Where Did Human Beings Come From? 7 Million Years of Human Evolution Visualized in Six Minutes

One vul­gar con­cep­tion of human evo­lu­tion holds that we “come from mon­keys.” You don’t have to be a bona fide evo­lu­tion­ary biol­o­gist to know that’s not quite how we cur­rent­ly under­stand it to have hap­pened, but how clear­ly do you grasp the real sto­ry? The ani­ma­tion from the Amer­i­can Muse­um of Nat­ur­al His­to­ry above goes over sev­en mil­lion years of evo­lu­tion in a mere six min­utes, and it’s cer­tain­ly not a straight line down from “mon­keys” to us. The video does, how­ev­er, start its sto­ry with apes, and specif­i­cal­ly chim­panzees, “our clos­est liv­ing rel­a­tives” with whom “we share a com­mon ances­tor that lived sev­en mil­lion years ago.”

But we once had “much clos­er rel­a­tives, hominins, who are no longer liv­ing.” These we know about through the fos­sils they left behind in Africa, from which the first known hominin emerged those sev­en mil­lion years ago. Dif­fer­ent bones from dif­fer­ent species of hominins found else­where on the con­ti­nent sug­gest small teeth, upright walk­ing, and bipedal­ism, some of the qual­i­ties that dis­tin­guish humans from apes.

And though hominins may have walked upright, they also climbed trees, but even­tu­al­ly lost the grasp­ing feet need­ed to do so. Lat­er they com­pen­sat­ed with the very human-like devel­op­ment of mak­ing and using stone tools. Two mil­lion years ago, the well-known Homo erec­tus, with their large brains, long legs, and dex­trous hands, made the famous migra­tion out of Africa.

We know that by 1.2 mil­lion years there­after Homo erec­tus’ brains had grown larg­er still, fueled by new cook­ing tech­niques. Only about 200,000 years ago do we, Homo sapi­ens, enter the pic­ture, but not long after, we inter­breed with the var­i­ous hominin species already in exis­tence as we spread out­ward to fill “every geo­graph­ic niche” of the Earth. Ulti­mate­ly, hominins could­n’t keep up: “Cli­mate pres­sures and com­pe­ti­tion with Homo sapi­ens may have wiped them out.” Now that we’ve seen their sto­ry and ours reca­pit­u­lat­ed, let’s pour one out for the once-mighty hominin who pre­ced­ed us, lived along­side us, and influ­enced us in ways genet­ic and oth­er­wise — at least if it has­n’t giv­en us too much pause won­der­ing when the evo­lu­tion­ar­i­ly inevitable suc­ces­sor to Homo sapi­ens will appear in our midst.

via Laugh­ing Squid

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Watch 570 Mil­lion Years of Evo­lu­tion on Earth in 60 Sec­onds

550 Mil­lion Years of Human Evo­lu­tion in an Illus­trat­ed Flip­book

Carl Sagan Explains Evo­lu­tion in an Eight-Minute Ani­ma­tion

New Ani­mat­ed Web Series Makes the The­o­ry of Evo­lu­tion Easy to Under­stand

Richard Dawkins Explains Why There Was Nev­er a First Human Being

10 Mil­lion Years of Evo­lu­tion Visu­al­ized in an Ele­gant, 5‑Foot Long Info­graph­ic from 1931

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 or on Face­book.

The Simulation Theory Explained In Three Animated Videos

The idea that we are soft­ware ema­na­tions in a vast, unimag­in­ably com­plex com­put­er sim­u­la­tion may car­ry more dizzy­ing philo­soph­i­cal, eth­i­cal, and psy­cho­log­i­cal impli­ca­tions than any oth­er meta­phys­i­cal assump­tion. It is not, how­ev­er, quite a new idea, even if machines sophis­ti­cat­ed enough to make worlds are only now con­ceiv­able. We see ancient sages spec­u­late that sol­id mat­ter is no more than some sort of graph­i­cal (tac­tile, etc.) user inter­face orig­i­nat­ing from the mind of a mas­ter coder.

We see a sim­i­lar idea in the imma­te­ri­al­ism of 18th cen­tu­ry British empiri­cist George Berke­ley. And where would sci­ence fic­tion be—especially the hal­lu­ci­na­to­ry sci-fi of Philip K. Dick—with­out vari­eties of the sim­u­la­tion the­o­ry? The TED-Ed les­son on sim­u­la­tion the­o­ry, above, by Uni­ver­si­ty of Mary­land physi­cist Zohreh Davou­di (ani­mat­ed by Eoin Duffy) opens with a quote from Dick: “This is a card­board uni­verse, and if you lean too long or too heav­i­ly against it, you fall through.”

