The Art of Sci-Fi Book Covers: From the Fantastical 1920s to the Psychedelic 1960s & Beyond

If you’ve nev­er seen Gen­tle­men Bron­cos, the lit­tle-seen third fea­ture by the Napoleon Dyna­mite-mak­ing hus­band-and-wife team Jared and Jerusha Hess, I high­ly rec­om­mend it. You must, though, enjoy the pecu­liar Hess sense of humor, a blend of the almost objec­tive­ly detached and the hearti­ly sopho­moric fixed upon the pre­oc­cu­pa­tions of deeply unfash­ion­able sec­tions of work­ing-class Amer­i­ca. In Gen­tle­men Bron­cos it makes itself felt imme­di­ate­ly, even before the film’s sto­ry of a young aspir­ing sci­ence fic­tion writer in small-town Utah begins, with a tour de force open­ing cred­its sequence made up of homages to the pulpi­est sci-fi book cov­ers of, if not recent decades, then at least semi-recent decades.

The style of these cov­er images, though ris­i­ble, no doubt look rich with asso­ci­a­tions to any­one who’s spent even small part of their lives read­ing mass-mar­ket sci-fi nov­els. To see more than a few high­er exam­ples, watch “The Art of Sci-Fi Book Cov­ers,” the Nerd­writer video essay above that digs into the his­to­ry of that enor­mous­ly inven­tive yet sel­dom seri­ous­ly con­sid­ered artis­tic sub­field.

Its begins with the world’s first sci­ence-fic­tion mag­a­zine Amaz­ing Sto­ries (an online archive of which we’ve pre­vi­ous­ly fea­tured here on Open Cul­ture) and its pieces of fan­tas­ti­cal, eye-catch­ing cov­er art by Aus­tria-Hun­gary-born illus­tra­tor Frank R. Paul. In the mid-1920s, says the Nerd­writer, “these cov­ers were prob­a­bly among the strangest art that the aver­age Amer­i­can ever got to see.”

It would get stranger. The Nerd­writer fol­lows the devel­op­ment of sci-fi cov­er art from the hey­day of the Paul-illus­trat­ed Amaz­ing Sto­ries to the intro­duc­tion of mass-mar­ket paper­back books in the late 1930s to Pen­guin’s exper­i­men­ta­tion with exist­ing works of mod­ern art in the 1960s to the com­mis­sion­ing of new, even more bizarre and evoca­tive works by all man­ner of pub­lish­ers (some of them sci-fi spe­cial­ists) there­after. “You can walk into any used book store any­where and get five of these old pulp books for a dol­lar each,” the Nerd­writer reminds us. “And then the art is with you; it’s in your home. As you read the sto­ries, it’s on your bed­side table. It’s art you hold with your hands. It’s not pre­cious: it’s bent, fold­ed, and creased. And above all, it’s weird.”

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Enter a Huge Archive of Amaz­ing Sto­ries, the World’s First Sci­ence Fic­tion Mag­a­zine, Launched in 1926

Enter the Pulp Mag­a­zine Archive, Fea­tur­ing Over 11,000 Dig­i­tized Issues of Clas­sic Sci-Fi, Fan­ta­sy & Detec­tive Fic­tion

Pulp Cov­ers for Clas­sic Detec­tive Nov­els by Dashiell Ham­mett, Arthur Conan Doyle, Agatha Christie & Ray­mond Chan­dler

36 Abstract Cov­ers of Vin­tage Psy­chol­o­gy, Phi­los­o­phy & Sci­ence Books Come to Life in a Mes­mer­iz­ing Ani­ma­tion

Down­load 650 Sovi­et Book Cov­ers, Many Sport­ing Won­der­ful Avant-Garde Designs (1917–1942)

Based in Seoul, Col­in Mar­shall writes and broad­casts on cities and cul­ture. His projects include 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.

Tom Wolfe’s Groundbreaking Work, The Electric Kool-Aid Acid Test, Gets Released as a Limited Collector’s Edition, with Each Copy Signed by the Author 

Taschen recent­ly released a col­lec­tor’s edi­tion of The Elec­tric Kool-Aid Acid Test to com­mem­o­rate the 50th anniver­sary of Tom Wolfe’s rol­lick­ing account of Ken Kesey and the Mer­ry Pranksters’ acid-fueled road trip across the Unit­ed States, aboard the psy­che­del­ic school bus known as “Fur­ther.” With the pass­ing of Tom Wolfe last week, the release of the col­lec­tor’s edi­tion takes on some added impor­tance.

When The Elec­tric Kool-Aid Acid Test first came out in 1968, Eliot Fre­mont-Smith wrote in The New York Times that “it is not sim­ply the best book on the hip­pies, it is the essen­tial book.” The book “is print­ed in black and white, but the words come through in crazy Day-Glo–fluorescent, psy­che­del­ic, at once ener­getic and epicene.”

