Marie Osmond Performs the Dadaist Poem “Karawane” on the TV Show, Ripley’s Believe It or Not (1985)

Remem­ber Don­ny and Marie Osmond, the toothy, teenage Mor­mon sib­lings whose epony­mous tele­vi­sion vari­ety show was a whole­some 70’s mix of skits, songs, and ice skat­ing?

Their sur­pris­ing­ly endur­ing theme song reduced their pop­u­lar­i­ty to an eas­i­ly gras­pable bina­ry for­mu­la:

She was a lit­tle bit coun­try. He was a lit­tle bit rock and roll.

Turns out Marie was also more than a lit­tle bit Dada.

From 1985 to 1986, Marie served as actor Jack Palance’s cohost on Ripley’s Believe It or Not, a TV series explor­ing strange occur­rences, bizarre his­tor­i­cal facts, and oth­er such crowd-pleas­ing odd­i­ties… one of which was appar­ent­ly the afore­men­tioned Euro­pean avant-garde art move­ment, found­ed a hun­dred years ago this week.

If you don’t know as much about Dada as you’d like, Ms. Osmond’s brief primer is a sur­pris­ing­ly stur­dy intro­duc­tion.

No cutesy boot­sy, easy ref­er­ences to melt­ing clocks here.

The high­light is her per­for­mance of Dada poet and man­i­festo author Hugo Bal­l’s non­sen­si­cal 1916 sound poem “Karawane.”

Lose the yel­low bathrobe and she could be a cap­tive war­rior princess on Game of Thrones, fierce­ly peti­tion­ing the Moth­er of Drag­ons on behalf of her peo­ple. (Invent some sub­ti­tles for extra Dada-inflect­ed fun!)

A sharp eyed young art stu­dent named Ethan Bates did catch one error in Marie’s les­son. The ’13’ cos­tume she pulls from a handy dress­ing room niche was not worn by Hugo Ball, but rather Dutch painter Theo Van Does­burg, one of the founders of the De Sti­jl move­ment.

Still you’ve got to hand it to Marie, who was slat­ed to per­form just a sin­gle line of the poem. When it came time to tape, she aban­doned the cue cards, blow­ing pro­duc­ers’ and crew’s minds by deliv­er­ing the poem in its unhinged entire­ty from mem­o­ry.

Now that’s rock and roll.

Below you’ll find footage of Ball him­self per­form­ing the work in 1916.

Marie’s ver­sion was even­tu­al­ly released by Rough Trade Records as a track on Lip­stick Traces, a com­pan­ion sound­track to Greil Mar­cus’ sem­i­nal book.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Dada Was Born 100 Years Ago: Cel­e­brate the Avant-Garde Move­ment Launched by Hugo Ball on July 14, 1916

Hear the Exper­i­men­tal Music of the Dada Move­ment: Avant-Garde Sounds from a Cen­tu­ry Ago

Down­load All 8 Issues of Dada, the Arts Jour­nal That Pub­li­cized the Avant-Garde Move­ment a Cen­tu­ry Ago (1917–21)

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

 

Enter Brian Wilson’s Creative Process While Making The Beach Boys’ Pet Sounds 50 Years Ago: A Fly-on-the Wall View

Fifty years on, you can read all you want about the Beach Boys’ 1966 mas­ter­piece Pet Sounds (and here’s two books that are great), but to real­ly appre­ci­ate the intri­cate nature of the arrange­ments, you have to turn to the mul­ti-tracks them­selves.

Work­ing with ses­sion play­ers that could pick up the ideas tum­bling from his head (and hur­ried­ly tran­scribe them), Bri­an Wil­son cre­at­ed a son­ic tapes­try at L.A.‘s Gold Star Stu­dios that still sounds fresh and, as the years go by, oth­er­world­ly. Influ­enced by Phil Spector’s work, along with the tex­tures of the songs of Burt Bacharach and Mar­tin Den­ny, Wil­son cre­at­ed some­thing as unique as his own DNA. Pet Sounds con­tin­ues to reveal secrets and trea­sures the more you lis­ten to it–as this series of YouTube mini-docs from user Behind the Sounds reveals.

