Robert Fripp & King Crimson Perform a Stirring Cover of “Heroes,” Shortly after David Bowie’s Death (2016)

In 2016, King Crim­son per­formed “Heroes” at the Admi­ralspalast in Berlin, just after David Bowie’s death, and near­ly forty years after the song was writ­ten and record­ed next to the Berlin Wall. It was “a cel­e­bra­tion, a remem­branc­ing and an homage,” gen­tle­man gui­tarist Robert Fripp wrote in a state­ment. The fol­low­ing year, they released the live ver­sion on an EP called Heroes, in hon­or of the clas­sic Bowie album’s 40th anniver­sary.

King Crim­son sounds absolute­ly amaz­ing in the con­cert record­ing. Yet it’s Fripp’s keen­ing gui­tar line—part vio­lin, part theremin—that most calls out to us, a gor­geous­ly heav­en­ly wail. Like many Bowie songs, the writ­ing and record­ing of “Heroes” pro­duced many a fas­ci­nat­ing sto­ry. Fripp’s con­tri­bu­tion, as a leg­endary char­ac­ter and prog-rock genius, is no excep­tion.

Frip­p’s angel­ic tone on “Heroes,” as Tony Vis­con­ti tells it above (at 2:15), came about most­ly by hap­py acci­dent. Vis­con­ti explains more ful­ly in a Sound Opin­ions inter­view:

Fripp was avail­able only one week­end. So he came to Berlin, brought his gui­tar, no ampli­fi­er. He record­ed his gui­tar in the stu­dio. We had to play the track very very loud because he was rely­ing on the feed­back from the stu­dio mon­i­tors. So it was deaf­en­ing work­ing with him.

Where­as every­one thinks it’s an ebow, this mag­i­cal gui­tar gad­get called an ebow. In fact it was­n’t an ebow, it was just the feedback–Fripp play­ing this “dah uhh­hh dahh uhhh” that beau­ti­ful motif. And Fripp record­ed a sec­ond time with­out hear­ing the first one. It was a lit­tle bit more cohe­sive, but still quite was­n’t right, and he said, “Let me do it again. Just give me anoth­er track. I’ll do it again.” And we silenced the first two tracks and he did a third pass, which was real­ly great. He nailed it. And then I had the bright idea: I said, “Look let me just hear what it sounds like with the oth­er two tracks. You nev­er know.”

We played it, all three tracks togeth­er, and you know, I must reit­er­ate Fripp did not hear the oth­er two tracks when he was doing the third one so he had no way of being in sync. But he was strange­ly in sync. And all his lit­tle out-of-tune wig­gles sud­den­ly worked with the oth­er pre­vi­ous­ly record­ed gui­tars. It seemed to tune up. It got a qual­i­ty that none of us antic­i­pat­ed. It was this dreamy, wail­ing qual­i­ty, almost cry­ing sound in the back­ground. And we were just flab­ber­gast­ed.

It was a typ­i­cal­ly Eno-Vis­con­ti way to find a new sound. That sound, Vis­con­ti says above, is all over the track. For this rea­son, Fripp has been engaged in legal bat­tles with David Bowie’s estate over his cred­it, insist­ing that he should have “fea­tured play­er” sta­tus, a legal des­ig­na­tion that would give him greater rights to remu­ner­a­tion. Always a shame when wran­gling over mon­ey comes between the cre­ators of great music, but in this case, Bri­an Eno and Tony Vis­con­ti both sup­port Fripp’s claims, and so per­haps would Bowie if he were here.

