Leonard Cohen Narrates Film on The Tibetan Book of the Dead, Featuring the Dalai Lama (1994)

Accord­ing to Bud­dhist schol­ar and trans­la­tor Robert Thur­man (father of Uma), The Tibetan Book of the Dead, or Bar­do Thodol“orga­nizes the expe­ri­ences of the between—(Tibetan, bar-do) usu­al­ly refer­ring to the state between death and rebirth.” While The Book of the Dead has, of course, a long and illus­tri­ous his­to­ry in Tibetan Bud­dhist life, it also has its place in the his­to­ry of the West, par­tic­u­lar­ly among 20th cen­tu­ry intel­lec­tu­als and artists. In the 1950s, for exam­ple, there was talk among Igor Stravin­sky, Martha Gra­ham, and Aldous Hux­ley to turn the Bar­do into a bal­let with a Greek cho­rus. Hux­ley, who famous­ly spent his final hours on an acid trip, asked that a pas­sage from the book be read to him as he lay dying: “Hey! Noble one, you named Aldous Hux­ley! Now the time has come for you to seek the way….”

In anoth­er, less trip­py, exam­ple of East­ern mys­ti­cism meets West­ern artist, the video above (con­tin­ued below) fea­tures poet and trou­ba­dour Leonard Cohen nar­rat­ing a two-part doc­u­men­tary series from 1994 that explores the ancient Tibetan teach­ings on death and dying. As Cohen tells it above, in Tibetan tra­di­tion, the time spent in the between sup­pos­ed­ly lasts 49 days after a person’s death. Dur­ing that time, a Bud­dhist yogi reads the Bar­do each day, while the con­scious­ness of the dead per­son, so it is believed, hov­ers between one life and anoth­er, and can hear the instruc­tions read to him or her. The film gives us an inti­mate look at this cer­e­mo­ny, per­formed after the death of a villager—with its intri­cate rit­u­als and ancient, unbound, hand-print­ed text of the book—and touch­es on the tricky polit­i­cal issues of Bud­dhist prac­tice in large­ly Chi­nese-con­trolled Tibet. In this first install­ment above, The Tibetan Book of the Dead: A Way of Life, the Dalai Lama weighs in with his own views on life and death (at 33:22). Before his appear­ance, the film pro­vides some brief con­text of his sup­posed incar­na­tion from the 13th Dalai Lama and his rise to gov­er­nance, then exile.

The sec­ond install­ment of the series, The Great Lib­er­a­tion (also above), fol­lows an old Bud­dhist lama and a thir­teen-year-old novice monk as they guide anoth­er deceased per­son with the text of the Bar­do. The Nation­al Film Board of Cana­da, who pro­duced the series (you can pur­chase the DVD on their web­site), did well in their choice of Cohen as nar­ra­tor. Not only is his deep, sooth­ing voice the kind of thing you might want to hear read­ing to you as you slipped into the between realms (or just slipped off to sleep), but his own jour­ney has brought him to an abid­ing appre­ci­a­tion for Bud­dhism. Although Cohen has always iden­ti­fied strong­ly with Judaism—incorporating Jew­ish themes and texts into his songs and poetry—he found refuge in Zen Bud­dhism late in life. Two years after this film, he was ordained as a Zen Bud­dhist monk at age 62, at the Mount Baldy Zen Cen­ter east of Los Ange­les (where Ram Dass, Oliv­er Stone, and Richard Gere also prac­ticed). Cohen’s  “Dhar­ma name”? Jikan, or “Silent One.”

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Leonard Cohen Plays a Spell­bind­ing Set at the 1970 Isle of Wight Fes­ti­val

Aldous Huxley’s Most Beau­ti­ful, LSD-Assist­ed Death: A Let­ter from His Wid­ow

The Dalai Lama on the Neu­ro­science of Com­pas­sion

Josh Jones is a writer, edi­tor, and musi­cian based in Wash­ing­ton, DC. Fol­low him @jdmagness

I Say I Say I Say: A Delightful Home Movie by Peter Sellers (1964)

In late 1964, when he was at the height of his suc­cess, Peter Sell­ers filmed a series of vaude­vil­lian sketch­es with a group of wealthy and social­ly elite friends. He edit­ed the scenes togeth­er into a movie and called it I Say I Say I Say.

The ten-minute film was made dur­ing a week­end at the home of Joce­lyn and Jane Stevens. Joce­lyn Stevens was the pub­lish­er of Queen mag­a­zine and had recent­ly gained noto­ri­ety by financ­ing the con­tro­ver­sial pirate radio ship Caroline–hence the ref­er­ence to “the Duke and Duchess of Car­o­line.” A draw­ing of the pirate ship appears at the begin­ning of the film on top of the Duke and Duchess’s coat of arms, with its sym­bols for mon­ey and guns and the Latin mot­to “Errare Humanum Est” (“To Err is Human”).

