Sir Patrick Stewart Demonstrates How Cows Moo in Different English Accents

cow stewart

Hav­ing spent the fall loung­ing in the bath dressed as a lob­ster, and gam­bol­ing around New York City with Wait­ing for Godot cast mate Ian McK­ellen, the irre­press­ible Patrick Stew­art brought 2013 to a close by indulging a curi­ous fan of NPR’s How To Do Every­thing pod­cast.

Her ques­tion? What do Eng­lish cows sound like when they moo.

The knight­ed star does not skimp on his answer, even if, as he repeat­ed­ly sug­gests, one can­not do the sub­ject jus­tice in less than an entire after­noon. The dialects of British cows, like those of their human coun­ter­parts, under­score that theirs is a soci­ety “dom­i­nat­ed by class, social sta­tus and loca­tion.”

The moo of a cow from West Oxford­shire, home to Prime Min­is­ter David Cameron, is quite con­ser­v­a­tive com­pared to the lusty bel­low of a spec­i­men from West York­shire, where Stew­art grew up. (The lat­ter is so aston­ish­ing, he imme­di­ate­ly offers to pro­duce it twice.)

Cock­ney cows, a breed whose ranks have thinned con­sid­er­ably since Shake­speare’s day, sound like sheep.

May­fair cows sound like for­mer Prime Min­is­ter Sir Alec Dou­glas-Home.

As an extra treat, Stew­art gen­er­ous­ly agrees to the host’s request for an Amer­i­can cow, imper­son­at­ing a Neva­da-dweller, a geo­graph­ic homage to the orig­i­nal ques­tion­er as well as his bride, jazz singer Sun­ny Ozell.

Is there any­thing this man can’t — or won’t — do?

via Laugh­ing Squid

Ayun Hal­l­i­day wish­es her favorite play­wright a very hap­py birth­day. Fol­low her @AyunHalliday

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Peter Sell­ers Gives a Quick Demon­stra­tion of British Accents

Peter Sell­ers Reads The Bea­t­les’ “She Loves You” in Four Dif­fer­ent Accents

Patrick Stew­art Talks Can­did­ly About Domes­tic Vio­lence in a Poignant Q&A Ses­sion at Comic­palooza

Acclaimed BBC Pro­duc­tion of Ham­let, Star­ring David Ten­nant (Doc­tor Who) and Patrick Stew­art (Star Trek)

The Ten-Year Lunch: Watch the Award-Winning Documentary About the Great Writers Who Sat at the Algonquin Round Table

After reach­ing the rank of Sergeant dur­ing World War I, Alexan­der Wooll­cott returned to New York to become a dra­ma crit­ic for the New York Times. Wooll­cott was a man of large bulk and out­sized per­son­al­i­ty, whose sharp, acer­bic wit made him pop­u­lar with his read­ers. Accord­ing to The Ten-Year Lunch, an Oscar-win­ning doc­u­men­tary about the New York group of writ­ers and jour­nal­ists known as the Algo­nquin Round Table, Woollcott’s quick tongue made his bom­bas­tic pres­ence near­ly unbear­able to his friends:

When he returned from the war, Wooll­cott boast­ed of his mil­i­tary adven­tures so often and so loud­ly that his friends grew tired of lis­ten­ing. He began every sen­tence with “When I was in the the­atre of war…” Irri­tat­ed by his pom­pos­i­ty, press agent Mur­doch Pem­ber­ton lured Wooll­cott [to the Algo­nquin Hotel] with the promise of an ace pas­try chef. The idea was to hold a sort of roast, at which a num­ber of crit­ics and jour­nal­ists from around town would come and poke fun at him.

For bet­ter or worse, the attempt to punc­ture Woollcott’s ego at the Algo­nquin Hotel was unsuc­cess­ful. Rather than take offence, Wooll­cott was flat­tered by the atten­tion, and the var­i­ous fig­ures in atten­dance also thor­ough­ly enjoyed them­selves. Serendip­i­tous­ly, the leg­endary lun­cheons of the Algo­nquin Round Table were born.