In Dick’s world, this hap­pens fre­quent­ly. But if our real­i­ty were a sim­u­la­tion, how could we pos­si­bly step out­side it to con­firm? Prov­able or not, the the­o­ry is end­less­ly com­pelling. Davou­di walks us through a cou­ple of fas­ci­nat­ing sci­en­tif­ic attempts to “fall through” by the­o­riz­ing the evi­dence we might expect to find if the uni­verse is made of code.

For one thing, there would prob­a­bly be glitch­es. To cor­rect for errors, “the sim­u­la­tors could adjust the con­stants in the laws of nature.” Tiny shifts, per­haps unde­tectable with cur­rent instru­ments, could sig­nal heuris­tic revi­sions. Oth­er the­o­ret­i­cal approach­es involve using sub­atom­ic par­ti­cles to detect the finite lim­its of the god­like computer’s pow­er.

Would find­ing shifts in phys­i­cal laws prove a sim­u­la­tion. No. And in any case, our entire species could have come and gone before any such shifts have tak­en place. We can­not pre­sume that humans are the cho­sen ben­e­fi­cia­ries of the sim­u­lat­ed uni­verse. Maybe we’re pro­to­types. Maybe our solar sys­tem is someone’s side project. Wouldn’t the sim­u­la­tors notice us fig­ur­ing it out and pre­vent us from doing so? (They would, pre­sum­ably, be watch­ing.)

And why should the great com­put­er have any­thing resem­bling the com­pu­ta­tion­al lim­i­ta­tions of our own machines, Davou­di asks. After all, if it exists out­side the uni­verse as we know it and cre­at­ed its phys­i­cal laws, it’s safe to assume that it exists in a dif­fer­ent uni­verse with entire­ly dif­fer­ent laws, which we might nev­er begin to under­stand. If your mind falls into pools of infi­nite regress when con­tem­plat­ing the idea—aided by con­scious­ness-rais­ing sub­stances or otherwise—you won’t find any­where safe to land in the oth­er sim­u­la­tion videos here, from Vox and phi­los­o­phy YouTube chan­nel Kurzge­sagt. But you might begin to see the con­cept as a lit­tle more plau­si­ble, and maybe more unset­tling, than before.

Elon Musk, for exam­ple, draw­ing on the work of Oxford philoso­pher Nick Bostrom, sug­gests that the sim­u­la­tors are not extra-dimen­sion­al beings (or what­ev­er), but hyper-sophis­ti­cat­ed future humans run­ning Sim ver­sions of their past. This ver­sion also becomes the philo­soph­i­cal equiv­a­lent of mise en abyme as ances­tor sim­u­la­tions, run on oth­er plan­ets, cre­ate their own sim­u­la­tions, ship them off­world, and so forth.…

You can go as far down this rab­bit hole as you like. Or, you can do as Samuel John­son sup­pos­ed­ly did when he heard Bish­op Berke­ley claim that mat­ter didn’t exist. Kick the near­est heavy object and shout, “I refute it thus!”

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Are We Liv­ing Inside a Com­put­er Sim­u­la­tion?: An Intro­duc­tion to the Mind-Bog­gling “Sim­u­la­tion Argu­ment”

Are We Liv­ing in a Com­put­er Sim­u­la­tion?: A 2‑Hour Debate with Neil Degrasse Tyson, David Chalmers, Lisa Ran­dall, Max Tegmark & More

Stephen Fry Voic­es a New Dystopi­an Short Film About Arti­fi­cial Intel­li­gence & Sim­u­la­tion The­o­ry: Watch Escape

Philip K. Dick The­o­rizes The Matrix in 1977, Declares That We Live in “A Com­put­er-Pro­grammed Real­i­ty”

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

Watch 10 Years with Hayao Miyazaki Free Online: A Four Part-Part Documentary on the Unstoppable Japanese Animator

