R. Crumb’s Vibrant, Over-the-Top Album Covers (1968–2004)

Cheapthrills

It is sur­pris­ing to me, but a few peo­ple I’ve come across don’t know the name of car­toon­ist Robert Crumb, cult hero of under­ground comics and obscure Amer­i­cana record col­lect­ing. On sec­ond thought, maybe this should­n’t come as such a sur­prise. These are some pret­ty small worlds, after all, pop­u­lat­ed by obses­sive fans and archivists and not always par­tic­u­lar­ly wel­com­ing to out­siders. But Crumb is dif­fer­ent. For all his social awk­ward­ness and hyper-obses­sive­ness, he seems strange­ly acces­si­ble to me. The eas­i­est ref­er­ence for those who’ve nev­er heard of him is Steve Buscemi’s Sey­mour in Ter­ry Zwigof­f’s Ghost World. There’s an obvi­ous trib­ute to Crumb in the char­ac­ter (Zwigoff pre­vi­ous­ly made an R. Crumb doc­u­men­tary), though it’s cer­tain­ly not a one-to-one rela­tion (the film adapts Daniel Clowe’s com­ic of the same name.)

Music Never Stopped

Whether or not Ghost World (or Zwigof­f’s Crumb) rings a bell, there’s still the mat­ter of how to com­mu­ni­cate the lov­able lewd­ness and aggres­sive anachro­nism that is Crum­b’s art. For that one may only need to men­tion Big Broth­er & the Hold­ing Com­pa­ny’s 1968 clas­sic Cheap Thrills (top), the first album cov­er Crumb designed—and which Janis Joplin insist­ed upon over the record com­pa­ny’s objec­tions. With its focus on musi­cians, and its appro­pri­a­tion of hip­pie weird­ness, racist Amer­i­can imagery, and an obses­sion with female pos­te­ri­ors that rivals Sir-Mix-a-Lot’s, the cov­er pret­ty much spans the spec­trum of peren­ni­al Crumb styles and themes. Above, see anoth­er of Crum­b’s cov­ers, for a com­pi­la­tion called The Music Nev­er Stopped: Roots of the Grate­ful Dead, which col­lects such roots and old-school rock and roll artists as Mer­le Hag­gard, Chuck Berry, Bob Dylan, Rev­erend Gary Davis, Howl­in’ Wolf, and more.

Crumb BBKing

 

Though he object­ed to the 1995 assignment—saying to Shanachie Records, “You want all these peo­ple on a CD cov­er? What are they, like, five inch­es across?”—Crumb must have rel­ished the sub­ject. (And he was paid, as per usu­al, in vin­tage 78s.) Next to those pos­te­ri­ors, Crum­b’s true love has always been Amer­i­can roots music—ragtime, swing, old coun­try and blue­grass, Delta coun­try blues—and he has spent a good part of his career illus­trat­ing artists he loves, and those he does­n’t. From famous names like Joplin, Dylan, and B.B. King (above, whose music Crumb said he “did­n’t care for, but I don’t find it that objec­tion­able either”), to much more obscure artists, like Bo Carter, known for his “Please Warm My Wiener,” on the 1974 com­pi­la­tion album below.

Crumb Weiner

Crum­b’s use of racial­ly ques­tion­able and sex­ist imagery—however satirical—has per­haps ren­dered him untouch­able in some cir­cles, and it’s hard to imag­ine many of his album cov­ers pass­ing cor­po­rate muster these days. His recent work has moved toward more straight­for­ward, respect­ful por­trai­ture, like that of King and of Skip James on the best-of below, from a series called “Heroes of the Blues.” (Crumb also illus­trat­ed “Heroes of Jazz” and “Heroes of Coun­try,” as we fea­tured in this post.) See Crum­b’s inim­itable, loos­er por­trait style again fur­ther down in 2002 album art for a group called Hawks and Eagles.

