In 1886, the US Government Commissioned 7,500 Watercolor Paintings of Every Known Fruit in the World: Download Them in High Resolution

T.S. Eliot asks in the open­ing stan­zas of his Cho­rus­es from the Rock, “where is the knowl­edge we have lost in infor­ma­tion?” The pas­sage has been called a point­ed ques­tion for our time, in which we seem to have lost the abil­i­ty to learn, to make mean­ing­ful con­nec­tions and con­tex­tu­al­ize events. They fly by us at super­hu­man speeds; cred­i­ble sources are buried between spu­ri­ous links. Truth and false­hood blur beyond dis­tinc­tion.

But there is anoth­er fea­ture of the 21st cen­tu­ry too-often unre­marked upon, one only made pos­si­ble by the rapid spread of infor­ma­tion tech­nol­o­gy. Vast dig­i­tal archives of pri­ma­ry sources open up to ordi­nary users, archives once only avail­able to his­to­ri­ans, promis­ing the pos­si­bil­i­ty, at least, of a far more egal­i­tar­i­an spread of both infor­ma­tion and knowl­edge.

Those archives include the USDA Pomo­log­i­cal Water­col­or Col­lec­tion, “over 7,500 paint­ings, draw­ings, and wax mod­els com­mis­sioned by the USDA between 1886 and 1942,” notes Chloe Ole­witz at Morsel. The word “pomol­o­gy,” “the sci­ence and prac­tice of grow­ing fruit,” first appeared in 1818, and the degree to which peo­ple depend­ed on fruit trees and fruit stores made it a dis­tinc­tive­ly pop­u­lar sci­ence, as was so much agri­cul­ture at the time.

But pomol­o­gy was grow­ing from a domes­tic sci­ence into an indus­tri­al one, adopt­ed by “farm­ers across the Unit­ed States,” writes Ole­witz, who “worked with the USDA to set up orchards to serve emerg­ing mar­kets” as “the country’s most pro­lif­ic fruit-pro­duc­ing regions began to take shape.” Cen­tral to the gov­ern­ment agency’s grow­ing pomo­log­i­cal agen­da was the record­ing of all the var­i­ous types of fruit being cul­ti­vat­ed, hybridized, inspect­ed, and sold from both inside the U.S. and all over the world.

Pri­or to and even long after pho­tog­ra­phy could do the job, that meant employ­ing the tal­ents of around 65 Amer­i­can artists to “doc­u­ment the thou­sands and thou­sands of vari­eties of heir­loom and exper­i­men­tal fruit cul­ti­vars sprout­ing up nation­wide.” The USDA made the full col­lec­tion pub­lic after Elec­tron­ic Fron­tier Foun­da­tion activist Park­er Hig­gins sub­mit­ted a Free­dom of Infor­ma­tion Act request in 2015.

Hig­gins saw the project as an exam­ple of “the way free speech issues inter­sect with ques­tions of copy­right and pub­lic domain,” as he put it. His­tor­i­cal gov­ern­ment-issued fruit water­col­ors might not seem like the obvi­ous place to start, but they’re as good a place as any. He stum­bled on the col­lec­tion while either ran­dom­ly col­lect­ing infor­ma­tion or acquir­ing knowl­edge, depend­ing on how you look at it, “chal­leng­ing him­self to dis­cov­er one new cool pub­lic domain thing every day for a month.”

It turned out that access to the USDA images was lim­it­ed, “with high res­o­lu­tion ver­sions hid­den behind a large­ly untouched pay­wall.” After invest­ing $300,000, they had made $600 in fees in five years, a los­ing propo­si­tion that would bet­ter serve the pub­lic, the schol­ar­ly com­mu­ni­ty, and those work­ing in-between if it became freely avail­able.

You can explore the entire­ty of this tan­ta­liz­ing col­lec­tion of fruit water­col­ors, rang­ing in qual­i­ty from the work­man­like to the near sub­lime, and from unsung artists like James Mar­i­on Shull, who sketched the Cuban pineap­ple above, Ellen Isham Schutt, who brings us the Aegle marme­los, com­mon­ly called “bael” in India, fur­ther up, and Deb­o­rah Griscom Pass­more, whose 1899 Malus domes­ti­cus, at the top, describes a U.S. pomo­log­i­cal arche­type.

It’s easy to see how Hig­gins could become engrossed in this col­lec­tion. Its util­i­tar­i­an pur­pose belies its sim­ple beau­ty, and with 3,800 images of apples alone, one could get lost tak­ing in the visu­al nuances—according to some very pro­lif­ic nat­u­ral­ist artists—of just one fruit alone. Hig­gins, of course, cre­at­ed a Twit­ter bot to send out ran­dom images from the archive, an inter­est­ing dis­trac­tion and also, for peo­ple inclined to seek it out, a lure to the full USDA Pomo­log­i­cal Water­col­or Col­lec­tion.

