit­ic after crit­ic has attempt­ed to crack the film’s hid­den mean­ing. Jour­nal­ist Bill Blake­more argued in his essay “The Fam­i­ly of Man” that The Shin­ing is actu­al­ly about the geno­cide of the Native Amer­i­cans. His­to­ri­an Geof­frey Cocks sug­gests that the movie is about the Holo­caust. And con­spir­a­cy guru Jay Wei­d­ner has argued pas­sion­ate­ly that the movie is in fact Kubrick’s cod­ed con­fes­sion for his role in stag­ing the Apol­lo 11 moon land­ing.

Rod­ney Ascher’s 2012 doc­u­men­tary Room 237  jux­ta­pos­es all of these wild­ly diver­gent read­ings, bril­liant­ly show­ing just how dense and mul­ti­va­lent The Shin­ing is. You can see the trail­er for the doc­u­men­tary above.

Note: An ear­li­er ver­sion of this post appeared on our site in Jan­u­ary 2014.

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.

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Relat­ed Con­tent:

Mak­ing The Shin­ing

The Mak­ing of Stan­ley Kubrick’s The Shin­ing (As Told by Those Who Helped Him Make It)

How Stan­ley Kubrick Made His Mas­ter­pieces: An Intro­duc­tion to His Obses­sive Approach to Film­mak­ing

Go Inside the First 30 Min­utes of Kubrick’s The Shin­ing with This 360º Vir­tu­al Real­i­ty Video

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.

Why Med Schools Are Requiring Students to Take Art Classes, and How It Makes Med Students Better Doctors

I have fol­lowed sev­er­al debates recent­ly about the lack of arts and human­i­ties edu­ca­tion in STEM pro­grams. One argu­ment runs thus: sci­en­tists, engi­neers, and pro­gram­mers often move into careers design­ing prod­ucts for human use, with­out hav­ing spent much time learn­ing about oth­er humans. With­out required cours­es, say, in psy­chol­o­gy, phi­los­o­phy, soci­ol­o­gy, lit­er­a­ture, etc., stu­dents can end up unthink­ing­ly repro­duc­ing harm­ful bias­es or over­look­ing seri­ous eth­i­cal prob­lems and social inequities.

Tech­no­log­i­cal mal­prac­tice is bad enough. Med­ical mal­prac­tice can have even more imme­di­ate­ly harm­ful, or fatal, effects. We might take for grant­ed that a doctor’s “bed­side man­ner” is pure­ly a mat­ter of per­son­al­i­ty, but many med­icals schools have decid­ed they need to be more proac­tive when it comes to train­ing future doc­tors in com­pas­sion­ate lis­ten­ing. And some have begun using the arts to fos­ter cre­ative think­ing and empa­thy and to improve doc­tor-patient com­mu­ni­ca­tion. The ver­bal­ly-abu­sive Dr. House aside, the best diag­nos­ti­cians actu­al­ly have sym­pa­thet­ic ears.

As Dr. Michael Flana­gan of Penn State’s Col­lege of Med­i­cine puts it, “Our job is to elic­it infor­ma­tion from our patients. By com­mu­ni­cat­ing more effec­tive­ly and estab­lish­ing rap­port with patients so they are more com­fort­able telling you about their symp­toms, you are more like­ly to make the diag­no­sis and have high­er patient sat­is­fac­tion.” From the patient side of things, an accu­rate diag­no­sis can mean more than “sat­is­fac­tion”; it can mean the dif­fer­ence between life and death, long-term suf­fer­ing or rapid recov­ery.

Can impres­sion­ist paint­ing make that dif­fer­ence? Dr. Flana­gan thinks it’s a start. His sem­i­nar “Impres­sion­ism and the Art of Com­mu­ni­ca­tion” asks fourth-year med­ical stu­dents to engage with the work of Vin­cent van Gogh and Claude Mon­et, in exer­cis­es “rang­ing from obser­va­tion and writ­ing activ­i­ties to paint­ing in the style of said artists,” notes Art­sy. “Through the process, they learn to bet­ter com­mu­ni­cate with patients by devel­op­ing insights on sub­jects like men­tal ill­ness and cog­ni­tive bias.” Why not just study these sub­jects in psy­chol­o­gy cours­es?

