See Stevie Wonder Play “Superstition” and Banter with Grover on Sesame Street in 1973

In 1969, Sesame Street debuted and intro­duced America’s children—growing up in the midst of intense dis­putes over integration—to its urban sen­si­bil­i­ties and mul­ti­cul­tur­al cast, all dri­ven by the lat­est in child­hood devel­op­ment research and Jim Hen­son wiz­ardry. Despite the racial­ly frac­tious times of its ori­gin, the show was a suc­cess (although the state of Mis­sis­sip­pi briefly banned it in 1970), and its list of celebri­ty guests from every con­ceiv­able domain reflect­ed the diver­si­ty of its cast and hip­ness of its tone. With cer­tain excep­tions (par­tic­u­lar­ly in lat­er per­mu­ta­tions), it’s always been a show that knew how to gauge the tenor of the times and appeal broad­ly to both chil­dren and their weary, cap­tive guardians.

Being one of those weary cap­tives, I can’t say enough how grate­ful I’ve been when a rec­og­niz­able face inter­rupts Elmo’s bab­bling to sing a song or do a lit­tle com­e­dy bit, wink­ing at the par­ents all the while. These moments are few­er and far­ther between in the lat­er ages of the show, but in the sev­en­ties, Sesame Street had musi­cal rou­tines wor­thy of Sat­ur­day Night Live. Take, for exam­ple, the 1973 appear­ance of Ste­vie Won­der on the show. While I was born too late to catch this when it aired, there’s no doubt that the child me would find Won­der and his band as funky as the grown-up par­ent does. Check them out above doing “Super­sti­tion.”

Like most musi­cal artists who vis­it the show, Ste­vie also cooked some­thing espe­cial­ly for the kids. In the clip above, watch him do a lit­tle num­ber called “123 Sesame Street.” Won­der breaks out the talk box, a favorite gad­get of his (he turned Framp­ton on to it). The band gets so into it, you’d think this was a cut off their lat­est album, and the kids (the show nev­er used child actors) rock out like only sev­en­ties kids can. The show’s orig­i­nal theme song had its charm, but why the pro­duc­ers didn’t imme­di­ate­ly change it to this is beyond me. I’d pay vin­tage vinyl prices to get it on record.

Final­ly, in our last clip from Stevie’s won­der­ful guest spot, he takes a break from full-on funk and roll to give Grover a lit­tle scat les­son and show off his pipes. The great Frank Oz as the voice of Grover is, as always, a per­fect com­ic foil.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Philip Glass Com­pos­es for Sesame Street (1979)

Mon­ster­piece The­ater Presents Wait­ing for Elmo, Calls BS on Samuel Beck­ett

Jim Hen­son Pilots The Mup­pet Show with Adult Episode, “Sex and Vio­lence” (1975)

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

Watch the Earliest Known Footage of Louis Armstrong Performing Live in Concert (Copenhagen, 1933)

In Octo­ber of 1933, Louis Arm­strong and his “Harlem Hot Band” arrived in Copen­hagen, Den­mark for a series of eight shows at the Lyric Park the­ater. Thou­sands of fans mobbed the rail­way sta­tion, break­ing through police bar­ri­cades and climb­ing on top of train cars just to get a glimpse of the great jazz trum­peter as he stepped from his train.

Nowa­days the Copen­hagen vis­it is remem­bered because it was the first time Arm­strong was ever filmed in con­cert. The Dan­ish direc­tor Hol­ger Mad­sen recruit­ed Arm­strong to appear in his fea­ture film Køben­havn, Kalund­borg Og -?. Arm­strong had made a cameo appear­ance in a 1931 film called Ex Flame, and on a sound stage the fol­low­ing year in two short films–a Para­mount Pic­tures fea­turette and a Bet­ty Boop car­toon–but the Copen­hagen footage is the ear­li­est of Arm­strong play­ing live with his band.

The per­for­mance was filmed on Octo­ber 21, 1933 at the Lyric Park. There was no audi­ence in the the­ater dur­ing the film­ing. The shots of peo­ple applaud­ing were made at a dif­fer­ent time and spliced into the scene. Arm­strong and his band play three songs: “I Cov­er the Water­front,” “Dinah” and “Tiger Rag.” The nine-man band includes Arm­strong on trum­pet and vocals, Charles D. John­son on trum­pet, Peter DuCon­gé on clar­inet and alto sax­o­phone, Hen­ry Tyree on alto sax­o­phone, Fletch­er Allen on tenor sax­o­phone, Lionel Guimarez on trom­bone, Jus­to Baret­to on piano, Ger­man Arango on bass and Oliv­er Tines on drums.

