Force thou­sands of musi­cians to stay home in their stu­dios and what do you get? There’ll be an album boom for sure, just as there’s been an explo­sion of direct-to-you online live per­for­mances, inter­views, and social media mes­sages. Most recent­ly, Richard D. James, aka elec­tron­ic leg­end Aphex Twin, shared six new songs on Sound­cloud. And Radiohead—a band with an equal­ly loy­al fan­base and as much longevi­ty and exper­i­men­tal nerve—announced they’re “doing their bit,” as Dazed reports, “by upload­ing the best of their con­certs to their YouTube chan­nel.”

“Now that you have no choice whether or not you fan­cy a qui­et night in,” the band wrote on Insta­gram, “we here­by present the first of sev­er­al LIVE SHOWS from the Radio­head Pub­lic Library,” their new­ly-debuted, exten­sive online archive. The first con­cert uploaded, Live From a Tent in Dublin, cap­tures an Octo­ber 2000 per­for­mance just days after the release of Kid A. “The 23-song set includ­ed sev­er­al album tracks includ­ing ‘Opti­mistic,’ ‘Morn­ing Bell,’ ‘The Nation­al Anthem,’ and ‘In Lim­bo,’” notes Con­se­quence of Sound. That’s a piv­otal moment in the band’s his­to­ry, for sure. Maybe the shock of that album is hard to feel 20 years on, but imme­di­ate­ly after its release, Kid A shat­tered ideas of what rock bands were allowed to do.

There are many more clas­sic shows to come—some of them doc­u­ments of events that stand as music his­to­ry at this point and most evi­dence of what an incred­i­ble live band Radio­head has been, their com­mand of atmos­phere and dynam­ics eerie in its seem­ing near-effort­less­ness. Like so much of their out­put from OK Com­put­er on, these songs sound as rel­e­vant as ever, espe­cial­ly Thom Yorke’s anguished vocal in the open­er, above, “The Nation­al Anthem.” “Every­one is so near,” he wails, “Every­one has got the fear/It’s hold­ing on,” a lyric that neat­ly sums up his sense of a dystopi­an post-modernity’s dou­ble edge.

In our iso­la­tion, Yorke con­stant­ly sug­gests, we can feel so uncom­fort­ably, claus­tro­pho­bi­cal­ly shut in with each oth­er. Like the damned in No Exit, there’s nowhere else to go. So, stay home with Radio­head shows. “We will be releas­ing one a week until either the restric­tions result­ing from the cur­rent sit­u­a­tion are eased, or we run out of shows,” the band writes. “Which will be first? No-one knows.” Will there be a new album? Unlike­ly. The band’s embrace of their roles as active, pub­lic cura­tors of their lega­cy seems like a sig­nal of Radio­head­’s emer­i­tus sta­tus.

But they’ve spent the last sev­er­al years giv­ing away exclu­sive new songs, live stream­ing shows, releas­ing their entire stu­dio cat­a­logue on YouTube, and com­mu­ni­cat­ing direct­ly with fans, so nei­ther is their Radio­head Pub­lic Library a depar­ture. At Con­se­quence of Sound you can also hear recent pod­cast inter­views with Radio­head gui­tarist Ed O’Brien (whose first solo album comes out this month) and long­time Radio­head pro­duc­er and per­haps sixth mem­ber of the band, Nigel Godrich.

Check the band’s YouTube chan­nel each week for the lat­est uploaded con­cert and enjoy it while it lasts!