These videos use the raw ses­sion record­ings that were released in 1997, and anno­tates them, point­ing out moments of Wilson’s artistry as we hear these clas­sic tracks assem­bled. (Wil­son, it’s said, kept his swear­ing to a min­i­mum in order to be tak­en seri­ous­ly by the musi­cians.)

An expe­ri­enced arranger would prob­a­bly nev­er have come up with the recipe for “Wouldn’t It Be Nice,” for exam­ple: two pianos, three gui­tars, three bass­es, four horns, two accor­dions, drums, and per­cus­sion. And cer­tain­ly not for a pop song. But there it is.

Yet, as amaz­ing as Pet Sounds is, the album was also a cry for help as men­tal ill­ness began to real­ly take hold of Wil­son. The album would be the high point before a slow decline. It’s as if one man couldn’t hold all this art in his head. It was too much. Aware of the end­less pos­si­bil­i­ties of the stu­dio as instru­ment, and own­ing a per­fec­tion­ist nature, Wil­son came undone. These docs are an excel­lent insight into a beau­ti­ful, trou­bled mind, but one that recov­ered after a long spell. Wil­son con­tin­ues to record and tour, includ­ing full per­for­mances of Pet Sounds. Click here to find tour dates for Bri­an Wilson’s “Pet Sounds 50th Anniver­sary World Tour.”

Part 1

Part 2

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Car­ol Kaye, 81-Year-Old Pio­neer of Rock, Gives Kiss’ Gene Sim­mons a Bass Les­son

Inside the Mak­ing of The Bea­t­les’ Sgt. Pepper’s Lone­ly Heart’s Club Band, Rock’s Great Con­cept Album

Leonard Bern­stein Demys­ti­fies the Rock Rev­o­lu­tion for Curi­ous (if Square) Grown-Ups in 1967

Ted Mills is a free­lance writer on the arts who cur­rent­ly hosts the artist inter­view-based FunkZone Pod­cast. You can also fol­low him on Twit­ter at @tedmills, read his oth­er arts writ­ing at tedmills.com and/or watch his films here.

Download 50+ Issues of Legendary West Coast Punk Music Zines from the 1970–80s: Damage, Slash & No Mag

damage110_465_712_int

If your under­stand­ing of ear­ly punk derives main­ly from doc­u­men­taries, you’re sore­ly miss­ing out. As I wrote in a post yes­ter­day on inter­na­tion­al trea­sure John Peel—the BBC DJ who exposed more than a cou­ple gen­er­a­tions to care­ful­ly-curat­ed punk rock—finding such music before the inter­net could be a daunt­ing, and excit­ing, adven­ture. With­out a doubt the best way die-hard fans and curi­ous onlook­ers could get a feel for the music, man­ners, and per­son­al­i­ties of any num­ber of local scenes was through mag­a­zine cul­ture, which dis­sem­i­nat­ed trends pre-Tum­blr with a spe­cial kind of inten­si­ty and aes­thet­ic per­son­al­iza­tion. Punk pub­li­ca­tions doc­u­ment­ed first­hand the doings of not only musi­cians, but visu­al artists, activists, pro­mot­ers, man­agers, and, of course, the fans, offer­ing points of view unavail­able any­where else.

damage71_465_699_int

The breadth and range of local punk rock fanzines, from the UK, the States, and else­where, can seem stag­ger­ing, and the qual­i­ty curve is a steep one—from bare­ly leg­i­ble, mimeo­graphed broad­sheets to large-for­mat newsprint affairs with pro­fes­sion­al lay­out and type­set­ting, like leg­endary titles Touch & Go and Search & Destroy. The lat­ter pub­li­ca­tion emerged from the rich, but often over­looked San Fran­cis­co scene and fea­tured fre­quent con­tri­bu­tions from Dead Kennedys’ singer Jel­lo Biafra, who appears on the cov­er of anoth­er San Fran­cis­co ‘zine, Dam­age (top), “as fine an exam­ple of the [punk ‘zine] form as any you care to name,” writes Dan­ger­ous Minds. Thanks to Austin-based archivist Ryan Richard­son, you can down­load 13 com­plete issues of Dam­age, from 1979 to 1981, in one large PDF.