What­ev­er it takes to be a “fea­tured play­er,” Fripp sailed over the thresh­old on “Heroes.” He demon­strates it again in the King Crim­son trib­ute, mak­ing one gui­tar sound like three onstage, and in the video above, which he released with his wife Toy­ah for VE Day. The back­ing track is from the Berlin per­for­mance at the top, with dubbed vocals by Toy­ah and gui­tar, of course, by Fripp, play­ing the same Gib­son Les Paul he flew into the stu­dio with in 1977, and look­ing just as sin­gu­lar­ly unim­pressed by the pro­ceed­ings.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Watch David Byrne Lead a Mas­sive Choir in Singing David Bowie’s “Heroes”

David Bowie’s “Heroes” Delight­ful­ly Per­formed by the Ukulele Orches­tra of Great Britain

Pro­duc­er Tony Vis­con­ti Breaks Down the Mak­ing of David Bowie’s Clas­sic “Heroes,” Track by Track

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

1930s Phonograph Doubled as an Alarm Clock, Letting People Start Their Day with Their Favorite Record

The Deutsches Uhrens­mu­se­um intro­duces the French-made Peter Pan clock above as fol­lows:

Even as ear­ly as 1930, peo­ple were try­ing to find a way to replace the unpleas­ant sound of the alarm clock. The inven­tor of this gramo­phone alarm clock had a bril­liant idea. The gramo­phone works like the stan­dard alarm clock of those days; how­ev­er, instead of a bell, the gramo­phone motor switch­es on when the alarm goes off and your favourite record begins to play to the live­ly crack­ling sound of a typ­i­cal gramo­phone. The motor plays this side of the record twice in suc­ces­sion. The opened lid of the box serves as a res­onator. Even the name is what dreams are made of: Peter Pan Alarm Clock. Who would not want to be a child again and fly off to Nev­er Nev­er Land?

This great find comes from the always inter­est­ing Twit­ter feeds of jazz crit­ic Ted Gioia and the Bib­lio­thèque nationale de France. You can watch the clock in action below.

If you would like to sign up for Open Culture’s free email newslet­ter, please find it here. It’s a great way to see our new posts, all bun­dled in one email, each day.

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!

Relat­ed Con­tent:

19th-Cen­tu­ry Skele­ton Alarm Clock Remind­ed Peo­ple Dai­ly of the Short­ness of Life: An Intro­duc­tion to the Memen­to Mori

How Clocks Changed Human­i­ty For­ev­er, Mak­ing Us Mas­ters and Slaves of Time

Wake Up & Smell the Cof­fee: The New All-in-One Cof­fee-Mak­er/Alarm Clock is Final­ly Here!

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Haruki Murakami Will Host a Radio Show & Help Listeners “Blow Away Some of the Corona-Related Blues”

Image by Ilana Simon

Char­ac­ters in Haru­ki Murakami’s books see emo­tions in col­ors and hear them in sounds—the sounds, specif­i­cal­ly, of The Bea­t­les, Shostakovich, Sarah Vaugh­an, and thou­sands more folk, pop, rock, clas­si­cal, and jazz artists in the novelist’s immense record col­lec­tion. We must occa­sion­al­ly sus­pend some dis­be­lief as read­ers, not only in the fan­tas­tic ele­ments in Murakami’s work, but in char­ac­ters who seem to know almost as much as the author does about music, who are always ready with ref­er­ences to deep cuts. Muraka­mi “is not (quite) a musi­cian,” writes Dre Dimu­ra at Fly­pa­per, “but he has a greater com­mand of music as an art form than most musi­cians I know, myself includ­ed. How is that pos­si­ble?”

Dimura’s expla­na­tion touch­es on aspects of Murakami’s life we’ve cov­ered before at Open Cul­ture: his long­stand­ing pas­sion for jazz, and time spent as the own­er of a jazz bar before he became a nov­el­ist; his pen­chant for lis­ten­ing to music in his study for hours and hours on end as he under­takes his marathon writ­ing ses­sions.

Muraka­mi has not only shared his ency­clo­pe­dic musi­cal knowl­edge through fic­tion­al char­ac­ters; he also hopes to turn his mas­sive col­lec­tion of approx­i­mate­ly 10,000 records into a pub­lic archive, along with all his books and papers: “a place,” he says, “of open inter­na­tion­al exchanges for lit­er­a­ture and cul­ture.”

