The Face of Bill Murray Adds Some Joy to Classic Paintings

Bill Mur­ray isn’t one of those actors who dis­ap­pears into a role.

Nor is he much of a chameleon on can­vas, how­ev­er icon­ic, as artist Eddy Tori­goe demon­strates with a series that grafts Murray’s famous mug onto a num­ber of equal­ly well-known paint­ings.

Tori­goe told Digg that he was inspired by acci­dent, when he was struck by the uncan­ny resem­blance between Gilbert Stuart’s Lans­downe por­trait of George Wash­ing­ton, and a pho­to of Mur­ray post­ed by a Red­dit user.

He down­loaded both images and bus­ied him­self with Pho­to­shop.

The rest is his­to­ry.

The Pres­i­den­tial update is an improve­ment in ways. Mur­ray-faced Wash­ing­ton appears kind­ly, and not averse to a bit of fun. No teeth of enslaved peo­ples com­pro­mis­ing that mouth.

While Mur­ray is capa­ble of main­tain­ing a straight face—wit­ness his work in Lost in Trans­la­tionThe Razor’s EdgeHam­let 2000, and Torigoe’s homage to Whistler’s Moth­er, above—more often than not a cer­tain puck­ish­ness shines through.

One won­ders what would have befall­en painter Jacques-Louis David had he bestowed The Emper­or Napoleon in His Study at the Tui­leries with Murray’s goofy expres­sion.

And it’s well estab­lished that a key ele­ment of Grant Wood’s oft-par­o­died Amer­i­can Goth­ic is the pok­er faced reserve of its male sub­ject.

Had they been alive today, it’s con­ceiv­able that Lucas Cranach the Elder’s por­trait of Mar­tin Luther might have depict­ed a lighter side of his friend, some­thing more Mur­ray-esque. Though giv­en the Ref­or­ma­tion and his 95 The­ses against Indul­gences, maybe not….

Explore more of Eddy Torigoe’s Bill Mur­ray-enriched mas­ter­pieces of art, includ­ing self-por­traits by Rem­brandt, Fri­da Kahlo, and Picas­so, on his web­site.

via My Mod­ern Met

Relat­ed Con­tent: 

Bill Mur­ray Explains How a 19th-Cen­tu­ry Paint­ing Saved His Life

Bill Mur­ray Reads the Poet­ry of Lawrence Fer­linghet­ti, Wal­lace Stevens, Emi­ly Dick­in­son, Bil­ly Collins, Lorine Niedeck­er, Lucille Clifton & More

Mas­ter­pieces of West­ern Art with All Gluten Prod­ucts Removed: See Works by Dalí, Cézanne, Van Gogh & Oth­ers

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

Gilda Radner Does a Comic Impersonation of Patti Smith: Watch the Classic SNL Skit, “Rock Against Yeast” (1979)

Gimme Mick, gimme Mick
Baby’s hair, bulgin’ eyes, lips so thick
Are you woman, are you man
I’m your biggest funked-up fan
So rock me and roll meeee…
‘Til I’m sick

                                —(the fic­tion­al) Can­dy Slice, Sat­ur­day Night Live

Sir Michael Philip—aka Mick Jag­ger—cel­e­brat­ed his 77th birth­day ear­li­er this sum­mer, a mile­stone his fel­low Rolling Stones Kei­th Richards and Ron­nie Wood observed remote­ly, as befits seniors at par­tic­u­lar risk from COVID-19 infec­tion.

You, Mick Jag­ger, are Eng­lish and go out with a mod­el and get an incred­i­ble amount of pub­lic­i­ty

You, Mick Jag­ger, don’t keep reg­u­lar hours

You, Mick Jag­ger, have the great­est rock ‘n roll band in the his­to­ry of rock ‘n roll, and you don’t even play an instru­ment your­self

It’s a bit sober­ing, watch­ing the late Gil­da Rad­ner, expert­ly preen­ing and pranc­ing as the then-36-year-old, yet-to-be-knight­ed Mick in “Rock Against Yeast,” the star stud­ded Sat­ur­day Night Live Sketch from 1979, above.

Read­ers over the age of 36 who want to get seri­ous­ly bummed out, poll your under-35 friends to see who’s heard of the ver­sa­tile Gil­da, an orig­i­nal Not-Ready-for-Prime-Time Play­er and one of America’s most com­pli­cat­ed sweet­hearts.