slash_magazine_header_465_634_int

Through his project Cir­cu­la­tion Zero, Richard­son has made oth­er punk mag­a­zine col­lec­tions avail­able as well, in “an attempt to answer some ques­tions…. Are col­lec­tions bet­ter off inside insti­tu­tion­al libraries or in the hands of col­lec­tors? Should ancient in-fight­ing pre­vent bring­ing the punk print hey-day to a new gen­er­a­tion?” Obvi­ous­ly on that account, he’s come to terms with “eggshell walk­ing over copy­right issues” and decid­ed to deliv­er not only Dam­age but two more sem­i­nal titles from the West Coast punk scene’s gold­en age: Slash and No Mag. Each down­load is fair­ly large, includ­ing as they do “sin­gle search­able PDFs” of print runs over sev­er­al years. In the case of Slash, we get a whop­ping 29 issues, from 1977 to 1980, and Richard­son gives us 14 issues of No Mag, from 1978 to 1985. Because “some pub­li­ca­tions stuck around for a long time,” he writes, “I’ve picked a rea­son­able stop­ping point based most­ly on when my fas­ci­na­tion pre­cip­i­tous­ly declines head­ing into the mid-80s.”

slash_v1_n03_p01_465_618_int

Even so, these col­lec­tions are mag­nif­i­cent rep­re­sen­ta­tions of the most fer­tile years of the move­ment, and they cap­ture some of the most nec­es­sary pub­li­ca­tions for fans and schol­ars seek­ing to under­stand punk cul­ture. “The impor­tance of Slash,” Dan­ger­ous Minds writes, “to the L.A. punk scene, and real­ly to the world­wide punk scene in gen­er­al, can­not be over­stat­ed.” The edgi­er, “filth­i­er” No Mag’s “trans­gres­sive art and pho­tog­ra­phy, along with the inter­views of now-leg­endary bands, make this run a cru­cial his­tor­i­cal resource.”

Found­ed in 1978 by Bruce Kalberg and Michael Gira—before he moved to New York and start­ed pun­ish­ing noise-rock band SwansNo Mag’s cat­a­log includ­ed the usu­al roundup of L.A. punk heroes: X, Fear, the Germs, Sui­ci­dal Ten­den­cies, along with sev­er­al for­got­ten local stal­warts as well. This par­tic­u­lar rag—as an L.A. Week­ly piece detailed—“fre­quent­ly bor­dered on the porno­graph­ic… forc­ing [Kalberg] to man­u­fac­ture it in San Fran­cis­co, where print­ers are appar­ent­ly more tol­er­ant.” It may go with­out say­ing, but we say it all the same: many of these pages make for unsafe work view­ing.

nomag07_p01-XL_465_607_int

Cir­cu­la­tion Zero gen­er­ous­ly makes these invalu­able col­lec­tions avail­able to all, osten­si­bly free of charge, but with the under­stand­ing that read­ers will “decide what your expe­ri­ence was worth and then donate” to char­i­ties of Richardson’s choice, includ­ing the Elec­tron­ic Fron­tier Foun­da­tion and Doc­tors With­out Bor­ders. You’ll find down­load links for all three titles on this page, and dona­tion links here. How­ev­er much, or lit­tle, you’re able to give (on your hon­or!), it’s worth the time and cost. Whether you’re an old-school punk, a new fan learn­ing the his­to­ry, or an aca­d­e­m­ic cul­tur­al his­to­ri­an or the­o­rist, you’ll glean an ines­timable amount of knowl­edge and plea­sure from these archives.

nomag14_p01-XL_465_621_int

via Dan­ger­ous Minds

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Down­load 834 Rad­i­cal Zines From a Rev­o­lu­tion­ary Online Archive: Glob­al­iza­tion, Punk Music, the Indus­tri­al Prison Com­plex & More

The Night John Belushi Booked the Punk Band Fear on Sat­ur­day Night Live, And They Got Banned from the Show

The Cramps Play a Men­tal Hos­pi­tal in Napa, Cal­i­for­nia in 1978: The Punk­est of Punk Con­certs