Algonquin_Round_Table
Most of the Table’s mem­bers had tak­en part in the war, to one degree or anoth­er: jour­nal­ist Ruth Hale and her syn­di­cat­ed-colum­nist hus­band Hey­wood Broun had been war cor­re­spon­dents; New York­er founder Harold Ross had edit­ed the mil­i­tary news­pa­per Stars & Stripes; acclaimed colum­nist Franklin Pierce Adams had made Cap­tain. Oth­er mem­bers includ­ed poet and crit­ic Dorothy Park­er, a trag­ic roman­tic who had become the city’s most quotable woman. (Parker’s inex­haustible sup­ply of wit­ti­cisms still feels fresh today: when asked to use the word hor­ti­cul­ture in a sen­tence, Park­er replied, “You can lead a whore to cul­ture, but you can’t make her think.”) Parker’s best friend was humorist and essay­ist Robert Bench­ley, who had once writ­ten an essay explor­ing New­found­land fish­ing rights for his Inter­na­tion­al Law class at Har­vard from the unortho­dox per­spec­tive of the fish. Fre­quent­ly join­ing them was Neysa McNein, a sought-after illus­tra­tor who host­ed the Table’s after­noon gath­er­ings in her stu­dio, where Irv­ing Berlin could occa­sion­al­ly be found play­ing the piano.

The near-dai­ly meet­ings at the Algo­nquin Hotel fos­tered a close-knit cul­tur­al fra­ter­ni­ty of New York’s best writ­ers, illus­tra­tors, and artists. The group vaca­tioned togeth­er at their joint­ly-owned Ver­mont island, played games of pok­er wager­ing hous­es and hon­ey­moons, and crit­i­cized each other’s work. When­ev­er a mem­ber of the Round Table would make a con­ceit­ed remark, every­one would imme­di­ate­ly rise and bow, hon­or­ing their friend’s regal affec­ta­tions. The only excep­tion to the rule was Wooll­cott, whose bread and but­ter pom­pos­i­ty was tol­er­at­ed by virtue of its reg­u­lar­i­ty.

With its inter­views of orig­i­nal Table mem­bers, the doc­u­men­tary is a tan­ta­liz­ing look at the lives of the men and women who ruled New York’s cul­tur­al milieu dur­ing the hey­day of the print­ed word. Equal parts wish for the idyl­lic past and his­to­ry of New York’s biggest cul­tur­al play­ers, The Ten-Year Lunch leaves one with a pang of odd­ly potent nos­tal­gia. We can’t rec­om­mend it enough.

In the image above, see Art Samuels, Char­lie MacArthur, Har­po Marx, Dorothy Park­er and Alexan­der Wooll­cott

Ilia Blin­d­er­man is a Mon­tre­al-based cul­ture and sci­ence writer. Fol­low him at @iliablinderman.

The Beatles Perform a Fun Spoof of Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream (1964)

Before Bri­an Epstein dis­cov­ered The Bea­t­les in 1961, they looked noth­ing like the British mop-top mods of their ear­ly six­ties pop phase. As the Quar­ry­men, they aped the looks of Amer­i­can fifties rock­ers (see a slideshow in this fan-made video of “In Spite of All the Dan­ger”): Some­times they dressed like folk revival­ists in check­ered shirts and jeans, some­times like a Carl Perkins rock­a­bil­ly band in match­ing suits and skin­ny ties, and some­times like pom­padoured greasers straight out of West Side Sto­ry.

But even after the band acquired its dis­tinc­tive look and wrote a cache of orig­i­nal songs, they were still “com­pet­ing for increased expo­sure just like every­body else.” This meant numer­ous goofy pub­lic­i­ty stunts, every one of which they seemed to thor­ough­ly love. In one such affair, the four­some taped a tele­vi­sion spe­cial called “Around the Bea­t­les,” a ref­er­ence to the the­ater-in-the-round stu­dio set­up. In the first part of the pro­gram, they donned yet anoth­er cos­tume, Shake­speare­an dress, and staged a spoof of Act V, Scene I of A Mid­sum­mer Night’s Dream in hon­or of Shakespeare’s 400th anniver­sary. (See the orig­i­nal black-and-white BBC broad­cast from April 28, 1964 above. The show was broad­cast in Amer­i­ca on ABC that Novem­ber, in col­or.)