Sell­ers is joined in the film by his preg­nant wife Britt Ekland, the Stevens­es, Princess Mar­garet and her hus­band Antho­ny Arm­strong-Jones, 1st Earl of Snow­don. Sell­ers jok­ing­ly called the enter­prise “Snow­do­deo­do Pro­duc­tions.” In one scene, Lord Snow­don appears as a rather effem­i­nate gang­ster. But the most famous episode fea­tures Sell­ers as “The Great Berko,” recent­ly returned from his “dra­mat­ic suc­cess at the Work­men’s Insti­tute, Penge,” who presents an uncan­ny imper­son­ation of Her Roy­al High­ness, Princess Mar­garet.  Sell­ers dis­ap­pears behind a screen and out comes–of course–the real Princess Mar­garet, sis­ter of Queen Eliz­a­beth II.

I Say I Say I Say was locked away in the Sell­ers fam­i­ly archives until about 1995, when the BBC pro­duced The Peter Sell­ers Sto­ry. The film was nev­er intend­ed for pub­lic exhi­bi­tion. “It was total­ly impro­vised,” Lord Snow­don told The Tele­graph in 2004. “Peter had a cam­era that he want­ed to try out. It was all very hap­haz­ard. We made the whole thing in I should think two hours.”

Relat­ed con­tent:

Peter Sell­ers Per­forms The Bea­t­les in Shake­speare­an Mode

Peter Sell­ers Gives a Quick Demon­stra­tion of British Accents

Peter Sell­ers Reads The Bea­t­les’ ‘She Loves You’ in Four Voic­es

A Master List of 700 Free Courses From Great Universities

rodinthinkercourse2

Dur­ing recent months, we’ve been busy enhanc­ing what’s now a list of 700 Free Online Cours­es from top uni­ver­si­ties. Here’s the low­down: This mas­ter list lets you down­load free cours­es from schools like Stan­ford, Yale, MIT, Oxford, Har­vard and UC Berke­ley. Gen­er­al­ly, the cours­es can be accessed via YouTube, iTunes or uni­ver­si­ty web sites. Right now you’ll find 85 cours­es in Phi­los­o­phy60 in His­to­ry80 in Com­put­er Sci­ence35 in Physics, and that’s just begin­ning to scratch the sur­face. Most of the cours­es were recent­ly pro­duced. But, in some cas­es, we’ve lay­ered in lec­ture series by famous intel­lec­tu­als record­ed years ago. You can lis­ten to these lec­tures when­ev­er you want, and pret­ty much wher­ev­er you want. Here are some high­lights from the com­plete list.

  • African-Amer­i­can His­to­ry: Mod­ern Free­dom Strug­gle – YouTube – iTunes – Clay Car­son, Stan­ford
  • Crit­i­cal Rea­son­ing for Begin­ners - iTunes Video — iTunes Audio — Web Video & Audio — Mar­i­anne Tal­bot, Oxford
  • Grow­ing Up in the Uni­verse – YouTube – Richard Dawkins, Oxford
  • Human Behav­ioral Biol­o­gy – iTunes Video – YouTube – Robert Sapol­sky, Stan­ford
  • Intro­duc­tion to the Old Tes­ta­ment (Hebrew Bible) – Down­load Course – Chris­tine Hayes, Yale.
  • Heidegger’s Being & Time – iTunes — Hubert Drey­fus, UC Berke­ley
  • Har­vard’s Intro­duc­tion to Com­put­er Sci­ence – YouTube — iTunes — Course Page – David Malan, Har­vard
  • Invi­ta­tion to World Lit­er­a­ture – Web Site — David Dam­rosch, Har­vard
  • iPhone Appli­ca­tion Devel­op­ment in iO6 — Video iTunes — Paul Hegar­ty, Stan­ford
  • Jus­tice: What’s the Right Thing to Do? – YouTube — iTunes Video — Web Site — Michael Sandel, Har­vard
  • Niet­zsche, Beyond Good and Evil - Web Site — Leo Strauss, Uni­ver­si­ty of Chica­go
  • Phi­los­o­phy of Lan­guage – iTunes – John Sear­le, UC Berke­ley
  • Physics for Future Pres­i­dents – YouTube – Richard Muller, UC Berke­ley
  • Quan­tum Elec­tro­dy­nam­ics – Web Site - Richard Feyn­man, Pre­sent­ed at Uni­ver­si­ty of Auck­land
  • Sci­ence, Mag­ic and Reli­gion iTunes Video — YouTube – Courte­nay Raiai, UCLA
  • The Amer­i­can Nov­el Since 1945 – YouTube – iTunes Audio – iTunes Video — Down­load Course – Amy Hunger­ford, Yale
  • The Char­ac­ter of Phys­i­cal Law (1964)YouTube — Richard Feyn­man, Cor­nell
  • The Art of Liv­ing – Web Site – Team taught, Stan­ford
  • World War and Soci­ety in the 20th Cen­tu­ry: World War II — Mul­ti­ple For­mats — Charles S. Maier, Har­vard