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

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

For fans of what came to be called “alter­na­tive music,” the dis­cov­ery of new artists and bands felt like a gen­uine adven­ture before the inter­net irrev­o­ca­bly changed music con­sump­tion. A few offi­cial venues act­ed as guides—magazines like Trouser Press and NMEshows like 120 Min­utes, MTV’s late-night show­case of post-punk, new wave, indus­tri­al, etc. Word of mouth, local zines, col­lege radio, mix­tape gifts, and the pur­loined con­tents of old­er broth­ers and sis­ters’ record col­lec­tions went a long way. Many of us had access to inde­pen­dent record stores that stocked all sorts of under­ground odd­i­ties, often run by obses­sive know-it-alls like High Fideli­ty’s Rob Gor­don.

Ven­tur­ing into that world could be an intim­i­dat­ing expe­ri­ence. But one depend­able mark­er of qual­i­ty hard­ly ever let young seek­ers down: the name of BBC DJ and cura­tor extra­or­di­naire John Peel. Peel’s influ­ence on the musi­cal trends of the last forty years is incal­cu­la­ble, and impos­si­ble to sum­ma­rize in brief. (Learn about his lega­cy at this BBC trib­ute page.) From 1967 to his death in 2004, he record­ed up and com­ing and under­ground bands in inti­mate ses­sions at BBC stu­dios, and many of these clas­sic record­ings came out on his Strange Fruit label.

No mat­ter the band, no mat­ter the genre, the mys­te­ri­ous gray cov­er of a Peel Ses­sions release always promised some­thing worth fork­ing over one’s hard-earned lawn­mow­ing mon­ey to hear. Peel broad­cast and record­ed Nir­vana before “Smells Like Teen Spir­it” hit the main­stream; intro­duced his lis­ten­ers to now-leg­ends like Joy Divi­sion, The Smiths, and The Spe­cials; gave Bowie his first break before his Zig­gy Star­dust fame; and played Bob Mar­ley before Catch a Fire made him world famous.

These ses­sions and many more have been lov­ing­ly com­piled in one Spo­ti­fy playlist by Sebastien Van­blaere. If you have nos­tal­gic mem­o­ries of putting on a Peel Ses­sions record or cas­sette and hav­ing your mind blown by music the likes of which you’d nev­er heard before, you may find your favorites here. My per­son­al touch­stone is Siouxsie and the Ban­shees’ Peel Ses­sion record­ings, which to this day I pre­fer to their still excel­lent stu­dio releas­es (hear “Love in a Void” at the top). Some­thing about the way those focused live ses­sions were record­ed, and the imme­di­a­cy of their raw, unclut­tered mix­es, make them feel very per­son­al, like a con­cert in your liv­ing room.

While I asso­ciate Peel’s name main­ly with the post-punk niche of my youth, his eclec­tic tastes spanned the gamut. Before he gave the Ramones, The Damned, and oth­er punk bands their first major play in the mid-sev­en­ties, Peel cham­pi­oned the psy­che­del­ic space­rock of Pink Floyd, the dron­ing krautrock of Neu!, and the uncat­e­go­riz­able weird­ness of Cap­tain Beef­heart; “he was among the first (and only) DJs any­where,” writes the Hous­ton Press, “to broad­cast reg­gae, punk, hard­core, grind­core, grime and dub­step music over the radio.”

Peel’s rel­e­vance nev­er waned because his inter­est in find­ing, broad­cast­ing, and record­ing new music nev­er did either, but the playlist here most­ly rep­re­sents his pre-1990 favs, and sticks close­ly to rock, punk, new wave, and folk. See this page for a full list­ing of every John Peel ses­sion, from 1967 to three posthu­mous releas­es in 2004. And for a sense of the incred­i­ble breadth and eclec­tic inclu­sive­ness of Peel’s musi­cal tastes, vis­it the John Peel Archive, an online project cat­a­logu­ing every sin­gle record in Peel’s col­lec­tion. They’re cur­rent­ly up to 2679 of over 100,000 records total.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

The 120 Min­utes Archive Com­piles Clips & Playlists from 956 Episodes of MTV’s Alter­na­tive Music Show (1986–2013)