After some fan­fare, “Around the Bea­t­les” opens on Ringo, in hose and dou­blet, fir­ing a can­non. Then we get the oblig­a­tory hoard of scream­ing teenage fans singing the prais­es of each Bea­t­le and march­ing into the stu­dio with signs and ban­ners. After anoth­er trum­pet fan­fare, the play begins, and we’re off into slap­stick British com­e­dy, with a mug­ging Paul as Pyra­mus, sneer­ing John as This­be, smirk­ing George as Moon­shine, and a scene-chew­ing Ringo as Lion. The heck­lers in the box seats were script­ed, most­ly (one yells “go back to Liverpool!”—probably not a plant). Over­all the sil­ly skit con­firms what I’ve always main­tained: if the Bea­t­les’ hadn’t made it as musi­cians, they’d have done well to stay togeth­er as a com­e­dy troupe.

The sec­ond part of the spe­cial fea­tured musi­cal per­for­mances from sev­er­al oth­er acts and, of course, from the Bea­t­les them­selves. See the band bop along to a med­ley of “Love Me Do”/ “Please Please Me”/ “From Me to You”/ “She Loves You”/ “I Want to Hold Your Hand” above. They pre­re­cord­ed the music on April 19th and mimed the per­for­mances, as you can sure­ly tell from the total lack of ampli­fiers onstage. This was, as it is again, the way of things in pop music on tele­vi­sion. But if you are one of those who think The Bea­t­les didn’t put on a good live show, Col­in Flem­ing at The Atlantic begs to dif­fer, with a thor­ough expli­ca­tion of rare record­ings from an Octo­ber 1963 per­for­mance in Stock­holm.

via Brain Pick­ings

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Peter Sell­ers Per­forms The Bea­t­les “A Hard Day’s Night” in Shake­speare­an Mode

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

Shakespeare’s Satir­i­cal Son­net 130, As Read By Stephen Fry

Find Shakespeare’s Col­lect­ed Works in our Free eBooks and Free Audio Books Col­lec­tions

Down­load Shake­speare Cours­es from our Col­lec­tion of Free Online Cours­es

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

Lego Video Shows How David Bowie Almost Became “Cobbler Bob,” Not “Aladdin Sane”

In Octo­ber, 1973, David Bowie made his last live appear­ance as Zig­gy Star­dust. (Watch it here.) Pret­ty soon, Bowie would morph into a new per­sona Aladdin Sane and lat­er The Thin White Duke. But, for a moment there, he almost went with anoth­er unlike­ly char­ac­ter, “Cob­bler Bob.” Or so that’s the play­ful sce­nario that Eng­lish come­di­an and actor Adam Bux­ton imag­ines in this short lego video. Enjoy.

When you’re done hav­ing a laugh and ready for some­thing more seri­ous, we’d encour­age you to see these relat­ed posts:

The Sto­ry of Zig­gy Star­dust: How David Bowie Cre­at­ed the Char­ac­ter that Made Him Famous

David Bowie Recalls the Strange Expe­ri­ence of Invent­ing the Char­ac­ter Zig­gy Star­dust (1977)

David Bowie Sings ‘I Got You Babe’ with Mar­i­anne Faith­full in His Last Per­for­mance As Zig­gy Star­dust

David Bowie Releas­es Vin­tage Videos of His Great­est Hits from the 1970s and 1980s

via Metafil­ter

The Science of Willpower: 15 Tips for Making Your New Year’s Resolutions Last from Dr. Kelly McGonigal

At the stroke of mid­night, mil­lions of New Year’s res­o­lu­tions went into effect, with the most com­mon ones being lose weight, get fit, quit drink­ing and smok­ing, save mon­ey, and learn some­thing new. Unfor­tu­nate­ly, 33% of these res­o­lu­tions will be aban­doned by Jan­u­ary’s end. And upwards of 80% will even­tu­al­ly fall by the way­side. Mak­ing res­o­lu­tions stick is tricky busi­ness. But it’s pos­si­ble, and Stan­ford psy­chol­o­gist Kel­ly McGo­ni­gal has a few sci­en­tif­i­cal­ly-proven sug­ges­tions for you.