At what point does an explo­ration of these images tip from infor­ma­tion into knowl­edge? It’s hard to say, but it’s unlike­ly we would pur­sue either one if that pur­suit didn’t also include its share of plea­sure. Enter the USDA’s Pomo­log­i­cal Water­col­or Col­lec­tion here to new and down­load over 7,500 high-res­o­lu­tion dig­i­tal images like those above.

via Morsel.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

New Archive Dig­i­tizes 80,000 His­toric Water­col­or Paint­ings, the Medi­um Through Which We Doc­u­ment­ed the World Before Pho­tog­ra­phy

Two Mil­lion Won­drous Nature Illus­tra­tions Put Online by The Bio­di­ver­si­ty Her­itage Library

Ernst Haeckel’s Sub­lime Draw­ings of Flo­ra and Fau­na: The Beau­ti­ful Sci­en­tif­ic Draw­ings That Influ­enced Europe’s Art Nou­veau Move­ment (1889)

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

Two Animated Maps Show the Expansion of the U.S. from the Different Perspectives of Settlers & Native Peoples

After John Ford, the his­to­ry of U.S. expan­sion went by the name “How the West Was Won.” Decades ear­li­er, in his essay “Annex­a­tion,” Jack­son­ian jour­nal­ist John O’Sullivan famous­ly coined the phrase “man­i­fest des­tiny.” His­to­ri­an Richard Slotkin called it “regen­er­a­tion through vio­lence” and nov­el­ist Cor­mac McCarthy summed up the jagged, ever-mov­ing line of west­ward expan­sion from sea to sea with two words: Blood Merid­i­an.

Indige­nous ver­sions of the sto­ry do not tend to enter com­mon par­lance in quite the same way, a fact upon which Vine Delo­ria, Jr. remarks in his “Indi­an Man­i­festo,” Custer Died for Your Sins. Vio­lence is always cen­tral to the sto­ry. Usu­al­ly the sav­agery of Native peo­ple is tak­en for grant­ed. Sav­agery of set­tlers may be more or less empha­sized. Yet the long his­to­ry of land theft over the course of the cen­turies is also one of bro­ken treaty after treaty.

Few tribes were defeat­ed in war by the Unit­ed States, but most sold some land and allowed the Unit­ed States to hold the remain­der in trust for them. In turn, the tribes acknowl­edged the sov­er­eign­ty of the Unit­ed States in pref­er­ence to oth­er pos­si­ble sov­er­eigns.

Caught between war­ring Euro­pean empires, Indige­nous nations made the best deals they could with the advanc­ing U.S. and its army of Civ­il War vet­er­ans. “From this hum­ble begin­ning the fed­er­al gov­ern­ment stole some two bil­lion acres of land and con­tin­ues to take what it can with­out arous­ing the ire of the igno­rant pub­lic.”

The bru­tal­i­ty of the 19th cen­tu­ry became pro­fes­sion­al­ized, car­ried out by reg­u­lars in uni­form, hence the detached lan­guage of “Indi­an wars.” These were fol­lowed by oth­er kinds of vio­lence: insti­tu­tion­al­ized pater­nal­ism, fur­ther encroach­ment and enclo­sure, and the forced removal of thou­sands of chil­dren from their par­ents and into reed­u­ca­tion camps.

The two maps you see here, with sweep­ing­ly broad visu­al ges­tures in gif form, illus­trate the 19th cen­tu­ry seizure of land across the North Amer­i­can con­ti­nent from the per­spec­tive of a U.S. nation­al his­to­ry and that of an Indige­nous mul­ti-nation­al his­to­ry. The map at the top traces the sto­ry from the coun­try’s begin­nings in the 13 colonies to the annex­a­tion, pur­chase, and final­ly state­hood of Hawaii and Alas­ka in 1959.

The above map is more focused, span­ning the years 1810 to 1891. As Nick Rout­ley points out in a post at Visu­al Cap­i­tal­ist, “five of the largest expan­sion events in U.S. his­to­ry” took place dur­ing the 1800s, though the first one he cites falls out­side the time­line above. The 1803 Louisiana Pur­chase end­ed up acquir­ing what now makes up “near­ly 25% of the cur­rent ter­ri­to­ry of the Unit­ed States, stretch­ing from New Orleans all the way up to Mon­tana and North Dako­ta.”

Oth­er notable events include the 1819 pur­chase of Flori­da from Spain by John Quin­cy Adams, the afore­men­tioned pur­chase of Alas­ka from Rus­sia, and the 1845 annex­a­tion of Texas. The Mex­i­can-Amer­i­can War of 1848 gets less men­tion these days, though it expand­ed slav­ery and was quite hot­ly debat­ed at the time by such prin­ci­pled fig­ures as Hen­ry David Thore­au, who refused to pay his poll tax over it and wrote “Civ­il Dis­obe­di­ence” while in jail.

In the so-called Mex­i­can Ces­sion, Texas became a state and “the Unit­ed States took con­trol of a huge par­cel of land that includes the present-day states of Cal­i­for­nia, Neva­da, and Utah, as well as por­tions of Ari­zona, Col­orado, New Mex­i­co, and Wyoming.” Mex­i­co, on the oth­er hand, “saw the size of their ter­ri­to­ry halved.” After each seizure of ter­ri­to­ry, mass migra­tions west­ward com­menced in wave upon wave.