Again, the com­plete list of Free Online Cours­es is here. And, in the mean­time, if you’re look­ing for a good list of MOOCs, we’ve got you cov­ered there too. 80 new MOOCs, many offer­ing cer­tifi­cates, will get start­ed in the next 60 days.

Find us on Face­bookTwit­ter and Google Plus and we’ll make it easy to share intel­li­gent media with your friends! 

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15,000 Volts Courses Through Plywood, Revealing “Lightning Made from Molasses”

“When light­ning flash­es across the sky, you only get a chance to glimpse its frac­tal form for a split sec­ond. But when you send 15,000 volts cours­ing through ply­wood, you get a much bet­ter look at how it grows. Melanie Hoff, a stu­dent at the Pratt Insti­tute in New York City did just that, and the result is a time­lapse where you can see the pat­terns slow­ly grow out and smol­der, like light­ning made from molasses.”

That’s the descrip­tion that intro­duces the 15,000 Volts video on YouTube. On her own Vimeo Chan­nel, Hoff adds a few more details about what you’re see­ing above, say­ing “Yes, the grain of the wood influ­ences the pat­tern and the direc­tion [it takes]. The lay­ers of veneer and the glue that holds them togeth­er caus­es the growth to progress much slow­er than in non-ply­wood. This is sped up hun­dreds of thou­sands of times” in the time­lapse film. The musi­cal accom­pa­ni­ment is “Aire De Zam­ba,” by Augustin Bar­rios Man­gore.

via Giz­mo­do

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Free: Listen to Dave Grohl’s Soundtrack for New Film Celebrating the Days of Analog Recording

Mark your cal­en­dars, music lovers, March 22nd is Dynam­ic Range Day and March 12th is the day Dave Grohl’s new doc­u­men­tary Sound City Stu­dios gets wide release. What does this mean, you ask, and how are these things relat­ed? I’m get­ting there, hear me out. The dig­i­tal age has brought us many boun­ti­ful rewards, it’s true, but it has also brought us the so-called “Loud­ness Wars”—basi­cal­ly, for sev­er­al annoy­ing­ly bor­ing tech­ni­cal rea­sons, dig­i­tal record­ings can be very high­ly com­pressed so as to sound sub­jec­tive­ly loud­er than any­thing ana­log record­ing can pro­duce. Sounds like a real bonus, right? Loud­er is bet­ter? Not so, say the orga­niz­ers of Dynam­ic Range Day. Not so, say the par­tic­i­pants in Dave Grohl’s doc­u­men­tary about the leg­endary Sound City Stu­dios (trail­er above) and his album of record­ings using Sound City’s vin­tage ana­log Neve con­sole.

See, high­ly com­pressed dig­i­tal record­ings basi­cal­ly sound like crap­py walls of dis­tort­ed noise after a while, which is ugly and tire­some. Gone is the dynam­ic range–the nuance, or light-and-shade, as music peo­ple some­times like to say. This phenomenon—combined with the pro­lif­er­a­tion of low-grade mp3s and the dig­i­tal trick­ery that makes bad singers sound tolerable—is ruin­ing record­ed music, and musi­cians know it, which is why so many great ones were excit­ed to work with Grohl on his film and record­ing project, cel­e­brat­ing the lost art of live, all-ana­log record­ing. Well, that’s not the only rea­son. Found­ed in Van Nuys, CA in 1969, the dive‑y Sound City Stu­dios also hap­pens to be where some of the most-loved rock and roll records of all time were made, includ­ing Fleet­wood Mac’s Rumours, Nirvana’s Nev­er­mind, and Neil Young’s After the Gold Rush. (Rick Rubin also record­ed Metallica’s Death Mag­net­ic there—according to the purists and fans alike, one of the worst casu­al­ties of the Loud­ness Wars—but that’s a sto­ry for anoth­er day).

