Keith Richards Demonstrates His Famous 5‑String Technique (Used on Classic Stones Songs Like “Start Me Up,” “Honky Tonk Women” & More)

For the gui­tarist, alter­nate tun­ings expand the son­ic pos­si­bil­i­ties of the instru­ment. But where, say, a pro­gres­sive met­al play­er will add a sev­enth or eighth string, pitch every­thing down, and get tech­ni­cal, the oppo­site is the case with “open” tun­ings in folk and blues. They are an ide­al basis for slide gui­tar and three-chord, 12-bar vamps, and became the per­fect plat­form for Kei­th Richards, giv­ing him the room he need­ed to trans­late the music of his folk heroes into the grit­ty, dis­tort­ed rock and roll of the Stones.

Feel­ing like he had gone as far as he could in stan­dard tun­ing, Richards first turned to an open D on the band’s 1968 return to roots, Beg­gars Ban­quet and non-album sin­gle “Jumpin’ Jack Flash.” In his auto­bi­og­ra­phy, Life, he describes how he moved to open G from a desire to imi­tate the five-string ban­jo: “With the five-string it was just like turn­ing a page; there’s anoth­er sto­ry. And I’m still explor­ing. With five strings you can be sparse; that’s your frame, that’s what you work on. ‘Start Me Up,’ ‘Can’t You Hear Me Knock­ing,’ ‘Honky Tonk Women,’ all leave gaps between the chords.”

As Keef tells it, the great Ry Cood­er — who plays on Let it Bleed and Sticky Fin­gers — first intro­duced him to five-string open G tun­ing in the 60s, thir­ty years before curat­ing Cuban music for the world on Bue­na Vista Social Club. Cood­er “had the tun­ings down. He had the open G,” Richards writes:

The advan­tage (of the open‑G tun­ing) is that you can get cer­tain drone notes going. It’s an open‑G tun­ing, with the low E‑string removed and there’s real­ly only three notes you use. My favorite phrase about this style of play­ing is that all you need to play it is five strings, two notes, two fin­gers and one assh*le.

Doing an impres­sion of a mean Ike Turn­er, Richards demon­strates “that five-string sh*t” above on a beat-up Mar­tin acoustic at the top of the post. Gui­tarists who cov­er the Stones in stan­dard tun­ings “know something’s wrong, that an ele­ment is amiss,” writes George Raj­na at Huff­in­g­ton Post. “Alter­ing to Keith’s open ‘G’ tun­ing makes songs such as ‘Can’t You Hear Me Knock­ing’ sim­ple to play.”

Open G can also help play­ers break out of a six-string rut. As Kei­th says, when he “found the five-string, it was like dis­cov­er­ing a new instru­ment.” Cood­er, it seems wasn’t very hap­py about Richards tak­ing his licks, call­ing the Stones “blood­suck­ers” in a 70s Rolling Stone inter­view. But as far as Keef is con­cerned, it seems, everything’s fair game, and “if it’s in the bones, it’s in the bones,” he writes.

Relat­ed Con­tent: 

The Rolling Stones Jam with Mud­dy Waters for the First and Only Time at Chicago’s Leg­endary Checker­board Lounge (1981)

The Rolling Stones Release a Long Lost Track Fea­tur­ing Led Zeppelin’s Jim­my Page

Hunter S. Thomp­son Talks with Kei­th Richards in a Very Mem­o­rable and Mum­ble-Filled Inter­view (1993)

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

Kermit the Frog Gives a TED Talk About Creativity & the Power of “Ridiculous Optimism”

In 2015, 3.8 bil­lion years after “cre­ativ­i­ty emerged” out of “sheer­est empti­ness,” Ker­mit the Frog was tapped to give a talk on cre­ativ­i­ty at TEDx­Jack­son.

How did a local, one-day event man­age to snag such a glob­al icon?

Roots.

The famed frog’s cre­ator, Jim Hen­son, spent his first decade in Mis­sis­sip­pi (though Ker­mit was born of a ping pong ball and Henson’s mother’s old coat after the fam­i­ly relo­cat­ed to Mary­land.)

The con­fer­ence took place 15 years after Henson’s untime­ly death, leav­ing Ker­mit to be ani­mat­ed by Steven Whit­mire, the first of two pup­peteers to tack­le a role wide­ly under­stood to be Henson’s alter ego.

The voice isn’t quite the same, but the man­ner­isms are, includ­ing the throat clear­ing and crum­pled facial expres­sions.

Also present are a num­ber of TED Talk tropes, the smart phone prompts, the dark stage, pro­jec­tions designed to empha­size pro­found points.

A num­ber of jokes fail to elic­it the expect­ed laughs … we’ll leave it up to you to deter­mine whether the fault lays with the live audi­ence or the mate­r­i­al. (It’s not easy being green and work­ing blue comes with chal­lenges, too.)