When Conan O’Brien found him­self tem­porar­i­ly out of a late-night tele­vi­sion host­ing job a few years ago, he went on tour with a stage show instead. If the doc­u­men­tary chron­i­cling that peri­od of his career was­n’t called Conan O’Brien Can’t Stop, a sim­i­lar title could equal­ly fit the recent films that have cap­tured Hayao Miyaza­k­i’s oscil­la­tion between work and “retire­ment.” In 2013’s King­dom of Dreams and Mad­ness, pre­vi­ous­ly fea­tured here on Open Cul­ture, we thought we wit­nessed Miyaza­ki ani­mat­ing the final frame of his final fea­ture. But his sub­se­quent with­draw­al from film­mak­ing proved short-lived, and his prepa­ra­tion for re-emer­gence (includ­ing his gone-viral cri­tique of exper­i­men­tal com­put­er ani­ma­tion) pro­vides the sub­ject for 2016’s Nev­er-End­ing Man.

This year, Nev­er-End­ing Man direc­tor Kaku Arakawa returns with 10 Years With Hayao Miyaza­ki, a four-part doc­u­men­tary avail­able to watch free at NHK’s web site, and whose trail­er appears at the top of the post. “Where­as Nev­er-End­ing Man tracked the director’s career from his short-lived retire­ment in 2013 to the ger­mi­na­tion of his forth­com­ing fea­ture How Do You Live?, this series cov­ers the decade run­ning up to 2013,” writes Car­toon Brew’s Alex Dudok de Wit. Those were busy years for Miyaza­k­i’s Stu­dio Ghi­b­li, involv­ing as they did the pro­duc­tion of Ponyo and The Wind Ris­es, as well as two films direct­ed by Miyaza­k­i’s son Goro: the Ursu­la K. LeGuin adap­ta­tion Tales from Earth­sea and the 1960s board­ing school-set From Up on Pop­py Hill.

Tales from Earth­sea came out in 2006, and at the time Miyaza­ki felt that Goro was unready to make his debut. As awk­ward as the peri­od of estrange­ment between Miyaza­ki père et fils dur­ing that movie’s pro­duc­tion may feel — espe­cial­ly giv­en how often they’re in the same office — it reflects the near-impos­si­bly high stan­dard to which the man who direct­ed My Neigh­bor TotoroPrincess Mononoke, and Spir­it­ed Away holds not just his suc­ces­sor and his col­lab­o­ra­tors, but him­self. Above all him­self, as revealed by the can­did footage Arakawa’s decade of access to Miyaza­k­i’s life allowed him to gath­er.

“We see him at work in his pri­vate stu­dio and at Stu­dio Ghi­b­li, and relax­ing at home,” writes Dudok de Wit, “inso­far as he’s capa­ble of relax­ation.” What Miyaza­ki says to Arakawa about his craft, his world­view, and his life sug­gests a mind per­pet­u­al­ly at work, even dur­ing the rare times his hands aren’t. 10 Years With Hayao Miyaza­ki ends with the mak­ing of The Wind Ris­es, but Arakawa must sure­ly have known not to take the ani­ma­tor’s pro­nounce­ments of it being his final fea­ture seri­ous­ly: Hayao Miyaza­ki can’t stop, nor do we want him to.

Watch 10 Years With Hayao Miyaza­ki online here, and find it list­ed in our col­lec­tion of Free Doc­u­men­taries, a sub­set of our col­lec­tion, 4,000+ Free Movies Online: Great Clas­sics, Indies, Noir, West­erns, Doc­u­men­taries & More.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

The Phi­los­o­phy of Hayao Miyaza­ki: A Video Essay on How the Tra­di­tion­al Japan­ese Reli­gion Shin­to Suf­fus­es Miyazaki’s Films

The Essence of Hayao Miyaza­ki Films: A Short Doc­u­men­tary About the Human­i­ty at the Heart of His Ani­ma­tion

Watch Hayao Miyaza­ki Ani­mate the Final Shot of His Final Fea­ture Film, The Wind Ris­es

Watch Moe­bius and Miyaza­ki, Two of the Most Imag­i­na­tive Artists, in Con­ver­sa­tion (2004)

Hayao Miyaza­ki Meets Aki­ra Kuro­sawa: Watch the Titans of Japan­ese Film in Con­ver­sa­tion (1993)

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 or on Face­book.