Crumb Skip James

Crumb Hawks and Eagles

Crumb may have shed some of his more unpalat­able ten­den­cies, but he has­n’t lost his las­civ­i­ous edge. How­ev­er, his work has matured over the years, tak­ing on seri­ous sub­jects like the book of Gen­e­sis and the Char­lie Heb­do mas­sacre. For an artist with such pecu­liar per­son­al focus, Crumb is sur­pris­ing­ly ver­sa­tile, but it’s his album cov­ers that com­bine his two great­est loves. “What makes Crum­b’s art so appro­pri­ate for the album sleeve,” writes The Guardian’s Lau­ra Bar­ton, “is its vivid­ness, and its cer­tain oomph; it’s in the min­gling of sex and joy and com­pul­sion, and the vibran­cy and move­ment of his illus­tra­tions.”

Crumb Soundtrack

Crumb has­n’t only com­bined his art with music fan­dom, but also with his own musi­cian­ship, illus­trat­ing cov­ers for sev­er­al of his own albums by his rag­time band Cheap Suit Ser­e­naders. And he even pro­vid­ed the illus­tra­tion for the sound­track to his own doc­u­men­tary, as you can see above—an extreme exam­ple of the many self-abas­ing por­traits Crumb has drawn of him­self over the years. Crum­b’s album cov­er art has been col­lect­ed in a book, and you can see many more of his cov­ers at Rolling Stone and on this list here.

Relat­ed Con­tent: 

R. Crumb’s Heroes of Blues, Jazz & Coun­try Fea­tures 114 Illus­tra­tions of the Artist’s Favorite Musi­cians

A Short His­to­ry of Amer­i­ca, Accord­ing to the Irrev­er­ent Com­ic Satirist Robert Crumb

Car­toon­ist R. Crumb Assess­es 21 Cul­tur­al Fig­ures, from Dylan & Hitch­cock, to Kaf­ka & The Bea­t­les

Ralph Steadman’s Evolv­ing Album Cov­er Designs: From Miles Davis & The Who, to Frank Zap­pa & Slash (1956–2010)      

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

 

Iggy Pop Reads Edgar Allan Poe’s Classic Horror Story, “The Tell-Tale Heart”

My intro­duc­tion to the work of James Newell Oster­berg, Jr, bet­ter known as Iggy Pop, came in the form of “Risky,” a song from Ryuichi Sakamo­to’s Neo Geo album that fea­tured not just singing but spo­ken word from the Stooges’ lead vocal­ist and punk icon. On that track, Pop speaks grim­ly and evoca­tive­ly in the per­sona of a pro­tag­o­nist “born in a cor­po­rate dun­geon where peo­ple are cheat­ed of life,” repeat­ed­ly invok­ing the human com­pul­sion to “climb to this point, move on, climb to this point, move on.” Ulti­mate­ly, he pos­es the ques­tion: “Career, career, acquire, acquire — but what is life with­out a heart?”

Today, we give you Iggy Pop the sto­ry­teller ask­ing what life is with a heart — or rather, one heart too many, unceas­ing­ly remind­ing you of your guilt. He tells the sto­ry, of course, of “The Tell-Tale Heart,” orig­i­nal­ly writ­ten by the Amer­i­can mas­ter of psy­cho­log­i­cal hor­ror Edgar Allan Poe in 1843.

This telling appears on the album Closed on Account of Rabies, which fea­tures Poe’s sto­ries as inter­pret­ed by the likes of Pop, Christo­pher Walken, Deb­bie Har­ry, Mar­i­anne Faith­full and Jeff Buck­ley. We fea­tured it here on Open Cul­ture a few years back, and more recent­ly includ­ed it in our ret­ro­spec­tive of album cov­ers by Ralph Stead­man.