For years, McGo­ni­gal has taught a very pop­u­lar course called The Sci­ence of Willpow­er in Stan­ford’s Con­tin­u­ing Stud­ies pro­gram, where she intro­duces stu­dents to the idea that willpow­er is not an innate trait. Rather it’s a “com­plex mind-body response that can be com­pro­mised by stress, sleep depri­va­tion and nutri­tion and that can be strength­ened through cer­tain prac­tices.” For those of you who don’t live in the San Fran­cis­co Bay Area, you can also find McGo­ni­gal’s ideas pre­sent­ed in a recent book, The Willpow­er Instinct: How Self-Con­trol Works, Why It Mat­ters, and What You Can Do to Get More of It, which just came out in paper­back yes­ter­day. Below, we have high­light­ed 15 of Dr. McGo­ni­gal’s strate­gies for increas­ing your willpow­er reserves and mak­ing your New Year’s res­o­lu­tion endure.

  1. Will pow­er is like a mus­cle. The more you work on devel­op­ing it, the more you can incor­po­rate it into your life. It helps, McGo­ni­gal says in this pod­cast, to start with small feats of willpow­er before try­ing to tack­le more dif­fi­cult feats. Ide­al­ly, find the small­est change that’s con­sis­tent with your larg­er goal, and start there.
  2. Choose a goal or res­o­lu­tion that you real­ly want, not a goal that some­one else desires for you, or a goal that you think you should want. Choose a pos­i­tive goal that tru­ly comes from with­in and that con­tributes to some­thing impor­tant in life.
  3. Willpow­er is con­ta­gious. Find a willpow­er role mod­el — some­one who has accom­plished what you want to do. Also try to sur­round your­self with fam­i­ly mem­bers, friends or groups who can sup­port you. Change is often not made alone.
  4. Know that peo­ple have more willpow­er when they wake up, and then willpow­er steadi­ly declines through­out the day as peo­ple fatigue. So try to accom­plish what you need to — for exam­ple, exer­cise — ear­li­er in the day. Then watch out for the evenings, when bad habits can return.
  5. Under­stand that stress and willpow­er are incom­pat­i­ble. Any time we’re under stress it’s hard­er to find our willpow­er. Accord­ing to McGo­ni­gal, “the fight-or-flight response floods the body with ener­gy to act instinc­tive­ly and steals it from the areas of the brain need­ed for wise deci­sion-mak­ing. Stress also encour­ages you to focus on imme­di­ate, short-term goals and out­comes, but self-con­trol requires keep­ing the big pic­ture in mind.” The upshot? “Learn­ing how to bet­ter man­age your stress is one of the most impor­tant things you can do to improve your willpow­er.” When you get stressed out, go for a walk. Even a five minute walk out­side can reduce your stress lev­els, boost your mood, and help you replen­ish your willpow­er reserves.
  6. Sleep depri­va­tion (less than six hours a night) makes it so that the pre­frontal cor­tex los­es con­trol over the regions of the brain that cre­ate crav­ings. Sci­ence shows that get­ting just one more hour of sleep each night (eight hours is ide­al) helps recov­er­ing drug addicts avoid a relapse. So it can cer­tain­ly help you resist a dough­nut or a cig­a­rette.
  7. Also remem­ber that nutri­tion plays a key role. “Eat­ing a more plant-based, less-processed diet makes ener­gy more avail­able to the brain and can improve every aspect of willpow­er from over­com­ing pro­cras­ti­na­tion to stick­ing to a New Year’s res­o­lu­tion,” McGo­ni­gal says.
  8. Don’t think it will be dif­fer­ent tomor­row. McGo­ni­gal notes that we have a ten­den­cy to think that we will have more willpow­er, ener­gy, time, and moti­va­tion tomor­row. The prob­lem is that “if we think we have the oppor­tu­ni­ty to make a dif­fer­ent choice tomor­row, we almost always ‘give in’ to temp­ta­tion or habit today.”
  9. Acknowl­edge and under­stand your crav­ings rather than deny­ing them. That will take you fur­ther in the end. The video above has more on that.
  10. Imag­ine the things that could get in the way of achiev­ing your goal. Under­stand the ten­den­cies you have that could lead you to break your res­o­lu­tion. Don’t be over­ly opti­mistic and assume the road will be easy.
  11. Know your lim­its, and plan for them. Says McGo­ni­gal, “Peo­ple who think they have the most self-con­trol are the most like­ly to fail at their res­o­lu­tions; they put them­selves in tempt­ing sit­u­a­tions, don’t get help, give up at set­backs. You need to know how you fail; how you are tempt­ed; how you pro­cras­ti­nate.”
  12. Pay atten­tion to small choic­es that add up. “One study found that the aver­age per­son thinks they make 14 food choic­es a day; they actu­al­ly make over 200. When you aren’t aware that you’re mak­ing a choice, you’ll almost always default to habit/temptation.” It’s impor­tant to fig­ure out when you have oppor­tu­ni­ties to make a choice con­sis­tent with your goals.
  13. Be spe­cif­ic but flex­i­ble. It’s good to know your goal and how you’ll get there. But, she cau­tions, “you should leave room to revise these steps if they turn out to be unsus­tain­able or don’t lead to the ben­e­fits you expect­ed.”
  14. Give your­self small, healthy rewards along the way. Research shows that the mind responds well to it. (If you’re try­ing to quite smok­ing, the reward should­n’t be a cig­a­rette, by the way.)
  15. Final­ly, if you expe­ri­ence a set­back, don’t be hard on your­self. Although it seems counter-intu­itive, stud­ies show that peo­ple who expe­ri­ence shame/guilt are much more like­ly to break their res­o­lu­tions than ones who cut them­selves some slack. In a nut­shell, you should “Give up guilt.”