Four decades after his jazz club days, Muraka­mi again became a DJ in 2018 when he took to the air­waves to play sev­er­al 55-minute sets called Muraka­mi Radio on Tokyo FM. Now, amidst the uncer­tain­ty and anx­i­ety of COVID-19 lock­downs, he will again play records for his fans in Japan on a show this Fri­day called Stay Home Spe­cial. “I’m hop­ing that the pow­er of music can do a lit­tle to blow away some of the coro­na-virus relat­ed blues that have been pil­ing up.”

Muraka­mi isn’t being Pollyan­nish about the “pow­er of music.” The phrase may be cliché, but fans know from read­ing his books how music plays a sig­nif­i­cant role in even the most mun­dane of social inter­ac­tions, the kind we’d come to take for grant­ed before the virus spread around the world. The author offers music as a friend­ly over­ture. In a char­ac­ter­is­tic image, he wrote before his first radio broad­cast in 2018:

It has been my hob­by to col­lect records and CDs since my child­hood, and thanks to that, my house is inun­dat­ed with such things. How­ev­er, I have often felt a sense of guilt toward the world while lis­ten­ing to such amaz­ing music and hav­ing a good time alone. I thought it may be good to share such good times with oth­er peo­ple while chat­ting over a glass of wine or a cup of cof­fee.

Though he’s been char­ac­ter­ized as a nov­el­ist of iso­la­tion, and is “regard­ed as a recluse in Japan,” Muraka­mi sees the need to make deep con­nec­tions these days. And he rec­og­nizes music’s pow­er to cre­ate shared emo­tion­al spaces, the kind of thing it seems so hard to find in our new frag­ment­ed, quar­an­tined lives.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Haru­ki Muraka­mi Announces an Archive That Will House His Man­u­scripts, Let­ters & Col­lec­tion of 10,000+ Vinyl Records

A Dream­i­ly Ani­mat­ed Intro­duc­tion to Haru­ki Muraka­mi, Japan’s Jazz and Base­ball-Lov­ing Post­mod­ern Nov­el­ist

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

A 3,350-Song Playlist of Music from Haru­ki Murakami’s Per­son­al Record Col­lec­tion

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

DEVO Is Now Selling COVID-19 Personal Protective Equipment: Energy Dome Face Shields

Accord­ing to DEVO’s co-prin­ci­ple song­writer and bassist Ger­ald Casale, the exper­i­men­tal art band turned ear­ly MTV pop-punk dar­lings were “pro-infor­ma­tion, anti stu­pid con­for­mi­ty and knew that the strug­gle for free­dom against tyran­ny is nev­er-end­ing.”

Their sin­gu­lar per­for­mance garb also set them apart, and none more so than the bright red plas­tic Ener­gy Dome hel­mets they donned 40 years ago this month, upon the release of their third album, Free­dom of Choice.

The record, which the band con­ceived of as a funk album, explod­ed into main­stream con­scious­ness. The visu­als may have made an even more last­ing impact than the music, which includ­ed the chart top­ping “Whip It.”

Even the most anti-New Wave met­al­head could iden­ti­fy the source of those domes, which have been likened to upturned flower pots, dog bowls, car uri­nals, and lamp shades.

What they prob­a­bly don’t know is the Ener­gy Dome was “designed accord­ing to ancient zig­gu­rat mount pro­por­tions used in votive wor­ship. Like the mounds, it col­lects ener­gy and recir­cu­lates it. In this case, the dome col­lects ener­gy that escapes from the crown of the human head and push­es it back into the Medu­la Oblon­ga­ta for increased men­tal ener­gy.”

Thus sayeth Casale, any­way.

DEVO’s 2020 con­cert plans were, of course, scotched by the coro­n­avirus pan­dem­ic, but the band has found an alter­na­tive way to mark the 40th anniver­sary of Free­dom of Choice and the birth of its icon­ic head­gear.

In addi­tion to face masks embla­zoned with the famil­iar red tiered shape, DEVO­tees with mon­ey and con­fi­dence to spare can ante up for a DIY Per­son­al Pro­tec­tive Equip­ment kit that trans­forms a stan­dard-issue Ener­gy Dome into a face shield.