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Intro­duc­ing The Radio­head Pub­lic Library: Radio­head Makes Their Full Cat­a­logue Avail­able via a Free Online Web Site

The 10 Most Depress­ing Radio­head Songs Accord­ing to Data Sci­ence: Hear the Songs That Ranked High­est in a Researcher’s “Gloom Index”

Radio­head Puts Every Offi­cial Album on YouTube, Mak­ing Them All Free to Stream

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

The music of the Bea­t­les, the most influ­en­tial band of all time, has endured for more than five decades now. It also seems to have crossed all cul­tur­al bound­aries: how many peo­ple around the world can lis­ten to the record­ings made togeth­er by John Lennon, Paul McCart­ney, George Har­ri­son, and Ringo Starr, and claim to be hear­ing some­thing alien? The sheer adapt­abil­i­ty of the Bea­t­les’ songs sure­ly also has some­thing to do with their stay­ing pow­er: they’re rec­og­niz­able when played more or less as the Fab Four played them, and they’re just as rec­og­niz­able when sung by com­plete­ly dif­fer­ent voic­es, played by com­plete­ly dif­fer­ent instru­ments, and set in com­plete­ly dif­fer­ent cul­tur­al con­texts.

Take the cov­er of “Yel­low Sub­ma­rine” at the top of the post, per­formed not by Ringo Starr but by a Japan­ese Bud­dhist monk who calls him­self Kos­san. Accom­pa­ny­ing him­self only with the kinds of drums and gongs one would hear in a tem­ple, Kos­san makes the Bea­t­les’ musi­cal tale of life beneath the waves his own.

Crit­ic Ian Mac­Don­ald calls the orig­i­nal “Yel­low Sub­ma­rine” a “sparkling nov­el­ty song impos­si­ble to dis­like,” and view­ers on Youtube have found this more monk­ish ver­sion equal­ly irre­sistible. Kos­san’s cov­er of the Ramones’ “Teenage Lobot­o­my” just above, whose dis­tort­ed gui­tars sound both incon­gru­ous and very con­gru­ous indeed, has also begun to attract atten­tion.

The orig­i­nal New York punk rock­ers may seem an even odd­er choice than the Bea­t­les for a Bud­dhist monk, but not for this Bud­dhist monk, who’s put in his own time on the streets of the Big Apple. “Every week­end, Kazu­ta­ka Yama­da straps on his blue Rollerblades and heads from his Chelsea apart­ment to the Upper East Side,” writes Corey Kil­gan­non in a 2007 post at The New York Times, refer­ring to Kos­san monk by his real name. “After nav­i­gat­ing the city’s streets and glid­ing through Cen­tral Park, he stops in front of the Met­ro­pol­i­tan Muse­um of Art,” where he “puts on black shoes and a large, cone-shaped straw hat, then holds out a wood­en bowl and for hours on end, chants in Japan­ese the same four lines of a Bud­dhist prayer.” The Times also pro­duced a video of Kos­san’s pub­lic chant­i­ng, which includes a brief inter­view with the man him­self.

More in-depth is this Eng­lish-trans­lat­ed con­ver­sa­tion at My Eyes Tokyo, in which Kos­san tells of how his musi­cal career began in Cen­tral Park: “When I was play­ing the san­shin on a bench, a guy gave me a dol­lar. I was sur­prised because I did­n’t expect that at all. I was play­ing it there only because it was a nice day.” Thir­teen years lat­er he plays from his home­land to inter­net audi­ences around the world, per­form­ing not just hit songs from the West (and it would be hard to get more west­ern than “We Will Rock You”), but East­ern rock as well, like “Lin­da Lin­da Lin­da” by Japan­ese punk icons The Blue Hearts. Even in this way, Kos­san remains in a New York of the mind: “I’m total­ly Japan­ese and came from Japan so I stick to being a ‘100% pure Japan­ese’ here in New York,” as he told My Eyes Tokyo. “I believe that is a real New York­er.”

via Boing Boing

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Punk Dul­cimer: The Ramones’ “I Wan­na Be Sedat­ed” Played on the Dul­cimer

Hear 100 Amaz­ing Cov­er Ver­sions of Bea­t­les Songs

The 15 Worst Cov­ers of Bea­t­les Songs: William Shat­ner, Bill Cos­by, Tiny Tim, Sean Con­nery & Your Excel­lent Picks

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

Watch the Bud­dhism-Inspired Video for Leonard Cohen’s New­ly-Released Song, “Hap­pens to the Heart”

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.