Were he to give his TED Talk now, in 2021, Ker­mit prob­a­bly wouldn’t describe the audience’s col­lec­tive deci­sion to “accept a premise, sus­pend our dis­be­lief and just enjoy the ride” as a “con­spir­a­cy of crazi­ness.”

He might bypass a bina­ry quote like “If neces­si­ty is the moth­er of inven­tion, then cre­ativ­i­ty is the father.”

He’d also be advised to steer clear of a pho­to of Miss Pig­gy dressed as a geisha, and secure her con­sent to share some of the raci­er anec­dotes… even though she is a known atten­tion hog.

He would “tran­scend and include” in the words of philoso­pher Ken Wilber, one of many inspi­ra­tions he cites over the course of his 23-minute con­sid­er­a­tion of cre­ativ­i­ty and its ori­gins, attempt­ing to answer the ques­tion, “Why are we here?”

Also ref­er­enced: Michelan­ge­lo, Albert Ein­stein, Sal­vador Dali, Charles Baude­laire, Zen mas­ter Shun­ryū Suzu­ki, math­e­mati­cian Alfred North White­head, author and edu­ca­tor, Sir Ken Robin­son (who appears, briefly) and of course, Hen­son, who applaud­ed the “ridicu­lous opti­mism” of fling­ing one­self into cre­ative explo­rations, unsure of what one might find.

He can’t wan­der freely about the stage, but he does share some stir­ring thoughts on col­lab­o­ra­tion, men­tors, and the impor­tance of main­tain­ing “beginner’s mind,” free of pre-con­cep­tions.

How to cul­ti­vate beginner’s mind?

Try fast for­ward­ing to the 11:11 mark. Watch for 20 sec­onds. It’s the purest invi­ta­tion to believe since Peter Pan begged us to clap Tin­ker Bell back to life.

Do you? Because Ker­mit believes in you.

Relat­ed Con­tent: 

Wit­ness the Birth of Ker­mit the Frog in Jim Henson’s Live TV Show, Sam and Friends (1955)

Watch Blondie’s Deb­bie Har­ry Per­form “Rain­bow Con­nec­tion” with Ker­mit the Frog on The Mup­pet Show (1981)

Jim Henson’s Com­mer­cials for Wilkins Cof­fee: 15 Twist­ed Min­utes of Mup­pet Cof­fee Ads (1957–1961)

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

How the Internet Archive Has Digitized More than 250,000 78 R.P.M. Records: See the Painstaking Process Up-Close

In the his­to­ry of record­ed music, no medi­um has demon­strat­ed quite the stay­ing pow­er of the phono­graph record. Hear­ing those words, most of us envi­sion a twelve-inch disc designed to play at 33 13 rev­o­lu­tions per minute, the kind still man­u­fac­tured today. But like every oth­er form of tech­nol­o­gy, that famil­iar vinyl LP did­n’t appear ex nihi­lo: on its intro­duc­tion in 1948, it was the lat­est in a series of phono­graph records of dif­fer­ent sizes and speeds. The first dom­i­nant record for­mat spun at 78 r.p.m., a speed stan­dard­ized in the mid-1920s, though the discs them­selves (made of rub­ber, shel­lac, or oth­er pre-vinyl mate­ri­als) had been in pro­duc­tion since the end of the 19th cen­tu­ry and remained in pro­duc­tion until the 1950s.

The half-cen­tu­ry of the “78” adds up to quite a lot of music, most of which has long been inac­ces­si­ble to non-anti­quar­i­ans. Enter the his­tor­i­cal­ly mind­ed tech­nol­o­gists of the Inter­net Archive, who since 2016 have been work­ing with media preser­va­tion com­pa­ny George Blood LP to dig­i­tize, pre­serve, and make avail­able, as of this writ­ing, more than 250,000 such records.

The process involves much more than play­ing them all into a com­put­er, due not least to the toll the past cen­tu­ry or so has tak­en on the discs’ sur­faces. “Each record is cleaned on a machine that sprays dis­tilled water onto its sur­face,” writes The Verge’s Kait Sanchez. “A lit­tle vac­u­um arm then sucks up the water, along with what­ev­er dirt and nas­ti­ness has built up in the record’s grooves.”

“The discs are then pho­tographed, and the pho­tos are ref­er­enced to pull info from the discs’ labels and add it to the archive’s data­base by hand.” There fol­lows the actu­al dig­i­ti­za­tion, which records each disc with four styli at once: since 78s nev­er had stan­dard­ized groove sizes, “record­ings tak­en with var­i­ous sty­lus tips will each sound slight­ly dif­fer­ent,” but for any record in the George Blood Col­lec­tion the lis­ten­er can choose which of the four they’d pre­fer to lis­ten through. You can see each step of the process in the video at the top of the post, part of a Twit­ter thread recent­ly post­ed by the Inter­net Archive. There the Archive notes that, “after scan­ning 250,000 sides, we’ve found 80% of these 78s were pro­duced by the ‘Big Five’ labels” — Colum­bia, RCA Vic­tor, Dec­ca, Capi­tol and Mer­cury — “but along the way, we’ve uncov­ered 1700 oth­er music labels and some pret­ty beau­ti­ful pic­ture discs.”