To put all of these tips into a big­ger frame­work, you can get a copy of Kel­ly McGo­ni­gal’s book, The Willpow­er Instinct: How Self-Con­trol Works, Why It Mat­ters, and What You Can Do to Get More of ItOr you can get The WillPow­er Instinct, as a free audio book, if you care to try out Audible.com’s free tri­al pro­gram.

If you live in the SF Bay Area, you can take Kel­ly’s The Sci­ence of Willpow­er course that begins on Jan­u­ary 13. (Any­one can enroll, and yes, I know that because I help run the Con­tin­u­ing Stud­ies pro­gram at Stan­ford.)

Final­ly you might also want to peruse How to Think Like a Psy­chol­o­gist (iTunes Video), a free online course led by Kel­ly McGo­ni­gal. It appears in our col­lec­tion of 800 Free Cours­es Online.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

The Pow­er of Empa­thy: A Quick Ani­mat­ed Les­son That Can Make You a Bet­ter Per­son

Carl Gus­tav Jung Explains His Ground­break­ing The­o­ries About Psy­chol­o­gy in Rare Inter­view (1957)

Jacques Lacan’s Con­fronta­tion with a Young Rebel: Clas­sic Moment, 1972

New Ani­ma­tion Explains Sher­ry Turkle’s The­o­ries on Why Social Media Makes Us Lone­ly

Free Online Psy­chol­o­gy Cours­es (Part of our list of 800 Free Online Cours­es)

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Watch Laurence Olivier, Liv Ullmann and Christopher Plummer’s Classic Polaroid Ads

Before Urban Out­fit­ters and Project Impos­si­ble, before the adorable bick­er­ing ubiq­ui­ty of spokes­peo­ple James Gar­ner and Mari­ette Hart­ley, Polaroid kept things classy by entrust­ing its rep­u­ta­tion to the most seri­ous of seri­ous actors.

Take Lau­rence Olivi­er. Who else could have made the phrase “Polaroid SX-70 Land Cam­era” sound like Shake­speare? Seri­ous­ly. He could’ve tacked the string of superla­tives he unleash­es against a black back­ground above onto the end of Hen­ry V’s St. Crispin’s Day speech and I would have been none the wis­er.

(And gen­tle­men in Eng­land now a‑bed

Shall think them­selves accursed they were not here,

And hold their man­hoods cheap whiles any speaks

That fought with us upon Saint Crispin’s day -

Pock­et sized, fold­ing, elec­tron­i­cal­ly con­trolled, motor dri­ven…)

Accord­ing to the late Peter Wens­berg, a for­mer Polaroid exec and author of Land’s Polaroid, A Com­pa­ny and the Man Who Invent­ed It, Sir Lau­rence agreed to the 1972 spot on the con­di­tion that it would­n’t be shown in Eng­land. (YouTube would­n’t be found­ed for anoth­er thir­ty years.)