Route­ly does not sur­vey these migra­tion events, but you can learn about them in accounts like Rox­anne Dunbar-Ortiz’s Indige­nous People’s His­to­ry of the Unit­ed States and Deloria’s man­i­festo. When we approach the found­ing and expan­sion of the U.S. from mul­ti­ple per­spec­tives, both visu­al and his­tor­i­cal, we under­stand why crit­i­cal his­to­ri­ans often use the phrase “set­tler colo­nial­ism” rather than “west­ward expan­sion” or its syn­onyms. And why the overused and lim­it­ed phrase “nation of immi­grants” might just as well be “nation of migrants.”

via Visu­al Cap­i­tal­ist

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Inter­ac­tive Map Shows the Seizure of Over 1.5 Bil­lion Acres of Native Amer­i­can Land Between 1776 and 1887

Native Lands: An Inter­ac­tive Map Reveals the Indige­nous Lands on Which Mod­ern Nations Were Built

The Atlantic Slave Trade Visu­al­ized in Two Min­utes: 10 Mil­lion Lives, 20,000 Voy­ages, Over 315 Years

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

The Meandering Mississippi River and How It Evolved Over Thousands of Years Visualized in Brilliant Maps from 1944

Giv­en that Turkey’s Büyük Menderes Riv­er was his­tor­i­cal­ly known as the Mean­der, you might well imag­ine how un-straight­for­ward a path it takes through the coun­try. But the Eng­lish adjec­tive descend­ed from its name describes a fair few oth­er twist­ing, turn­ing rivers as well, and also a form of riv­er map­ping that suits them. “I have long admired the Mis­sis­sip­pi Riv­er mean­der maps designed by Army Corps of Engi­neers car­tog­ra­ph­er Harold Fisk,” writes Jason Kot­tke at Kottke.org by way of an intro­duc­tion to his short essay on them at the site of print­mak­er 20x200.

“In their relent­less flow to low­er ground, rivers like to roam over the land­scape, cut­ting through sol­id rock and loamy soil alike, gain­ing advan­tage here and there where they can,” goes Kot­tke’s expla­na­tion of how mean­der­ing rivers come to be.

“The best and eas­i­est course for a riv­er to take down­hill is its cur­rent course… right up until the moment when it’s not.” Each col­or in Fisk’s mean­der maps of the longest riv­er in North Amer­i­ca “rep­re­sents a new course, a mark­er of each time a bend had become too bendy and the riv­er ‘decid­ed’ to take a more direct path.” Kot­tke sum­ma­rizes these maps’ appeal suc­cinct­ly: “They are time machines.”

“Stand­ing before a paint­ing by Hilma af Klint, a sculp­ture by Berni­ni, or a cave paint­ing in Chau­vet, France draws you back in time in a pow­er­ful way: you know you’re stand­ing pre­cise­ly where those artists stood hun­dreds or even thou­sands of years ago, lay­ing paint to sur­face or chis­el to stone.” Here, thanks to a “clever map­mak­er with an artis­tic eye,” we can imag­ine the Mis­sis­sip­pi “as it was dur­ing the Euro­pean explo­ration of the Amer­i­c­as in the 1500s, dur­ing the Cahokia civ­i­liza­tion in the 1200s (when this city’s pop­u­la­tion matched Lon­don’s), when the first humans came upon the riv­er more than 12,000 years ago, and even back to before humans, when mam­moths, camels, dire wolves, and giant beavers roamed the land and gazed upon the riv­er.”

You can buy prints of three dif­fer­ent Mis­sis­sip­pi mean­der maps from 20x200, all of them orig­i­nal­ly part of Fisk’s report “Geo­log­i­cal Inves­ti­ga­tion of the Allu­vial Val­ley of the Low­er Mis­sis­sip­pi Riv­er com­plet­ed in 1944. The study was made to learn about the for­ma­tion of the val­ley over time, and about the major fac­tors that dic­tate its flow and flood­ing in the mod­ern era.” Fisk drew upon data col­lect­ed through approx­i­mate­ly 16,000 bor­ings, and “also found the river’s heart in this jum­ble of loops and purls,” pro­duc­ing a reflec­tion of the river’s dis­tinc­tive per­son­al­i­ty in “this explo­sive, autumn-col­ored palette.” Regard­ing these maps, we can’t help but won­der in what shape some future team of intre­pid sur­vey­ors will find the Mis­sis­sip­pi a few thou­sand years hence — and what new words, in what lan­guages, that shape might inspire.

via Kot­tke

Relat­ed Con­tent:

The Moth­er of All Maps of the “Father of Waters”: Behold the 11-Foot Traveler’s Map of the Mis­sis­sip­pi Riv­er (1866)

All the Rivers & Streams in the U.S. Shown in Rain­bow Colours: A Data Visu­al­iza­tion to Behold

William Faulkn­er Draws Maps of Yok­na­p­ataw­pha Coun­ty, the Fic­tion­al Home of His Great Nov­els

Learn the Untold His­to­ry of the Chi­nese Com­mu­ni­ty in the Mis­sis­sip­pi Delta

View and Down­load Near­ly 60,000 Maps from the U.S. Geo­log­i­cal Sur­vey (USGS)

Down­load 67,000 His­toric Maps (in High Res­o­lu­tion) from the Won­der­ful David Rum­sey Map Col­lec­tion

Based in Seoul, Col­in Mar­shall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, 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, on Face­book, or on Insta­gram.

Cartoonist Lynda Barry Teaches You How to Draw

Friend, are you par­a­lyzed by your iron­clad con­vic­tion that you can’t draw?

Pro­fes­sor Chew­bac­ca aka Pro­fes­sor Old Skull aka car­toon­ist Lyn­da Bar­ry has had quite enough of that non­sense!