Here, Pop takes on the role of anoth­er nar­ra­tor con­signed to a grim fate, though this one of his own mak­ing. As almost all of us know, if only through cul­tur­al osmo­sis, the tit­u­lar “Tell-Tale Heart,” its beat seem­ing­ly ema­nat­ing from under the floor­boards, unceas­ing­ly reminds this anx­ious char­ac­ter of the fact that he has mur­dered an old man — not out of hatred, not out of greed, but out of sim­ple need stoked, he insists, by the defense­less senior’s “vul­ture-eye.” For over 150 years, read­ers have judged the san­i­ty of the nar­ra­tor of “The Tell-Tale Heart” in any num­ber of ways, but don’t ren­der your own ver­dict until you’ve heard Iggy Pop deliv­er the tes­ti­mo­ny; nobody walks the line between san­i­ty and insan­i­ty quite like he does.

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Relat­ed Con­tent:

Lou Reed Rewrites Edgar Allan Poe’s “The Raven.” See Read­ings by Reed and Willem Dafoe

Edgar Allan Poe’s “The Raven,” Read by Christo­pher Walken, Vin­cent Price, and Christo­pher Lee

Watch the 1953 Ani­ma­tion of Edgar Allan Poe’s “The Tell-Tale Heart,” Nar­rat­ed by James Mason

Hear a Great Radio Doc­u­men­tary on William S. Bur­roughs Nar­rat­ed by Iggy Pop

Edgar Allan Poe Ani­mat­ed: Watch Four Ani­ma­tions of Clas­sic Poe Sto­ries

Down­load The Com­plete Works of Edgar Allan Poe on His Birth­day

1,000 Free Audio Books: Down­load Great Books for Free

Col­in Mar­shall writes on cities, lan­guage, Asia, and men’s style. He’s at work on a book about Los Ange­les, A Los Ange­les Primer, and the video series The City in Cin­e­ma. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall or on Face­book.

The Women of the Avant-Garde: An Introduction Featuring Audio by Gertrude Stein, Kathy Acker, Patti Smith & More

stein avant garde

The sto­ry of the avant-garde is nev­er just one sto­ry. But it tends to get told that way, and we tend to think we know how mod­ernist and post-mod­ern lit­er­a­ture and music have tak­en shape: through a series of great men who thwart­ed con­ven­tion and remade lan­guage and sound in ways their pre­de­ces­sors nev­er dreamed. Arthur Rim­baud, Claude Debussy, Ezra Pound, T.S. Eliot, Arnold Schoen­berg, John Cage… We could make many such lists, and we do, all the time, occa­sion­al­ly includ­ing the names of a few women—Yoko Ono, for exam­ple, Gertrude Stein, Vir­ginia Woolf….

But we might write it dif­fer­ent­ly, indeed, for the sim­ple rea­son that women have shaped the avant-garde just as much as men have, as promi­nent poets and com­posers, not sim­ply spous­es of famous men or guest stars in a most­ly male revue. You can hear one ver­sion of such a sto­ry here, thanks to Ubuweb, “the learned and vari­etous online repos­i­to­ry” of “all things avant-garde.” Their pod­cast Avant-Garde All the Time offers us two episodes called “The Women of the Avant-Garde,” host­ed by poet Ken­neth Gold­smith, who admits the sur­vey is a cor­rec­tive for the podcast’s own blind spots. Through a small but select num­ber of poets and musi­cians, Gold­smith aims “to show that there are dozens and dozens of great women artists on Ubuweb”—and every­where else art lives.

Instead of a his­to­ry, Gold­smith gives us some­thing of a con­stel­la­tion of artists, many of them clus­tered tight­ly togeth­er in time and space. New York poets, writ­ers, and musi­cians who came of age in the 70s and 80s—Kathy Ack­er, Lydia Lunch, Lau­rie Ander­son, Pat­ti Smith, Eileen Myles—all fea­ture in Goldsmith’s account. Theirs was a time and place the poet Myles has described as “a moment” that was “very uncen­sored and real­ly excit­ed and it just made you feel like there was room for more.”

