Discover the Retirement Home for Elderly Musicians Created by Giuseppe Verdi: Created in 1899, It Still Lives On Today

Among my works, the one I like best is the Home that I have had built in Milan for accom­mo­dat­ing old singers not favored by for­tune, or who, when they were young did not pos­sess the virtue of sav­ing. Poor and dear com­pan­ions of my life! 

Giuseppe Ver­di

Is there a rem­e­dy for the iso­la­tion of old age?

What about the jol­ly fra­ter­ni­ty and com­pet­i­tive­ness of an art col­lege dorm, as envi­sioned by opera com­pos­er Giuseppe Ver­di?

Short­ly before his death, the com­pos­er donat­ed all roy­al­ties from his operas to the con­struc­tion and admin­is­tra­tion of a lux­u­ri­ous retreat for retired musi­cians, designed by his librettist’s broth­er, archi­tect Camil­lo Boito.

Com­plet­ed in 1899, Casa Ver­di still serves elder­ly musi­cians today–up to 60 at a time. Res­i­dents of Casa Ver­di include alum­nae of the Met­ro­pol­i­tan Opera and the Roy­al Opera House. Guests have worked along­side such nota­bles as Chet Bak­er and Maria Callas.

Com­pe­ti­tion for res­i­den­tial slots is stiff. To qual­i­fy, one must have been a pro­fes­sion­al musi­cian or music teacher. Those select­ed enjoy room, board, and med­ical treat­ment in addi­tion to, writes The New York Times, “access to con­certs, music rooms, 15 pianos, a large organ, harps, drum sets and the com­pa­ny of their peers.” Musi­cal pro­gram­ming is as con­stant as the fine view of Verdi’s grave.

Din­ing tables are named in hon­or of Verdi’s works. Those inclined to wor­ship do so in a chapel named for San­ta Cecil­ia, the patron saint of musi­cians.

Prac­tice rooms are alive with the sound of music and crit­i­cism. As Casa Verdi’s music ther­a­pist told the Finan­cial Times, “They are very com­pet­i­tive: they are all pri­ma don­nas.”

When mem­o­ry fails, res­i­dents can tune in to such doc­u­men­taries as actor Dustin Hoff­man’s Tosca’s Kiss, below

Get a peek inside Verdi’s retire­ment home for artists, com­pli­ments of Urban Sketch­ers here.

via The New York Times

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Meet Nadia Boulanger, “The Most Influ­en­tial Teacher Since Socrates,” Who Men­tored Philip Glass, Leonard Bern­stein, Aaron Cop­land, Quin­cy Jones & Oth­er Leg­ends

New Web Site, “The Opera Plat­form,” Lets You Watch La Travi­a­ta and Oth­er First-Class Operas Free Online

Hear the High­est Note Sung in the 137-Year His­to­ry of the Met­ro­pol­i­tan Opera

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

Hear the Famously Controversial Concert Where Leonard Bernstein Introduces Glenn Gould & His Idiosyncratic Performance of Brahms’ First Piano Concerto (1962)

Some­thing high­ly unusu­al hap­pened dur­ing the New York Phil­har­mon­ic’s con­cert of April 6, 1962. After the inter­mis­sion, just before start­ing the sec­ond half with the First Piano Con­cer­to of Johannes Brahms fea­tur­ing Glenn Gould, con­duc­tor Leonard Bern­stein stepped onto the podi­um and said a few words to pre­pare the audi­ence for what would come next:

You are about to hear a rather, shall we say, unortho­dox per­for­mance of the Brahms D Minor Con­cer­to, a per­for­mance dis­tinct­ly dif­fer­ent from any I’ve ever heard, or even dreamt of for that mat­ter, in its remark­ably broad tem­pi and its fre­quent depar­tures from Brahms’ dynam­ic indi­ca­tions. I can­not say I am in total agree­ment with Mr. Gould’s con­cep­tion and this rais­es the inter­est­ing ques­tion: “What am I doing con­duct­ing it?” I’m con­duct­ing it because Mr. Gould is so valid and seri­ous an artist that I must take seri­ous­ly any­thing he con­ceives in good faith and his con­cep­tion is inter­est­ing enough so that I feel you should hear it, too.