Now, Sound City Stu­dios is no more, but its his­to­ry has been doc­u­ment­ed by Grohl in Sound City, the movie, and Grohl pre­served the studio’s beau­ti­ful ana­log gear, now housed in his Stu­dio 606, and record­ed a suite of songs with spe­cial guests from the film like Ste­vie Nicks, Paul McCart­ney, Trent Reznor, Cheap Trick’s Rick Nielsen, Nir­vana bassist Krist Novosel­ic, punk leg­ends Lee Ving and Pat Smear, and Queens of the Stone Age’s Josh Homme. That record, Sound City: Real to Reel is stream­ing free now on NPR. Lis­ten to its sweet ana­log good­ness above for a lim­it­ed time  (through your dig­i­tal machine—hey, it is what it is, right?). Then, if you’re so inclined, you can pur­chase the record (or indi­vid­ual tracks) from iTunes or Ama­zon. The film will be avail­able short­ly on Blu-ray and down­load too.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Neil Young Reveals the New Killer Gad­get That Will Save Music

Josh Jones is a writer, edi­tor, and musi­cian based in Wash­ing­ton, DC. Fol­low him @jdmagness

E.E. Cummings Recites ‘Anyone Lived in a Pretty How Town,’ 1953

Here’s a great read­ing by E.E. Cum­mings of his famous and wide­ly anthol­o­gized poem, “any­one lived in a pret­ty how town.” The poem has a bit­ter­sweet qual­i­ty, deal­ing with the lone­li­ness of the indi­vid­ual amid the crush­ing con­for­mi­ty of soci­ety, but in a play­ful way, like a nurs­ery rhyme with delight­ful­ly shuf­fled syn­tax.  It is the sto­ry of “any­one,” who lived in “a pret­ty how town” and was loved by “noone.” With the author’s idio­syn­crat­ic omis­sion of some spac­ing, cap­i­tal­iza­tion and punc­tu­a­tion, the poem begins:

any­one lived in a pret­ty how town
(with up so float­ing many bells down)
spring sum­mer autumn win­ter
he sang his did­n’t he danced his did.

Women and men(both lit­tle and small)
cared for any­one not at all
they sowed their isn’t they reaped their same
sun moon stars rain

The poem was first pub­lished as “No. 29” in Cum­mings’s 1940 col­lec­tion 50 Poems. (Click here to open the full text of the poem in a new win­dow.) The record­ing was made on May 28, 1953, when Cum­mings was a vis­it­ing pro­fes­sor at Har­vard. It is avail­able from Harper­Au­dio as part of a one-hour col­lec­tion, Essen­tial E.E. Cum­mings.

You can find the poem list­ed in our col­lec­tions of Free Audio Books and Free eBooks.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Allen Gins­berg Reads His Famous­ly Cen­sored Beat Poem, Howl

Lis­ten to J.R.R. Tolkien Read Poems from The Fel­low­ship of the Ring, in Elvish and Eng­lish (1952)

Tom Waits Reads Charles Bukowski’s Poem, “The Laugh­ing Heart”

Pier Pao­lo Pasoli­ni Talks and Reads Poet­ry with Ezra Pound (1967)

The Confessions of Robert Crumb: A Portrait Scripted by the Underground Comics Legend Himself (1987)

Any­one who’s seen Crumb, Ter­ry Zwigoff’s 1994 doc­u­men­tary about under­ground comics leg­end, R. Crumb, may con­sid­er them­selves fair­ly con­ver­sant in both the art and the off­beat exis­tence of the vin­tage-record-rever­ing sex­u­al adven­tur­er and self-pro­claimed wimp.

But does a trav­el­er pass up the oppor­tu­ni­ty to vis­it Paris sim­ply because he’s been there once before?

Unless you’re a vir­gin to the sub­ject, The Con­fes­sions of Robert Crumb, a BBC doc whose release pre­dat­ed that of Zwigof­f’s defin­i­tive por­trait by sev­en years, will con­tain no major rev­e­la­tions. It’s still a lot of fun though, per­haps more so for hav­ing been script­ed by its main attrac­tion.

Crumb and his wife, fel­low car­toon­ist, Aline Komin­sky Crumb, were uneasy with Zwigof­f’s por­tray­al, a reac­tion they doc­u­ment­ed in Head for the Hills!, a joint­ly authored, two-page com­ic in the New York­er. Their objec­tions ulti­mate­ly lay with the noto­ri­ety the film would con­fer on them. Fame for Crumb is a mon­ster-mak­ing drain on cre­ativ­i­ty. (“And I guar­an­tee we won’t earn an extra dol­lar as a result of this won­der­ful expo­sure,” Aline adds in a word bub­ble, an obser­va­tion the Crumb blog gives the lie to, near­ly twen­ty years out.)