“On East­er Sun­day (April 12, 2020), by invi­ta­tion of the City and of the Duo­mo cathe­dral of Milan, Ital­ian glob­al music icon Andrea Bocel­li gave a solo per­for­mance rep­re­sent­ing a mes­sage of love, heal­ing and hope to Italy and the world. Down­load the hymn sheet and sing along here.” And watch the con­cert above.

“Jazz and Japan shouldn’t mix,” says All-Japan: The Cat­a­logue of Every­thing Japan­ese. “After all, the essence of jazz lies in impro­vi­sa­tion — a con­cept large­ly absent from both tra­di­tion­al Japan­ese music and Japan­ese soci­ety as a whole. Japan may adapt, but it does not impro­vise.” And yet, as the book goes on to tell, jazz and Japan do indeed mix, and they began doing so even before the Sec­ond World War. Japan­ese jazz dates back to the 1920s, when it drew inspi­ra­tion from vis­it­ing Fil­ipino bands who had picked the music up from their Amer­i­can occu­piers. In the cen­tu­ry since then, devot­ed Japan­ese play­ers (and their even more devot­ed Japan­ese lis­ten­ers) have devel­oped per­haps the most robust jazz cul­ture in the world.

But please, don’t believe me: have a lis­ten to the mix of 1970s Japan­ese jazz on vinyl above. Spun by Turk­ish DJ Zag Erlat on his Youtube chan­nel My Ana­log Jour­nal, it show­cas­es such musi­cians as trom­bon­ist Hiroshi Suzu­ki, sax­o­phon­ist Mabu­mi Yam­aguchi, and gui­tarist Kiyoshi Sug­i­mo­to. These names will sound famil­iar — though not over-famil­iar — to those of us who’ve spent years dig­ging crates around the world for Japan­ese jazz on vinyl.

Thanks to Youtube, they’re now becom­ing bet­ter-known among jazz fans of all stripes: just like the 1980s Japan­ese high-tech dis­co-funk now known as city pop, Japan­ese jazz owes much of its mod­ern recog­ni­tion to the algo­rithm. As a result, actu­al Japan­ese jazz albums like the ones non­cha­lant­ly dis­played by Erlat in the video have become a hot­ter com­mod­i­ty than they used to be.

Like all of Erlat’s “cof­fee break ses­sions” (oth­ers of which focus on Japan­ese dra­ma funk, Turk­ish female singers from the 70s, and “USSR grooves”), this mix runs a brisk 33 min­utes. If you enjoy the taste enough to go back for more, allow me to sug­gest the work of such Japan­ese jazzmen as Teruo Naka­mu­ra, Masayoshi Takana­ka, and Teru­masa Hino — much of which comes from the 1970s, an era that enthu­si­asts across the world now see as some­thing of a gold­en age. You’ll still only have skimmed the sur­face of Japan­ese jazz, one of the many West­ern inven­tions tak­en to anoth­er lev­el of mas­tery, and exhil­a­rat­ing new direc­tions, in the Land of the Ris­ing Sun. As one com­menter on Youtube puts it, “Japan­ese Jazz is like Japan­ese whisky: under­rat­ed, but very high qual­i­ty.”

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Acclaimed Japan­ese Jazz Pianist Yōsuke Yamashita Plays a Burn­ing Piano on the Beach

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

Stream a 144-Hour Discog­ra­phy of Clas­sic Jazz Record­ings from Blue Note Records: Miles Davis, Art Blakey, John Coltrane, Ornette Cole­man & More

Hear 2,000 Record­ings of the Most Essen­tial Jazz Songs: A Huge Playlist for Your Jazz Edu­ca­tion

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

How Youtube’s Algo­rithm Turned an Obscure 1980s Japan­ese Song Into an Enor­mous­ly Pop­u­lar Hit: Dis­cov­er Mariya Takeuchi’s “Plas­tic Love”

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.