Revis­it the Radio Ses­sions and Record Col­lec­tion of Ground­break­ing BBC DJ John Peel

Prof. Iggy Pop Deliv­ers the BBC’s 2014 John Peel Lec­ture on “Free Music in a Cap­i­tal­ist Soci­ety”

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

The Soviets Who Bootlegged Western Music on X‑Rays: Their Story Told in New Video & Audio Documentaries

When you learn that Sovi­et music-lovers bootleged West­ern rock, pop, jazz, and more on the sur­faces of dis­card­ed x‑ray plates, you can’t help but want to learn a bit about it. We post­ed about that curi­ous Cold War phe­nom­e­non back in 2014, but much more mate­r­i­al on this cul­ture of “bone music” has emerged in the years since, includ­ing Stephen Coates and Paul Heart­field­’s book X‑Ray Audio: The Strange Sto­ry of Sovi­et Music on the Bone. They also put togeth­er the four­teen-minute com­pan­ion doc­u­men­tary above, fea­tur­ing con­ver­sa­tions with some of the actu­al par­tic­i­pants in this for­bid­den musi­cal scene which last­ed rough­ly from the late 1940s to the mid-1960s, when tape recorders came around and the cen­sors loos­ened up.

“This is a tru­ly fas­ci­nat­ing sub­ject that seems to cap­ti­vate peo­ple by com­bin­ing pain and suf­fer­ing reflect­ed in the X‑rays with the plea­sure of lis­ten­ing to music,” writes film­mak­er and pho­tog­ra­ph­er Michael Dzierza, who pro­duced the short video above on Coates and Hart­field­’s work with x‑ray audio in which they dis­cuss the ori­gins of their fas­ci­na­tion with this illic­it medi­um and how that fas­ci­na­tion turned into a sub­ject for a long-term mul­ti­me­dia research project.

The world of bone music also became the high­ly suit­able sub­ject for an episode of Fugi­tive Waves, the pod­cast by radio pro­duc­ers the Kitchen Sis­ters on “lost record­ings and shards of sound, along with new tales from remark­able peo­ple around the world — peo­ple with a mis­sion, a pur­pose, a sto­ry to tell”:

The Sovi­ets who made it pos­si­ble for their fel­low cit­i­zens to enjoy the sounds they craved — whether music for­bid­den for its for­eign ori­gin or music per­formed by musi­cians hail­ing from U.S.S.R. coun­tries but deemed insuf­fi­cient­ly loy­al to the regime — cer­tain­ly had a mis­sion, pur­pose, and sto­ry to tell, and their efforts have left as cul­tur­al arti­facts some of the more fas­ci­nat­ing lost record­ings and shards of sound in recent his­to­ry. Now that almost every­one in the devel­oped world takes for grant­ed their 21st-cen­tu­ry abil­i­ty to share high-fideli­ty music more or less instant­ly, it can restore a mea­sure of grat­i­tude to learn more about these med­ical records turned musi­cal records, passed in dark alleys between one trench­coat to anoth­er under the ever-present threat of impris­on­ment. The vinyl revival has hap­pened; could an x‑ray audio revival be on its way?

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Sovi­ets Boot­legged West­ern Pop Music on Dis­card­ed X‑Rays: Hear Orig­i­nal Audio Sam­ples

“Glo­ry to the Con­querors of the Uni­verse!”: Pro­pa­gan­da Posters from the Sovi­et Space Race (1958–1963)

How to Spot a Com­mu­nist Using Lit­er­ary Crit­i­cism: A 1955 Man­u­al from the U.S. Mil­i­tary

Louis Arm­strong Plays His­toric Cold War Con­certs in East Berlin & Budapest (1965)

Based in Seoul, Col­in Mar­shall writes and broad­casts on cities and cul­ture. He’s at work on a book about Los Ange­les, A Los Ange­les Primer, the video series The City in Cin­e­ma, the crowd­fund­ed jour­nal­ism project Where Is the City of the Future?, and the Los Ange­les Review of Books’ Korea Blog. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall or on Face­book.