Arm­strong is bril­liant in the film. His exu­ber­ant show­man­ship and vir­tu­os­i­ty are strik­ing, and his unmis­tak­able genius for phrasing–the way his trum­pet and voice sound like two sides of the same dis­tinc­tive instrument–remind us of why many peo­ple still con­sid­er Arm­strong the great­est jazz musi­cian of all time.

Relat­ed con­tent:

Louis Arm­strong and His All Stars Live in Bel­gium, 1959: The Full Show

New Jazz Archive Fea­tures Rare Audio of Louis Arm­strong and Oth­er Leg­ends Play­ing in San Fran­cis­co

The Art of Punk, MOCA’s Series of Punk Documentaries, Begins with Black Flag: Watch It Online

First you set out to smash all insti­tu­tions, but then you find the insti­tu­tions have enshrined you. Isn’t that always the way? It cer­tain­ly seems to have turned out that way for punk rock, in any case, which vowed in the sev­en­ties to tear it all up and start over again. Now, in the 2010s, we find trib­ute paid to not just the music but the aes­thet­ics, lifestyles, and per­son­al­i­ties of the punk move­ment by two sep­a­rate, and sep­a­rate­ly well-respect­ed, insti­tu­tions. We recent­ly fea­tured the Met­ro­pol­i­tan Muse­um of Art’s exhi­bi­tion Punk: Chaos to Cou­ture. Today, you can start watch­ing The Art of Punk, a series of doc­u­men­taries from MOCAtv, the video chan­nel of Los Ange­les’ Muse­um of Con­tem­po­rary Art. Its trail­er, which appears at the top of the post, empha­sizes its focus on, lit­er­al­ly, the visu­al art of punk: its posters, its album art, its T‑shirts, and even — un-punk as this may sound — its logos.

The series opens with the episode just above on Black Flag and Ray­mond Pet­ti­bon, design­er of the band’s well-known four-bar icon. It catch­es up with not just him, but found­ing singer Kei­th Mor­ris and bassist Chuck Dukows­ki, as well as Flea from the Red Hot Chili pep­pers, who grew up a fan of the greater Los Ange­les punk scene from which Black Flag emerged.

The episode con­cludes, need­less to say, with Hen­ry Rollins, who, though not an orig­i­nal mem­ber of the band and now pri­mar­i­ly a spo­ken word per­former, has come to embody their punk ethos in his own high­ly dis­tinc­tive way. In the lat­est episode, just out today, The Art of Punk series takes you inside the world of Crass, the Eng­lish punk band formed in 1977. Watch the remain­ing install­ments at the playlist.

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:

Punk Meets High Fash­ion in Met­ro­pol­i­tan Muse­um of Art Exhi­bi­tion PUNK: Chaos to Cou­ture

Hen­ry Rollins Remem­bers the Life-Chang­ing Deci­sion That Brought Him From Häa­gen-Dazs to Black Flag

Mal­colm McLaren: The Quest for Authen­tic Cre­ativ­i­ty

The His­to­ry of Punk Rock

Col­in Mar­shall hosts and pro­duces Note­book on Cities and Cul­ture and writes essays on lit­er­a­ture, film, cities, Asia, and aes­thet­ics. He’s at work on a book about Los Ange­lesA Los Ange­les Primer. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall.

Chinese Artist Ai Weiwei Releases a “Heavy Metal” Song & Video Recalling His Harsh Imprisonment

Burly Chi­nese artist and dis­si­dent Ai Wei­wei has nev­er lost his sense of humor, even when fac­ing harsh repres­sion from his gov­ern­ment. But while the idea of 55-year old Ai record­ing a heavy met­al record might seem like a stunt, the source mate­r­i­al for his first sin­gle, “Dum­b­ass” (above), is any­thing but fun­ny. The furi­ous­ly angry, exple­tive-filled song is inspired by Ai’s harsh treat­ment dur­ing his 81-day impris­on­ment in 2011. He’s call­ing the musi­cal project “a kind of self-ther­a­py” and will release six tracks on June 22—the sec­ond anniver­sary of his release—as an album called The Divine Com­e­dy.