For­tu­nate­ly, she’s not entire­ly for­got­ten:

I can per­son­al­ly attest, and I feel com­fort­able speak­ing for Amy Poehler, Maya Rudolph and Rachel Dratch when I say that see­ing Gil­da as a kid…[she was] so authen­ti­cal­ly her­self and so reg­u­lar in so many ways. She was not a piece of cast­ing, she was who she was on TV. We all saw that and said, ‘I want to do that, and it’s pos­si­ble because I see her doing that. It was an ear­ly exam­ple for me of how impor­tant rep­re­sen­ta­tion is, for every­one from every walk of life. Gil­da was our equiv­a­lent of Michelle Oba­ma. —Tina Fey

Gilda’s not alone in hav­ing left us at a young age. Some of her “Rock Against Yeast” cast­mates and the celebri­ties they spoofed made sim­i­lar­ly shock­ing ear­ly exits:

John Belushi 

Bob Mar­ley

Guest host Ricky Nel­son, appear­ing as him­self

Music pro­duc­er Don Kir­sh­n­er—embod­ied here by musi­cian Paul Shaffer—made it to a ripe old age, ie: just a year younger than Sir Mick is now.

Actu­al­ly, Gilda’s Mick rou­tine was fil­tered through the fic­tion­al Can­dy Slice, a satir­i­cal take on God­moth­er of Punk Pat­ti Smith—now a ven­er­a­ble 73-year-old Nation­al Book award-win­ning mem­oirist, gear­ing up for next month’s “high-end mul­ti-cam­era visu­al and son­ic expe­ri­ence,” i.e. vir­tu­al book read­ing for last year’s Year Of The Mon­key.

Smith, who over the years has proved her­self to be a very good egg, admit­ted to NPR that while  her band found Gilda’s char­ac­ter­i­za­tion “hilar­i­ous,” she took a while to warm up to it:

When I was younger, I—it sort of both­ered me because, you know, she makes a big thing about, you know, I think it’s like the white pow­der and the vast amounts of cocaine in the record­ing stu­dio. I had nev­er even had cocaine. It was­n’t how—it’s not how I work. But I thought it was actu­al­ly hilar­i­ous besides that. She was a great artist.

It was—actually, it was a priv­i­lege to be played—it was a priv­i­lege to have Gil­da Rad­ner project what she thought I might be like. And the fun­ni­est part was since there was a big con­tro­ver­sy over the armpit hair on the cov­er of “East­er,” she brushed the hair under her arms, and I think she had like a foot of hair com­ing from her armpit, and we were all laugh­ing so hard.

She was a great artist, and cocaine or not, I salute her. And I feel very lucky to have been, you know, por­trayed by Gil­da.

Read a full tran­script of “Rock Against Yeast” here, while heav­ing a sigh of relief that that singer Dol­ly Par­ton (Jane Curtin) con­tin­ues to walk so vig­or­ous­ly amongst us.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Bill Mur­ray & Gil­da Rad­ner Deliv­er the Laughs in Two 1970s Skits for Nation­al Lam­poon

Lorne Michaels Intro­duces Sat­ur­day Night Live and Its Bril­liant First Cast for the Very First Time (1975)

When William S. Bur­roughs Appeared on Sat­ur­day Night Live: His First TV Appear­ance (1981)

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

Classic Punk Rock Sketches from Saturday Night Live, Courtesy of Fred Armisen

Come­di­an Fred Armisen is best known for his years on Sat­ur­day Night Live, his eight sea­sons of sur­re­al sketch com­e­dy (with Car­rie Brown­stein) on Port­landia, and his unnerv­ing com­mand of region­al accents and impres­sions. True fans also know that for much of his career he’s also been a musi­cian, pri­mar­i­ly a drum­mer, since col­lege. Start­ing in high school, he’s been in var­i­ous bands, includ­ing Trench­mouth, the Blue Man Group, and some­times sit­ting in with Seth Mey­ers’ house band.

So the above skit from SNL is fun because Armisen gets to indulge his love of punk music. It’s a basic set-up, a 40-some­thing groom and his best buds “get­ting the band back togeth­er” to play one more song at a wed­ding. But here the band used to be a polit­i­cal punk band along the lines of Fear, The Dead Kennedys, and Sui­ci­dal Ten­den­cies, and the anti-Rea­gan lyrics (you too, Alexan­der Haig, you fas­cist!) have been pre­served in amber.