You can hear Bern­stein’s remarks in full in the con­cert record­ing just above. “Why do I not make a minor scan­dal,” he asks rhetor­i­cal­ly, “get a sub­sti­tute soloist, or let an assis­tant con­duct?” Because he was “glad to have the chance for a new look at this much-played work,” because “there are moments in Mr. Gould’s per­for­mance that emerge with aston­ish­ing fresh­ness and con­vic­tion,” and because “we can all learn some­thing from this extra­or­di­nary artist, who is a think­ing per­former.”

Just as Bern­stein did­n’t agree with the famous­ly (and some­times infa­mous­ly) indi­vid­u­al­is­tic Gould’s much-slowed-down inter­pre­ta­tion of Brahms (though the decades of Brahms schol­ar­ship since have giv­en it more sup­port), many crit­ics did­n’t agree with Bern­stein’s deci­sion to intro­duce it that way. “I think that even though the con­duc­tor made this big dis­claimer, he should not be allowed to wig­gle off the hook that easy,” wrote the New York Times’ Harold C. Schon­berg, who approved of nei­ther the pre­sen­ta­tive choic­es of the con­duc­tor nor the artis­tic choic­es of the pianist. “I mean, who engaged the Gould boy in the first place? Who is the musi­cal direc­tor? Some­body has to be respon­si­ble.”

“At the time I felt that say­ing some­thing like this before a per­for­mance was not the right thing to do,” says famed con­duc­tor Sei­ji Oza­wa in Absolute­ly on Music, his book of con­ver­sa­tions with nov­el­ist Haru­ki Muraka­mi. He hap­pened to be there at Carnegie Hall on April 6, 1962, in his capac­i­ty as Bern­stein’s assis­tant con­duc­tor: “When Lenny said in his speech that he could have let an assis­tant con­duct it — that’s me!” Lis­ten­ing to the record­ing again, Oza­wa describes Gould (who would retire from live per­for­mance two years there­after) as hav­ing “an absolute­ly sol­id grasp of the flow of the music,” and adds that “Lenny’s got it absolute­ly right, too. He’s putting his heart and soul into it.” Oza­wa still dis­ap­proves of Bern­stein’s intro­duc­to­ry remarks, but acknowl­edges the spe­cial qual­i­ty of the man who intro­duced him to Amer­i­ca: “From Lenny, peo­ple were will­ing to accept it.”

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Leonard Bernstein’s Mas­ter­ful Lec­tures on Music (11+ Hours of Video Record­ed at Har­vard in 1973)

Leonard Bernstein’s First “Young People’s Con­cert” at Carnegie Hall Asks, “What Does Music Mean?”

Spheres Dance to the Music of Bach, Per­formed by Glenn Gould: An Ani­ma­tion from 1969

Watch a 27-Year-Old Glenn Gould Play Bach & Put His Musi­cal Genius on Dis­play (1959)

Watch Leonard Bern­stein Con­duct the Vien­na Phil­har­mon­ic Using Only His Eye­brows

Based in Seoul, Col­in Mar­shall writes and broad­casts on cities 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.

Hear the Very First Pieces of Ambient Music, Erik Satie’s Furniture Music (Circa 1917)

Who invent­ed ambi­ent music? Many fans of the genre might say Bri­an Eno, though Bri­an Eno him­self makes no such claim. Still, the records he labeled with the word “ambi­ent” in the 1970s and 80s did much to pop­u­lar­ize not just the term, but a cer­tain con­cep­tion of the form itself. “For me, the cen­tral idea was about music as a place you go to,” he said in an inter­view about his recent ambi­ent album Reflec­tion. “Not a nar­ra­tive, not a sequence that has some sort of tele­o­log­i­cal direc­tion to it — verse, cho­rus, this, that, and the oth­er. It’s real­ly based on abstract expres­sion­ism: Instead of the pic­ture being a struc­tured per­spec­tive, where your eye is expect­ed to go in cer­tain direc­tions, it’s a field, and you wan­der son­i­cal­ly over the field.”

Did the 19th and ear­ly 20th-cen­tu­ry French com­pos­er Erik Satie have the same idea? The Guardian’s Nick Shave calls Satie (whom you’ll at the very least know for Gymnopédie No.1) “the mav­er­ick who invent­ed ‘fur­ni­ture music,’ sounds that were designed to be heard but not lis­tened to.”