The Secret Link Between Jazz and Physics: How Einstein & Coltrane Shared Improvisation and Intuition in Common

Sci­en­tists need hob­bies. The gru­el­ing work of nav­i­gat­ing com­plex the­o­ry and the pol­i­tics of acad­e­mia can get to a per­son, even one as laid back as Dart­mouth pro­fes­sor and astro­physi­cist Stephon Alexan­der. So Alexan­der plays the sax­o­phone, though at this point it may not be accu­rate to call his avo­ca­tion a spare time pur­suit, since John Coltrane has become as impor­tant to him as Ein­stein, Kepler, and New­ton.

Coltrane, he says in a 7‑minute TED talk above, “changed my whole research direc­tion… led to basi­cal­ly a dis­cov­ery in physics.” Alexan­der then pro­ceeds to play the famil­iar open­ing bars of “Giant Steps.” He’s no Coltrane, but he is a very cre­ative thinker whose love of jazz has giv­en him a unique per­spec­tive on the­o­ret­i­cal physics, one he shares, it turns out, with both Ein­stein and Coltrane, both of whom saw music and physics as intu­itive, impro­visato­ry pur­suits.

Alexan­der describes his jazz epiphany as occa­sioned by a com­plex dia­gram Coltrane gave leg­endary jazz musi­cian and Uni­ver­si­ty of Mass­a­chu­setts pro­fes­sor Yusef Lateef in 1967. “I thought the dia­gram was relat­ed to anoth­er and seem­ing­ly unre­lat­ed field of study—quantum grav­i­ty,” he writes in a Busi­ness Insid­er essay on his dis­cov­ery, “What I had real­ized… was that the same geo­met­ric prin­ci­ple that moti­vat­ed Einstein’s the­o­ry was reflect­ed in Coltrane’s dia­gram.”

The the­o­ry might “imme­di­ate­ly sound like untestable pop-phi­los­o­phy,” writes the Cre­ators Project, who show­case Alexander’s physics-inspired musi­cal col­lab­o­ra­tion with exper­i­men­tal pro­duc­er Rioux (sam­ple below). But his ideas are much more sub­stan­tive, “a com­pelling cross-dis­ci­pli­nary inves­ti­ga­tion,” recent­ly pub­lished in a book titled The Jazz of Physics: The Secret Link Between Music and the Struc­ture of the Uni­verse.

Alexan­der describes the links between jazz and physics in his TED talk, as well as in the brief Wired video fur­ther up. “One con­nec­tion,” he says, is “the mys­te­ri­ous way that quan­tum par­ti­cles move.… Accord­ing to the rules of quan­tum mechan­ics,” they “will actu­al­ly tra­verse all pos­si­ble paths.” This, Alexan­der says, par­al­lels the way jazz musi­cians impro­vise, play­ing with all pos­si­ble notes in a scale. His own impro­vi­sa­tion­al play­ing, he says, is great­ly enhanced by think­ing about physics. And in this, he’s only fol­low­ing in the giant steps of both of his idols.

It turns out that Coltrane him­self used Einstein’s the­o­ret­i­cal physics to inform his under­stand­ing of jazz com­po­si­tion. As Ben Ratliff reports in Coltrane: The Sto­ry of a Sound, the bril­liant sax­o­phon­ist once deliv­ered to French horn play­er David Amram an “incred­i­ble dis­course about the sym­me­try of the solar sys­tem, talk­ing about black holes in space, and con­stel­la­tions, and the whole struc­ture of the solar sys­tem, and how Ein­stein was able to reduce all of that com­plex­i­ty into some­thing very sim­ple.” Says Amram:

Then he explained to me that he was try­ing to do some­thing like that in music, some­thing that came from nat­ur­al sources, the tra­di­tions of the blues and jazz. But there was a whole dif­fer­ent way of look­ing at what was nat­ur­al in music.

This may all sound rather vague and mys­te­ri­ous, but Alexan­der assures us Coltrane’s method is very much like Einstein’s in a way: “Ein­stein is famous for what is per­haps his great­est gift: the abil­i­ty to tran­scend math­e­mat­i­cal lim­i­ta­tions with phys­i­cal intu­ition. He would impro­vise using what he called gedanken­ex­per­i­ments (Ger­man for thought exper­i­ments), which pro­vid­ed him with a men­tal pic­ture of the out­come of exper­i­ments no one could per­form.”