Like most SNL sketch­es it unfolds kind of how you expect (and just kinda…ends), but man, this must have been fun to shoot. And yes, that’s the Foo Fighters/Nirvana’s Dave Grohl on drums.

If that skit was a trib­ute to Amer­i­can punk, then this oth­er one is a nod to the Sex Pis­tols and the steady right­ward drift of John Lydon. Armisen plays lead singer Ian Rub­bish (you know, of Ian Rub­bish and the Bizarros) whose lyrics decry and attack everything…except for Mar­garet Thatch­er. The Queen? She’s use­less (and oth­er words we can’t write on Open Cul­ture), but Mag­gie? Ian has a soft spot.

This 2013 skit came short­ly after Thatch­er died and Amer­i­cans were treat­ed to videos of some Britons (not all, but *a lot*) cel­e­brat­ing her death much as you would the death of Hitler or Mus­soli­ni. Good­bye, good rid­dance, and let me know where she’s locat­ed so we can pee on her grave. That sor­ta thing. And if that’s where you’re at, you might find the turn this sketch takes a bit too nice. But kudos to ex-Pis­tol Steve Jones for turn­ing up and doing the Rut­les-like thing. There’s even a nice par­o­dy of the infa­mous Bill Grundy inter­view.

(Bonus info: Ian Rub­bish and the Bizarros played some actu­al shows.)

Armisen had anoth­er crack, by the way, at the reunion joke. In Sea­son 8 of Port­landia, the “Band Reunion” skit brought togeth­er Hen­ry Rollins (Black Flag), Krist Novosel­ic (Nir­vana), and Bren­dan Canty (Fugazi) to bring back Armisen’s character’s band “Riot Spray” and record one more time. (Brown­stein only fig­ures a bit in the skit, but her reac­tion is price­less). The humor is just a lit­tle bit more mel­low, a bit more empa­thet­ic, and hurts just that lit­tle bit more.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

The Sex Pis­tols Make a Scan­dalous Appear­ance on the Bill Grundy Show & Intro­duce Punk Rock to the Star­tled Mass­es (1976)

The Sex Pis­tols’ 1976 Man­ches­ter “Gig That Changed the World,” and the Day the Punk Era Began

The Sex Pis­tols Play in Dal­las’ Long­horn Ball­room; Next Show Is Mer­le Hag­gard (1978)

Ian Rub­bish (aka Fred Armisen) Inter­views the Clash in Spinal Tap-Inspired Mock­u­men­tary
Nev­er Mind the Bol­locks, Here’s … John Lydon in a But­ter Com­mer­cial?

Ted Mills is a free­lance writer on the arts who cur­rent­ly hosts the Notes from the Shed pod­cast and is the pro­duc­er of KCR­W’s Curi­ous Coast. You can also fol­low him on Twit­ter at @tedmills, and/or watch his films here.

Rick and Morty as Absurdist Humor, Yet Legitimate Sci-Fi with Family Drama (Pretty Much Pop: A Culture Podcast #54)

Mark Lin­sen­may­er, Eri­ca Spyres, and Bri­an Hirt address the 4‑season 2013 Adult Swim show, which cur­rent­ly has a 94% crit­ics’ rat­ing on Rot­ten Toma­toes. What kind of humor is it, and how are we sup­posed to take its sci-fi and fam­i­ly dra­ma ele­ments? While its con­cepts start as par­o­dy, with an any­thing-goes style of ani­ma­tion, they’re cre­ative and ground­ed enough to actu­al­ly con­tribute to mul­ti­ple gen­res. How smart is the show, exact­ly? And its fans? Is Rick a super hero, or maybe essen­tial­ly Dr. Who? What might this very seri­al­ized sit-com look like in longevi­ty?

We also touch on oth­er adult car­toons like South Park, Solar Oppo­sites, The Simp­sons, Fam­i­ly Guy, plus Com­mu­ni­ty, Scrubs, and more.

Hear the inter­view we refer to with the show’s cre­ators. Watch the video we men­tion about its direc­tors. Vis­it the Rick and Morty wiki for episode descrip­tions and oth­er things.