F.D. Leone of Musi­ca Kalei­dosko­pea describes Satie’s musique d’ameublement as “music which had no set form and sec­tions could be re-arranged as a per­former or con­duc­tor wished, much like fur­ni­ture in a room, and to act as part of the ambiance or fur­nish­ings.” And Satie start­ed on it in back in 1917, com­pos­ing for the deliv­ery sys­tem of not records, and cer­tain­ly not (as Eno has used in recent years) gen­er­a­tive smart­phone apps, but live per­for­mance.

Though Satie would con­tin­ue writ­ing fur­ni­ture music until just a cou­ple of years before his death in 1925, much of it was nev­er per­formed dur­ing his life­time. Its revival came a few decades lat­er, thanks to the arrival into the music world of a young com­pos­er intent on tak­ing his art to places it had sel­dom gone before: John Cage. “He’s indis­pens­able,” Cage once said of the still oft-derid­ed Satie. Shave also describes Eno’s 1978 album Ambi­ent 1: Music for Air­ports a direct answer to Satie’s call for “music that would be a part of the sur­round­ing nois­es.” You can hear all of Satie’s fur­ni­ture music (selec­tions of which appear embed­ded here) per­formed by the Ars Nova Ensem­ble at Ubuweb. “It seems to have swollen to accom­mo­date some quite unex­pect­ed bed­fel­lows,” Eno has writ­ten of the genre of ambi­ent music today. But would would Satie hear it all as just an expan­sion of fur­ni­ture music?

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Watch the 1917 Bal­let “Parade”: Cre­at­ed by Erik Satie, Pablo Picas­so & Jean Cocteau, It Pro­voked a Riot and Inspired the Word “Sur­re­al­ism”

The Vel­vet Underground’s John Cale Plays Erik Satie’s Vex­a­tions on I’ve Got a Secret (1963)

Moby Lets You Down­load 4 Hours of Ambi­ent Music to Help You Sleep, Med­i­tate, Do Yoga & Not Pan­ic

Music That Helps You Sleep: Min­i­mal­ist Com­pos­er Max Richter, Pop Phe­nom Ed Sheer­an & Your Favorites

The “True” Sto­ry Of How Bri­an Eno Invent­ed Ambi­ent Music

Based in Seoul, Col­in Mar­shall writes and broad­casts on cities 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.

A Big Choir Sings Patti Smith’s “Because the Night”

Five years ago, Choir!Choir!Choir!, a large ama­teur choir from Toron­to, got a rare chance to per­form with Pat­ti Smith, join­ing her onstage to sing her 1978 hit “Because the Night.” Still inspired by that expe­ri­ence, the group recent­ly revis­it­ed the song dur­ing one of their week­ly ses­sions. “The feel­ing in the room was elec­tric, every­one was lean­ing in hard, and the end result is so pow­er­ful,” Choir!Choir!Choir! writes on their YouTube chan­nel. You can watch the end result above.

In case you missed it, you can also watch them per­form David Bowie’s “Heroes” with the great David Byrne. See the first item in the Relat­eds below.

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 and BlueSky.

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:

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

Hear a Com­plete Chrono­log­i­cal Discog­ra­phy of Pat­ti Smith’s Fierce­ly Poet­ic Rock and Roll: 13 Hours and 142 Tracks

Watch Pat­ti Smith Read from Vir­ginia Woolf, and Hear the Only Sur­viv­ing Record­ing of Woolf’s Voice

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100 Years of Drag Queen Fashion in 4 Minutes: An Aesthetic Journey Moving from the 1920s Through Today

Drag super­star RuPaul’s Drag Race pro­gram can be cred­it­ed with bring­ing his sub­cul­ture to a much wider audi­ence.

For ten sea­sons, view­ers out­side the major met­ro­pol­i­tan areas and select hol­i­day des­ti­na­tions where drag has flour­ished have tuned in to root for their favorite com­peti­tors.

As a result, main­stream Amer­i­ca has devel­oped a much more nuanced appre­ci­a­tion for the labor and artistry behind suc­cess­ful drag per­for­mance and per­son­ae.

Van­i­ty Fair’s “100 Years of Drag Queen Fash­ion,” above, is not so much an evo­lu­tion­ary his­to­ry of the form as a salute to some of its pio­neers, prac­ti­tion­ers, and patron saints.

Each decade opens with a Drag Race alum fac­ing the make­up mir­ror in a rel­a­tive­ly naked state.  Shangela Laquifa Wadley, Raja, and Detox all appear sans fard. Kim Chi’s heav­i­ly made up eyes are eye­lash-free.