But in terms of what he was will­ing to own up to on cam­era, Crumb the screen­writer is far from a shrink­ing vio­let. The talk­ing heads are min­i­mized and the extend­ed fam­i­ly kept to the shad­ows, but he’s frank about the erot­ic pre­oc­cu­pa­tions that fig­ure promi­nent­ly in his work and have raised more than a few fem­i­nist hack­les over the years. One might even say he plays it up in goofy staged bits, such as the one where he dons a lab coat to exam­ine the pow­er­ful rear and kid­ney bean-shaped pelvic tilt of an impas­sive mod­el clad in 80s-style Jane Fon­da Work­out wear. As social mal­adroits go, he’s not afraid to wear a lamp­shade on his head.

He also reveals him­self as a life­long learn­er, avid­ly research­ing his non-flesh-relat­ed pas­sions. His inter­ests are infec­tious. One hour with Crumb and you may find your­self spend­ing the next two or three on eso­teric top­ics rang­ing from James Gill­ray to Har­ry Roy and his Bat Club Boys.

You can find The Con­fes­sions of Robert Crumb list­ed in our col­lec­tion of 55o Free Online Movies.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Record Cov­er Art by Under­ground Car­toon­ist Robert Crumb

The Inscrutable Imag­i­na­tion of the Late Com­ic Artist Mœbius

Vis­it the World of Lit­tle Nemo Artist Win­sor McCay: Three Clas­sic Ani­ma­tions and a Google Doo­dle

Ayun Hal­l­i­day is a fem­i­nist and a long term Robert Crumb fan.

Patti Smith’s Cover of Nirvana’s “Smells Like Teen Spirit” Strips the Song Down to its Heart

In 2007, Kurt  Cobain’s 1991 anti-anthem “Smells Like Teen Spir­it” was long etched into the con­scious­ness of every music fan, but the musi­cal land­scape had changed con­sid­er­ably since its release. The inevitable mass appro­pri­a­tion of Nirvana’s thun­der­ous dynam­ics and shag­gy rebel­lion had turned out so much bland, over­pro­duced grunge that the sound sank into unlis­ten­able deca­dence. With indie artists doing Gang of Four-like dance punk, eight­ies elec­tro, and any­thing at all that sound­ed noth­ing like Nir­vana, some—like Iron and Wine and the Decembrists—picked up ban­jos and fid­dles and reached back even fur­ther to moody Appalachi­an folk.

So when punk fore­moth­er Pat­ti Smith re-inter­pret­ed Nirvana’s era-defin­ing clas­sic for her ’07 cov­ers album Twelve, she choose the lat­ter sound, a spare coun­try arrange­ment with bass, acoustic gui­tar, vio­lin, ban­jo, and Smith’s time­less voice. No need for drums, it’s been done; what we hear instead is the essence of the song’s lyri­cal and melod­ic pow­er.

As most song­writ­ers will tell you, a good song should strip down to voice and gui­tar with­out los­ing its heart. Smith’s ver­sion of “Smells Like Teen Spir­it” proves that Kurt Cobain’s song­writ­ing stands up to the test, and the black and white video recalls Smith’s own pho­tog­ra­phy. It’s a par­tic­u­lar­ly Pat­ti Smith memo­r­i­al.

Loss defines so much of Smith’s late peri­od work—of Cobain, her broth­er, late hus­band Fred “Son­ic” Smith, and close friend Robert Mapplethorpe—but her com­mem­o­ra­tion of those loss­es has also renewed her cre­ative­ly. In a way, her career revival began with a memo­r­i­al to Cobain, with the song “About a Boy” from her 1996 “come­back” record Gone Again, a par­tial col­lab­o­ra­tion with her hus­band not long before his death. Watch Smith below deliv­er a spell­bind­ing live per­for­mance of “About a Boy” from a June 23, 2000 con­cert in Seat­tle.

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

If you would like to sup­port the mis­sion of Open Cul­ture, con­sid­er mak­ing a dona­tion to our site. It’s hard to rely 100% on ads, and your con­tri­bu­tions will help us con­tin­ue pro­vid­ing the best free cul­tur­al and edu­ca­tion­al mate­ri­als to learn­ers every­where. You can con­tribute through Pay­Pal, Patre­on, and Ven­mo (@openculture). Thanks!

Relat­ed Con­tent:

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

Pat­ti Smith Remem­bers Robert Map­plethor­pe

The First Live Per­for­mance of Nirvana’s “Smells Like Teen Spir­it” (1991)

Josh Jones is a writer, edi­tor, and musi­cian based in Wash­ing­ton, DC. Fol­low him @jdmagness

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