One answer comes from Penn State asso­ciate pro­fes­sor of art his­to­ry Nan­cy Locke, who presents to Flanagan’s class­es. “Art can make peo­ple see their lives dif­fer­ent­ly,” she says, “Doc­tors will see peo­ple reg­u­lar­ly with cer­tain prob­lems.” And they can begin to schema­tize their patients the way they schema­tize dis­eases and dis­or­ders. “But a paint­ing can con­tin­ue to be chal­leng­ing, and there are always new ques­tions to ask.” Impres­sion­ist paint­ing rep­re­sents only one road, among many oth­ers, to the ambi­gu­i­ties of the human mind.

Anoth­er Penn State pro­fes­sor, Dr. Paul Haidet, direc­tor of med­ical edu­ca­tion research, offered a sem­i­nar on jazz and med­ical com­mu­ni­ca­tions to fourth-year stu­dents in 2014 and 2015. As he men­tions in the video above, Flana­gan him­self took the course. “Just as one jazz musi­cian pro­vides space to anoth­er to impro­vise,” he tells Penn State News, “as physi­cians we need to pro­vide space to our patients to com­mu­ni­cate in their own style. It was a trans­for­ma­tion­al expe­ri­ence, unlike any­thing I ever had in med­ical school myself.” He was inspired there­after to intro­duce his paint­ing course.

One could imag­ine class­es on the Vic­to­ri­an nov­el, mod­ernist poet­ry, or impro­vi­sa­tion­al dance hav­ing sim­i­lar effects. Oth­er med­ical schools have cer­tain­ly agreed. Dr. Del­phine Tay­lor, asso­ciate pro­fes­sor of med­i­cine at Colum­bia Uni­ver­si­ty Med­ical Cen­ter, “empha­sizes that arts-focused activ­i­ties are impor­tant in train­ing future doc­tors to be present and aware,” Art­sy writes, “which is more and more dif­fi­cult today giv­en the per­va­sive­ness of tech­nol­o­gy and media.” Arts pro­grams have also been adopt­ed in the med­ical schools at Yale, Har­vard, and UT Austin.

The prece­dents for incor­po­rat­ing the arts into a sci­ence edu­ca­tion abound—many a famous sci­en­tist has also had a pas­sion for lit­er­a­ture, pho­tog­ra­phy, paint­ing, or music. (Ein­stein, for exam­ple, wouldn’t be part­ed from his vio­lin.) As the arts and sci­ences grew fur­ther apart, for rea­sons hav­ing to do with the struc­ture of high­er edu­ca­tion and the dic­tates of mar­ket economies, it became far less com­mon for sci­en­tists and doc­tors to receive a lib­er­al arts edu­ca­tion. On the oth­er hand, todays lib­er­al arts stu­dents might ben­e­fit from more required STEM cours­es, but that’s a sto­ry for anoth­er day.

via Art­sy

Relat­ed Con­tent:

David Byrne & Neil deGrasse Tyson Explain the Impor­tance of an Arts Edu­ca­tion (and How It Strength­ens Sci­ence & Civ­i­liza­tion)

Your Brain on Art: The Emerg­ing Sci­ence of Neu­roaes­thet­ics Probes What Art Does to Our Brains

The Musi­cal Mind of Albert Ein­stein: Great Physi­cist, Ama­teur Vio­lin­ist and Devo­tee of Mozart

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

Frank Lloyd Wright Creates a List of the 10 Traits Every Aspiring Artist Needs


No fig­ure looms larg­er over Amer­i­can archi­tec­ture than Frank Lloyd Wright. From the ear­ly 1890s to the ear­ly 1920s he estab­lished him­self as the builder of dozens of strik­ing, styl­is­ti­cal­ly inno­v­a­tive pri­vate homes as well as pub­lic works like Chicago’s Mid­way Gar­dens and Toky­o’s Impe­r­i­al Hotel. But by the end of that peri­od his per­son­al life had already turned chaot­ic and even trag­ic, and in his pro­fes­sion­al life he saw his com­mis­sions dry up. Just when it looked like he might not leave much of a lega­cy at all, an idea came to him: why not start a school?