The 70’s spin on the late, great Divine is more rem­i­nis­cent of cis-gen­der dis­co queen Don­na Sum­mer than the out­ra­geous plus-sized muse direc­tor John Waters referred to as “the most beau­ti­ful woman in the world, almost.”

As por­trayed in the video below, there’s a strong echo of 1930’s Pan­sy Per­former Jean Malin in RuPaul’s glam­orous pre­sen­ta­tion.

In real­i­ty, the resem­blance is not quite so strong. Although Malin got dolled up in Mae West drag in 1933’s Ari­zona to Broad­way, above, left to his own devices his stage pres­ence was that of an open­ly effem­i­nate gay man, or “pan­sy.” As Pro­fes­sor George Chauncey, direc­tor of Colum­bia University’s Research Ini­tia­tive on the Glob­al His­to­ry of Sex­u­al­i­ties observes in his book, Gay New York:

 His very pres­ence on the club floor elicit­ed the cat­calls of many men in the club, but he respond­ed to their abuse by rip­ping them to shreds with the drag queen’s best weapon: his wit. ‘He had a lisp, and an atti­tude, but he also had a sharp tongue,’ accord­ing to one colum­nist. ‘The wise cracks and inquiries of the men who hoot­ed at his act found ready answer.’ And if hos­tile spec­ta­tors tried to use brute force to take him on after he had defeat­ed them with his wit, he was pre­pared to hum­ble them on those terms as well. ‘He was a huge youth,’ one paper report­ed, ‘weigh­ing 200, and a six foot­er. Not a few pro­fes­sion­al pugilists sighed because Jean seemed to pre­fer din­ner rings to box­ing rings.’ Although Mal­in’s act remained tame enough to safe­guard its wide appeal, it nonethe­less embod­ied the com­pli­cat­ed rela­tion­ship between pan­sies and ‘nor­mal’ men. His behav­ior was con­sis­tent with their demean­ing stereo­type of how a pan­sy should behave, but he demand­ed their respect; he fas­ci­nat­ed and enter­tained them, but he also threat­ened and infu­ri­at­ed them.

We’ve come a long way, baby.

Oth­er leg­endary fig­ures hon­ored by Van­i­ty Fair include Fran­cis Renault (1893–1955), Lav­ern Cum­mings (1925–1991), and Dan­ny LaRue (1927–2009).

Also some gen­der bend­ing lad by the name David Bowie, though if Van­i­ty Fair’s skin­ny Divine caus­es a slight sense of unease, the hideous vinyl rain­coat sport­ed by its snarling, whip-wield­ing Bowie fac­sim­i­le may send fans scut­tling for torch­es and pitch­forks.

As to the future, Joan Jet­son col­lars and pink wed­ding cake wigs appear to be part of drag’s fash­ion fore­cast.

Cis-male skele­tal struc­tures may not always lend them­selves to peri­od-appro­pri­ate female sil­hou­ettes, but the tow­er­ing heels on dis­play are faith­ful to the art of the drag queen, above all else.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

The Muse­um of Mod­ern Art (MoMA) Presents a Free Online Class on Fash­ion: Enroll in Fash­ion as Design Today

Google Cre­ates a Dig­i­tal Archive of World Fash­ion: Fea­tures 30,000 Images, Cov­er­ing 3,000 Years of Fash­ion His­to­ry

Dif­fer­ent From the Oth­ers (1919): The First Gay Rights Movie Ever … Lat­er Destroyed by the Nazis

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

Igor Stravinsky Remembers the “Riotous” Premiere of His Rite of Spring in 1913: “They Were Very Shocked. They Were Naive and Stupid People.”

It can be a lit­tle hard to take the word “riot” seri­ous­ly when applied to a con­tentious bal­let per­for­mance, giv­en how reg­u­lar­ly we now see police with machine guns, shields, and tanks rolling down city streets to over­pow­er protest­ing cit­i­zens. But that is the word that has come down to us for the fra­cas that greet­ed the debut of Serge Diaghilev and Igor Stravinsky’s Rite of Spring in Paris in 1913. The idea of a riot seems all the more incon­gru­ous, and fun­ny, when con­sid­ered in the light of Jean Cocteau’s descrip­tion of the crowd:

The smart audi­ence in tails and tulle, dia­monds and ospreys, was inter­spersed with the suits and ban­deaux of the aes­thet­ic crowd. The lat­ter would applaud nov­el­ty sim­ply to show their con­tempt for the peo­ple in the box­es… Innu­mer­able shades of snob­bery, super-snob­bery and invert­ed snob­bery were rep­re­sent­ed.