It’s worth not­ing that before tak­ing your con­vert­ed ener­gy dome out for a par­ti­cle deflect­ing spin, you’ll have to truf­fle up a hard hat sus­pen­sion lin­er and install it for a prop­er fit.

Casale her­ald­ed the open­ing of DEVO’s merch store in a Face­book post:

Here we are 40 years lat­er, liv­ing in the alter­nate real­i­ty night­mare spawned by Covid 19 and the botched response of our world “lead­ers” to do the right thing quick­ly. We are not exag­ger­at­ing when we say that 2020 could be the last time you might be able to exer­cise your free­dom of choice. If you don’t use it, you can cer­tain­ly lose it.

Uh, he’s talk­ing about vot­ing, right, rather than storm­ing the capi­tol build­ing to demand the pre­ma­ture reopen­ing of inessen­tial busi­ness­es or mak­ing out­sized threats in response to gro­cery store mask poli­cies?

Per­haps the pow­er of the Ener­gy Dome is such that it could reawak­en the pro-infor­ma­tion, anti-stu­pid­i­ty sen­si­bil­i­ties of some dor­mant DEVO fans among the unmasked rank and file.

As Casale him­self posit­ed in an inter­view with Amer­i­can Song­writer: “You make it taste good so that they don’t real­ize there’s med­i­cine in it.”

Pre-order masks and PPE kits from DEVO’s offi­cial merch store.

Down­load instruc­tions for installing a hard hat sus­pen­sion replace­ment inside the Ener­gy Dome pri­or to attach­ing the shield.

via Con­se­quence of Sound

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Japan­ese Design­er Cre­ates Free Tem­plate for an Anti-Virus Face Shield: Down­load, and Then Use a Print­er, Paper & Scis­sors

The Phi­los­o­phy & Music of Devo, the Avant-Garde Art Project Ded­i­cat­ed to Reveal­ing the Truth About De-Evo­lu­tion

The Mas­ter­mind of Devo, Mark Moth­ers­baugh, Presents His Per­son­al Syn­the­siz­er Col­lec­tion

Devo’s Mark Moth­ers­baugh & Oth­er Arists Tell Their Musi­cal Sto­ries in the Ani­mat­ed Video Series, “Cal­i­for­nia Inspires Me”

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.

An Archive of 1,000 “Peel Sessions” Available Online: Hear David Bowie, Bob Marley, Elvis Costello & Others Play in the Studio of Legendary BBC DJ John Peel

Before he became the most influ­en­tial music broad­cast­er of all time on the BBC, John Peel had to become John Peel. Born and raised in Eng­land, he spent a stretch of his ear­ly twen­ties in the Unit­ed States, work­ing for a cot­ton pro­duc­er (his father’s indus­try), sell­ing insur­ance, and writ­ing punch­card com­put­er pro­grams before find­ing his way onto the air­waves. Host­ing work in such locales as Dal­las, Okla­homa City, and San Bernardi­no primed him to return to his home­land and take his radio career under­ground — or rather off­shore, to the for­mer minesweep­er anchored in the North Sea from which Radio Lon­don broad­cast in the mid-1960s. In those days, British “pirate radio” took place on actu­al ships, and it was on Radio Lon­don’s MV Galaxy that the returned son of Heswall, born John Robert Park­er Raven­scroft, quite lit­er­al­ly made his name.

Pirate radio exist­ed because the BBC could­n’t, or would­n’t, play the quan­ti­ty and vari­ety of pop and rock music younger audi­ences demand­ed — and over in the States, were already get­ting. After Radio Lon­don’s 1967 shut­down, Peel joined the Bee­b’s new­ly launched pop sta­tion, Radio 1. But even there lim­i­ta­tions con­tin­ued to apply, and today they sound dra­con­ian: the Musi­cians’ Union and Phono­graph­ic Per­for­mance Lim­it­ed, for instance, once lim­it­ed the num­ber of com­mer­cial­ly released records that could be played on air.