Some arti­cles that we bring up or oth­er­wise fueled our dis­cus­sion include:

Also, do you want a Plumbus?

Learn more at prettymuchpop.com. 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: A Cul­ture Pod­cast is the first pod­cast curat­ed by Open Cul­ture. Browse all Pret­ty Much Pop posts.

Comedians Speaking Truth to Power: Lenny Bruce, George Carlin & Richard Pryor (NSFW)

No mat­ter how stren­u­ous­ly peo­ple claim to sup­port free speech, hard­ly any­one believes we should get to say what­ev­er we want, how­ev­er we want, wher­ev­er we want. We all just draw the lines dif­fer­ent­ly between speech we find tol­er­a­ble and that we find beyond the pale. There are rea­son­able argu­ments for estab­lish­ing legal bound­aries, but comedy—goes one line of thought—should nev­er be sub­ject to con­straints. Any­thing goes in stand-up, since the comic’s role is to say the unsayable, to shock and sur­prise, to speak truth to pow­er, etc.

Ris­ing com­ic John Ear­ly (“the left’s fun­ni­est come­di­an,” The Nation pro­claims) finds all this grav­i­tas a lit­tle absurd. “It’s just a weird, weird, time to be a come­di­an,” he says in a recent inter­view. “I feel there’s no greater tes­ta­ment to the fact that our pub­lic insti­tu­tions have failed us than the fact that come­di­ans are some­how moral author­i­ties of this moment. We give so much pow­er to come­di­ans and their plat­forms, and I’m absolute­ly hor­ri­fied by it.” To expect peo­ple who tell jokes for a liv­ing to have the best han­dle on what pow­er needs to hear may be expect­ing too much. “Please don’t ever lis­ten to me,” says Ear­ly.

Anoth­er argu­ment goes that since come­di­ans are just enter­tain­ers, they can say what­ev­er they want, no mat­ter how vicious or demean­ing, because it’s “just a joke.” What­ev­er the mer­its of this posi­tion, when we look back to the great­est comics who shocked, sur­prised, spoke truths, etc., we see that they took jokes seriously—and that the tar­gets of their humor were insti­tu­tions that actu­al­ly held pow­er. This was maybe a pre­req­ui­site for how endur­ing­ly fun­ny they still are, and how rel­e­vant, even if some spe­cif­ic ref­er­ences are lost on us now.

Before Ear­ly, Lenny Bruce went on TV to tell view­ers of his 1959 jazz spe­cial that all enter­tain­ers, him­self includ­ed, are liars. It’s just the nature of the busi­ness, he says, then goes through a bit where he shows—with real news­pa­per head­lines all print­ed on the same day—how news media also exag­ger­ates, embell­ish­es, and lies to sen­sa­tion­al­ize crime. In under two min­utes he rips through the cher­ished illu­sion of jour­nal­is­tic objec­tiv­i­ty; just as Car­lin, who also built a career on say­ing the unsayable, tears up the U.S.’s most cher­ished beliefs, above.

The Amer­i­can Dream is a scam, Car­lin says. Argue over free speech all you like, but pol­i­tics is a dis­trac­tion. “For­get the politi­cians. The politi­cians are put there to give you the idea that you have free­dom of choice. You don’t.” (One is remind­ed of Devo.) In a scathing rant, Car­lin goes after the biggest game, the cor­po­rate own­ers who con­trol the politi­cians, the land, and “all the big media com­pa­nies, so they con­trol just about all of the news and infor­ma­tion you get to hear.” He deliv­ers his most famous line: “It’s a big club, and you ain’t in it,” and the audi­ence applauds with recog­ni­tion of a truth they already know.

Leave it to Richard Pry­or, the com­e­dy stan­dard of speak­ing shock­ing truths to pow­er, to bring these obser­va­tions togeth­er in the inter­view clip above that takes digs at his own integri­ty as a TV enter­tain­er, the slip­pery nature of tele­vi­sion exec­u­tives, and why they feared the kinds of truths he had to tell. “What do you think [they’re] afraid you’re going to do to Amer­i­ca?” he’s asked (mean­ing specif­i­cal­ly white Amer­i­ca). He responds in all seri­ous­ness, “prob­a­bly stop some racism.” If peo­ple can laugh at hard truths, they can rec­og­nize and talk about them. This is a prob­lem for those in pow­er.