The new Taschen edi­tion is some­thing dif­fer­ent. The abridged text is pub­lished in “tra­di­tion­al let­ter­press, with fac­sim­i­le repro­duc­tions of Wolfe’s man­u­script pages, as well as Ken Kesey’s jail­house jour­nals, hand­bills, and under­ground mag­a­zines of the peri­od.” “Inter­weav­ing the prose and ephemera are pho­to­graph­ic essays from Lawrence Schiller, whose cov­er­age of the acid scene for Life mag­a­zine helped inspire Wolfe to write his sto­ry, and Ted Streshin­sky, who accom­pa­nied Wolfe while report­ing for the New York Her­ald Tri­bune.” There are also pho­tographs by poet Allen Gins­berg.

In total, Taschen has pro­duced 1,968 signed copies of the col­lec­tor’s edi­tion, each signed by Tom Wolfe him­self. The cost is set at $350.

If you nev­er spent time with The Elec­tric Kool-Aid Acid Test and want to read a sim­ple paper­back edi­tion that costs less than $10, you can find a copy here.

Note: We belong to the Taschen affil­i­ate pro­gram. So if you get a copy of the col­lec­tor’s edi­tion, it ben­e­fits not just you and Taschen. It ben­e­fits Open Cul­ture too. So con­sid­er it win-win-win.

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, BlueSky or Mastodon.

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:

Hear Tom Wolfe (RIP) Tell Studs Terkel All About Cus­tom-Car Cul­ture, the Sub­ject of His Sem­i­nal Piece of New Jour­nal­ism (1965)

The Acid Test Reels: Ken Kesey & The Grate­ful Dead’s Sound­track for the 1960s Famous LSD Par­ties

Ken Kesey’s First LSD Trip Ani­mat­ed

Aldous Hux­ley, Dying of Can­cer, Left This World Trip­ping on LSD (1963)

Ken Kesey Talks About the Mean­ing of the Acid Tests

How Women Got Dressed in the 14th & 18th Centuries: Watch the Very Painstaking Process Get Cinematically Recreated

We live in an age of con­ve­nience, and one get­ting more con­ve­nient all the time. Few com­par­isons between past and present under­score that quite so much as the morn­ing rou­tine. Hot and cold run­ning water on demand, prop­er­ly appre­ci­at­ed, can seem mirac­u­lous enough, let alone more recent devel­op­ments like the avail­abil­i­ty of high-qual­i­ty cof­fee on every city block. But con­sid­er cloth­ing, the change in whose out­ward appear­ance over the past 700 years or so goes along with an equal­ly dra­mat­ic change in use. We still wear clothes for all the same basic rea­sons we did back then, of course, but what it takes to wear them has dimin­ished to com­par­a­tive effort­less­ness.

These videos, one on get­ting dressed in the 14th cen­tu­ry and one on get­ting dressed in the 18th cen­tu­ry, offer detailed, nar­rat­ed, and cin­e­mat­ic looks at what the process once entailed — or at least what the process entailed for Eng­lish women of a cer­tain class.

The aver­age man in those peri­ods, too, had to deal with much more has­sle putting on his clothes in the morn­ing that he does today, but the female case, with its shift, stays, pet­ti­coats, pock­ets, roll, stock­ings and garters, gown and stom­ach­er, apron, and more besides, required not just a great deal of dis­ci­pline and con­cen­tra­tion on the part of the dress­er but assis­tance from anoth­er pair of hands as well.

You can find more such videos on the fin­er points of wom­en’s dress­ing rou­tines of yore, includ­ing fur­ther expla­na­tions of such ele­ments as pock­ets and busks, on this playlist. The social, tech­no­log­i­cal, and indus­tri­al sto­ries behind why it has all become so much less com­pli­cat­ed over the cen­turies has pro­vid­ed, and will con­tin­ue to pro­vide, the dri­ving ques­tions for many an aca­d­e­m­ic the­sis. But despite the enor­mous reduc­tion in the labor-inten­sive­ness of putting them on, clothes have not, of course, become a per­fect­ly sim­ple mat­ter for we dressers of the com­par­a­tive­ly ultra-casu­al 21st cen­tu­ry. Still, after watch­ing all it took to get dressed those hun­dreds and hun­dreds of years ago, many of us — male or female — might arrive at the thought that we could stand to put just a lit­tle more effort into the job.

via Boing Boing

Relat­ed Con­tent:

What’s It Like to Fight in 15th Cen­tu­ry Armor?: A Sur­pris­ing Demon­stra­tion

An Online Trove of His­toric Sewing Pat­terns & Cos­tumes

The Dress­er: The Con­trap­tion That Makes Get­ting Dressed an Adven­ture

1930s Fash­ion Design­ers Pre­dict How Peo­ple Would Dress in the Year 2000

Based in Seoul, Col­in Mar­shall writes and broad­casts on cities and cul­ture. His projects include 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.