Download Full Issues of MAVO, the Japanese Avant-Garde Magazine That Announced a New Modernist Movement (1923–1925)

The ear­ly 20th cen­tu­ry artis­tic and lit­er­ary rev­o­lu­tion called Mod­ernism appears in his­to­ry as an almost entire­ly Euro­pean-Amer­i­can phe­nom­e­non. Text­books and syl­labi tend to leave out impor­tant mod­ernist move­ments on oth­er con­ti­nents, which means we miss out on impor­tant cross-con­ti­nen­tal con­ver­sa­tions. Though, to be fair, very few Eng­lish-speak­ing text­book writ­ers and teach­ers have known much about the work of, Mavo, an avant-garde group of Japan­ese artists from the 1920s.

Scant lit­er­a­ture has been avail­able in trans­la­tion. Crit­ics “were often dis­mis­sive of the group,” notes Mar­garet Car­ri­g­an at Hyper­al­ler­gic, “and art his­to­ri­ans have all but ignored them in favor of larg­er con­tem­po­ra­ne­ous move­ments, like Ger­man Expres­sion­ism.” What­ev­er the rea­sons for the slight­ing of ear­ly Japan­ese mod­ernism, we can now try to rec­ti­fy the imbal­ance thanks to online sources cov­er­ing the fas­ci­nat­ing his­to­ry of Mavo—both its inter­est­ing par­al­lels with Euro­pean Mod­ernism and its impor­tant dif­fer­ences.

Or we can begin to get an intrigu­ing sense of these things, more or less, depend­ing on our lev­el of famil­iar­i­ty with Japan­ese lan­guage and cul­ture. MAVO mag­a­zine, edit­ed by Tat­suo Oka­da and Tomoyoshi Muraya­ma, “appeared in 7 issues between July 1924 and August 1925,” writes Mono­skop, who host six of those issues in high res­o­lu­tion scans. (Click on the PDF link under the image of each cov­er.) “By the third issue, the mag­a­zine was thick with adver­tise­ments and the usage of actu­al news­pa­per as its pages.” The orig­i­nal linocuts and “pho­to­graph­ic repro­duc­tions of assem­blage, paint­ing, and graph­ic works” are small and some­times inscrutable in grayscale.

There are many affini­ties with Euro­pean modernisms—dichotomies of play­ful­ness and pre­ci­sion, the love of col­lage and indus­tri­al machin­ery. The his­to­ry of Mavo, like that of mod­ernists world­wide, is a his­to­ry of anar­chic, con­fronta­tion­al art, charged with con­tempt for tra­di­tion. In 1923, the Shin-aichi news­pa­per, notes The Japan Times, cov­ered the sto­ry of a Mavo exhib­it in which artist Takamiza­wa Michi­nao tossed rocks through the win­dows of a state-spon­sored, tra­di­tion­al art exhib­it while Mavo artists dis­played their own abstract can­vas­es out­side the gallery.

Mavo came about as the rebrand­ing of an ear­li­er group, “Japan’s Asso­ci­a­tion of Futur­ist Artists, which became the local off­shoot of the Euro­pean Futur­ist phe­nom­e­non that began in Italy in 1909.” They were eclec­tic, pub­lish­ing crit­i­cism, design­ing posters, build­ings, and dance and the­ater pieces, incor­po­rat­ing Cubism and Dadaist ten­den­cies. Unlike the Ital­ian Futur­ists, who became increas­ing­ly fas­cist in their ori­en­ta­tion, Mavo opposed the con­ser­v­a­tive state. “The Great Kan­to Earth­quake of 1924 brought about a pro­le­tar­i­an and social­ist bent to Mavo activ­i­ties.”

See more of MAVO mag­a­zine at Mono­skop, and learn more about the move­ment at The Japan Times, Hyper­al­ler­gic, and Monoskop’s bib­li­og­ra­phy of a few schol­ar­ly sources in Eng­lish (and Japan­ese, if you read the lan­guage). Also see Gen­nifer Weisen­feld’s book, MAVO: Japan­ese Artists and the Avant-Garde, 1905–1931. If the phrase Japan­ese avant-garde calls up names like Yoko Ono and Yay­oi Kusama, now it may also bring to mind the ear­li­er Mavo and the many artists under its umbrel­la who adapt­ed Euro­pean influ­ences for Japan­ese modes of artis­tic rev­o­lu­tion.