You can look at — and more to the point, lis­ten to — every­thing in the the George Blood Col­lec­tion here, which is a sub­set of the Inter­net Archive’s larg­er col­lec­tion of dig­i­tized 78 records as well as the cylin­ders that 78s whol­ly dis­placed as a con­sumer for­mat. As the Inter­net Archive’s Twit­ter thread reminds us, “from 1898–1950, this was THE way music was record­ed & shared.” In oth­er words, if your par­ents were lis­ten­ing to music in that peri­od — or maybe your grand­par­ents, great-grand­par­ents, or great-great grand­par­ents — 78s were their MP3s, their Spo­ti­fy, their Youtube. We descend as lis­ten­ers from enthu­si­as­tic buy­ers of 78s, and now, thanks to the Inter­net Archive and its col­lab­o­ra­tors, we can enjoy a large and ever-increas­ing pro­por­tion of their entire world of record­ed music for free.

via The Verge

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Mas­sive Archive of 78RPM Records Now Dig­i­tized & Put Online: Stream 78,000 Ear­ly 20th Cen­tu­ry Records from Around the World

25,000+ 78RPM Records Now Pro­fes­sion­al­ly Dig­i­tized & Stream­ing Online: A Trea­sure Trove of Ear­ly 20th Cen­tu­ry Music

The Inter­net Archive Is Dig­i­tiz­ing & Pre­serv­ing Over 100,000 Vinyl Records: Hear 750 Full Albums Now

The Boston Pub­lic Library Will Dig­i­tize & Put Online 200,000+ Vin­tage Records

The Ground­break­ing Art of Alex Stein­weiss, Father of Record Cov­er Design

How the Inter­net Archive Dig­i­tizes 3,500 Books a Day–the Hard Way, One Page at a Time

Based in Seoul, Col­in Mar­shall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, and cul­ture. His projects include the Sub­stack newslet­ter Books on Cities, 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 First Japanese Visitor to the United States & Europe Describe Life in the West (1860–1862)

“Oh, would some Pow­er give us the gift / To see our­selves as oth­ers see us!” wrote poet Robert Burns. “It would from many a blun­der free us, And fool­ish notion.” I can­not vouch for a being blun­der-free, but read­ing his­tor­i­cal accounts of our nation from for­eign vis­i­tors does help to increase our world­ly per­spec­tive, and hope­ful­ly ques­tion what often we take for grant­ed. The 19th cen­tu­ry was a par­tic­u­lar­ly ripe time for the nar­ra­tives, as ocean­ic com­merce (and on its tail tourism) was mak­ing the world small­er than ever before.

The YouTube chan­nel Voic­es of the Past has been bring­ing a lot of these sto­ries to life over the last few years, with new trans­la­tions of for­eign texts, dra­mat­ic read­ings, and thought­ful image pre­sen­ta­tions to reveal the world to us as new and won­drous as it was to the orig­i­nal writ­ers. The video above and the one below take us on trips to the Unit­ed States and Great Britain by some of the first ever Japan­ese trav­el­ers to step onto West­ern soil.

For over 200 years, 1600 — 1868, Japan had remained iso­lat­ed from much of the world, a time known as the Edo Peri­od (named after the capi­tol) or the Toku­gawa Peri­od (named after the shogu­nate). With­in this hot­house, it devel­oped much of the tra­di­tion­al cul­ture that we know today—the tea cer­e­mo­ny, haiku, wood­block prints—and the cap­i­tal Edo (now Tokyo) grew from a fish­ing vil­lage to a major city. When Com­modore Matthew C. Per­ry land­ed in 1853 to get Japan to open up to trad­ing, the coun­try knew its time in iso­la­tion was at an end. The tech­nol­o­gy they saw on the Amer­i­can ships was advanced enough they knew they’d have to catch up or be dom­i­nat­ed.

Both videos con­cern Fukuza­wa Yukichi, one of the founders of mod­ern Japan. An author, jour­nal­ist, founder of Keio Uni­ver­si­ty, and cre­ator of the first Eng­lish-Japan­ese dic­tio­nary, he was also a main pro­po­nent of mod­ern reform. (He’s also the face on Japan’s 10,000 yen note).

In Fukuzawa’s retelling, you can hear how his encoun­ters with Dutch and Eng­lish trades­men made him insa­tiably curi­ous to learn the lan­guage he could not under­stand. After the Japan­ese gov­ern­ment bought a ship from the Dutch, nam­ing it the Kan­rin Maru, Fukuza­wa and a crew of 96 men (a minor­i­ty being Amer­i­can), land­ed in San Fran­cis­co in 1860, the first Japan­ese diplo­mat­ic mis­sion to Amer­i­ca. Tech­ni­cal­ly they did not stay in San Fran­cis­co, but in a naval hotel on Mare Island, 23 miles north east of the city. Fukuza­wa takes note of the abun­dance of car­pet and rugs in many of the offi­cial buildings—such fab­ric was so expen­sive in Japan that he had only seen it used as hand­bags and such—and the Amer­i­can desire to walk on it with their street shoes. Even more amaz­ing: ice cubes. He also notes some­thing that hasn’t changed since his time: the amount of waste in the streets, and the high cost of goods in Cal­i­for­nia.