So stop dis­sem­bling, grab a pen and a hand-sized piece of paper, and fol­low her instruc­tions to Anne Strain­champs, host of NPR’s To The Best Of Our Knowl­edge, below.

It’s bet­ter to throw your­self into it with­out know­ing pre­cise­ly what the ten minute exer­cise holds (oth­er than draw­ing, of course).

We know, we know, you can’t, except that you can. Like Strain­champs, you’re prob­a­bly just rusty.

Don’t judge your­self too harsh­ly if things look “ter­ri­ble.”

In Barry’s view, that’s rel­a­tive, par­tic­u­lar­ly if you were draw­ing with your eyes closed.

A neu­rol­o­gy nerd, Bar­ry cites Gir­i­ja Kaimal, Kendra Ray, and Juan Muniz’ study Reduc­tion of Cor­ti­sol Lev­els and Par­tic­i­pants’ Respons­es Fol­low­ing Art Mak­ing. It’s the action, not the sub­jec­tive artis­tic mer­it of what winds up on the page that counts in this regard.

For more of Barry’s exer­cis­es and delight­ful­ly droll pres­ence, check out this playlist on Dr. Michael Green’s Graph­ic Med­i­cine Chan­nel.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Lyn­da Bar­ry on How the Smart­phone Is Endan­ger­ing Three Ingre­di­ents of Cre­ativ­i­ty: Lone­li­ness, Uncer­tain­ty & Bore­dom

Fol­low Car­toon­ist Lyn­da Barry’s 2017 “Mak­ing Comics” Class Online, Pre­sent­ed at UW-Wis­con­sin

Lyn­da Barry’s Illus­trat­ed Syl­labus & Home­work Assign­ments from Her New UW-Madi­son Course, “Mak­ing Comics”

Join Car­toon­ist Lyn­da Bar­ry for a Uni­ver­si­ty-Lev­el Course on Doo­dling and Neu­ro­science

Ayun Hal­l­i­day is an author, illus­tra­tor, the­ater mak­er and Chief Pri­ma­tol­o­gist of the East Vil­lage Inky zine… Fol­low her @AyunHalliday.

Elvis Costello’s List of 500 Albums That Will Improve Your Life

Pho­to by Vic­tor Diaz Lamich, via Wiki­me­dia Com­mons

Ask a few friends to draw up suf­fi­cient­ly long lists of their favorite albums, and chances are that more than one of them will include Elvis Costel­lo. But today we have for you a list of 500 essen­tial albums that includes no Elvis Costel­lo records at all — not least because it was put togeth­er by Elvis Costel­lo. “Here are 500 albums that can only improve your life,” he writes in his intro­duc­tion to the list, orig­i­nal­ly pub­lished in Van­i­ty Fair. “Many will be quite famil­iar, oth­ers less so.” Costel­lo found it impos­si­ble “to choose just one title by Miles Davis, the Bea­t­les, Joni Mitchell, Dylan, Min­gus, etc.,” but he also made room for less well-known musi­cal names such as David Ack­les, per­haps the great­est unher­ald­ed Amer­i­can song­writer of the late 60s.”

Costel­lo adds that “you may have to go out of your way” to locate some of the albums he has cho­sen, but he made this list in 2000, long before the inter­net brought even the most obscure selec­tions with­in a few key­strokes’ reach with stream­ing ser­vices like Spotify–on which a fan has even made the playlist of Costel­lo’s 500 albums below.

And when Costel­lo writes about hav­ing most­ly exclud­ed “the hit records of today,” he means hit records by the likes of “Mar­i­lyn, Puffy, Korn, Eddie Mon­ey — sor­ry, Kid Rock — Limp Bizk­it, Ricky, Brit­ney, Back­street Boys, etc.” But when he declares “500 albums you need,” described only with a high­light­ed track or two (“When in doubt, play Track 4—it is usu­al­ly the one you want”), all remain enrich­ing lis­tens today. The list begins as fol­lows:

  • ABBA: Abba Gold (1992), “Know­ing Me, Know­ing You.”
  • DAVID ACKLES: The Road to Cairo (1968), “Down Riv­er” Sub­way to the Coun­try (1969), “That’s No Rea­son to Cry.”
  • CANNONBALL ADDERLEY: The Best of Can­non­ball Adder­ley (1968), “Mer­cy, Mer­cy, Mer­cy.”
  • AMY ALLISON: The Maudlin Years (1996), “The Whiskey Makes You Sweet­er.”
  • MOSE ALLISON: The Best of Mose Alli­son (1970), “Your Mind Is on Vaca­tion.”
  • ALMAMEGRETTA: Lin­go (1998), “Gramigna.”
  • LOUIS ARMSTRONG: The Com­plete Hot Five and Hot Sev­en Record­ings (2000), “Wild Man Blues,” “Tight Like This.”
  • FRED ASTAIRE: The Astaire Sto­ry (1952), “They Can’t Take That Away from Me.”