“Wright found­ed what he called the Tal­iesin Fel­low­ship in 1932, when his own finan­cial prospects were dis­mal, as they had been through­out much of the 1920s,” writes archi­tec­ture crit­ic Michael Kim­mel­man in the New York Review of Books. “Hav­ing seen the great Chica­go archi­tect Louis Sul­li­van, his for­mer boss, die in pover­ty not many years ear­li­er, Wright was fore­stalling his own prospec­tive obliv­ion.” Charg­ing a tuition of $675 (“raised to $1,100 in 1933, more than at Yale or Har­vard”), Wright designed a pro­gram “to indoc­tri­nate aspir­ing archi­tects in his gospel of organ­ic archi­tec­ture, for which they would do hours of dai­ly chores, plant crops, wash Wright’s laun­dry, and enter­tain him and his guests as well as one anoth­er in the evenings with musi­cals and ama­teur the­atri­cals.”

There at Tal­iesin, his epony­mous home-stu­dio, locat­ed in the appro­pri­ate­ly rur­al set­ting of Spring Green, Wis­con­sin, Wright sought to forge not just com­plete archi­tects, and not just com­plete artists, but com­plete human beings. He pro­posed, in Kim­mel­man’s words, “the cre­ation of a small, inde­pen­dent soci­ety made bet­ter through his archi­tec­ture.” He also drew up a list, lat­er includ­ed in his auto­bi­og­ra­phy, of the qual­i­ties the builders of that soci­ety should pos­sess:

I. An hon­est ego in a healthy body – good cor­re­la­tion
II. Love of truth and nature
III. Sin­cer­i­ty and courage
IV. Abil­i­ty for action
V. The esthet­ic sense
VI. Appre­ci­a­tion of work as idea and idea as work
VII. Fer­til­i­ty of imag­i­na­tion
VIII. Capac­i­ty for faith and rebel­lion
IX. Dis­re­gard for com­mon­place (inor­gan­ic) ele­gance
X. Instinc­tive coop­er­a­tion

This list reflects the kind of qual­i­ties Wright seemed to spend his life cul­ti­vat­ing in him­self, not to men­tion dis­play­ing to the pub­lic. Not that he showed much regard for the truth when it con­flict­ed with his own myth­mak­ing, nor an instinct for coop­er­a­tion with those he con­sid­ered less than his equals — and archi­tec­tural­ly speak­ing, he did­n’t con­sid­er any­one his equal. As well as Wright’s ego may have served him, not every artist needs one quite so colos­sal, but per­haps, per his list, they do need an hon­est one. “Ear­ly in life I had to choose between hon­est arro­gance and hyp­o­crit­i­cal humil­i­ty,” he once said. “I chose the for­mer and have seen no rea­son to change.”

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Take 360° Vir­tu­al Tours of Frank Lloyd Wright’s Archi­tec­tur­al Mas­ter­pieces, Tal­iesin & Tal­iesin West

Frank Lloyd Wright Reflects on Cre­ativ­i­ty, Nature and Reli­gion in Rare 1957 Audio

Haru­ki Muraka­mi Lists the Three Essen­tial Qual­i­ties For All Seri­ous Nov­el­ists (And Run­ners)

Pat­ti Smith, Umber­to Eco & Richard Ford Give Advice to Young Artists in a Rol­lick­ing Short Ani­ma­tion

John Cleese’s Advice to Young Artists: “Steal Any­thing You Think Is Real­ly Good”

Based in Seoul, Col­in Mar­shall writes and broad­casts on cities and cul­ture. His projects include the book The State­less City: a Walk through 21st-Cen­tu­ry Los Ange­les and the video series The City in Cin­e­ma. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall or on Face­book.

Jimmy Page Visits Oxford University & Tells Students How He Went from Guitar Apprentice to Creating Led Zeppelin

It’s maybe a cul­tur­al tru­ism that icon­o­clasts who live long enough even­tu­al­ly become icons. So I sup­pose it shouldn’t sur­prise us much to see a rock ‘n’ roll hero like Jim­my Page stand­ing behind the podi­um at the Oxford Union, for a lec­ture and Q&A series put on by the famed debat­ing soci­ety. But as he tells his audi­ence, it isn’t his first time at Oxford—he made an appear­ance at 16, accom­pa­ny­ing beat poet and nov­el­ist Roys­ton Ellis on gui­tar. (It was Ellis, Page notes, who sug­gest­ed the quirky spelling of the Bea­t­les to John Lennon.) This sto­ry leads to Page’s auto­bi­o­graph­i­cal sketch of how he became a musi­cian by lis­ten­ing to “the music com­ing over from Amer­i­ca” and the skif­fle ver­sions of the same by Eng­lish musi­cian Lon­nie Done­gan.