Fukuza­wa likens his experience—warm hos­pi­tal­i­ty mixed with his own embar­rass­ment of an unfa­mil­iar­i­ty with for­eign mores—with the “shy, self-con­scious blush­ing bride.”

The most impor­tant pur­chase Fukuza­wa made on his trip was a Webster’s Dic­tio­nary, which would help him write his own Eng­lish-Japan­ese ver­sion when he returned. Two years after his Amer­i­can trip, he once again set out on a diplo­mat­ic mis­sion, this time to Europe. He and his co-patri­ots would be away from Japan for a whole year, tak­ing in France, the Unit­ed King­dom, the Nether­lands, Prus­sia, Rus­sia, and Por­tu­gal. This trip is dif­fer­ent in its aware­ness of pol­i­tics. Men­tion is made of Napoleon III (well admired) and the rise of Prus­sia. He is suit­ably baf­fled by Britain’s Par­lia­ment (as are most Amer­i­cans these days watch­ing it on CSPAN), but comes away with a strong con­vic­tion in inde­pen­dent thought and democ­ra­cy that would begin to change Japan through his influ­ence.

We have men­tioned Voic­es of the Past pre­vi­ous­ly, and you can find all sort of accounts of ear­ly inter­na­tion­al trav­el­ers. Fukuzawa’s accounts are some of the best, as his down-to-earth voice feels less for­eign than the Eng­lish speak­ers he meets.

Relat­ed Posts:

A Beau­ti­ful New Book of Japan­ese Wood­block Prints: A Visu­al His­to­ry of 200 Japan­ese Mas­ter­pieces Cre­at­ed Between 1680 and 1938

A Japan­ese Illus­trat­ed His­to­ry of Amer­i­ca (1861): Fea­tures George Wash­ing­ton Punch­ing Tigers, John

Adams Slay­ing Snakes & Oth­er Fan­tas­tic Scenes

The Entire His­to­ry of Japan in 9 Quirky Min­utes

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.

The Isolator: A 1925 Helmet Designed to Eliminate Distractions & Increase Productivity (Created by SciFi Pioneer Hugo Gernsback)

The anti-dis­trac­tion device is the mod­ern mouse­trap: build a bet­ter one, and the world will beat a path to your door. Or so, at least, will the part of the world engaged in the pur­suits we’ve broad­ly labeled “knowl­edge work.” Even among the knowl­edge work­ers who’ve spent most of the past year in pan­dem­ic-prompt­ed iso­la­tion, many still feel besieged by unend­ing claims on their atten­tion. Laments at hav­ing been ren­dered unpro­duc­tive by con­stant dis­trac­tion go back at least to medieval times, but the pro­posed solu­tions to this long-stand­ing prob­lem change with — and reflect — the times. Take the “Iso­la­tor,” the for­mi­da­ble-look­ing wear­able machine above that debuted on the cov­er of July 1925’s Sci­ence and Inven­tion mag­a­zine.

“Per­haps the most dif­fi­cult thing that a human being is called upon to face is long, con­cen­trat­ed think­ing,” writes inven­tor Hugo Gerns­back in the accom­pa­ny­ing arti­cle. “Most peo­ple who desire thus to con­cen­trate find it nec­es­sary to shut them­selves up in an almost sound­proof room in order to go ahead with their work, but even here there are many things that dis­tract their atten­tion.”

Even absent such nui­sances as “street nois­es” and the “tele­phone bell,” the mind seeks out its own dis­trac­tions as if nat­u­ral­ly com­pelled: “You will lean back in your chair and begin to study the pat­tern of the wall­pa­per, or you will see a fly crawl along the wall, or a win­dow cur­tain will be mov­ing back and forth, all of which is often suf­fi­cient to turn your mind away from the imme­di­ate task to be per­formed.”

Gerns­back­’s solu­tion involves a large hel­met, lined with cork and cov­ered in felt, with a baf­fle for breath­ing and glass eye­holes to see through. Paint­ed black but for two thin bands, the eye­holes make it “almost impos­si­ble to see any­thing except a sheet of paper in front of the wear­er. There is, there­fore, no opti­cal dis­trac­tion here.” To pre­vent drowsi­ness, “the writer intro­duced a small oxy­gen tank, attached to the hel­met. This increas­es the res­pi­ra­tion and livens the sub­ject con­sid­er­ably.” And so we arrive at the set­up pic­tured below, orig­i­nal­ly cap­tioned, “The author at work in his pri­vate study aid­ed by the Iso­la­tor. Out­side nois­es being elim­i­nat­ed, the work­er can con­cen­trate with ease upon the sub­ject at hand.” The Iso­la­tor’s patent appears just above, one of 80 for var­i­ous inven­tions that Gerns­back held in his life­time.