“If peo­ple don’t hate each oth­er, and start talk­ing to each oth­er, they find out who’s the prob­lem,” Pry­or says. “Greedy peo­ple.” Racism is a strat­e­gy, like sen­sa­tion­al­ist crime head­lines or promis­es of a bet­ter life, to keep peo­ple dis­tract­ed and divid­ed. Those who pro­mote it don’t need per­son­al rea­sons to do so. “It’s part of cap­i­tal­ism to pro­mote racism,” Pry­or says. It’s how the sys­tem works. “That sep­a­rates peo­ple. And if you keep peo­ple sep­a­rat­ed it keeps them from think­ing about the real prob­lem.” Maybe we are free to say what we want, but Pry­or has a warn­ing for those who emu­late peo­ple in pow­er, even if they think they have the best of inten­tions. The inter­view seg­ment ends with the sounds of duel­ing cesspools.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

George Car­lin Per­forms His “Sev­en Dirty Words” Rou­tine: His­toric and Com­plete­ly NSFW

New Dig­i­tal Archive, “Richard Pryor’s Peo­ria,” Takes You Inside the Dark, Live­ly World That Shaped the Pio­neer­ing Come­di­an

Lenny Bruce: Hear the Per­for­mances That Got Him Arrest­ed (NSFW)

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

Carl Reiner & Mel Brooks’ Timeless Comedy Sketch: The 2000-Year-Old-Man

I read the obits. If I’m not in it I’ll have break­fast. —Carl Rein­er

Up until this week week, it seemed as if Mel Brooks and Carl Rein­er could keep their 2000-Year-Old Man rou­tine going for­ev­er.

The premise was sim­pleRein­er as the seri­ous mind­ed announc­er, inter­view­ing Brooks as an elder with a Mid­dle Euro­pean Yid­dish accent about some of the his­toric moments, trends, and celebri­ties he’d had per­son­al con­tact with over the years.

The idea orig­i­nat­ed with Rein­er, who, as a young staff writer for Sid Caesar’s Your Show of Shows, thought there was com­ic gold to be mined from We the Peo­plea week­ly news pro­gram that dra­ma­tized impor­tant cur­rent eventsnotably a plumber who claimed to have over­heard some toe curl­ing plans while repair­ing a faucet in Stalin’s bath­room.

Unfor­tu­nate­ly, or rather for­tu­nate­ly, no one else in the writ­ers room had caught the show, so he draft­ed cowork­er Brooks to play along, inter­view­ing him as if he were the host of We the Peo­ple, and Brooks were an aver­age Joe who’d been at the Cru­ci­fix­ion:

Mel, aging before our eyes, sighed and allowed a sad “Oooooh, boy” to escape from the depths of his soul…

I pres­sured the Old Man and asked, “You knew Jesus?”

“Jesus … yes, yes,” he said, strain­ing to remem­ber, “thin lad … wore san­dals … always walked around with twelve oth­er guys … yes, yes, they used to come into the store a lot … nev­er bought any­thing … they came in for water … I gave it to them … nice boys, well-behaved… .”

For a good part of an hour Mel had us all laugh­ing and appre­ci­at­ing his total recall of life in the year 1 A.D. I called upon Mel that morn­ing because I knew that one of the char­ac­ters in his com­e­dy arse­nal would emerge. The one that did was sim­i­lar to one he did when­ev­er he felt we need­ed a laugh break. It was a Yid­dish pirate cap­tain who had an accent not unlike the 2,000-Year-Old Man.

The durable, always unscript­ed 2000-Year-Old Man made an instant splash with friends and fam­i­ly, but his accentwhich came quite nat­u­ral­ly to the Brook­lyn-born Brookscaused the duo to ques­tion the wis­dom of trot­ting him out before a wider audi­ence.

In the 20’s and 30’s Yid­dish accents had been a com­ic sta­ple on the radio, and in Broad­way, vaude­ville, and bur­lesque hous­es, but that changed when the Nazis came to pow­er, as Rein­er recalled in his 2003 mem­oir, My Anec­do­tal Life:

…when Adolf Hitler came along and decreed that all Jews were dirty, vile, dan­ger­ous, sub­hu­man ani­mals and must be put to death, Jew­ish and non-Jew­ish writ­ers, pro­duc­ers, and per­form­ers start­ed to ques­tion the Yid­dish accent’s accept­abil­i­ty as a tool of com­e­dy. The accent had a self-dep­re­cat­ing and demean­ing qual­i­ty that gave aid and com­fort to the Nazis, who were quite capa­ble of demean­ing and dep­re­cat­ing Jews with­out our help. From 1941 on, the Yid­dish accent was slow­ly, and for the most part, vol­un­tar­i­ly, phased out of show busi­ness.