How many music col­lec­tions, let alone lists of essen­tial records, would put all those names togeth­er? And a few hun­dred albums lat­er, the bot­tom of Costel­lo’s alpha­bet­i­cal­ly orga­nized list proves equal­ly diverse and cul­tur­al­ly cred­i­ble:

  • RICHARD WAGNER: Tris­tan and Isol­de (con­duc­tor: Wil­helm Furt­wan­gler; 1952); Der Ring des Nibelun­gen (con­duc­tor: George Solti; 1983).
  • PORTER WAGONER AND DOLLY PARTON: The Right Com­bi­na­tion: Burn­ing the Mid­night Oil (1972), “Her and the Car and the Mobile Home.”
  • TOM WAITS: Sword­fishtrom­bones (1983), “16 Shells from a Thir­ty-Ought-Six,” “In the Neigh­bor­hood” Rain Dogs (1985), “Jock­ey Full of Bour­bon,” “Time” Frank’s Wild Years (1987), “Inno­cent When You Dream,” “Hang on St. Christo­pher” Bone Machine (1992), “A Lit­tle Rain,” “I Don’t Wan­na Grow Up” Mule Vari­a­tions (1999), “Take It with Me,” “Geor­gia Rae,” “Fil­ipino Box-Spring Hog.”
  • SCOTT WALKER: Tilt (1995), “Farmer in the City.”
  • DIONNE WARWICK: The Win­dows of the World (1968), “Walk Lit­tle Dol­ly.”
  • MUDDY WATERS: More Real Folk Blues (1967), “Too Young to Know.”
  • DOC WATSON: The Essen­tial Doc Wat­son (1973), “Tom Doo­ley.”
  • ANTON WEBERN: Com­plete Works (con­duc­tor: Pierre Boulez; 2000).
  • KURT WEILL: O Moon of Alaba­ma (1994), Lotte Lenya, “Wie lange noch?”
  • KENNY WHEELER with LEE KONITZ, BILL FRISELL and DAVE HOLLAND: Angel Song (1997).
  • THE WHO: My Gen­er­a­tion (1965), “The Kids Are Alright” Meaty, Beaty, Big and Boun­cy (1971), “Sub­sti­tute.”
  • HANK WILLIAMS: 40 Great­est Hits (1978), “I’m So Lone­some I Could Cry,” “I’ll Nev­er Get out of This World Alive.”
  • LUCINDA WILLIAMS: Car Wheels on a Grav­el Road (1998), “Drunk­en Angel.”
  • SONNY BOY WILLIAMSON: The Best of Son­ny Boy Williamson (1986), “Your Funer­al and My Tri­al,” “Help Me.”
  • JESSE WINCHESTER: Jesse Win­ches­ter (1970), “Qui­et About It,” “Black Dog,” “Pay­day.”
  • WINGS: Band on the Run (1973), “Let Me Roll It.”
  • HUGO WOLF: Lieder (soloist: Diet­rich Fis­ch­er-Dieskau; 2000), “Alles Endet, Was Entste­het.”
  • BOBBY WOMACK: The Best of Bob­by Wom­ack (1992), “Har­ry Hip­pie.”
  • STEVIE WONDER: Talk­ing Book (1972), “I Believe (When I Fall in Love It Will Be For­ev­er)” Innervi­sions (1973), “Liv­ing for the City” Ful­fill­ing­ness’ First Finale (1974), “You Haven’t Done Noth­in’.”
  • BETTY WRIGHT: The Best of Bet­ty Wright (1992), “Clean Up Woman,” “The Baby Sit­ter,” “The Sec­re­tary.”
  • ROBERT WYATT: Mid-Eight­ies (1993), “Te Recuer­do Aman­da.”
  • LESTER YOUNG: Ulti­mate Lester Young (1998), “The Man I Love.”
  • NEIL YOUNG: Every­body Knows This Is Nowhere (1969), “Down by the Riv­er” After the Gol­drush (1970), “Birds” Time Fades Away (1973), “Don’t Be Denied” On the Beach (1974), “Ambu­lance Blues” Free­dom (1989), “The Ways of Love” Ragged Glo­ry (1990), “Fuckin’ Up.”
  • ZAMBALLARANA: Zam­bal­larana (1997), “Ven­tu.”

Zam­bal­larana, for the many who won’t rec­og­nize the name, is a band from the Cor­si­can vil­lage of Pigna whose music, accord­ing to one descrip­tion, com­bines “archa­ic male polypho­ny with ele­ments of jazz, ori­en­tal and latin music as well as the inno­v­a­tive way of play­ing tra­di­tion­al Cor­si­can instru­ments such as the 16-string Cetrea, the drum Colom­bu and the flute Pivana.” That counts as just one of the unex­pect­ed lis­ten­ing expe­ri­ences await­ing those who fire up their favorite music-stream­ing ser­vice and work their way through Costel­lo’s list of 500 essen­tial albums. It may also inspire them to deter­mine their own essen­tial albums, an activ­i­ty Costel­lo endors­es as musi­cal­ly salu­tary: “Mak­ing this list made me lis­ten all over again.”

via Far Out Mag­a­zine

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Hear the 10 Best Albums of the 1960s as Select­ed by Hunter S. Thomp­son

Lou Reed Cre­ates a List of the 10 Best Records of All Time

Tom Waits Makes a List of His Top 20 Favorite Albums of All Time

Elvis Costel­lo Sings “Pen­ny Lane” for Sir Paul McCart­ney

The Stunt That Got Elvis Costel­lo Banned From Sat­ur­day Night Live (1977)

Songs by David Bowie, Elvis Costel­lo, Talk­ing Heads & More Re-Imag­ined as Pulp Fic­tion Book Cov­ers

Based in Seoul, Col­in Mar­shall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, 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, on Face­book, or on Insta­gram.