Ai sings (or howls, growls, and bel­lows) in Chi­nese. As you can see from the grim images in the video above—with the artist re-enact­ing and re-imag­in­ing his expe­ri­ences in detention—the mem­o­ries of his incar­cer­a­tion are still raw and painful. While he’s called his music “heavy met­al,” The Guardian points out that “it’s not exact­ly Metal­li­ca” (unless you count that Lou Reed col­lab­o­ra­tion). Ai him­self says of his sound:

After I said it would be heavy met­al I ran back to check what heavy met­al would be like. Then I thought, oh my god, it’s quite dif­fer­ent…. So it’s Chi­nese heavy met­al, or maybe Caochang­di [where his stu­dio is based] heavy met­al.

Call it what you want: Chi­nese heavy met­al, prac­ti­cal joke, avant garde per­for­mance piece… it’s still like­ly to get Ai in even fur­ther trou­ble with Chi­nese author­i­ties. As he explained to the New York Times, how­ev­er, he “want­ed to do some­thing impos­si­ble…. I want­ed to show young peo­ple here we can all sing…. It’s our voice.”

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Who’s Afraid of Ai Wei­wei: A Short Doc­u­men­tary

Ai Weiwei’s Par­o­dy of ‘Gang­nam Style’

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

Introducing Wireless Philosophy: An Open Access Philosophy Project Created by Yale and MIT

“Wire­less Phi­los­o­phy,” or Wiphi, is an online project of “open access phi­los­o­phy” co-cre­at­ed by Yale and MIT that aims to make fun­da­men­tal philo­soph­i­cal con­cepts acces­si­ble by “mak­ing videos that are freely avail­able in a form that is enter­tain­ing” to peo­ple “with no back­ground in the sub­ject.” To accom­plish this goal, they have con­tract­ed with an impres­sive range of pro­fes­sors of phi­los­o­phy from pres­ti­gious uni­ver­si­ties across the coun­try. Wiphi is still very much a work-in-progress, but they cur­rent­ly fea­ture some inter­est­ing intro­duc­tions to clas­si­cal philo­soph­i­cal issues. Cur­rent­ly, the site divides into sev­er­al basic cat­e­gories like “Crit­i­cal Think­ing,” “Epis­te­mol­o­gy,” “Meta­physics,” “Ethics,” and “Polit­i­cal Phi­los­o­phy.” Much of these are still unfin­ished, but the few videos on the site, such as those relat­ed to the prob­lem of free will and the exis­tence of God, pro­vide view­ers with much to chew on.

In the video above, MIT phi­los­o­phy pro­fes­sor Richard Holton explains the basics of the prob­lem of free will. He divides this into two dis­tinct prob­lems: the meta­phys­i­cal and the epis­te­mo­log­i­cal. The first prob­lem states that if the laws of nature are deter­min­is­tic, every­thing that will hap­pen is fixed, and there is in fact no free choice (no mat­ter how we feel about it). Holton choos­es to focus on the sec­ond prob­lem, the prob­lem of fore­knowl­edge. Put sim­ply, if things are deter­mined, then if we know all of the con­di­tions of real­i­ty, and have ade­quate resources, we should be able to pre­dict every­thing that is going to hap­pen.

Holton leaves aside enor­mous­ly com­pli­cat­ed devel­op­ments in physics and opts to illus­trate the prob­lem with what he calls “a sim­ple device.” In his illus­tra­tion, one must pre­dict whether a light­bulb will turn on by turn­ing on anoth­er light­bulb, part of a sys­tem he calls a “frus­tra­tor.” In this sce­nario, even if we have all the knowl­edge and resources to make per­fect­ly accu­rate pre­dic­tions, the prob­lem of “frustrators”—or faulty observers and feed­back loops—complicates the sit­u­a­tion irrev­o­ca­bly

In the video above, Pro­fes­sor Tim­o­thy Yen­ter describes the Cos­mo­log­i­cal argu­ment for the exis­tence of God, clas­si­cal­ly attrib­uted to Aris­to­tle, elab­o­rat­ed by Islam­ic philoso­phers and Thomas Aquinas, and tak­en up in the Enlight­en­ment by Leib­niz as the prin­ci­ple of suf­fi­cient rea­son. One of that argument’s premis­es, that the cos­mos (every­thing that exists) must have a cause, assumes that the causal cir­cum­stances we observe with­in the sys­tem, the uni­verse as a whole, must also apply out­side of it. Pro­fes­sor Yen­ter describes this above in terms of the “fal­la­cy of com­po­si­tion,” which occurs when one assumes that the whole has the same prop­er­ties as its parts. (Such as argu­ing that since all of your body’s atoms are invis­i­ble to the naked eye, your whole body is invis­i­ble. Try head­ing to work naked tomor­row to test this out.)