This Parisian smart set came togeth­er on that evening of May 29th expect­ing “some­thing poten­tial­ly out­ra­geous,” writes The Tele­graph’s clas­si­cal crit­ic Ivan Hewett. Diaghilev’s Bal­let Russ­es had pre­vi­ous­ly “entranced and shocked Paris.”

Stravin­sky was acquir­ing a rep­u­ta­tion as a musi­cal provo­ca­teur, hav­ing built his score for 1910’s The Fire­bird around the dis­so­nant “Devil’s Inter­val.” Nonethe­less, as the Rock­et­boom video below, “The Riot of Spring,” explains, audi­ences packed into the Théâtre des Champs-Élysées had no prepa­ra­tion for what they would see, and hear, when the cur­tain arose.

And what was that? A “high, almost stran­gled bas­soon melody,” Hewett writes, “soon draped with flut­ter­ing, twit­ter­ing wood­wind sounds” set to “pul­sat­ing rhythms.” Chore­o­g­ra­ph­er Vaslav Nijinsky’s dancers “seemed pulled down to earth. Their strange, jerky move­ments and awk­ward pos­es defied every canon of grace­ful­ness.” The audi­ence react­ed imme­di­ate­ly, shout­ing and attack­ing one anoth­er: “canes were bran­dished like men­ac­ing imple­ments of com­bat all over the the­ater.” Stravin­sky him­self remem­bers the the­ater­go­ers reac­tions with dis­dain in a short inter­view excerpt at the top.

“The storm broke,” he says, once the cur­tain opened on a group of “knock-kneed… Loli­tas jump­ing up and down.” The audi­ence “came for Scheherazade or Cleopa­tra, and they saw Le Sacre du Print­emps. They were very shocked. They were very naïve and stu­pid peo­ple.” Did Stravin­sky real­ly not antic­i­pate the degree of unrest his weird, dis­so­nant bal­let might pro­voke? It seems not. He hoped it would be a big­ger hit than his wide­ly-praised Petrush­ka of three years ear­li­er. “From all indi­ca­tions,” he had writ­ten to set design­er Nicholas Roerich, “I can see that this piece is bound to ‘emerge’ in a way that rarely hap­pens.” This proved true, but not at all in the way he meant it.

For his part, writes Hewett, Diaghilev “was hop­ing for some­thing more than an emer­gence. He want­ed a scan­dal.” James Wol­cott, in his account of the evening, Wild in the Seats, argues that the Russ­ian impre­sario had “a genius for pub­lic­i­ty that wouldn’t be matched until the advent of Andy Warhol and the pop cult of celebri­ty.” He knew he need­ed to rat­tle the “jad­ed ele­gants,” who “weren’t going to be stim­u­lat­ed by the same melt­ing, yearn­ing pan­tomime in pointe shoes.” The Rite of Spring pre­miere remains the most infa­mous scan­dal in the his­to­ry of bal­let to this day.

But while the sophis­ti­cates bat­tled it out in the aisles, scream­ing over the orches­tra, pulling down each other’s top hats, it’s said, and chal­leng­ing each oth­er to duels, a few spec­ta­tors, Cocteau includ­ed, sat entranced by the per­for­mance. The work, he lat­er wrote, “is, and will remain, a mas­ter­piece: a sym­pho­ny impreg­nat­ed with wild pathos, with earth in the throes of birth, nois­es of farm and camp, lit­tle melodies that come to us out of the depths of the cen­turies, the pant­i­ng of cat­tle, pro­found con­vul­sions of nature, pre­his­toric geor­gics.”

See the open­ing move­ments per­formed above by the Jof­frey Bal­let in 1987, and imag­ine your­self in the midst of Paris’s high­est soci­ety con­vuls­ing in a riotous out­cry. What was so upset­ting? “Per­haps the riot was a sign of dis­qui­et,” Hewett spec­u­lates, “a feel­ing that that the world had lost its moor­ings, and that bar­barism was about to be let loose in the streets.” Accord­ing to eye­wit­ness­es, some dis­turbed spec­ta­tors even called in the police. You can learn much more about this fas­ci­nat­ing his­to­ry at the free Har­vard edX course, “Stravinsky’s Rite of Spring: Mod­ernism, Bal­let, and Riots.”