The BBC’s solu­tion was to cov­er pop­u­lar songs with its in-house orches­tra; Peel’s less square solu­tion, as it evolved, was to bring the bands in to do it them­selves. Over Peel’s 37-year career at the BBC, these “Peel Ses­sions” would num­ber over 4,000, about a thou­sand of which you can enjoy on Youtube today.

Com­piled by a fan named Dave Strick­son, this list of Peel Ses­sions avail­able on Youtube goes all the way from the Man­cun­ian pop-punk of A Cer­tain Ratio in 1979 and 1981 to the Glaswe­gian new wave of Zones in 1978. (Yes, the list tech­ni­cal­ly begins with the numer­al-fea­tur­ing acts as 14 Iced Bears and 23 Ski­doo.) In between, Peel’s guests include A Flock of Seag­ulls (1981), Bil­ly Bragg (1983, 1991), Bob Mar­ley and the Wail­ers (1973), Cocteau Twins (1982, 1983, 1984), David Bowie and the Spi­ders from Mars (1972), Elvis Costel­lo & the Attrac­tions (1977, 1978, 1978, 1980), Fair­port Con­ven­tion (1968, 1969, 1969, 1974), Joy Divi­sion (1979), Mor­ris­sey (2004), Roxy Music (1972, 1972), Shon­en Knife (1992), Son­ic Youth (1986, 1988, 1989), Tears for Fears (1982), The Jesus and Mary Chain (1984, 1985, 1985, 1988, 1989), and Yo La Ten­go (1997).

And of course, Strick­son’s list also includes no few­er than eight Peel Ses­sions by The Fall (1978, 1980, 1981, 1986, 1987, 1991, 2003, 2004), the leg­endary DJ’s favorite band — or at least the band that took up the most shelf space in his for­mi­da­ble record col­lec­tion. But as Peel’s fans know, he only met The Fal­l’s mas­ter­mind Mark E. Smith (like Peel, an out­spo­ken North­ern­er) two brief times in his life. One such fan, a Metafil­ter com­menter by the name of Paul Slade, notes that “Peel used to make a point of stay­ing away from ses­sion record­ings, part­ly because he did­n’t want to hear the new music till it went out live. That way, he knew he’d be able to react hon­est­ly on-air to any­thing in the ses­sion that sur­prised or delight­ed him.” His between-song com­ments do indeed con­sti­tute an unex­pect­ed charm of these vin­tage broad­casts, though sur­pris­ing­ly many have noth­ing to do with the ses­sion at hand. Peel undoubt­ed­ly loved music, but he seems to have loved Liv­er­pool Foot­ball Club even more.

via Metafil­ter

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Hear a 9‑Hour Trib­ute to John Peel: A Col­lec­tion of His Best “Peel Ses­sions”

Radio Car­o­line, the Pirate Radio Ship That Rocked the British Music World (1965)

Stream 15 Hours of the John Peel Ses­sions: 255 Tracks by Syd Bar­rett, David Bowie, Siouxsie and the Ban­shees & Oth­er Artists

Stream 935 Songs That Appeared in “The John Peel Fes­tive 50” from 1976 to 2004: The Best Songs of the Year, as Select­ed by the Beloved DJ’s Lis­ten­ers

Bri­an Eno on Why Do We Make Art & What’s It Good For?: Down­load His 2015 John Peel Lec­ture

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.

Roger Waters Performs a Socially-Distanced Version of Pink Floyd’s “Mother”

The video comes pref­aced with these words: “Social dis­tanc­ing is a nec­es­sary evil in Covid world. Watch­ing ‘Moth­er’ reminds me just how irre­place­able the joy of being in a band is.”

He’s joined here by his band: vocal­ists Hol­ly Lae­sig and Jess Wolfe of Lucius, key­boardist Drew Erick­son, gui­tarists Dave Kilmin­ster and Jonathan Wil­son, bassist Gus Seyf­fert, and drum­mer Joey Waronker.