Why Sitting Is The New Smoking: An Animated Explanation

In recent years, sit­ting has become the new smok­ing. “Past stud­ies have found,” declares a 2014 arti­cle in The New York Times, “the more hours that peo­ple spend sit­ting, the more like­ly they are to devel­op dia­betes, heart dis­ease and oth­er con­di­tions, and poten­tial­ly to die pre­ma­ture­ly — even if they exer­cise reg­u­lar­ly.” What’s the sci­ence behind this alarm­ing claim? The ani­mat­ed TED-ED video (watch above) begins to paint the pic­ture. But it does­n’t get into the lat­est and per­haps most impor­tant research. Accord­ing to sci­ence writer Gretchen Reynolds, a recent Swedish study pub­lished in the British Jour­nal of Sports Med­i­cine sug­gests that when you sit all day, your telom­eres (the tiny caps on the ends of DNA strands) get short­er. Which is not a good thing. As telom­eres get short­er, the rate at which the body ages and decays speeds up. Con­verse­ly, the study found “that the telom­eres in [those] who were sit­ting the least had length­ened. Their cells seemed to be grow­ing phys­i­o­log­i­cal­ly younger.”

Sev­er­al years ago, KQED radio in San Fran­cis­co aired a pro­gram ded­i­cat­ed to this ques­tion, fea­tur­ing med­ical and ergonom­ics experts. To delve deep­er into it, lis­ten below.

Note: An ear­li­er ver­sion of this post appeared on our site in 2015.

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, BlueSky or Mastodon.

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:

This Is Your Brain on Exer­cise: Why Phys­i­cal Exer­cise (Not Men­tal Games) Might Be the Best Way to Keep Your Mind Sharp

Play­ing an Instru­ment Is a Great Work­out For Your Brain: New Ani­ma­tion Explains Why

What’s a Sci­en­tif­i­cal­ly-Proven Way to Improve Your Abil­i­ty to Learn? Get Out and Exer­cise

Muhammad Ali & Sly Stone Get Into a Heated Debate on Racism & Reparations on The Mike Douglas Show (1974)

Ah, the 70s… an Amer­i­can pres­i­dent was impeached for crim­i­nal activ­i­ty; a con­gress­man, Wayne Hays, resigned for sleep­ing with his sec­re­tary, after divorc­ing his wife to mar­ry a dif­fer­ent sec­re­tary; anoth­er con­gress­man, Bud Shuster—who described Hays as “the mean­est man in the house”—called for an inves­ti­ga­tion of Water­gate spe­cial pros­e­cu­tor Archibald Cox, after Cox was fired by the soon-to-be impeached pres­i­dent… ‘twas a dif­fer­ent time, chil­dren, a sim­pler time….

Well, at any rate, they sure wore fun­ny suits back then, eh? Those lapels…. But just like today, pol­i­tics mixed freely with sports and enter­tain­ment in con­tro­ver­sial and tele­vi­su­al ways. Box­ers got rat­ings, singers got rat­ings, politi­cians like “mean­est man in the house” Wayne Hays got rat­ings, even before his sex scan­dal, when he appeared on TV with box­ers and singers—appeared, that is, on The Mike Dou­glas Show in 1974 with Muham­mad Ali and Sly Stone. Actor and activist Theodore Bikel was there too, though you might blink and miss him in the fra­cas just above.

First, Hays offers some banal opin­ions on the sub­ject of cam­paign financ­ing, anoth­er one of those bygone 70s issues. But when Dou­glas pos­es the ques­tion to Ali of whether or not he’d ever run for office, things pick up, to say the least. Ali refus­es to play the enter­tain­er. He launch­es flur­ry after flur­ry of jabs at white Amer­i­ca, and at Hays, who does his best to stay upright under the onslaught. “Ali is unyield­ing,” writes Dan­ger­ous Minds, “intense and bril­liant.”

Ali takes on a seri­ous ques­tion fac­ing Black nation­al­ists of the 60s and 70s, from the Pan­thers to the Nation of Islam, whose views Ali embraced at the time, along with, per­haps, some of their ugly anti-Semi­tism. (The fol­low­ing year he con­vert­ed to Sun­ni Islam, and lat­er became a Sufi.) Should Black activists par­tic­i­pate in the oppres­sive sys­tems of the U.S. gov­ern­ment? Can any­one do good from inside the halls of impe­ri­al­ist pow­er?