What­ev­er the device con­tributed to Gerns­back­’s pro­duc­tiv­i­ty, there can be no ques­tion that the man got a lot done. Not just a con­trib­u­tor to Sci­ence and Inven­tion but also its pub­lish­er, he over­saw a small media empire whose oth­er peri­od­i­cals includ­ed Every­day Sci­ence and Mechan­ics, Sci­en­tif­ic Detec­tive Month­ly, the sin­is­ter-sound­ing Tech­noc­ra­cy Review, and Amaz­ing Sto­ries, which launched in 1926 as the first mag­a­zine devot­ed entire­ly to sci­ence fic­tion (or “sci­en­tific­tion,” as Gerns­back called it). For his advance­ment of the genre he was hon­ored by the World Sci­ence Fic­tion Society’s Annu­al Achieve­ment Awards, bet­ter known as the “Hugos.” Pulp-fic­tion­al though the Iso­la­tor may have looked in 1925 (as indeed it looks now), it rep­re­sents a gen­uine effort to alle­vi­ate with tech­nol­o­gy a both­er­some aspect of the human con­di­tion — and a prece­dent for the new-and-improved iso­la­tion hel­mets engi­neered for the even more dis­tract­ing world in which we live a cen­tu­ry on.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

How to Focus: Five Talks Reveal the Secrets of Con­cen­tra­tion

The Ben­e­fits of Bore­dom: How to Stop Dis­tract­ing Your­self and Get Cre­ative Ideas Again

The Case for Delet­ing Your Social Media Accounts & Doing Valu­able “Deep Work” Instead, Accord­ing to Com­put­er Sci­en­tist Cal New­port

Pico Iyer on “the Art of Still­ness”: How to Enrich Your Busy, Dis­tract­ed Life by Unplug­ging and Stay­ing Put

Medieval Monks Com­plained About Con­stant Dis­trac­tions: Learn How They Worked to Over­come Them

What Hap­pens When You Spend Weeks, Months, or Years in Soli­tary Con­fine­ment

Based in Seoul, Col­in Mar­shall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, and cul­ture. His projects include the Sub­stack newslet­ter Books on Cities, 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.

The Story of the Rolling Stones: A Selection of Documentaries on the Quintessential Rock-and-Roll Band

The Rolling Stones define the rock-and-roll band, as they have for near­ly six decades now. Exact­ly how they’ve done so is thor­ough­ly doc­u­ment­ed, not least by the band’s own expan­sive and still-grow­ing cat­a­log of songs and albums (all of which I hap­pen to have spent the last few months lis­ten­ing through). But the sto­ry of the Stones con­tin­ues to com­pel, told and re-told as it is in every form of media pro­duced by each era through which the band has passed: books, arti­cles, pod­casts, and also the sort of doc­u­men­taries we’ve col­lect­ed here today. Some were orig­i­nal­ly pro­duced for tele­vi­sion; oth­ers, like Watch­Mo­jo’s “The Rolling Stones: The Sto­ry & the Songs” above, for the inter­net. Each of them address­es the same ques­tion: how did a cou­ple of blues-obsessed lads from Kent come to run the biggest rock group in the world?

Even when straight­for­ward­ly pre­sent­ed, as in the Biog­ra­phy broad­cast above, the his­to­ry of the Rolling Stones con­sti­tutes a pop-cul­tur­al thrill ride. It begins, by most accounts, with for­mer class­mates Mick Jag­ger and Kei­th Richards bump­ing into each oth­er at a train sta­tion in 1961. Their shared inter­est in music, and espe­cial­ly Amer­i­can blues, inspired them to put a band togeth­er.

Before long, Jag­ger and Richards’ Blues Boys made the acquain­tance of anoth­er band, Blues Incor­po­rat­ed, whose mem­bers includ­ed Bri­an Jones, Ian Stew­art and Char­lie Watts. Though Watts would­n’t join up until lat­er, the oth­er four con­sti­tut­ed most of the first line­up of the Rolling Stones, who made their debut at Lon­don’s Mar­quee Club in July 1962.

You can see a great deal of archive footage depict­ing the Stones in their ear­ly years in the doc­u­men­tary above, Rolling Stones: Rock of Ages. The title implies an obvi­ous and much-repeat­ed joke about the once-rebel­lious young­sters’ insis­tence on rock­ing into rel­a­tive­ly advanced age. But onstage — and the live per­for­mance has always been essen­tial to their appeal, more so even than their albums — they remain very much the same band once pro­mot­ed with the ques­tion “Would you let your sis­ter go with a Rolling Stone?” That line was only one of the strate­gies used by its author, the Stones’ first man­ag­er Andrew Loog Old­ham, to launch his boys into world­wide pop­u­lar­i­ty by fram­ing them as the brash oppo­site of the Bea­t­les — to whom, despite their con­sid­er­able musi­cal dif­fer­ences, one can hard­ly avoid mak­ing ref­er­ence in the sto­ry of the Stones.