Even­tu­al­ly, how­ev­er, the char­ac­ter found his way onto their 1961 LP 2000 Years with Carl Rein­er & Mel Brooks.

They but­tressed his 12-minute appear­ance with sketch­es involv­ing astro­nauts, teen heart­throb Fabi­an, and Method actors, hedg­ing their bets lest the accent flop with both ref­er­ence-chal­lenged WASPs and fel­low Jews ner­vous about rein­forc­ing prob­lem­at­ic stereo­types.

One won­ders what the 2000-Year-Old Manwho as a cave­man had trou­ble deter­min­ing “who was a lady”would have had to say about the move­ments for Trans Equal­i­ty#MeToo, and Black Lives Mat­ter.

A quote on Brooks’ web­site may pro­vide a hint:

It’s OK not to hurt the feel­ings of var­i­ous tribes and groups, how­ev­er, it’s not good for com­e­dy. Com­e­dy has to walk a thin line, take risks. It’s the lech­er­ous lit­tle elf whis­per­ing in the king’s ear, telling the truth about human behav­ior.

Brooks delight­ed by putting immi­nent­ly quotable, off-the-cuff punch­lines in the mouth of the 2000-Year-Old Man, hook­ing many young lis­ten­ers, like vet­er­an come­di­an and stand up com­e­dy teacher Rick Crom:

The 2000-Year-Old Man was the first com­e­dy album I ever lis­tened to. I was quot­ing it at 10. I told my Sun­day school teacher that before God, peo­ple wor­shipped “a guy…Phil.”

But it was Rein­erwho main­tained a wish list of ques­tions for the 2000-Year-Old Man and who left us ear­li­er this week at the not-too-shab­by age of 98who steered the act, often by press­ing his sub­ject to sub­stan­ti­ate his wild claims.

As Anne Lib­era, Direc­tor of Com­e­dy Stud­ies at The Sec­ond City and Colum­bia Col­lege Chica­go, notes:

Carl Rein­er was a mas­ter of the under­rat­ed art of the set­up. Most “straight men” are known for their respons­es that release the laugh. Carl did that too, but even more bril­liant­ly, he sub­tly puts all of the pieces into play for Mel Brooks to push off of into the com­e­dy stratos­phere. You see it in the Dick Van Dyke Show as well —he knew how to cre­ate the exact space for a com­ic char­ac­ter to do their best work.

Copies of the Com­plete 2000 Year Old Man can be pur­chased on Ama­zon.

Relat­ed Con­tent: 

Hear 30 of the Great­est Standup Com­e­dy Albums: A Playlist Cho­sen by Open Cul­ture Read­ers

Judd Apa­tow Teach­es the Craft of Com­e­dy: A New Online Course from Mas­ter­Class

Steve Mar­tin Per­forms Stand-Up Com­e­dy for Dogs (1973)

Ayun Hal­l­i­day is an author, illus­tra­tor, the­ater mak­er and Chief Pri­ma­tol­o­gist of the East Vil­lage Inky zine.  Here lat­est project is an ani­ma­tion and a series of free down­load­able posters, encour­ag­ing cit­i­zens to wear masks in pub­lic and wear them prop­er­ly. Fol­low her @AyunHalliday.

Listen to Medieval Covers of “Creep,” “Pumped Up Kicks,” “Bad Romance” & More by Hildegard von Blingin’

All ye bul­ly-rooks with your buskin boots 

Best ye go, best ye go

Out­run my bow

All ye bul­ly-rooks with your buskin boots

Best ye go, best ye go, faster than mine arrow

If bard­core is a thing—and trust us, it is right now—Hilde­gard von Blin­gin’ is the bright­est star in its fir­ma­ment.

The unknown vocal­ist, pure of throat, pays heed to the fas­ci­nat­ing 12th-cen­tu­ry abbess and com­pos­er Saint Hilde­gard of Bin­gen by choice of pseu­do­nym, while demon­strat­ing a sim­i­lar flair for poet­ic lan­guage.