It’s a sto­ry famil­iar to fans not only of Page but of every British inva­sion band inspired by the Amer­i­can blues and R&B. But it’s always inter­est­ing, espe­cial­ly for Amer­i­cans, to hear it told. Home­grown tra­di­tion­al music we take for grant­ed sound­ed to the young Page like “it was com­ing from Mars.”

He describes the influ­ence of Done­gan as a “por­tal” to the blues and rock ‘n’ roll, which bands like the Yard­birds picked up in the ear­ly six­ties. Men­tion of that sem­i­nal Eng­lish band leads Page to recount his sec­ond time at Oxford, to see the Yard­birds at Queen’s Col­lege, a fate­ful night that end­ed with Page join­ing the band on bass after Paul Samwell-Smith quit. By that time, he had served what he calls a “three-year appren­tice­ship” as a stu­dio musi­cian, arranger, and com­pos­er.

These rem­i­nisces set the tenor for Page’s short address, a series of vignettes from his ven­er­a­ble career, full of fas­ci­nat­ing digres­sions and asides. At around 13 min­utes in, he con­cludes that his “life­time achieve­ment” was to “do some­thing which was ini­tial­ly my hob­by, turn that into some­thing which was a very pro­fes­sion­al process, but still a very cre­ative one… and to inspire young musi­cians.” After his short speech, the pro­gram tran­si­tions to an inter­view for­mat, and Page expands on and clar­i­fies many of his com­ments. His affa­ble humil­i­ty and desire to share his wis­dom and expe­ri­ence make this very enjoy­able view­ing for any­one inter­est­ed in Page’s life and work, or in the his­to­ry of rock ‘n’ roll more gen­er­al­ly, which can­not be told with­out him, and for which he is a very able chron­i­cler.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

13-Year-Old Jim­my Page Plays Gui­tar on TV in 1957, an Ear­ly Moment in His Spec­tac­u­lar Career

Jim­my Page Unplugged: Led Zeppelin’s Gui­tarist Reveals His Acoustic Tal­ents in Four Videos (1970–2008)

Jim­my Page Tells the Sto­ry of “Kash­mir”

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

Learn the History of Indian Philosophy in a 62 Episode Series from The History of Philosophy Without Any Gaps: The Buddha, Bhagavad-Gita, Non Violence & More

The belief in a sin­gu­lar, coher­ent “West­ern tra­di­tion” in phi­los­o­phy has led to a very insu­lar, Euro­cen­tric view in phi­los­o­phy depart­ments, as Jay L. Garfield and Bryan W. Van Nor­den write in a New York Times op-ed. “No oth­er human­i­ties dis­ci­pline demon­strates this sys­temic neglect of most of the civ­i­liza­tions in its domain,” they argue, “The present sit­u­a­tion is hard to jus­ti­fy moral­ly, polit­i­cal­ly, epis­tem­i­cal­ly or as good edu­ca­tion­al and research train­ing prac­tice.” In his fol­low-up book Tak­ing Back Phi­los­o­phy Van Nor­den argues that edu­ca­tion­al insti­tu­tions should “live up to their cos­mopoli­tan ideals” by expand­ing the canon and teach­ing non-West­ern philo­soph­i­cal tra­di­tions.

One phi­los­o­phy edu­ca­tor, Peter Adam­son, pro­fes­sor of phi­los­o­phy at the LMU in Munich and King’s Col­lege Lon­don, has tak­en up the chal­lenge of teach­ing glob­al philo­soph­i­cal tra­di­tions through his pop­u­lar pod­cast The His­to­ry of Phi­los­o­phy With­out Any Gaps, with series on the Islam­ic World, Africana, and India. With expert co-authors and guests, Adamson’s pod­casts help us nav­i­gate cul­tur­al and his­tor­i­cal dif­fer­ences with­out water­ing down the sub­stance of diverse bod­ies of thought.