This brings us to the prob­lem of infi­nite regress. In the sec­ond part of his intro­duc­tion to the Cos­mo­log­i­cal Argument—in which he dis­cuss­es the so-called Modal Argument—Professor Yen­ter explains the key prin­ci­ple of Ex nihi­lo nihil fit, or “out of noth­ing, noth­ing comes.” This seems like a bedrock meta­phys­i­cal prin­ci­ple, such that few ques­tion it, and it intro­duces a key dis­tinc­tion between nec­es­sary things—which must exist—and con­tin­gent things, which could be oth­er­wise. The most impor­tant premise in the Modal Argu­ment is that every con­tin­gent thing must be caused by some­thing else. If all caus­es are con­tin­gent (which they seem to us to be) they must pro­ceed from a nec­es­sary, self-exis­tent thing. Whether that thing has all or any of the prop­er­ties clas­si­cal­ly ascribed to the the­is­tic God is anoth­er ques­tion all togeth­er, but Aquinas and the clas­si­cal Islam­ic philoso­phers cer­tain­ly thought so.

While there may be no philo­soph­i­cal nut­crack­er large enough to crack these prob­lems, they remain per­pet­u­al­ly inter­est­ing for many philoso­phers and sci­en­tists, and under­stand­ing the basic issues at stake is fun­da­men­tal to any study of phi­los­o­phy. In that sense, Wiphi pro­vides a nec­es­sary ser­vice to those just begin­ning to wade out into the sea of The Big Ques­tions.

 Relat­ed Con­tent:

Down­load 90 Free Phi­los­o­phy Cours­es and Start Liv­ing the Exam­ined Life

Lawrence Krauss Explains How You Get ‘A Uni­verse From Noth­ing’

Take First-Class Phi­los­o­phy Lec­tures Any­where with Free Oxford Pod­casts

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

A Look Inside Mel Blanc’s Throat as He Performs the Voices of Bugs Bunny and Other Cartoon Legends

Last month we told you about The Strange Day When Bugs Bun­ny Saved the Life of Mel Blanc. It’s a true tale about how, back in 1971, Mel Blanc, the voice of Bugs Bun­ny and oth­er beloved Looney Tunes char­ac­ters, got into a ter­ri­ble car acci­dent in Los Ange­les and slipped into a coma. Blanc’s wife and son spent two long weeks in the hos­pi­tal try­ing to revive him, but got no response. But then, one day, Blanc’s neu­rol­o­gist walked into the room and said to the patient: “Bugs Bun­ny, how are you doing today?” After a pause, a voice said, “Myeeeeh. What’s up doc?” You can get more on that sto­ry here. In the mean­time, we’ll amuse you with anoth­er short sto­ry. Once upon a time, an ear-nose-and-throat spe­cial­ist want­ed to see how Mel Blanc (1908–1989) per­formed all of those Looney Tunes car­toon voic­es. So he took a fiber optic laryn­go­scope, stuck it down Blanc’s throat, and here’s what he saw. Watch above.

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:

Cel­e­brate Superman’s 75th Anniver­sary by Enjoy­ing the Orig­i­nal Super­man Car­toon and Radio Show

The Sto­ry Of Men­stru­a­tion: Watch Walt Disney’s Sex Ed Film from 1946

Don­ald Duck’s Bad Nazi Dream (1942)

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Kickstart Sound Poetry, Ken Berman’s Jazz Album Inspired by Allen Ginsberg & Bob Dylan