Von Blingin’s nim­ble lyri­cal rework­ing of Fos­ter the People’s 2010 mon­ster hit, “Pumped Up Kicks,” makes deft use of fel­low bard­core prac­tion­er Cor­nelius Link’s copy­right-free instru­men­tal score and the clos­est medieval syn­onyms avail­able.

For the record, Webster’s 1913 dic­tio­nary defines a “bul­ly-rook” as a bul­ly, but the term could also be used in a josh­ing, chops-bust­ing sort of way, such as when The Mer­ry Wives of Windsor’s innkeep­er trots it out to greet lov­able repro­bate, Sir John Fal­staff.

And as any fan of Game of Thrones or The Hunger Games can attest, an arrow can prove as lethal as a gun.

Song­writer Mark Fos­ter told Billboard’s Xan­der Zell­ner last Decem­ber that he had been think­ing of retir­ing “Pumped Up Kicks,” as lis­ten­ers are now con­vinced it’s a boun­cy-sound­ing take on school shoot­ings, rather than a more gen­er­al­ized attempt to get inside the head of a troubled—and fictional—youngster.

With school out of ses­sion since March, it’s an excel­lent time for von Blin­gin’ to pick up the torch and bear this song back to the past.

Dit­to the tim­ing of von Blingin’s ode to Lady Gaga’s “Bad Romance”:

I want thine ugly, I want thy dis­ease

Take aught from thee shall I if it can be free

No Celtic harp, wood­en recorders, or adjust­ment of pos­ses­sive pro­nouns can dis­guise the jolt those open­ing lyrics assume in the mid­dle of a glob­al pan­dem­ic.

(St. Hilde­gard escaped the medieval period’s best known plague, the Black Death, by virtue of hav­ing been born some 250 years before it struck.)

Von Blingin’s lat­est release is an extreme­ly faith­ful take on Radiohead’s “Creep”, with just a few minor tweaks to pull it into medieval lyri­cal align­ment:

Thou float’st like a feath­er

In a beau­ti­ful world

The com­ments sec­tion sug­gest that the peas­ants are eager to get in on the act.

Some are express­ing their enthu­si­asm in approx­i­mate olde Eng­lish…

Oth­ers ques­tion why smygel, eldrich, wyr­den or wastrel were not pressed into ser­vice as replace­ments for creep and weirdo..

To bor­row a phrase from one such jester, best get your requests in “before the tik­toks come for it.”

Lis­ten to Hilde­gard Von Blin­gin’ on Sound Cloud and check out the bard­core sub-red­dit for more exam­ples of the form.

Relat­ed Con­tent: 

Expe­ri­ence the Mys­ti­cal Music of Hilde­gard Von Bin­gen: The First Known Com­pos­er in His­to­ry (1098 – 1179)

Man­u­script Reveals How Medieval Nun, Joan of Leeds, Faked Her Own Death to Escape the Con­vent

1200 Years of Women Com­posers: A Free 78-Hour Music Playlist That Takes You From Medieval Times to Now

Ayun Hal­l­i­day is an author, illus­tra­tor, the­ater mak­er and Chief Pri­ma­tol­o­gist of the East Vil­lage Inky zine. Help con­tain the plague spread with her series of free down­load­able posters, encour­ag­ing cit­i­zens to wear masks in pub­lic set­tings. Fol­low her @AyunHalliday.

Explaining the Pandemic to My Past Self: A Dark, Comedic Reflection on the Last Few Months

What would hap­pen if I tried to explain what’s hap­pen­ing now to the Jan­u­ary 2020 ver­sion of myself? That’s the ques­tion that Julie Nolke asked and answered in ear­ly April.

Now she’s back with a sequel where she tries to explain the events of June to her April self.

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.

If you would like to sup­port the mis­sion of Open Cul­ture, con­sid­er mak­ing a dona­tion to our site. It’s hard to rely 100% on ads, and your con­tri­bu­tions will help us con­tin­ue pro­vid­ing the best free cul­tur­al and edu­ca­tion­al mate­ri­als to learn­ers every­where. You can con­tribute through Pay­Pal, Patre­on, and Ven­mo (@openculture). Thanks!

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Open Culture was founded by Dan Colman.