These sur­veys of non-West­ern tra­di­tions aim to be as exhaus­tive as the pod­cast’s cov­er­age of Clas­si­cal, Lat­er Antiq­ui­ty, and Medieval peri­ods in Europe. We’ve fea­tured Adamson’s pod­casts on Islam­ic and Indi­an phi­los­o­phy in an ear­li­er post. Now we revis­it his series on Indi­an phi­los­o­phy, which has grown sub­stan­tial­ly in the inter­val, from thir­ty-two to six­ty-two episodes, divid­ed into three categories—“Origins,” “Age of the Sutra,” and “Bud­dhists and Jains.”

Indi­an Philosophy—Origins

Indi­an Philosophy—Age of the Sutra

Indi­an Philosophy—Buddhists and Jains

Very broad­ly, much Indi­an phi­los­o­phy can be under­stood as a cen­turies-long con­flict between the six ortho­dox Vedic schools (asti­ka) and the het­ero­dox (nas­ti­ka) schools, includ­ing Bud­dhism, Jain­ism, and Car­va­ka, a mate­ri­al­ist phi­los­o­phy that denied all meta­phys­i­cal doc­trines. While some strains among these schools of thought can be asso­ci­at­ed with indi­vid­ual names, like Kana­da, Patañ­jali, or Nagar­ju­na, much ancient Indi­an phi­los­o­phy “is rep­re­sent­ed by a mass of texts,” as Luke Muehlhauser writes in his short guide, “for which the authors and dates of com­po­si­tion are most­ly unknown.”

Adamson’s free pod­cast sur­vey of Indi­an phi­los­o­phy makes for enter­tain­ing, infor­ma­tive lis­ten­ing. You can down­load every episode in .zip form at the links above. Or find links to the indi­vid­ual episodes right below. To keep up with trends in the study of Indi­an phi­los­o­phy in Eng­lish, be sure to fol­low the Indi­an Phi­los­o­phy Blog. And for an excel­lent list of “Read­ings on the Less Com­mon­ly Taught Philoso­phies (LCTP),” see this post by Bryan Van Nor­den here.

 

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Learn Islam­ic & Indi­an Phi­los­o­phy with 107 Episodes of the His­to­ry of Phi­los­o­phy With­out Any Gaps Pod­cast

The His­to­ry of Phi­los­o­phy, from 600 B.C.E. to 1935, Visu­al­ized in Two Mas­sive, 44-Foot High Dia­grams

The Philo­soph­i­cal Appre­ci­a­tion of Rocks in Chi­na & Japan: A Short Intro­duc­tion to an Ancient Tra­di­tion

Free Online Phi­los­o­phy Cours­es

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

Steely Dan Creates the Deadhead/Danfan Conversion Chart: A Witty Guide Explaining How You Can Go From Loving the Dead to Idolizing Steely Dan

To the naked eye — or at least to the naked eye of any­one born after about 1990 — fans of the Grate­ful Dead and fans of Steely Dan may look basi­cal­ly the same. Both bands emerged from the 1960s-forged coun­ter­cul­ture of Amer­i­ca’s “Baby Boom” gen­er­a­tion, broad­ly defined, and both have drawn unusu­al­ly ded­i­cat­ed lis­ten­er­ships. Yet few bod­ies of musi­cal work could project such dif­fer­ent sets of artis­tic sen­si­bil­i­ties: on one side Steely Dan has the hand­ful of metic­u­lous­ly record­ed stu­dio albums filled with eso­teric wise­cracks and lit­er­ary ref­er­ences, and on the oth­er the Grate­ful Dead has the vast archives of live per­for­mance heavy on both extend­ed impro­vi­sa­tions and good vibes.

Close inspec­tion reveals that the deep­er dif­fer­ences in the music of the Grate­ful Dead and Steely Dan also man­i­fest in the lifestyles of “Dead­heads” and “Dan­fans.” You can see how in this handy Deadhead/Danfan Con­ver­sion Chart avail­able on Steely Dan’s offi­cial site. (View it in a larg­er for­mat here.) Where the accou­trements of the Grate­ful Dead­’s crowd include granny glass­es, VW bus­es, and tat­too­ing, it shows us, Steely Dan’s has its LA Eye­works clip-ons, BMW 353s, and cos­met­ic laser surgery.