Though the bands became fast friends in real life, the press of the 1960s could­n’t resist craft­ing a rival­ry, as recount­ed in The Bea­t­les vs. The Rolling Stones, the Canal+ doc­u­men­tary above. What­ev­er com­pe­ti­tion exist­ed between them (or with Amer­i­can bands like the Beach Boys) only encour­aged them to make their music more pow­er­ful and dis­tinc­tive. This they did in the face of count­less per­son­al and pro­fes­sion­al set­backs, which for the Stones includ­ed the loss of found­ing mem­ber Bri­an Jones and the vio­lent Alta­mont Free Con­cert, wide­ly inter­pret­ed as the end of the utopi­an 1960s. As prod­ucts and sur­vivors of that era, the Stones also remain embod­i­ments of its insou­ciant ambi­tion. “For my gen­er­a­tion, what was hap­pen­ing and the feel­ing in the air was: it’s time to push lim­its, says no less a sur­vivor than the sub­ject of Kei­th Richards: The Ori­gin Of The Species. “The world is ours now, and you can rise or fall on it.”

Relat­ed Con­tent:

A Visu­al His­to­ry of The Rolling Stones Doc­u­ment­ed in a Beau­ti­ful, 450-Page Pho­to Book by Taschen

Watch the Rolling Stones Write “Sym­pa­thy for the Dev­il”: Scenes from Jean-Luc Godard’s ’68 Film One Plus One

Revis­it the Infa­mous Rolling Stones Free Fes­ti­val at Alta­mont: The Ill-Fat­ed Con­cert Took Place 50 Years Ago

The Rolling Stones at 50: Mick, Kei­th, Char­lie & Ron­nie Revis­it Their Favorite Songs

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

Based in Seoul, Col­in Mar­shall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, and cul­ture. His projects include the Sub­stack newslet­ter Books on Cities, 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.

Magnus Carlsen’s Mind-Blowing Memory of Historic Chess Matches

How many his­toric chess games can Mag­nus Carlsen rec­og­nize just by look­ing at the place­ment of chess pieces on the board? It turns out a lot. And that’s part­ly what makes him the reign­ing World Chess Cham­pi­on.

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!

via Kot­tke

Relat­ed Con­tent

Learn How to Play Chess Online: Free Chess Lessons for Begin­ners, Inter­me­di­ate Play­ers & Beyond

A Free 700-Page Chess Man­u­al Explains 1,000 Chess Tac­tics in Straight­for­ward Eng­lish

A Beau­ti­ful Short Doc­u­men­tary Takes You Inside New York City’s Last Great Chess Store

A Brief His­to­ry of Chess: An Ani­mat­ed Intro­duc­tion to the 1,500-Year-Old Game

Vladimir Nabokov’s Hand-Drawn Sketch­es of Mind-Bend­ing Chess Prob­lems

The Mag­ic of Chess: Kids Share Their Unin­hib­it­ed, Philo­soph­i­cal Insights about the Ben­e­fits of Chess

Gar­ry Kas­parov Now Teach­ing an Online Course on Chess

Great Art Explained: Watch 15 Minute Introductions to Great Works by Warhol, Rothko, Kahlo, Picasso & More

Can great art be explained? Isn’t it a lit­tle like explain­ing a joke? Yet this can be worth­while when the joke is in a for­eign lan­guage or an unfa­mil­iar idiom, a long-for­got­ten dialect or an alien idi­olect. Con­sid­er, for exam­ple, the most com­mon response to Mark Rothko’s mono­chro­mat­ic rec­tan­gles: “I don’t get it.”

Will per­plexed view­ers bet­ter under­stand Rothko’s Sea­gram murals when they learn that “he was found in a pool of blood six by eight feet wide, rough­ly the size of one of his paint­ings,” as James Payne writes, hours after he sent the nine can­vass­es to the Tate Mod­ern gallery in Lon­don in 1970? “His sui­cide would change every­thing and shape the way we respond to his work,” adding a dark­er edge to com­ments of his like “I’m inter­est­ed only in express­ing basic human emo­tions, tragedy, ecsta­sy, doom and so on.”

Last sum­mer, Payne launched his series Great Art Explained in Fif­teen Min­utes, “a bril­liant new addi­tion to YouTube art his­to­ry chan­nels,” Forbes enthused — “enter­tain­ing and infor­ma­tive short films [that] present a fresh look at famil­iar art­works.” There’s much more to Rothko than his trag­ic death at 66. We learn of his love for Mozart, a com­pos­er who was “always smil­ing through his tears,” the painter said.