Find more social­ly dis­tanced per­for­mances in the Relat­eds below.

If you would like to sign up for Open Culture’s free email newslet­ter, please find it here. It’s a great way to see our new posts, all bun­dled in one email, each day.

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!

via Jam­base

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Watch the Rolling Stones Play “You Can’t Always Get What You Want” While Social Dis­tanc­ing in Quar­an­tine

Neil Finn Sings a Love­ly Ver­sion of David Bowie’s “Heroes,” Live from Home

Juil­liard Stu­dents & the New York Phil­har­mon­ic Per­form Ravel’s Bolero While Social Dis­tanc­ing in Quar­an­tine

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Japanese Health Manual Created During the 1918 Spanish Flu Pandemic Offers Timeless Wisdom: Stay Away from Others, Cover Your Mouth & Nose, and More

In August of 1918, a group of sumo wrestlers returned to Japan from an exhi­bi­tion in Tai­wan. When they came down with an ill­ness it was first diag­nosed as bron­chi­tis or pneu­mo­nia. In fact, they had returned with the Span­ish Flu.

The “Sumo Flu,” as it was first called by some in the Japan­ese press, was not tak­en as seri­ous­ly as the more preva­lent cholera, which had a high­er death rate at the time. But cholera was not as infec­tious. By the time the Span­ish Flu had burned its way through the pop­u­la­tion of Japan it would leave behind near­ly half a mil­lion dead, either from the flu itself or sec­ondary health com­pli­ca­tions.

These posters (seen above and through­out this post) were part of Japan’s Cen­tral San­i­tary Bureau’s plan to edu­cate the pub­lic, part of a 455-man­u­al that detailed symp­toms and pre­scrip­tions, and sug­gest­ed four rules to avoid con­tract­ing the virus and spread­ing it to oth­ers.

Right now, a lot of us are try­ing to do num­ber one–Stay Away from Others–without going crazy, some of us are fol­low­ing num­ber two (Cov­er Your Mouth and Nose), everybody’s wait­ing for num­ber three (Get Vac­ci­nat­ed), and if you replace “Gar­gle” (Rule Num­ber 4) with “anx­i­ety drink­ing,” well we’ve got num­ber four cov­ered.

Back up to Num­ber Three: the vac­cine in ques­tion at that time helped with symp­toms of pneu­mo­nia, which was a sec­ondary cause of death. If a person’s immune sys­tem could fight off the lung infec­tion part of the flu, they stood a bet­ter chance of sur­vival.

And for Num­ber Two, the Japan­ese response of wear­ing face masks to fight infec­tion has con­tin­ued to this day. Any­one who has vis­it­ed Japan, espe­cial­ly dur­ing cold and flu sea­son, will have noticed the rou­tine use of masks. Will oth­er coun­tries see this become a tra­di­tion in the future? We will have to wait and find out.

The cen­tral gov­ern­ment of Japan, as well as most places around the globe in 1918, did not have the sci­ence or knowl­edge to treat the virus or enforce rules. A lot of deci­sions for the pub­lic were left to var­i­ous pre­fec­tures to decide. Most doc­tors and researchers were already busy fight­ing cholera (as men­tioned above) and tuber­cu­lo­sis. For a while, the virus was misiden­ti­fied as a bac­te­ria. And just like in Amer­i­ca in 1919, the Japan­ese pub­lic thought things had got­ten back to nor­mal when the ini­tial cas­es dropped–they were sad­ly mis­tak­en and, after let­ting its guard down, the Japan­ese were hit with a sec­ond wave, with a mor­tal­i­ty rate five times that of the first wave. As it spread from the city to the coun­try­side, the Span­ish Flu wiped out entire vil­lages. Quack­ery and snake oil sales­men promised mir­a­cle cures. Oth­ers turned to spir­i­tu­al­ism, prayer, and spe­cial devo­tion­al tem­ple vis­its. The virus didn’t care.