It’s a moment that saw a revival in the 90s, when riot grrrl arose to chal­lenge the patri­ar­chal estab­lish­ment. Around this time, artists work­ing in a more aca­d­e­m­ic con­text direct­ly and indi­rect­ly engaged with lit­er­ary his­to­ry ancient and mod­ern. Schol­ar and poet Anne Car­son has twist­ed and trans­lat­ed the texts of Ovid, Aeschy­lus, Sopho­cles, and the writ­ers (and trans­la­tors) of the King James Bible. And Ger­man-Nor­we­gian-French exper­i­men­tal poet Car­o­line Bergvall, whom Gold­smith dis­cuss­es in episode one above, rewrote Chaucer and rearranged Dante.

In episode two, Gold­smith reach­es some­what fur­ther back—to Yoko Ono and Denise Lev­er­tov—and far­ther away from New York, with work from Iran­ian poet and film­mak­er Forugh Far­rokhzad. Promi­nent­ly fea­tured in this sec­ond part of the series, and for good rea­son, is fierce patroness of ear­ly twen­ti­eth cen­tu­ry avant-garde art and writ­ing, Gertrude Stein. Stein’s own poet­ry rad­i­cal­ly dis­rupt­ed the accept­ed, and accept­able, codes of speech and writing—setting a prece­dent for sev­er­al decades of fem­i­nist writ­ers and artists whose appear­ance in archives like Ubuweb, Gold­smith notes, increas­ing­ly come to match or out­weigh those of their male coun­ter­parts. Hear Stein read from her own work at anoth­er such archive, PennSound, and vis­it the Poet­ry Foun­da­tion to stream and down­load more episodes of Ubuweb’s Avant-Garde all the Time, includ­ing an episode devot­ed to Stein called “Almost Com­plete­ly Under­stand­ing.”

Relat­ed Con­tent:

74 Essen­tial Books for Your Per­son­al Library: A List Curat­ed by Female Cre­atives

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

Yoko Ono Lets Audi­ence Cut Up Her Clothes in Con­cep­tu­al Art Per­for­mance (Carnegie Hall, 1965)

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

Ralph Steadman’s Evolving Album Cover Designs: From Miles Davis & The Who, to Frank Zappa & Slash (1956–2010)

steadman02

Ralph Stead­man will always best be known—and for good reason—as the visu­al inter­preter of Hunter S. Thompson’s drug­gy gonzo vision of Amer­i­can excess and hubris. As Col­in Mar­shall wrote in a pre­vi­ous post on Stead­man and Thompson’s pow­er­ful col­lab­o­ra­tive rela­tion­ship, it’s hard to imag­ine a more “suit­able visu­al accom­pa­ni­ment to the simul­ta­ne­ous­ly clear- and wild-eyed sen­si­bil­i­ty of Thomp­son­ian prose.” But the British artist has had a long and dis­tin­guished career, pre- and post-Thomp­son: illus­trat­ing Lewis Carroll’s sur­re­al­ist clas­sic Alice in Won­der­land; cre­at­ing lim­it­ed edi­tion DVD cov­ers for the dark cult hit TV show Break­ing Bad; mak­ing bul­let-rid­dled col­lage art with coun­ter­cul­ture hero William S. Bur­roughs…. To name just a few of his off­beat assign­ments over the years.

happy jack steadman

Today we bring you a less­er-known facet of Steadman’s work: design­ing album cov­ers. As artist and illus­tra­tor John Coulthart notes in a post on Steadman’s album designs, he’s been at it since the mid-fifties, when—for example—he illus­trat­ed a release of Con­cep­tion (top), “an under­ap­pre­ci­at­ed mas­ter­piece of cere­bral cool jazz” fea­tur­ing the likes of Miles Davis, Stan Getz, and Son­ny Rollins. Stead­man’s abstract expres­sion­ist-inspired jazz cov­ers soon gave way to more Stead­manesque, though still rel­a­tive­ly tame, cov­ers like that above for The Who’s sin­gle “Hap­py Jack”/“I’ve Been Away” from 1966.