Ein­stein was also a musi­cian—as we’ve not­ed before—who played the vio­lin and piano and whose admi­ra­tion for Mozart inspired his the­o­ret­i­cal work. “Ein­stein used math­e­mat­i­cal rig­or,” writes Alexan­der, as much as he used “cre­ativ­i­ty and intu­ition. He was an impro­vis­er at heart, just like his hero, Mozart.” Alexan­der has fol­lowed suit, see­ing in the 1967 “Coltrane Man­dala” the idea that “impro­vi­sa­tion is a char­ac­ter­is­tic of both music and physics.” Coltrane “was a musi­cal inno­va­tor, with physics at his fin­ger­tips,” and “Ein­stein was an inno­va­tor in physics, with music at his fin­ger­tips.”

Alexan­der gets into a few more specifics in his longer TEDx talk above, begin­ning with some per­son­al back­ground on how he first came to under­stand physics as an intu­itive dis­ci­pline close­ly linked with music. For the real meat of his argu­ment, you’ll like­ly want to read his book, high­ly praised by Nobel-win­ning physi­cist Leon Coop­er, futur­is­tic com­pos­er Bri­an Eno, and many more bril­liant minds in both music and sci­ence.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Free Online Physics Cours­es

The Musi­cal Mind of Albert Ein­stein: Great Physi­cist, Ama­teur Vio­lin­ist and Devo­tee of Mozart

CERN’s Cos­mic Piano and Jazz Pianist Jam Togeth­er at The Mon­treux Jazz Fes­ti­val

Bohemi­an Grav­i­ty: String The­o­ry Explored With an A Cap­pel­la Ver­sion of Bohemi­an Rhap­sody

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

Jane Austen’s Music Collection, Now Digitized and Available Online

Austen Music 1

“What real­ly mat­ters is what you like, not what you are like,” says the nar­ra­tor of Nick Horn­by’s High Fideli­ty. “It’s no good pre­tend­ing that any rela­tion­ship has a future if your record col­lec­tions dis­agree vio­lent­ly.” That mas­ter Eng­lish social nov­el­ist of the late 20th cen­tu­ry made a point with which Jane Austen, the mas­ter Eng­lish social nov­el­ist in the ear­ly 19th cen­tu­ry, may well have agreed. Horn­by, like his char­ac­ter, loves and col­lects music, even into this 21st cen­tu­ry when the very def­i­n­i­tion of a music col­lec­tion has expand­ed into unrec­og­niz­abil­i­ty. Jane Austen did as well, though col­lect­ing music in her day meant some­thing else again: col­lect­ing sheet music.

“The Pride and Prej­u­dice author, who also played piano and sang, copied music by hand into per­son­al albums and col­lect­ed sheet music,” says the BBC about Austen’s per­son­al music col­lec­tion, part of the Austen fam­i­ly music library now dig­i­tized by the Uni­ver­si­ty of Southamp­ton’s Hart­ley Library and made avail­able at the Inter­net Archive. The arti­cle quotes project leader and pro­fes­sor of music Jean­ice Brooks as say­ing these 18 albums of music (the bound kind, not the kind over which High Fideli­ty’s Lon­don thir­tysome­things obsess) could not just help explain the “musi­cal envi­ron­ment that fed the nov­el­ist’s imag­i­na­tion” and led to nov­els “full of musi­cal scenes,” but pro­vide a “unique glimpse of the musi­cal life of an extend­ed gen­try fam­i­ly in the years around 1800.”