An Introduction to the Life & Music of Fela Kuti: Radical Nigerian Bandleader, Political Hero, and Creator of Afrobeat

I can­not write about Niger­ian band­leader, sax­o­phon­ist, and founder of the Afrobeat sound, Fela Aniku­lapo Kuti, with any degree of objec­tiv­i­ty, what­ev­er that might mean. Because hear­ing him counts as one of the great­est musi­cal eye-open­ers of my life: a feel­ing of pure ela­tion that still has not gone away. It was not an orig­i­nal dis­cov­ery by any means. Mil­lions of peo­ple could say the same, and far more of those peo­ple are African fans with a much bet­ter sense of Fela’s mis­sion. In the U.S., the play­ful­ly-deliv­ered but fer­vent urgency of his activist lyri­cism requires foot­notes.

Afrobeat fan­dom in many coun­tries does not have to per­son­al­ly reck­on with the his­to­ry from which Fela and his band emerged—a Nige­ria wracked in the 60s by a mil­i­tary coup, civ­il war, and rule by a suc­ces­sion of mil­i­tary jun­tas. Fela (for whom the first name nev­er seems too famil­iar, so envelop­ing was his pres­ence on stage and record) cre­at­ed the con­di­tions for a new style of African music to emerge, an earth-shat­ter­ing fusion of jazz, funk, psych rock, high life from Ghana, sal­sa, and black pow­er, anti-colo­nial, and anti-cor­rup­tion pol­i­tics.

He took up the cause of the com­mon peo­ple by singing in a pan-African Eng­lish that leapt across bor­ders and cul­tur­al divides. In 1967, the year he went to Ghana to craft his new sound and direc­tion, his cousin, Nobel-prize win­ning writer Wole Soyin­ka, was jailed for attempt­ing to avert Nigeria’s col­lapse into civ­il war. Fela returned home swing­ing three year lat­er, a bur­geon­ing super­star with a new name (drop­ping the British “Ran­some” and tak­ing on the Yoru­ba “Aniku­lapo”), a new sound, and a new vision.

Fela built a com­mune called Kalaku­ta Repub­lic, a home for his band, wives, chil­dren and entourage. The com­pound was raid­ed by the mil­i­tary gov­ern­ment, his night­club shut down, he was beat­en and jailed hun­dreds of times. He con­tin­ued to pub­lish columns and speak out in inter­views and per­for­mances against colo­nial hege­mo­ny and post-colo­nial abuse. He cham­pi­oned tra­di­tion­al African reli­gious prac­tices and pan-African social­ism. He harsh­ly cri­tiqued the West’s role in prop­ping up cor­rupt African gov­ern­ments and con­duct­ing what he called “psy­cho­log­i­cal war­fare.”

What would Fela have thought of Fela Kuti: the Father of Afrobeat, the doc­u­men­tary about him here in two parts? I don’t know, though he might have had some­thing to say about its source: CGTN Africa, a net­work fund­ed by the Chi­nese gov­ern­ment and oper­at­ed by Chi­na Cen­tral Tele­vi­sion. Debate amongst your­selves the pos­si­ble pro­pa­gan­da aims for dis­sem­i­nat­ing the film; none of them inter­fere with the vibrant por­trait that emerges of Nigeria’s most charis­mat­ic musi­cal artist, a man beloved by those clos­est to him and those far­thest away.

Find out why he so enthralls, in inter­views with his band and fam­i­ly, flam­boy­ant per­for­mance footage, and pas­sion­ate, filmed inter­views. Part guru and rad­i­cal pop­ulist hero, a band­leader and musi­cian as tire­less­ly per­fec­tion­is­tic as Duke Elling­ton or James Brown—with the crack band to match—Fela was him­self a great pro­pa­gan­dist, in the way of the great­est self-made star per­form­ers and rev­o­lu­tion­ar­ies. With force of will, per­son­al­i­ty, end­less rehearsal, and one of the great­est drum­mers to come out of the 20th cen­tu­ry, Tony Allen, Fela made a nation­al strug­gle uni­ver­sal, draw­ing on sources from around the glob­al south and the U.S. and, since his death in 1997, inspir­ing a Broad­way musi­cal and wave upon wave of revival and redis­cov­ery of his music and the jazz/rock/Latin/traditional African fusions hap­pen­ing all over the con­ti­nent of Africa in the 60s and 70s.

No list of superla­tives can con­vey the feel­ing of lis­ten­ing to Fela’s music, the unre­lent­ing funk­i­ness that puls­es from his band’s com­plex, inter­lock­ing polyrhythms, the ser­pen­tine lines his sax­o­phone traces around right­eous vocal chants and wah gui­tars. Learn the his­to­ry of his strug­gle, by all means, and cast a wary eye at those who may use it for oth­er means. But let no extra-musi­cal con­cerns stop you from jour­ney­ing through Fela’s cat­a­log, whether as a curi­ous tourist or as some­one who under­stands first­hand the musi­cal war he waged on the zom­bie relics of empire and a mil­i­ta­rized anti-demo­c­ra­t­ic gov­ern­ment.