Relat­ed Con­tent:  

A Dig­i­tal Archive of Mod­ernist Mag­a­zines (1890 to 1922): Browse the Lit­er­ary Mag­a­zines Where Mod­ernism Began

Exten­sive Archive of Avant-Garde & Mod­ernist Mag­a­zines (1890–1939) Now Avail­able Online

Down­load Influ­en­tial Avant-Garde Mag­a­zines from the Ear­ly 20th Cen­tu­ry: Dadaism, Sur­re­al­ism, Futur­ism & More

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

The Appeal of UFO Narratives: Investigative Journalist Paul Beban Visits Pretty Much Pop #14

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TV news reporter Paul Beban (ABC, Al Jazeera, Yahoo, and now fea­tured on the Dis­cov­ery Net­work’s Con­tact) joins your hosts Mark Lin­sen­may­er, Eri­ca Spyres, and Bri­an Hirt to dis­cuss the pub­lic fas­ci­na­tion with UFOs, both at the peak of their pop­u­lar­i­ty in the 50s and in the cur­rent resur­gence. Do accounts of sight­ings nec­es­sar­i­ly make for good TV? Do you have to believe to be enter­tained? Is belief in UFOs relat­ed to reli­gious belief? To beliefs in con­spir­a­cy the­o­ries and anti-gov­ern­ment ven­om? To humor?

We get into the mechan­ics of Con­tact, the Area 51 hubbub,and also touch on the show Project Blue Book, films like Arrival (2016) and UFO (2018), the doc­u­men­tary Unac­knowl­edged (2017), the short sto­ry “Road­side Pic­nic,” and more. To learn more about UFO lore in Amer­i­ca, check out some of these pod­casts.

Some of the resources we used for this episode includ­ed:

Plus, here are some stats from Gallup about UFO sight­ings and belief, you might want to pick up the book Nos­tal­gia for the Absolute that Paul refers to, and here’s the 2014 talk by Rob­bie Gra­ham that Bri­an referred to describ­ing “hyper-real­i­ty” and the Hol­ly­wood UFO con­spir­a­cy. Here’s a list of UFO doc­u­men­tary series.

This episode includes bonus dis­cus­sion that you can only hear by sup­port­ing the pod­cast at patreon.com/prettymuchpop. This pod­cast is part of the Par­tial­ly Exam­ined Life pod­cast net­work.

Pret­ty Much Pop is the first pod­cast curat­ed by Open Cul­ture. Browse all Pret­ty Much Pop posts or start with the first episode.

Hear a Radio Opera Narrated by Kurt Vonnegut, Based on His Adaptation of Igor Stravinsky’s 1918 L’Histoire du Soldat

In the leg­end of Robert John­son, Amer­i­can blues­man, a deal with the dev­il brings instant musi­cal genius, and a brief and trou­bled life in near obscu­ri­ty. A two-hun­dred-year-old Russ­ian folk­tale has sim­i­lar events in the oppo­site order: a sol­dier hands over his vio­lin, and his musi­cal tal­ent, to the dev­il in exchange for wealth, and sev­er­al more adven­tures and rever­sals before the final, inevitable path to perdi­tion.

This sto­ry struck a chord with Igor Stravin­sky, who was maybe ahead of his time in see­ing a musi­cal deal with the dev­il as an arche­typ­al sub­ject for pop­u­lar song. In the first act of his the­ater piece, “The Soldier’s Sto­ry” (L’Histoire du Sol­dat)—whose libret­to by Charles Fer­di­nand Ramuz adapts the Russ­ian folktale—the sol­dier trag­i­cal­ly relin­quish­es his abil­i­ty to turn sor­row into beau­ty in the first act, per­haps a poignant state­ment in 1918, when, as Kurt Von­negut says, “to be a sol­dier was real­ly some­thing.”

To have served in a war “in which 65 mil­lion per­sons had been mobi­lized and 35 mil­lion were becom­ing casu­al­ties,” to have wit­nessed the scar­i­fy­ing begin­ning of mod­ern war­fare, meant bear­ing the stamp of too much real­i­ty. In the folk­tales, we may see the dev­il as hard­ship, loss, or greed per­son­i­fied. These are meta­phys­i­cal moral­i­ty plays, far removed from cur­rent events. But war was poten­tial­ly upon us all by 1918, Von­negut sug­gests, in a ter­ri­fy­ing force that dev­as­tat­ed sol­diers, mowed down civil­ians by the thou­sands, and lev­eled whole cities.