An artist who seems to embody the oppo­site of Rothko’s trou­bled pas­sion, Andy Warhol gets an explain­er, above, in which Payne takes on the artist’s Mar­i­lyn Dip­tych. He opens with 30 sec­onds of audio from an inter­view with Warhol, who gives char­ac­ter­is­ti­cal­ly dis­in­ter­est­ed yes or no respons­es: “Andy, do you think that Pop Art has reached the point where it’s becom­ing rep­e­ti­tious now?” “Uh, yes.”

Pop Art’s rep­e­ti­tions were the point. Warhol ele­vat­ed the unre­mark­able mass prod­uct to the lev­el of high art, becom­ing the biggest-sell­ing artist in the world. Payne draws a par­al­lel between Mar­i­lyn Monroe’s trans­for­ma­tion from “abused fos­ter child from the rur­al mid­west” to Hol­ly­wood roy­al­ty, and Warhol’s move from a shy, sick­ly child of immi­grants to an inter­na­tion­al art star.

Even if Payne is explain­ing things you already knew about famous art­works like Monet’s Water Lilies, you’ll still enjoy his pre­sen­ta­tion, with its clever edit­ing and com­pelling nar­ra­tion. “I want to present art in a jar­gon free, enter­tain­ing, clear and con­cise way,” he writes. Each video cov­ers one famous art­work, not all of them mod­ern. (We recent­ly fea­tured Payne’s take on Hierony­mus Bosch’s Gar­den of Earth­ly Delights.)

Payne’s work as an art con­sul­tant, guide, “and art and film writer,” Forbes writes, “make him the ide­al pre­sen­ter of this excel­lent new art his­to­ry series.” Crav­ing some con­text on your lunch break? Head over the Great Art Explained in Fif­teen Min­utes and catch a few excel­lent mini-art his­to­ry lec­tures, each one 15 min­utes or less, for free.

Relat­ed Con­tent: 

60-Sec­ond Intro­duc­tions to 12 Ground­break­ing Artists: Matisse, Dalí, Duchamp, Hop­per, Pol­lock, Rothko & More

An Intro­duc­tion to 100 Impor­tant Paint­ings with Videos Cre­at­ed by Smarthis­to­ry

Free Course: An Intro­duc­tion to the Art of the Ital­ian Renais­sance

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

Harrison Ford Gets Delightfully Dumbfounded by David Blaine’s Card Trick

Orig­i­nal­ly record­ed back in 2014, this clip of David Blaine per­form­ing a card trick for Har­ri­son Ford went viral this week. (Can we still use this expres­sion in the age of COVID?) Hang with it until the end. It’s worth the 1:50 of your time.

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!

via Clarisse Loughrey

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Willie Nel­son Shows You a Delight­ful Card Trick

Mon­key Sees A Mag­ic Trick

Orson Welles Per­forms a Mag­ic Trick

Invisible People: Watch Poignant Mini-Documentaries Where Homeless People Tell Their Stories

Over the past year, the sto­ry of evic­tions dur­ing COVID has often risen above the muck. It’s made head­lines in major news­pa­pers and TIME mag­a­zine, and received seri­ous atten­tion from the gov­ern­ment, with stop-gap evic­tion mora­to­ri­ums put in effect and renewed sev­er­al times, and like­ly due to be renewed again. Stop­ping evic­tions is not enough. “For many land­lords,” notes the Unit­ed Way, “the order cre­at­ed a finan­cial bur­den of hous­ing renters with no pay­ments,” and with­out income, they have no way to pay. But these mea­sures have kept many thou­sands of vul­ner­a­ble adults and chil­dren from expe­ri­enc­ing home­less­ness.

And yet mora­to­ri­ums aside, the num­ber of peo­ple los­ing their homes is on the rise dur­ing the pan­dem­ic, with a dis­pro­por­tion­ate impact on Black, Lat­inx, and Indige­nous com­mu­ni­ties, and shel­ters have been forced to close or low­er capac­i­ty. Fram­ing increas­ing home­lessnes sole­ly as a cri­sis dri­ven by the virus miss­es the fact that it has been grow­ing since 2016, though it is down from pre-2007 lev­els. “Even before the cur­rent health/economic cri­sis,” notes a Home­less­ness Research Insti­tute report, “the old­er adult home­less pop­u­la­tion was pro­ject­ed to trend upwards until 2030.”

Indeed, home­less­ness has seemed like a sad, inevitable fact of Amer­i­can life for decades. Rather than accept the sit­u­a­tion, orga­ni­za­tions like Invis­i­ble Peo­ple have worked to end it. “The first step to solv­ing home­less­ness,” they write, “is acknowl­edg­ing that its vic­tims are peo­ple. Reg­u­lar peo­ple. Fathers. Moth­ers. Vet­er­ans. Whole fam­i­lies. Folks who fell on hard times and lost their core foun­da­tion of being human — their homes.” No one asks to be in the sit­u­a­tion, and the longer a per­son goes unhoused, the hard­er it is for them to rebuild their lives.