steadman07

It’s not until the 70s, however—after he’d begun his col­lab­o­ra­tion with Thompson—that his album cov­ers begin to take on the decid­ed­ly crazed look his work is known for, such as in the cov­er for Paul Bret­t’s Phoenix Future, above, from 1975.

steadman26

By 1997, Stead­man seems to have per­fect­ed his inim­itable riot of grotesque imagery, wild col­or palette, and unhinged black lines and let­ter­ing, as in the cov­er for Closed On Account Of Rabies: Poems And Tales Of Edgar Allan Poe, a com­pi­la­tion of Poe read­ings by stars like Christo­pher Walken, Iggy Pop, Mar­i­anne Faith­full, Jeff Buck­ley, and Abel Fer­rara, which we’ve fea­tured on OC before. The artists rep­re­sent­ed here are—as in his work with Thomp­son and Burroughs—perfectly fit­ting for Stead­man’s sen­si­bil­i­ty. So, of course, is the clean-liv­ing but oth­er­wise total­ly bonkers Frank Zap­pa, whose 1997 Have I Offend­ed Some­one? received the Stead­man treat­ment, as you can see below.

zappa steadman

In the past few years, Stead­man has mel­lowed a bit, if you could call it that, and his work has tak­en on a slight­ly more refined char­ac­ter. His Break­ing Bad illus­tra­tions seem restrained by the stan­dards of his work with Thomp­son or Zap­pa. And in a 2010 cov­er for Slash’s first offi­cial sin­gle, “By the Sword,” below, he reigns in some of his wilder graph­ic impuls­es while retain­ing all of the styl­ist sig­na­tures he devel­oped over the decades.

slash steadman

Stead­man has always been a one-of-a-kind illus­tra­tor. In his album cov­er design, we can per­haps best watch his work evolve. As Coulthart writes, “the style of the ear­ly sleeves is marked­ly dif­fer­ent to the angry, splat­tery cre­ations that made his name, and with­out a sig­na­ture you’d be unlike­ly to recog­nise the artist.” See many more Stead­man album cov­ers over at Coulthart’s excel­lent blog.

via Feuil­leton

Relat­ed Con­tent: 

Break­ing Bad Illus­trat­ed by Gonzo Artist Ralph Stead­man

See Ralph Steadman’s Twist­ed Illus­tra­tions of Alice’s Adven­tures in Won­der­land on the Story’s 150th Anniver­sary

Gun Nut William S. Bur­roughs & Gonzo Illus­tra­tor Ralph Stead­man Make Polaroid Por­traits Togeth­er

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

Pink Floyd’s David Gilmour Releases New Animated Video Inspired by Gustave Doré & Milton’s Paradise Lost

Next month, David Gilmour will release his first solo album since 2006 and launch his first tour since ’08. But right now, in the dead of August, you can watch a new ani­mat­ed video for his upcom­ing track, “Rat­tle That Lock.”

Cre­at­ed under the lead­er­ship of Aubrey Pow­ell of Hipg­no­sis (the design group that pro­duced the icon­ic art­work for Dark Side of the Moon and oth­er Pink Floyd LPs), the ani­ma­tion pays homage to Gus­tave Doré, whose illus­tra­tions of Dante, Poe and Cer­vantes we’ve fea­tured here before. And the lyrics them­selves, they draw inspi­ra­tion from John Milton’s Par­adise Lostreports Rolling Stone. Gilmour, Doré, Mil­ton — sure­ly a tri­fec­ta for many OC read­ers.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Gus­tave Doré’s Dra­mat­ic Illus­tra­tions of Dante’s Divine Com­e­dy

Gus­tave Doré’s Splen­did Illus­tra­tions of Edgar Allan Poe’s “The Raven” (1884)

Gus­tave Doré’s Exquis­ite Engrav­ings of Cer­vantes’ Don Quixote

William Blake’s Hal­lu­ci­na­to­ry Illus­tra­tions of John Milton’s Par­adise Lost