Austen Music 2

If, as a uni­ver­si­ty spokesman says, a 19th-cen­tu­ry sheet music col­lec­tion reflects the per­son­al­i­ty of its own­er “just as a dig­i­tal music col­lec­tion on a mobile phone or MP3 device would today,” what does Jane Austen’s say about her? The items in the col­lec­tion iden­ti­fied as belong­ing to Austen her­self include one vol­ume con­tain­ing “two songs from Dalayrac’s Les deux Savo­yards, one song, and the ‘Sav­age Dance,’ ” anoth­er con­tain­ing “Juve­nile Songs & Lessons” for “for young begin­ners who don’t know enough to prac­tise,” and anoth­er, accord­ing to the BBC, con­tain­ing “the tra­di­tion­al Welsh song Nos Galan, bet­ter known today as Christ­mas song ‘Deck the Halls.’ ”

Not quite a does-she-like-the-Bea­t­les-or-does-she-like-the-Stones sit­u­a­tion, cer­tain­ly. But Inter­net Archive allows you to flip at your leisure through these albums, all of them once kept in the Austen fam­i­ly home and some or all once han­dled by Austen her­self, which ought to pro­vide a sat­is­fac­tion for many of the count­less fans always seek­ing to get a lit­tle clos­er to the writer whose books they’ve read and reread so enjoy­ably. Some of them have no doubt drawn the inspi­ra­tion from her work to start writ­ing them­selves, com­pos­ing sto­ries in her style. Those who go so far as to copy out pieces of her beloved prose in their own hand, can now try not just writ­ing the words she wrote, but play­ing the notes she played as well.

via Austin Kleon

Relat­ed Con­tent:

An Ani­mat­ed Intro­duc­tion to Jane Austen

15-Year-Old Jane Austen Writes a Satir­i­cal His­to­ry Of Eng­land: Read the Hand­writ­ten Man­u­script Online (1791)

Jane Austen Used Pins to Edit Her Aban­doned Man­u­script, The Wat­sons

Jane Austen Writes a Let­ter to Her Sis­ter While Hung Over: “I Believe I Drank Too Much Wine Last Night”

Down­load the Major Works of Jane Austen as Free eBooks & Audio Books

Based in Seoul, Col­in Mar­shall writes and broad­casts on cities and cul­ture. He’s at work on a book about Los Ange­les, A Los Ange­les Primer, the video series The City in Cin­e­ma, the crowd­fund­ed jour­nal­ism project Where Is the City of the Future?, and the Los Ange­les Review of Books’ Korea Blog. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall or on Face­book.

Animated: Frank Zappa on Why the Culturally-Bereft United States Is So Susceptible to Fads (1971)

Frank Zap­pa was always frank. You got­ta give him that.

Speak­ing with Vil­lage Voice jour­nal­ist Howard Smith in 1971, Zap­pa talked can­did­ly about the tastes, opin­ions, and beliefs of most Amer­i­cans, whether they apply to music or pol­i­tics or any­thing else. “You have a nation of peo­ple who are wait­ing for the next big thing to hap­pen.” “I see a lot of changes. But I think they’re all tem­po­rary things and any change for the good is always sub­ject to can­cel­la­tion upon the arrival of the next fad. And the same thing with any change for the worst.”

Maybe it’s like this every­where. But it’s par­tic­u­lar­ly so in Amer­i­ca says Zap­pa:

I think that’s a rea­son­able way to look at it because [the U.S.] doesn’t have any real sort of val­ues, you know? And a fad pro­vides you with a tem­po­rary occu­pa­tion for your imag­i­na­tion. Real­ly, [Amer­i­ca] doesn’t have any real cul­ture. It doesn’t have any real art. It doesn’t have any real any­thing. It’s just got fads and a gross nation­al prod­uct and a lot of infla­tion.

It’s not a flat­ter­ing por­trait of the States. But know this. Zap­pa did­n’t see him­self being above it all: “I’m an Amer­i­can. I was born here. I auto­mat­i­cal­ly got entered in a mem­ber­ship in the club.” Yeah, Frank could be frank.

The video above was ani­mat­ed by Blank on Blank. You can read a tran­script of the con­ver­sa­tion here.

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:

Stream 82 Hours of Frank Zap­pa Music: Free Playlists of Songs He Com­posed & Per­formed

Frank Zap­pa Debates Cen­sor­ship on CNN’s Cross­fire (1986)

A Young Frank Zap­pa Turns the Bicy­cle into a Musi­cal Instru­ment on The Steve Allen Show (1963)

by | Permalink | Make a Comment ( 5 ) |

« Go BackMore in this category... »
Quantcast
Open Culture was founded by Dan Colman.