Asked to nar­rate the Stravin­sky piece, Von­negut declined. He found Ramuz’s treat­ment of a soldier’s life “pre­pos­ter­ous” and unac­cept­able. So, George Plimp­ton chal­lenged him to write his own ver­sion. He did, in 1993, but rather than make his sol­dier a musi­cian (“you know, sol­diers get rained on, and a vio­lin wouldn’t have a chance”) or a name­less stock char­ac­ter, he plucked a fig­ure out of history—and out of his own non­fic­tion book The Exe­cu­tion of Pri­vate Slovik, pub­lished in 1954.

Eddie Slovik was one of at least 30,000 desert­ers at the Bat­tle of the Bulge. 49 were tried, and only Slovik was exe­cut­ed, at the express order of Gen­er­al Eisen­how­er. “He was the only per­son to be exe­cut­ed for cow­ardice in the face of the ene­my since the Civ­il War,” Von­negut told New York mag­a­zine. “Ike signed his death cer­tifi­cate. They stood him up in front of his com­rades, and they shot him.” Von­negut saw par­tic­u­lar mal­ice in the act. “Slovik deserves to be kept alive. If his name had been McCoy or John­son, I don’t think he would have been shot.”

Instead of The Dev­il, in Vonnegut’s A Soldier’s Sto­ry, we have the char­ac­ter of The Gen­er­al. The nov­el­ist’s replace­ment of the orig­i­nal text both­ered some when his libret­to pre­miered, with Stravinsky’s music, at Lin­coln Center’s Alice Tul­ly Hall in 1993. Respond­ing to the New York Times’ crit­ic, Von­negut said, “Well, it was a des­e­cra­tion. It was a sacred text, and I dared to fool with it. And some peo­ple just find that unbear­able. That critic—I spoiled his evening.” In oth­er words, he couldn’t have cared less.

Vonnegut’s libret­to with Stravinsky’s music was not record­ed for inter­na­tion­al copy­right rea­sons until 2009, but he did record a version—playing The Gen­er­al himself—with music by Dave Sol­dier (hear it at the top). This record­ing of “A Soldier’s Sto­ry” appeared on the album Ice‑9 Bal­lads, a com­pi­la­tion of lyrics adapt­ed, and nar­rat­ed, by Von­negut from his nov­el Cat’s Cra­dle, with music by Sol­dier. Hear that full album here. And pur­chase a copy An Amer­i­can Soldier’s Tale: His­toire Du Sol­dat, with text by Kurt Von­negut, with music by Igor Stravin­sky, per­formed by the Amer­i­can Cham­ber Winds, and con­duct­ed by David A. Way­bright. You can hear sam­ples in this playlist.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Roger Waters Adapts and Nar­rates Igor Stravinsky’s The­atri­cal Piece, The Soldier’s Sto­ry

A New Kurt Von­negut Muse­um Opens in Indi­anapo­lis … Right in Time for Banned Books Week

The Night When Char­lie Park­er Played for Igor Stravin­sky (1951)

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

Talking Heads Songs Become Midcentury Pulp Novels, Magazines & Advertisements: “Burning Down the House,” “Once in a Lifetime,” and More

Do you like Talk­ing Heads? Writer and visu­al artist Dou­glas Cou­p­land once pro­posed that ques­tion as the truest test of whether you belong to the cohort named by his nov­el Gen­er­a­tion X. Cou­p­land’s con­tem­po­rary col­league in let­ters Jonathan Lethem summed up his own ear­ly Talk­ing Heads mania thus: “At the peak, in 1980 or 1981, my iden­ti­fi­ca­tion was so com­plete that I might have wished to wear the album Fear of Music in place of my head so as to be more clear­ly seen by those around me.” What makes the band that record­ed “Psy­cho Killer,” “This Must Be the Place,” “Once In a Life­time,” and “Burn­ing Down the House” so appeal­ing to the book­ish, and espe­cial­ly the both book­ish and visu­al, born after the Baby Boom or oth­er­wise?

What­ev­er the essence at work, screen­writer and “graph­ic-arts prankster” Todd Alcott taps into it with his lat­est round of pop­u­lar songs-turned-mid­cen­tu­ry book cov­ers, posters, mag­a­zine cov­ers, and oth­er pieces of non-musi­cal graph­ic design. You may remem­ber Alcot­t’s pre­vi­ous adap­ta­tions of the Bea­t­les, Bob Dylan, Joni Mitchell, David Bowie, and Radio­head appear­ing here on Open Cul­ture.