But it also soon fiz­zled out. Japan report­ed no new cas­es in June of 1919, and that was that. (Cur­rent­ly, that does not seem to be the case in Wuhan or Ger­many.)

As the say­ing goes, his­to­ry doesn’t repeat, but it often rhymes, and so take these posters as a warn­ing and as a form of reas­sur­ance that we will get through this.

via Spoon and Tam­a­go

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Pan­dem­ic Lit­er­a­ture: A Meta-List of the Books You Should Read in Coro­n­avirus Quar­an­tine

The His­to­ry of the Plague: Every Major Epi­dem­ic in an Ani­mat­ed Map

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

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.

John Mayer Teaches Guitarists How to Play the Blues in a 45-Minute Masterclass

Play­ing the blues is easy, many a bud­ding gui­tarist thinks—their star­ry eyes fixed on the math­i­est, prog­gi­est, djent-iest (or what­ev­er) gui­tar pyrotech­nics of their favorite 7- or 8‑string slinger. Learn a minor pen­ta­ton­ic blues scale, a few barre chords, some sexy bends, a 12-bar pro­gres­sion and you’re off, right? Why spend time try­ing to play like Albert King (Jimi Hendrix’s idol) or Bud­dy Guy when you’re reach­ing for the ulti­mate sweep-pick­ing tech­nique, or what­ev­er, in the com­pet­i­tive games­man­ship of gui­tar hero­ics?

I’ve encoun­tered this kind of think­ing among gui­tar play­ers quite often and find it baf­fling giv­en the blues essen­tial place in rock and roll, met­al included—and giv­en how much more there is to play­ing blues than the stereo­typ­i­cal for­mu­las to which the music gets reduced. Black Sab­bath start­ed as a blues band, Led Zep­pelin nev­er stopped being one, and it was Robert John­son who turned the dev­il into rock­’s brood­ing, Byron­ic hero.

The cross­roads sto­ry has been told in hind­sight as a metaphor for John­son’s trou­bled, curs­ed­ly short life. But at the time, it was about envy on the part of his fel­low blues­men, who couldn’t believe how good he’d got­ten in seem­ing­ly no time. Want to emerge from quar­an­tine and inspire sim­i­lar envy? The dev­il isn’t offer­ing online lessons, but you can learn the blues from con­tem­po­rary leg­end, John May­er, who post­ed the les­son above on his Insta­gram Live a few days back.

As with all such online lessons, every­one will respond dif­fer­ent­ly to the teacher’s style. The for­mat does not allow for Q&A, obvi­ous­ly, but you can pause and rewind indef­i­nite­ly. May­er doesn’t move too quick­ly; if you’re an inter­me­di­ate play­er with a grasp on the basics, it won’t be too hard to keep up. He comes across as easy­go­ing and hum­ble (not a qual­i­ty he’s always been known for), and explains con­cepts clear­ly, relat­ing them back to the fret­board each time.

As always, one will get out of the les­son what they put into it. Maybe no one will accuse you of con­spir­ing with the evil one when you’ve mas­tered some of these tech­niques and incor­po­rat­ed them into your own play­ing. But you won’t have to lie, exact­ly, if you tell peo­ple you’ve been jam­ming with John May­er. Or, if that’s not cool in your cir­cles, come up with your own legend—abduction by a con­spir­a­cy of blues-play­ing aliens, per­haps.

How­ev­er you explain it to your friends when we get out of the wood­shed, I have no doubt that becom­ing a bet­ter blues play­er can improve what­ev­er else you plan to do with the gui­tar.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Learn to Play Gui­tar for Free: Intro Cours­es Take You From The Very Basics to Play­ing Songs In No Time

James Tay­lor Gives Gui­tar Lessons, Teach­ing You How to Play Clas­sic Songs Like “Fire and Rain,” “Coun­try Road” & “Car­oli­na in My Mind”

Pete Seeger Teach­es You How to Play Gui­tar for Free in The Folksinger’s Gui­tar Guide (1955)

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

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