Here’s a chance to be a patron of the arts on what­ev­er scale you can afford. Last week Ken Berman, a San Fran­cis­co-based jazz musi­cian (and the teacher of an excel­lent Bob Dylan class at Stan­ford) launched a Kick­starter cam­paign to fund the record­ing of an album called Sound Poet­ry. Born out of Berman’s friend­ship with the late poet Eythan Klam­ka (1967–2011), the project builds on Klamka’s notion that “any good musi­cian is a sound poet.” “Con­vinced that the finest impro­vi­sa­tion is essen­tial­ly a lyri­cal art,” Berman draws “inspi­ra­tion from a range of diverse sources, whether Zen prac­ti­tion­er Thich Nhat Hanh, W.B. Yeats, Langston Hugh­es, George Gersh­win, Bob Dylan, and of course the jazz greats from Duke Elling­ton, Lester Young, Bil­ly Stray­horn, Miles Davis to Bill Frisell – all of whose unique con­tri­bu­tions con­tin­ue to be guide­posts and indi­cate the realm of pos­si­bil­i­ty in impro­visato­ry art.” To date, sup­port­ers of the Sound Poet­ry project have pledged $4,956 of the $11,150 goal, and the fund­ing peri­od still has 25 days to go. Con­tri­bu­tions will help pay for every­thing from stu­dio time, mix­ing and mas­ter­ing, to cre­at­ing cov­er art, man­u­fac­tur­ing CDs & DVDs, pub­lic­i­ty for the album, and a three con­ti­nent tour. You can learn more about Sound Poet­ry from the video above and make your own con­tri­bu­tions here. If you pledge $15 or more, you’ll get a copy of the album upon its com­ple­tion.

You can also sam­ple Ken’s ear­li­er com­po­si­tions here or vis­it his web site here. And if you live in the San Fran­cis­co Bay Area, I’d encour­age you to check out Ken’s course Like a Rolling Stone: The Life and Music of Bob Dylan. It will be offered in July through Stan­ford Con­tin­u­ing Stud­ies and it’s open to the pub­lic.

Want to Know What Makes the Troops Laugh? Comedian Louis CK in Afghanistan (Quite NSFW)

The oth­er day, a teenaged friend asked me if the war in Afghanistan is still going on. The answer is yes. Pre­sum­ably, it won’t be when he reach­es draft age.

In the mean­time, here’s some extreme­ly NSFW footage of Louis CK enter­tain­ing the troops at Bagram Air­field in Afghanistan a few years back. Look­ing for a quick overview of what makes the troops laugh? Cinnabon, schlub­by mid­dle aged dudes com­par­ing them­selves unfa­vor­ably to the audi­ence’s rock hard lean­ness, and the F word. The one whose non-slang def­i­n­i­tion is “a bun­dle of sticks.”

Giv­en the make up of the crowd, it made me uneasy. This was most assured­ly not a preach­ing-to-the-choir sit­u­a­tion, though the young audi­ence mem­ber who filmed the rou­tine with­out the ben­e­fit of a tri­pod notes: ” I did­n’t even know who he was before this set. He’s one of my top 3 favorites now. I just want­ed oth­er peo­ple to see him like I did. I wish I could have a con­ver­sa­tion with him!”

Hope­ful­ly, by now, hero wor­ship will have steered him to the sec­ond episode of CK’ s semi­au­to­bi­o­graph­i­cal show, in which extreme­ly forth­com­ing gay come­di­an, Rick Crom, schools a table­ful of straight pok­er bud­dies on var­i­ous sex­u­al prac­tices. His mat­ter-of-fact demeanor leads CK to ask how a queer crowd might react to his “fag­got” rou­tine. The fact that CK also pro­duced and script­ed this show is enough to con­vince me that his aim is true.

It’s worth not­ing that the pre­sum­ably straight (watch his oth­er videos) Youtu­ber who filmed and hosts this video liked ‘Louis CK — Laugh­ing at Gay Peo­ple” but also the Fred­die Mer­cury Google Doo­dle.

Giv­en CK’s mad respect for any­one serv­ing in the mil­i­tary, per­haps this young man can con­vince him that it’s time to retire “retard” as a pejo­ra­tive … even if he’s talk­ing about his own kids.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

The Sur­re­al Short Films of Louis C.K., 1993–1999

Louis CK Ridicules Avant-Garde Art on 1990s MTV Show

Sein­feld, Louis C.K., Chris Rock, and Ricky Ger­vais Dis­sect the Craft of Com­e­dy (NSFW)

Ayun Hal­l­i­day is also sick of epilep­sy as punch­line or short­cut. Fol­low her @AyunHalliday

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