The cul­tur­al­ly lit­er­ate and oblique­ly ref­er­en­tial cat­a­logue of Talk­ing Heads, how­ev­er, may have pro­vid­ed his most suit­able mate­r­i­al yet: “Burn­ing Down the House” becomes a “a 1950s pulp nov­el,” “Life Dur­ing Wartime” a “1950s men’s adven­ture mag­a­zine,” “This Must Be the Place” an “adver­tise­ment for a 1950s sub­ur­ban hous­ing devel­op­ment,” and “Take Me to the Riv­er” the “cov­er of a 1950s-era issue of Field & Stream, with the four mem­bers of the band enjoy­ing a day on the lake.”

Amus­ing even at first glance, these cul­tur­al mash-ups also repay knowl­edge of the band’s work and his­to­ry. “Psy­cho Killer,” with its French lyrics, becomes an issue of Cahiers du Ciné­ma fea­tur­ing David Byrne on a cov­er dat­ed March 1974, “the ear­li­est date the song ‘Psy­cho Killer’ is known to have been per­formed by David Byrne’s band The Artis­tics.” “Once in a Life­time,” quite pos­si­bly the band’s most impres­sive piece of songcraft, becomes an equal­ly lay­ered Alcott image: a “a mag­a­zine adver­tise­ment for the 1962 clas­sic The Man in the Gray Flan­nel Suit, based on the best-sell­er by Sloan Wil­son” — in oth­er words, an ad designed for a mag­a­zine meant to sell a movie based on a book, and a book as tied up with the themes of alien­ation in post­war Amer­i­ca as “Once in a Life­time” itself.

Talk­ing Heads fans will rec­og­nize in Alcot­t’s graph­ics the very same kind of genius for resound­ing lit­er­al-mind­ed­ness cou­pled with sub­tle, some­times obscure wit that char­ac­ter­izes the work of Byrne and his col­lab­o­ra­tors. You can buy prints of these images at his Etsy shop, which also offers many oth­er works of inter­est to those for whom music, books, mag­a­zines, media, and his­to­ry con­sti­tute not sep­a­rate sub­jects but one vast, dense­ly inter­con­nect­ed cul­tur­al field. To those who see the world that way, Alcot­t’s design­ing the cov­er for an album by Byrne or anoth­er of the ex-Heads — or indeed a Jonathan Lethem nov­el — is only a mat­ter of time. Enter Todd Alcot­t’s store here.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Bea­t­les Songs Re-Imag­ined as Vin­tage Book Cov­ers and Mag­a­zine Pages: “Dri­ve My Car,” “Lucy in the Sky with Dia­monds” & More

David Bowie Songs Reimag­ined as Pulp Fic­tion Book Cov­ers: Space Odd­i­ty, Heroes, Life on Mars & More

Clas­sic Radio­head Songs Re-Imag­ined as a Sci-Fi Book, Pulp Fic­tion Mag­a­zine & Oth­er Nos­tal­gic Arti­facts

Clas­sic Songs by Bob Dylan Re-Imag­ined as Pulp Fic­tion Book Cov­ers: “Like a Rolling Stone,” “A Hard Rain’s A‑Gonna Fall” & More

Songs by Joni Mitchell Re-Imag­ined as Pulp Fic­tion Book Cov­ers & Vin­tage Movie Posters

How Talk­ing Heads and Bri­an Eno Wrote “Once in a Life­time”: Cut­ting Edge, Strange & Utter­ly Bril­liant

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 or on Face­book.

26-Year-Old Steve Jobs Debates the Utopian & Dystopian Promise of the Computer (1981)

The deep­er we get into the 21st cen­tu­ry, the few­er aspects of our lives remain dis­con­nect­ed from the dig­i­tal realm. The con­ve­nience of this arrange­ment is unde­ni­able, but the increas­ing dif­fi­cul­ty of get­ting through a day with­out hear­ing the lat­est ver­sion of the pub­lic argu­ment about pri­va­cy and data secu­ri­ty sug­gests an accom­pa­ny­ing dis­com­fort as well. Have our online lives stolen our pri­va­cy — or have we per­haps freely giv­en it away? Some us now even look long­ing­ly back­ward to a time before not just social media but the inter­net as we know it, a time in which, we imag­ine, nobody had to wor­ry about the large-scale har­vest­ing and sale of per­son­al infor­ma­tion.