Pink Floyd’s David Gilmour Sings Shakespeare’s Son­net 18

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What Beatboxing and Opera Singing Look Like Inside an MRI Machine

Beat­box­ing, the prac­tice of pro­duc­ing drum machine-like beats (espe­cial­ly TR-808-like beats) with one’s voice, has long since made the tran­si­tion from par­lor trick to acknowl­edged musi­cal art form. But we still have much to under­stand about it, as the recent­ly-emerged first gen­er­a­tion of beat­box­ing schol­ars knows full well. “A team of lin­guis­tics and engi­neer­ing stu­dents at USC want­ed to learn more about the mechan­ics behind the rhythms,” writes Los Ange­les Times music crit­ic Ran­dall Roberts. “By using MRI tech­nol­o­gy, they record­ed an unnamed local beat­box­er work­ing his mag­ic, broke down the most com­mon­ly employed sounds by exam­in­ing the move­ments of his mouth and then ana­lyzed the data.”

This result­ed in a paper called “Par­alin­guis­tic Mech­a­nisms of Pro­duc­tion in Human ‘Beat­box­ing’: A Real-Time Mag­net­ic Res­o­nance Imag­ing Study.” Roberts describes it as “pre­dictably heavy with lin­guis­tic jar­gon, but even to a civil­ian, the results are illu­mi­nat­ing,” espe­cial­ly the video the research team record­ed, “which reveals how the human mouth can so con­vinc­ing­ly cre­ate the pop of a snare drum.” At the top of the post, you can see this sort of thing for your­self: in this video “The Diva and the Emcee,” fea­tured at the Inter­na­tion­al Soci­ety for Mag­net­ic Res­o­nance in Med­i­cine (ISMRM) Sci­en­tif­ic Ses­sions in Seat­tle, we see how a beat­box­er’s tech­nique com­pares to that of an opera singer.

You can find out more at the site of the Speech Pro­duc­tion and Artic­u­la­tion Knowl­edge group (SPAN), the USC team that per­formed this pio­neer­ing research into an impor­tant com­po­nent of one of the pil­lars of hip hop. Keep their find­ings in mind next time you watch a beat­box­ing clip that goes viral (such as the Gold­berg Vari­a­tions one we fea­tured back in 2012) for a rich­er lis­ten­ing expe­ri­ence. After all, it does no harm to the romance of the beat­box, to para­phrase Carl Sagan, to know a lit­tle bit about it.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Beat­box­ing Bach’s Gold­berg Vari­a­tions

All Hail the Beat: How the 1980 Roland TR-808 Drum Machine Changed Pop Music

Langston Hugh­es Reveals the Rhythms in Art & Life in a Won­der­ful Illus­trat­ed Book for Kids (1954)

Do Rap­pers Have a Big­ger Vocab­u­lary Than Shake­speare?: A Data Sci­en­tist Maps Out the Answer

Col­in Mar­shall writes on cities, lan­guage, Asia, and men’s style. He’s at work on a book about Los Ange­les, A Los Ange­les Primer, and the video series The City in Cin­e­ma. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall or on Face­book.

Patti Smith Plays at CBGB In One of Her First Recorded Concerts, Joined by Seminal Punk Band Television (1975)

The pic­ture of punk as the domain of boor­ish nihilists who can’t play their instru­ments has been as much a cre­ation of mar­ket­ing (via Mal­colm McLaren) as it has been a virtue-of-neces­si­ty min­i­mal­ist pose and a form of avant garde DIY exper­i­men­tal­ism. But there have always been, since the coin­ing of the term “punk” as a musi­cal genre, stel­lar musi­cians and thought­ful, poet­ic lyri­cists shap­ing the scene. Of the for­mer, we must men­tion Tele­vi­sion, with their mag­nif­i­cent gui­tar inter­play between leader Tom Ver­laine and Richard Lloyd. And, of the lat­ter, we need look no fur­ther than the god­moth­er of punk her­self, Pat­ti Smith, who has always com­mand­ed stage and stu­dio with her smart, arrest­ing lyri­cism and pow­er­ful set of pipes.