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Stravinsky’s The Rite of Spring, Visu­al­ized in a Com­put­er Ani­ma­tion

Stravinsky’s “Ille­gal” Arrange­ment of “The Star Span­gled Ban­ner” (1944)

Watch 82-Year-Old Igor Stravin­sky Con­duct The Fire­bird, the Bal­let Mas­ter­piece That First Made Him Famous (1965)

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

Apply to Become an Archivist Overseeing Prince’s Artifacts & Archival Materials: Applications Are Being Accepted Now

Image by Ann Alt­house, via Flickr Com­mons

If all of Prince’s offi­cial releas­es some­how dis­ap­peared from history—no Con­tro­ver­sy, 1999, Pur­ple Rain, Sign o’ the Times, Love­sexy—you could still make a case for him as a sin­gu­lar, if unheard, musi­cal genius based on his mas­sive trove of unre­leased mate­r­i­al alone. At least that’s my the­o­ry, but the evi­dence is some­what lack­ing since we’ve yet to hear much from the noto­ri­ous Pais­ley Park vault. We do know, as Rolling Stone report­ed in 2016, that it’s full of “thou­sands of hours of unheard live and stu­dio material—jams, ran­dom songs and entire albums”…enough mate­r­i­al, it seems, to recre­ate Prince should his career some­how get erased from the time­line.

One for­mer Pais­ley Park employ­ee, Scott LeG­ere, wit­nessed the Pur­ple One’s man­ic ener­gy dur­ing many a long record­ing ses­sion, as he churned out music at a super­hu­man rate, then rel­e­gat­ed much of it, for rea­sons known only to Prince, to the Vault—an actu­al base­ment bank vault “com­plete with a time lock and large spin­ning han­dle.” Only Prince knew the com­bi­na­tion. “At one point,” LeG­ere remem­bered, “I was hold­ing tapes and he would beck­on me to come in. I said, ‘Actu­al­ly, sir, I’d rather not. That is your space and your work.’” I don’t know about you, but I prob­a­bly would have gone in. Then again, I’ve nev­er actu­al­ly been to Pais­ley Park and expe­ri­enced what seems to have been a very hum­bling atmos­phere.

As you must have heard by now, the Vault is open, and unre­leased mate­r­i­al has begun to trick­le out, like the orig­i­nal stu­dio record­ing of “Noth­ing Com­pares 2 U,” above with pre­vi­ous­ly unre­leased rehearsal footage of Prince and his band. He “record­ed every part him­self,” writes Jon Par­e­les, as was his cus­tom, “except some back­ing vocals (by Paul Peter­son and Susan­nah Melvoin) and a sax­o­phone solo (by Eric Leeds).” It is, with­out a doubt, “a crescen­do of heartache under­scored by every­day details, a fin­ished song.”

If you’re a Prince fan (and how could you not be?), you’ll have to wait until Sep­tem­ber for the first full album of songs from the Vault. But one lucky per­son with the rel­e­vant skills and expe­ri­ence in archival work and con­ser­va­tion will get the chance to work direct­ly with the mate­ri­als at Pais­ley Park, now a per­ma­nent muse­um, as the Archives Super­vi­sor report­ing to the Direc­tor of Archives. “Some knowl­edge of Prince is help­ful,” the job announce­ment—post­ed on April 12th—specifies.

You’ll have to be pre­pared to work week­ends, hol­i­days, evenings, and over­time. Ben­e­fits are not guar­an­teed but “may be be offered after suc­cess­ful com­ple­tion of a six­ty (60) day intro­duc­to­ry peri­od.” You must have a car and “adhere to a pescatar­i­an envi­ron­ment.” I can’t speak to how these con­di­tions com­pare to sim­i­lar kinds of employ­ment, but hey, for the chance to “work in a con­fi­den­tial work area,” includ­ing, we might assume, the mys­te­ri­ous Vault itself, some sac­ri­fices may be worth it. You’ll like­ly get to see and hear, before any­one else, the pro­fu­sion of unre­leased film and audio Prince left behind—a life­time’s worth of work that puts most oth­er musi­cians to shame, stashed away in the base­ment for future gen­er­a­tions to find. You can apply here.

via Rolling Stone

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Prince Gets an Offi­cial Pur­ple Pan­tone Col­or

Hear Prince’s Per­son­al Playlist of Par­ty Music: 22 Tracks That Will Bring Any Par­ty to Life

Watch Prince Play Jazz Piano & Coach His Band Through George Gershwin’s “Sum­mer­time” in a Can­did, Behind-the-Scenes Moment (1990)

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

Special David Bowie MetroCards Get Released in New York City

Some pret­ty famous faces ride the New York City sub­way. Was David Bowie’s ever among them?