As the 1981 Night­line clip above reveals, these con­cerns went main­stream well before most Amer­i­cans owned com­put­ers, much less went online with them. Even so, Ted Kop­pel could open the seg­ment claim­ing that “as a soci­ety, we’ve become used to com­put­er prob­lems of one kind or anoth­er, just as we’ve become used to com­put­ers. We’re so used to them, in fact, that few of us stop to think of the extent to which they now play a role in our every­day lives, a role that shows every sign of grow­ing even big­ger.”

There fol­lows footage of the con­texts in which com­put­ers involved them­selves in the lives of the aver­age per­son in the ear­ly 80s: mak­ing a phone call, get­ting mon­ey from the ATM, buy­ing gro­ceries at the super­mar­ket, book­ing an air­line tick­et. Nev­er­the­less, actu­al­ly own­ing a com­put­er your­self could still get you inter­viewed on the news with the chy­ron “Home-Com­put­er Own­er” beneath your name. After we hear from one such enthu­si­ast, the scene switch­es to the head­quar­ters of the five-year-old Apple Com­put­er, “the Big Apple in this land of high tech­nol­o­gy.”

A 26-year-old Steve Jobs appears to describe his com­pa­ny’s cre­ation as “a 21st-cen­tu­ry bicy­cle that ampli­fies a cer­tain intel­lec­tu­al abil­i­ty that man has,” one whose effects on soci­ety will “far out­strip even those that the petro­chem­i­cal rev­o­lu­tion has had.” But then comes the anti-com­put­er coun­ter­point: “Some peo­ple feel threat­ened by them,” says reporter Ken Kashi­wa­hara. “Some think they tend to dehu­man­ize, and oth­ers fear they may even­tu­al­ly take over their jobs.” Over satel­lite links, Kop­pel then brings on Jobs and inves­tiga­tive jour­nal­ist Daniel Burn­ham for a debate about the promise and per­il of the com­put­er.

“The gov­ern­ment has the capac­i­ty, by using com­put­ers, to get all kinds of infor­ma­tion on us that we’re real­ly not even aware that they have,” Kop­pel asks Jobs, under­scor­ing Burn­ham’s line of argu­ment. “Isn’t that dan­ger­ous?” For Jobs, “the best pro­tec­tion against some­thing like that is a very lit­er­ate pub­lic, and in this case com­put­er lit­er­ate.” Pre­dict­ing, cor­rect­ly, that every house­hold in the coun­try would even­tu­al­ly have its own com­put­er, he finds reas­sur­ance in the inevitably wide dis­tri­b­u­tion of com­put­ing pow­er and com­put­er lit­er­a­cy across the pub­lic, mean­ing “that cen­tral­ized intel­li­gence will have the least effect on our lives with­out us know­ing it.”

But Burn­ham nev­er­the­less warns of “a tremen­dous dan­ger that the pub­lic is not aware of enough at this moment.” He did­n’t describe that dan­ger in the forms of over­grown e‑commerce or social media giants — both of those con­cepts hav­ing yet to be real­ized in any form — or even ide­o­log­i­cal­ly opposed for­eign coun­tries, but the Unit­ed States’ own Army and Cen­sus Bureau. What hap­pens when they decide to use the data in their pos­ses­sion to “break the rules”? Com­put­ers are here to stay, it seems, but so are our incli­na­tions as human beings, and one won­ders how clean­ly the two can ever be rec­on­ciled. As apho­rist Aaron Haspel puts it, “We can have pri­va­cy or we can have con­ve­nience, and we choose con­ve­nience, every time.”

via Pale­o­fu­ture

Relat­ed Con­tent:

From the Annals of Opti­mism: The News­pa­per Indus­try in 1981 Imag­ines its Dig­i­tal Future

Steve Jobs on Life: “Stay Hun­gry, Stay Fool­ish”

A Young Steve Jobs Teach­es a Class at MIT (1992)

Steve Jobs Mus­es on What’s Wrong with Amer­i­can Edu­ca­tion, 1995

Steve Jobs Shares a Secret for Suc­cess: Don’t Be Afraid to Ask for Help

Steve Jobs Nar­rates the First “Think Dif­fer­ent” Ad (Nev­er Aired)

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 or on Face­book.

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