Fela Kuti: the Father of Afrobeat will be added to our col­lec­tion Free Doc­u­men­taries, a sub­set of our col­lec­tion, 4,000+ Free Movies Online: Great Clas­sics, Indies, Noir, West­erns, Doc­u­men­taries & More.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Watch a Young Bob Mar­ley and The Wail­ers Per­form Live in Eng­land (1973): For His 70th Birth­day Today

Every Appear­ance James Brown Ever Made On Soul Train. So Nice, So Nice!

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

Winston Churchill Gets a Doctor’s Note to Drink “Unlimited” Alcohol in Prohibition America (1932)

churchill alcohol letter

In Decem­ber 1931, hav­ing just embarked on a 40-stop lec­ture tour of the Unit­ed States, Win­ston Churchill was run­ning late to dine with financier Bernard Baruch on New York City’s Upper East Side. He hadn’t both­ered to bring Baruch’s address, oper­at­ing under the incor­rect assump­tion that his friend was so dis­tin­guished a per­son­age, any ran­dom cab-dri­ving com­mon­er would auto­mat­i­cal­ly rec­og­nize his build­ing.

Such were the days before cell phones and Google Maps.…

Even­tu­al­ly, Churchill bagged the cab, and shot out across 5th Avenue mid-block, think­ing he would fare bet­ter on foot.

Instead, he was very near­ly “squashed like a goose­ber­ry” when he was struck by a car trav­el­ing about 35 miles an hour.

Churchill, who wast­ed no time ped­dling his mem­o­ries of the acci­dent and sub­se­quent hos­pi­tal­iza­tion to The Dai­ly Mail, explained his mis­cal­cu­la­tion thus­ly:

In Eng­land we fre­quent­ly cross roads along which fast traf­fic is mov­ing in both direc­tions. I did not think the task I set myself now either dif­fi­cult or rash. But at this moment habit played me a dead­ly trick. I no soon­er got out of the cab some­where about the mid­dle of the road and told the dri­ver to wait than I instinc­tive­ly turned my eyes to the left. About 200 yards away were the yel­low head­lights of an approach­ing car. I thought I had just time to cross the road before it arrived; and I start­ed to do so in the prepossession—wholly unwar­rant­ed— that my only dan­gers were from the left.

Yeah, well, that’s why we paint the word “LOOK” in the cross­walk, pal, equip­ping the Os with left-lean­ing pupils for good mea­sure.

Anoth­er cab fer­ried the wound­ed Churchill to Lenox Hill Hos­pi­tal, where he iden­ti­fied him­self as “Win­ston Churchill, a British States­man” and was treat­ed for a deep gash to the head, a frac­tured nose, frac­tured ribs, and severe shock.

“I do not wish to be hurt any more. Give me chlo­ro­form or some­thing,” he direct­ed, while wait­ing for the anes­thetist.

After two weeks in the hos­pi­tal, where he man­aged to devel­op pleurisy in addi­tion to his injuries, Churchill and his fam­i­ly repaired to the Bahamas for some R&R.

It didn’t take long to feel the finan­cial pinch of all those can­celled lec­ture dates, how­ev­er. Six weeks after the acci­dent, he resumed an abbre­vi­at­ed but still gru­el­ing 14-stop ver­sion of the tour, despite his fears that he would prove unfit.

Otto Pick­hardt, Lenox Hill’s admit­ting physi­cian came to the res­cue by issu­ing Churchill the Get Out of Pro­hi­bi­tion Free Pass, above. To wit:

…the post-acci­dent con­va­les­cence of the Hon. Win­ston S. Churchill neces­si­tates the use of alco­holic spir­its espe­cial­ly at meal times. The quan­ti­ty is nat­u­ral­ly indef­i­nite but the min­i­mum require­ments would be 250 cubic cen­time­ters.

Per­haps this is what the emi­nent British States­man meant by chlo­ro­form “or some­thing”? No doubt he was relieved about those indef­i­nite quan­ti­ties. Cheers.

Read Churchill’s “My New York Mis­ad­ven­ture” in its entire­ty here. You can also learn more by perus­ing this sec­tion of Mar­tin Gilbert’s biog­ra­phy, Win­ston Churchill: The Wilder­ness Years.

Note: An ear­li­er ver­sion of this post appeared on our site in May, 2016.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Win­ston Churchill’s List of Tips for Sur­viv­ing a Ger­man Inva­sion: See the Nev­er-Dis­trib­uted Doc­u­ment (1940)

Win­ston Churchill’s Paint­ings: Great States­man, Sur­pris­ing­ly Good Artist

Col­or Footage of Win­ston Churchill’s Funer­al in 1965

Oh My God! Win­ston Churchill Received the First Ever Let­ter Con­tain­ing “O.M.G.” (1917)

Ani­mat­ed: Win­ston Churchill’s Top 10 Say­ings About Fail­ure, Courage, Set­backs, Haters & Suc­cess

Ayun Hal­l­i­day is an author, illus­tra­tor, and Chief Pri­ma­tol­o­gist of the East Vil­lage Inky zine. She lives in New York City, some 30 blocks to the north of the scene of Churchill’s acci­dent. Fol­low her @AyunHalliday

Pink Floyd Drummer Nick Mason Presents the History of Music & Technology in a Nine-Part BBC Podcast

Image by Phil Guest, via Wiki­me­dia Com­mons

If you’ve seen Pink Floyd in the news late­ly, it’s maybe because gui­tarist David Gilmour recent­ly put up his col­lec­tion of over 120 gui­tars for a char­i­ty auc­tion, fetch­ing “cer­ti­fi­ably insane” prices like a whop­ping $3.975 mil­lion for the famous black Strat played on Dark Side of the Moon. (The gui­tar now “wears the crown as the world’s most expen­sive six string,” notes Enmore Audio.)