Sir Lar­ry was fol­lowed in 1979 by actress Liv Ull­mann, solemn­ly prais­ing the  SX70 Sonar OneStep’s moment-cap­tur­ing abil­i­ties. Is there a Polaroid some­where in the Ing­mar Bergman Archive of his and Ull­man­n’s 12-year-old daugh­ter Linn, stand­ing at the sink, wash­ing dish­es? Or has YouTube become the sole reli­quary for these pre­cious moments?

Christo­pher Plum­mer’s 1980 spot seems down­right loose by con­trast, as he kicks back on a beach, aim­ing his SX70 Sonar OneStep at a Gold­en Retriev­er and a canoe’s worth of kids. (Sir Lar­ry’s sub­ject was a rather fussy porce­lain clock.)

Giv­en their his­to­ry, it’s easy to think of Polaroid’s instant cam­eras as a gim­mick or a fad, but such not­ed pho­tog­ra­phers as Ansel Adams, Andy Warhol, Hel­mut New­ton, and Walk­er Evans were fans of the SX-70.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

The Mas­ter­ful Polaroid Pic­tures Tak­en by Film­mak­er Andrei Tarkovsky

Amer­i­can Film­mak­ers in Japan­ese Ads: Quentin Taran­ti­no Sells Cell Phones, Orson Welles Hawks Whisky

Ing­mar Bergman’s Soap Com­mer­cials Wash Away the Exis­ten­tial Despair

Ayun Hal­l­i­day has the sort of vision that screams out for an unlim­it­ed sup­ply of free dig­i­tal shots. Fol­low her @AyunHalliday

Vintage Films Revisits Literary Scene of 1920s New York, with Clips of Sinclair Lewis, Willa Cather, H.L. Mencken & Other Icons

When young artists, be they writ­ers, painters, or musi­cians, aim to strike it big, they invari­ably choose to move to New York. Brook­lyn lofts, hopes of find­ing a like­mind­ed smart set, and the promise of good times beck­on count­less young men and women to devel­op their cre­ative careers in a city whose his­to­ry teems with out­sized aspi­ra­tions and even larg­er per­son­al­i­ties. New York has, after all, been a hub for artis­tic lumi­nar­ies since the ear­ly 20th cen­tu­ry.

In the 1961 doc­u­men­tary enti­tled New York In The Twen­ties, above, Wal­ter Cronkite gives a snap­shot of the tal­ent­ed crowd that was once drawn in by the city’s cul­tur­al rip­tide dur­ing the 1920s. The short video con­sists of inter­views with the pub­lish­er Alfred KnopfNew York Her­ald Tri­bune edi­tor Stan­ley Walk­er; and Pulitzer prize-win­ning author of The Green Pas­turesMarc Con­nel­ly. Walk­er plays the part of the con­sum­mate New York news­pa­per­man, pin­ing for the days when decent cit­i­zens weren’t forced to rub shoul­ders with the boors now infest­ing the Westch­ester and Con­necti­cut trains. Con­nel­ly, in more affa­ble fash­ion, describes the fabled 1920s group of cre­ative minds known as the Algo­nquin Round Table:

Alexan­der Wooll­cott was sear­ing, acid, rude; I used to feel some­times his only exer­cise was ran­cour. But, he was engag­ing, was com­pelling, and amus­ing… Edna Fer­ber, young, indus­tri­ous, she used to scare us all to death by her habit of indus­try. George Kauf­man was cer­tain­ly one of the wit­ti­est of that group. George’s wit… had the sharp­ness of a sil­ver point etch­ing… There was… Harold Ross, founder of the New York­er. There was spec­u­la­tion about Ross, his curi­ous head of hair; it was very high, very thick. Some­body once said that that jun­gle pic­ture Chang had been filmed in it. I think it was George Kauf­mann that once said he looked like a dis­hon­est Lin­coln. 

A lot of peo­ple who knew noth­ing about the per­son­al lives or the atti­tudes … of the peo­ple at the round table… thought that it was a mutu­al admi­ra­tion soci­ety and a logrolling orga­ni­za­tion. It was any­thing but that because I promise you, the worst pan­nings ever received for our books or our plays came from the crit­i­cal friends who were mem­bers of that group.