Dead­heads read beat poet­ry, receive cos­mic visions, and enjoy the gui­tar play­ing of the late Jer­ry Gar­cia; Dan­fans read the Mac­Mall cat­a­log, send erot­ic e‑mails, and enjoy the gui­tar play­ing of the late Wal­ter Beck­er (among that of the dozens of oth­er pro­fes­sion­als called into the stu­dio).

The Deadhead/Danfan Con­ver­sion Chart also includes a mid­dle col­umn describ­ing the tran­si­tion­al stage sep­a­rat­ing Dead­head from Dan­fan. Between the Grate­ful Dead fan’s sense of one­ness and the Steely Dan fan’s sense of enti­tle­ment comes a sense of despair; between the Dead­head­’s take­out Indi­an food and the Dan­fan’s north­ern Ital­ian cui­sine comes freeze-dried pot roast and gravy. Laid out in this way, the jour­ney from the Grate­ful Dead to Steely Dan mir­rors the life jour­ney tak­en by many a Baby Boomer: from blissed-out utopi­anism, con­scious­ness-expand­ing sub­stances, and free love to cre­ative cyn­i­cism, anti­de­pres­sants, and high-end per­son­al elec­tron­ics. Or per­haps, to use a metaphor pop­u­lar in 1960s Amer­i­ca, the yin of the Dead­head and the yang of the Dan­fan inhab­its us all, regard­less of gen­er­a­tion.

Click here to view the Deadhead/Danfan Con­ver­sion Chart.

via Dan­ger­ous Minds

Relat­ed Con­tent:

How Steely Dan Wrote “Dea­con Blues,” the Song Audio­philes Use to Test High-End Stere­os

When Mistakes/Studio Glitch­es Give Famous Songs Their Per­son­al­i­ty: Pink Floyd, Metal­li­ca, The Breed­ers, Steely Dan & More

How Good Are Your Head­phones? This 150-Song Playlist, Fea­tur­ing Steely Dan, Pink Floyd & More, Will Test Them Out

Take a Long, Strange Trip and Stream a 346-Hour Chrono­log­i­cal Playlist of Live Grate­ful Dead Per­for­mances (1966–1995)

11,215 Free Grate­ful Dead Con­cert Record­ings in the Inter­net Archive

Based in Seoul, Col­in Mar­shall writes and broad­casts on cities and cul­ture. His projects include the book The State­less City: a Walk through 21st-Cen­tu­ry Los Ange­les and the video series The City in Cin­e­ma. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall or on Face­book.

John Nash’s Super Short PhD Thesis: 26 Pages & 2 Citations

nash thesis

When John Nash wrote “Non Coop­er­a­tive Games,” his Ph.D. dis­ser­ta­tion at Prince­ton in 1950, the text of his the­sis (read it online) was brief. It ran only 26 pages. And more par­tic­u­lar­ly, it was light on cita­tions. Nash’s diss cit­ed two texts: John von Neu­mann & Oskar Mor­gen­stern’s The­o­ry of Games and Eco­nom­ic Behav­ior (1944), which essen­tial­ly cre­at­ed game the­o­ry and rev­o­lu­tion­ized the field of eco­nom­ics; the oth­er cit­ed text, “Equi­lib­ri­um Points in n‑Person Games,” was an arti­cle writ­ten by Nash him­self. And it laid the foun­da­tion for his dis­ser­ta­tion, anoth­er sem­i­nal work in the devel­op­ment of game the­o­ry, for which Nash won the Nobel Prize in Eco­nom­ic Sci­ences in 1994.

The reward of invent­ing a new field is hav­ing a slim bib­li­og­ra­phy.

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Note: An ear­li­er ver­sion of this post appeared on our site in June, 2015.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

The Short­est-Known Paper Pub­lished in a Seri­ous Math Jour­nal: Two Suc­cinct Sen­tences

The World Record for the Short­est Math Arti­cle: 2 Words

Free Online Math Cours­es

Free Math Text­books

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