But there’s more going on with ex-Pink Floyd mem­bers than Gilmour’s gui­tars or Roger Waters’ polit­i­cal activism. Drum­mer Nick Mason, long renowned post-Floyd for his huge­ly expen­sive car col­lec­tion, has tak­en on anoth­er role this month: as a pod­cast host and music his­to­ri­an in a nine-part series for the Open University/BBC pro­duc­tion, The Doc­u­men­tary Pod­cast.

Titled A His­to­ry of Music in Tech­nol­o­gy, Mason’s series cov­ers an awful lot of ground, “chart­ing the his­to­ry of music and tech­nol­o­gy and explor­ing the world of leg­endary artists, pro­duc­ers and inven­tors. The series shines a light on game-chang­ing inno­va­tions includ­ing the syn­the­siz­er, elec­tric gui­tar, sam­plers, drum machines and the record­ing stu­dio itself.”

A His­to­ry of Music in Tech­nol­o­gy fin­ish­es its run tomor­row. Cur­rent­ly, you can stream all but the final install­ment at BBC News, Apple pod­casts, and Stitch­er. The first episode— “Sound Recording”—which you can hear above, begins in pre­his­to­ry. Long before the tech­nol­o­gy for repro­duc­ing sound could be imag­ined, ear­ly humans showed keen inter­est in the acoustic prop­er­ties of caves, as Uni­ver­si­ty of North Car­oli­na pro­fes­sor Mark Katz explains.

“I think peo­ple have always had an infat­u­a­tion with try­ing to hold on to [sound], to mod­i­fy it, to cap­ture it,” says Katz—whether that meant seek­ing out the best set­tings for pre­his­toric drum cir­cles or build­ing struc­tures like cathe­drals with spe­cial­ly-designed son­ic prop­er­ties. But for thou­sands of years, the only way to pre­serve music was to write it down in nota­tion.

It took until “the back half of the 19th cen­tu­ry,” says Mason, “before cred­i­ble attempts were made to bot­tle sound for the first time.” (Those very first attempts could record sound but could not play it back.) From the ear­ly tech­no­log­i­cal achieve­ments, it’s a long series of leaps, bounds, zig zags, stum­bles, and cir­cling back around to find ways not only to record sound but also to ampli­fy and mod­i­fy it and cre­ate it whole­sale from elec­tri­cal sig­nals.

Above and below, you can hear Mason’s hour-long his­to­ry of the elec­tric gui­tar (Episode 3), the syn­the­siz­er (Episode 5), and sam­plers and drum machines (Episode 6). Mason ded­i­cates two episodes, 7 and 8, to the devel­op­ment of the record­ing stu­dio itself—unsurprising for a mem­ber of Pink Floyd, a band who, like Hen­drix, the Beach Boys, and the Bea­t­les, craft­ed the essence of their psy­che­del­ic sound from stu­dio exper­i­ments.

“When sound record­ing first emerged,” says Mason in “The Stu­dio Part 1” intro, “crit­ics claimed it could be the end of music.” For the dozens of new gen­res record­ing and pro­duc­tion tech­nol­o­gy has enabled, it was only the very begin­ning. Those of us who see com­put­ers killing the spon­tane­ity of rock and roll, for exam­ple, or the very human­i­ty of music itself, might reflect on how our reac­tions mir­ror those of some myopic ear­ly crit­ics.

Amer­i­can com­pos­er John Philip Sousa, for exam­ple, saw record­ing as “reduc­ing the expres­sion of music to a math­e­mat­i­cal sys­tem of wheels, cogs, discs, and cylin­ders,” lan­guage that sounds very like the com­plaints of cur­rent-day purists. Maybe arti­fi­cial intel­li­gence will nev­er write a great love song, but it will most cer­tain­ly help humans cre­ate music as unimag­in­able to us today as the syn­co­pat­ed thump of elec­tron­ic music would have been unimag­in­able to Sousa, king of syn­co­pat­ed brass band march­es.

Lud­dites and technophiles and every­one in-between will learn much from Mason’s series, and the kind of musi­cal edu­ca­tion he’s offering—replete with expert informed opin­ion from schol­ars and musi­cians like himself—will go a long way to prepar­ing us for a musi­cal future we might only dim­ly glimpse now in the most inno­v­a­tive tech­nolo­gies Mason is sure to cov­er in his final episode

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Bri­an Eno Presents a Crash Course on How the Record­ing Stu­dio Rad­i­cal­ly Changed Music: Hear His Influ­en­tial Lec­ture “The Record­ing Stu­dio as a Com­po­si­tion­al Tool” (1979)

Nick Cave Answers the Hot­ly Debat­ed Ques­tion: Will Arti­fi­cial Intel­li­gence Ever Be Able to Write a Great Song?

How Com­put­ers Ruined Rock Music

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

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