Invis­i­ble Peo­ple offers action steps and pub­lish­es well-researched jour­nal­ism on the prob­lems, and solu­tions, for the mil­lions of peo­ple expe­ri­enc­ing home­less­ness at any giv­en time. But as their name sug­gests, their pri­ma­ry aim is to make the lives of unhoused peo­ple vis­i­ble to those of us who tend to walk right by them in our haste. We can feel over­whelmed by the intractable scale of the prob­lem, which tends to turn indi­vid­u­als into sta­tis­tics. Invis­i­ble Peo­ple asks us to “change the sto­ry,” and to start by approach­ing home­less­ness one per­son, or one fam­i­ly, at a time.

Invis­i­ble Peo­ple was found­ed in Los Ange­les by Mark Hor­vath, a for­mer TV exec­u­tive who became home­less after drug and alco­hol addic­tion in 1995. After recov­er­ing, he lost his home again dur­ing the 2008 Reces­sion. Hor­vath began inter­view­ing peo­ple he met on the streets of L.A. and post­ing the videos to YouTube and Twit­ter. Soon, the project became a glob­al one, incor­po­rat­ed as a non-prof­it, and Hor­vath has trav­eled across the U.S. and to Cana­da, Peru, and the UK to inter­view peo­ple liv­ing with­out homes.

The project, says Hor­vath is designed to fos­ter  “a con­ver­sa­tion about solu­tions to end home­less­ness [that] gives home­less peo­ple a chance to tell their own sto­ry.” Those sto­ries are mov­ing, human, unfor­get­table, and usu­al­ly not at all what you might expect. You can see some of them here, and many more at the Invis­i­ble Peo­ple YouTube chan­nel. Con­nect with the orga­ni­za­tion and find out what you can do here.

via Boing­Bo­ing

Relat­ed Con­tent: 

Design­er Cre­ates Origa­mi Card­board Tents to Shel­ter the Home­less from the Win­ter Cold

How Josephine Bak­er Went From Home­less Street Per­former to Inter­na­tion­al Super­star, French Resis­tance Fight­er & Civ­il Rights Hero

The New York Pub­lic Library Lets Patrons Check Out Ties, Brief­cas­es & Hand­bags for Job Inter­views

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

Nerves of Steel!: Watch People Climb Tall Buildings During the 1920s.

Thrillseek­ers! Are you gird­ing your loins to rejoin the amuse­ment park crowds this sum­mer?

No wor­ries if you don’t feel quite ready to brave the social­ly dis­tanced roller­coast­er lines. Indulge in some low-risk ver­ti­go, thanks to British Pathé’s vin­tage news­reels of steeple­jacks, steel­work­ers, and win­dow clean­ers doing their thing.

While these trades­peo­ple were called in when­ev­er an indus­tri­al chim­ney required repair or a steel beam was in need of weld­ing, many of the news­reels fea­ture icon­ic loca­tions, such as New York City’s Wool­worth Build­ing, above, get­ting a good stonework clean­ing in 1931.

In 1929, some “work­men acro­bats” were engaged to adorn St. Peter’s Basil­i­ca and the Vat­i­can with thou­sands of lamps when Pope Pius XI, in his first offi­cial act as pope, revived the pub­lic tra­di­tion of Urbi et Orbi, a papal address and apos­tolic bless­ing for the first time in fifty-two years.

Some gen­der bound­aries got smashed in the after­math of WWII, but “steeple­jills” were nov­el­ty enough in 1948 that the scriptwriter pre­dictably milks it by hav­ing the announc­er crack wise to and about the uniden­ti­fied woman ready to climb all the way to the rim of a very tall smoke­stack.

“There it is! That long thing point­ing up there, it’s all yours!”

These days such a jib might con­sti­tute work­place harass­ment.

Did she get the job?

We don’t know. We hope so, who­ev­er she is — pre­sum­ably one of twen­ty female Lon­don­ers respond­ing to the help want­ed ad described in the Leth­bridge Her­ald, below:

Watch more scenes of vin­tage steeple­jacks — and jills — at work in a British Pathé “Nerves of Steel” playlist here.

Relat­ed Con­tent: 

The Sto­ry Behind the Icon­ic Pho­to­graph of 11 Con­struc­tion Work­ers Lunch­ing 840 Feet Above New York City (1932)

Watch the Com­plete­ly Unsafe, Ver­ti­go-Induc­ing Footage of Work­ers Build­ing New York’s Icon­ic Sky­scrap­ers

Watch 85,000 His­toric News­reel Films from British Pathé Free Online (1910–2008)

Ayun Hal­l­i­day is an author, illus­tra­tor, the­ater mak­er and Chief Pri­ma­tol­o­gist of the East Vil­lage Inky zine.  She’s had a ter­ri­ble fear of heights since a near miss in the Tro­gir Bell Tow­er some 14 years ago. Fol­low her @AyunHalliday.


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