If so, he suc­ceed­ed in dodg­ing the cam­eras of the curi­ous.

His home stop would have been SoHo’s Broadway/Lafayette—close to the Ange­li­ka Film Cen­terHous­ing Works Book­store Cafe, and an upscale men’s cloth­ing store that opened on the sacred ground of CBGB, where Bowie and Bian­ca Jag­ger once arrived by lim­ou­sine to see Richard Hell and the Voidoids.

From there, it’s not exact­ly a straight shot to the David Bowie Is exhib­it at the Brook­lyn Muse­um, but the Met­ro­pol­i­tan Tran­sit Author­i­ty will get you there for the price of a sin­gle $2.75 sub­way fare.

Giv­en that the MTA stopped accept­ing tokens 15 years ago, you’ll also need to cough up $1 for a Metro­Card. You may want to even if you already own one.

In cel­e­bra­tion of all things Bowie, the MTA has teamed with Spo­ti­fy to cre­ate 5 lim­it­ed edi­tion Metro­Cards, avail­able in vend­ing machines through­out the sta­tion for a New York minute—about as long as it takes Bowie fans to descend en masse to snag the instant col­lectibles of their hero in some of his many guis­es:

Zig­gy Star­dust

Aladdin Sane

The Thin White Duke

Scary Mon­sters’ Pier­rot

and, most touch­ing­ly, the teenage David Jones, aka Bowie, sax­o­phon­ist for the Kon-Rads.

Under­ground Bowie mania extends way beyond Metro­Cards. Until Mother’s Day, the unusu­al­ly lofty sta­tion is fes­tooned with Bowie—everything from fan art to giant repro­duc­tions of pho­tos from the cur­rent exhi­bi­tion.

Many of the images are accom­pa­nied by a scannable Spo­ti­fy code to trans­port rid­ers to a rel­e­vant sound file, a nifty echo of the pro­gres­sive audio muse­um-goers expe­ri­ence through their head­phones.

The glob­al exhib­it has Lon­don roots, but the MTA is focused on Bowie’s ties to New York with pho­tos and video stills from such loca­tions as Carnegie Hall, Radio City Music Hall, Madi­son Square Gar­den, and the late, lament­ed Mag­ic Shop stu­dio.

Civic pride is also on dis­play in the form of city-spe­cif­ic Bowie quotes post­ed through­out the sta­tion:

I have a great time here: we can go where we want, eat where we want, walk out with our child, go to the park, ride the sub­way, do the things that any fam­i­ly does.

Ah ha! So he did ride the sub­way here, as well as in Japan (below).

Accord­ing to a fan on Bow­ery Boo­gie, he also popped up at the New York Pub­lic Library’s Mul­ber­ry Street branch, just around the cor­ner from the subway’s entrance. To find your way there, con­sult the bright orange “Bowie’s Neigh­bor­hood Map” before leav­ing the sta­tion, where your loca­tion is denot­ed with a light­ning bolt.

See rid­ers’ pho­tos of the sub­way takeover here.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

The David Bowie Book Club Gets Launched by His Son: Read One of Bowie’s 100 Favorite Books Every Month

The Peri­od­ic Table of David Bowie: A Visu­al­iza­tion of the Sem­i­nal Artist’s Influ­ence and Influ­ences

Stream David Bowie’s Com­plete Discog­ra­phy in a 19-Hour Playlist: From His Very First Record­ings to His Last

Ayun Hal­l­i­day is an author, illus­tra­tor, the­ater mak­er and Chief Pri­ma­tol­o­gist of the East Vil­lage Inky zine.  Join her in NYC on Mon­day, April 23 for the third install­ment of her lit­er­ary-themed vari­ety show, Necro­mancers of the Pub­lic Domain. Fol­low her @AyunHalliday.

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