Years before the Sex Pis­tols invad­ed the States, these two bands played reg­u­lar­ly at CBG­Bs (Tele­vi­sion was, in fact, the very first band to play there) with a loose col­lec­tion of mis­fits who re-invent­ed rock and roll. In Decem­ber, 1975, Smith released her first album, Hors­es, a hybrid of punk and spo­ken word pro­duced by the Vel­vet Underground’s John Cale.

But before that record made her famous—in April of that year—the Pat­ti Smith Group took the stage with Tele­vi­sion, and two teenage fans were there to record both sets from both bands. First appear­ing as a boot­leg CD gener­i­cal­ly titled “Ear­ly Gig ’75,” the disc has since been reis­sued as We Can’t Do Any­more… Cause I’m Just Too Tired!, with anoth­er set of Smith cov­ers tacked on from a ’78 con­cert in San­ta Mon­i­ca.

We get clas­sic tracks from both bands, such as Television’s “Mar­quee Moon” and “Lit­tle John­ny Jew­ell” and Smith’s cov­er of “Hey Joe” and Van Morrison’s “Glo­ria” as well as her own “Hors­es” and “Piss Fac­to­ry.” At the top of the post, you can hear her do six songs from that night in 1975, the last three with Tele­vi­sion join­ing her onstage: “We’re Going to Have a Real Good Time Togeth­er” (Vel­vet Under­ground cov­er), “Redon­do Beach,” “Bird­land,” “Space Mon­key,” “Dis­tant Fin­gers,” and “Glo­ria.” You’ll also hear the two young tapers chat­ting it up in the first few min­utes of the tape.

Smith’s band, writes boot­leg blog Doom & Gloom From the Tomb, “was tran­si­tion­ing from a cabaret-lean­ing trio to a ful­ly-fledged rock band sound,” and the ram­shackle per­for­mances show us a tal­ent­ed bunch of musi­cians still find­ing their foot­ing as a group. The fol­low­ing year, Smith and band would appear in Stock­holm after the release of Hors­es. As you can see and hear above (after a brief inter­view) they’d become a tighter, and some­what more con­ven­tion­al, rock and roll machine, but the ear­ly per­for­mances at the top—for all the lo-fi murk­i­ness and intru­sive crowd noise—have a raw appeal only height­ened by the fact that they are now impor­tant doc­u­ments of a now-leg­endary musi­cal era. See this review of the boot­leg CD reis­sue for a blow-by-blow descrip­tion of this his­toric ’75 con­cert from two sem­i­nal, and phe­nom­e­nal­ly tal­ent­ed, punk bands.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

The Talk­ing Heads Play CBGB, the New York Club that Shaped Their Sound (1975)

The Ramones, a New Punk Band, Play One of Their Very First Shows at CBGB (1974)

Blondie Plays CBGB in the Mid-70s in Two Vin­tage Clips

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

1,000 Musicians Perform Foo Fighters’ “Learn to Fly” in Unison in Italy

Despite break­ing his leg dur­ing a gig ear­li­er this sum­mer, Dave Grohl and the Foo Fight­ers have blitzed their way through Europe and Amer­i­ca, play­ing some­times 5–6 shows per week, in cities often large, but some­times small.

On Sep­tem­ber 16th, the band will make a pit­stop in my home­town, Moun­tain View, CA (pop­u­la­tion 75,000). So it does­n’t seem implau­si­ble for the res­i­dents of Cese­na, Italy (pop­u­la­tion 100,000) to ask the Foo Fight­ers to play a show in their small city, which sits right near the Adri­at­ic Sea.

And boy did they make the request in style. I get chills when I watch this, every time.

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Open Culture was founded by Dan Colman.