Alfred Knopf, in turn, dis­cuss­es the glo­ry days of pub­lish­ers and writ­ers, as well as the genius of H. L. Menck­en, whom he describes as “the great­est edi­tor… that I’ve ever known.”

View­ing the hal­cy­on days of New York’s cre­ative scene, with its jazz clubs and speakeasies, it’s no won­der that Knopf, Walk­er, and Connelly’s accounts leave one with an ineluctable sense of nos­tal­gia. Of course, with its unceas­ing influx of artists, the city’s sub­stance remains the same today. It’s just that its Bloomberg-era steril­i­ty has led to a change in style.

Ilia Blin­d­er­man is a Mon­tre­al-based cul­ture and sci­ence writer. Fol­low him at @iliablinderman.

Phil Spector’s Gentle Production Notes to George Harrison During the Recording of All Things Must Pass

george-harrison-all-things-must-pass

It’s pret­ty well estab­lished by this point that Phil Spec­tor is dan­ger­ous­ly insane. But once upon a time, he was also insane in the best pos­si­ble way, will­ing to use meth­ods no oth­er record pro­duc­er would to cre­ate his sig­na­ture six­ties “wall of sound” with huge ensem­bles and off-the-wall effects that turned the stu­dio into an instru­ment. And for all his doc­u­ment­ed vio­lence, Spec­tor was also once a sur­pris­ing­ly gen­tle writer, as you can see in his notes to George Har­ri­son, made dur­ing the record­ing of Harrison’s Spec­tor-pro­duced triple-album All Things Must Pass. In his com­ments, Spec­tor coax­es Har­ri­son to work hard­er on his vocal per­for­mances and make his voice more promi­nent through­out the album’s eigh­teen stu­dio tracks.

Although he’d made sig­nif­i­cant con­tri­bu­tions to The Bea­t­les as a song­writer, Har­ri­son was eager to do his own thing dur­ing the band’s demise in the late six­ties. All Things Must Pass is gen­er­al­ly thought of as his first solo album, but he had actu­al­ly released two pre­vi­ous records under his name, the 1968 film sound­track Won­der­wall Music and the exper­i­men­tal 1969 Elec­tron­ic Sound. Both of these, how­ev­er, are large­ly instru­men­tal, and Har­ri­son had yet to step out of the The Bea­t­les as a singer in his own right until All Things Must Pass in 1970. Spector’s notes make it clear that Har­ri­son was less than con­fi­dent in his vocal abil­i­ties. In the midst of his tech­ni­cal com­ments, Spec­tor fre­quent­ly refers to Harrison’s voice as “buried” in the mix. The let­ter as a whole is an intrigu­ing glimpse into Spector’s process and, I think, a glimpse of Har­ri­son work­ing to over­come his nat­ur­al ret­i­cence. After his list of notes on each track—some a sen­tence or two, some paragraph-length—Spector ends with a diplo­mat­ic sum­ma­tion that reit­er­ates his desire to put Harrison’s voice front-and-cen­ter.

George, on all the 18 num­bers I just men­tioned, this is what I feel are the most impor­tant items on each. Nat­u­ral­ly, wher­ev­er pos­si­ble, of main impor­tance is to get a good vocal per­for­mance by your­self. Also, if you do any of the back­ground voic­es, you should spend con­sid­er­able time on them to make sure they are good…. I think you should spend what­ev­er time you are going to on per­for­mances so that they are the very best you can do and that will make the remix­ing of the album that much eas­i­er. I real­ly feel that your voice has got to be heard through­out the album so that the great­ness of the songs can real­ly come through. We can’t cov­er you up too much (and there real­ly is no need to) although as I said, I’m sure excel­lent mix­es can be obtained with just the prop­er amount of time spent on each one.

The let­ter fin­ish­es on a very warm note:

George, thank you for all your under­stand­ing about what we dis­cussed, I appre­ci­ate your con­cern very much and hope to see you as soon as it is pos­si­ble.

Much love. Regards to every­one. Hare Krish­na,

Phil Spec­tor

Read the full let­ter here.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

George Har­ri­son in the Spot­light: The Dick Cavett Show (1971)

Here Comes The Sun: The Lost Gui­tar Solo by George Har­ri­son

Ravi Shankar (RIP) Gives George Har­ri­son a Sitar Les­son … and Oth­er Vin­tage Footage

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

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