Hays makes an inte­gra­tionist case, and cham­pi­ons Black lead­ers like con­gress­woman Bar­bara Jor­dan. Ali is relent­less­ly com­bat­ive, call­ing for repa­ra­tions. Sly slides in to clar­i­fy and paci­fy, play­ing medi­a­tor and ref­er­ee. Dou­glas gets off the applause line, “isn’t it time we all tried to live togeth­er.” Ali refus­es to gloss over racism and eco­nom­ic inequal­i­ty. No peace, he says in effect, with­out jus­tice. Aren’t we glad, forty-four years lat­er, that we’ve ironed all this out? See the full show above for much more heavy­weight com­men­tary from Ali and some­times fuzzy coun­ter­point from Sly. They go back and forth with Dou­glas for ten min­utes before Hays and Bikel join.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

“Muham­mad Ali, This Is Your Life!”: Cel­e­brate Ali’s Life & Times with This Touch­ing 1978 TV Trib­ute

Muham­mad Ali Gives a Dra­mat­ic Read­ing of His Poem on the Atti­ca Prison Upris­ing

James Bald­win Bests William F. Buck­ley in 1965 Debate at Cam­bridge Uni­ver­si­ty

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

Jimi Hendrix’s “Voodoo Child” Shredded on the Ukulele

Here’s James Hill’s recipe for play­ing Jimi Hen­drix’s 1968 clas­sic, “Voodoo Child (Slight Return)” on the uke. Yes, the uke:

1 Mya-Moe bari­tone ukulele (Low G — G — B — E)
1 gui­tar amp (Fend­er Blues Junior or equiv­a­lent)
1 bass amp (15 inch)
1 line split­ter (Radi­al ABY box)
1 Dia­mond J‑Drive ped­al (made in Hal­i­fax, NS!)
4 bust­ed strings
2 bro­ken fin­ger­nails
Sea­son to taste and serve hot!

Enjoy…

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, BlueSky or Mastodon.

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:

The Ukulele Orches­tra of Great Britain Per­forms Stun­ning Cov­ers of Nirvana’s “Smells Like Teen Spir­it,” Talk­ing Heads’ “Psy­cho Killer” & More

George Har­ri­son Explains Why Every­one Should Play the Ukulele

Jake Shimabukuro plays “Bohemi­an Rhap­sody” on the Uke

Ukulele Orches­tra Per­forms Ennio Morricone’s Icon­ic West­ern Theme Song, “The Good, The Bad and The Ugly.” And It’s Pret­ty Bril­liant.

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Doc Martens Boots Now Come Adorned with Traditional Japanese Art

In wake of a recent prom cheongsam dust up, it remains to be seen whether Doc Martens’ spe­cial edi­tion East­ern Art shoes and boots will be regard­ed as a mis­step.

Dr. Martens’ Artist Series paid trib­ute to West­ern heavy hit­ters like Hierony­mus BoschWilliam Hog­a­rth, JMW Turn­er, and William Blake.

Those eye-catch­ing kicks may have inspired more than a few fash­ion-con­scious punks to delve into art his­to­ry, but what will consumers—and more impor­tant­ly activists on the alert for cul­tur­al appropriation—make of the East­ern Art line?

The com­pa­ny web­site describes the inau­gur­al design as:

a new homage to tra­di­tion­al Japan­ese art with a fresh, con­tem­po­rary … spin. Fea­tur­ing detailed hand-drawn paint­ings, the art is dig­i­tal­ly print­ed on a tex­tured leather designed to emu­late tra­di­tion­al Japan­ese parch­ment, while gold-tone eye­lets and stud­ding com­plete the look.

One won­ders what led the footwear giant to go with a mish­mash “inspired by” approach, when there are so many won­der­ful Edo peri­od artists who mer­it a boot of their own?

Kat­sushi­ka Hokusai’s The Dream of the Fish­er­man’s Wife (see here) would make for an unfor­get­table toe cap…

Kita­gawa Uta­maro could shod heels and ankles with the float­ing world.

Tawaraya Sōtat­su’s work would eas­i­ly trans­fer from screen to shoe.

Thus far, the lone com­plaints have cen­tered on the pain of break­ing in the new boots, a badge of hon­or among long­time wear­ers of the company’s best-sell­ing 1460 Pas­cal style.

Asia Trend reports that Doc Martens has two shops in Japan, with plans to open more.

If you’re inclined to stomp around in a pair of Dr. Martens 1460 Pas­cal East­ern Art boots or 1461 Oxfords, best place your order soon, as these spe­cial edi­tions have a way of sell­ing out quick­ly.

via MyMod­ern­Met

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Doc Martens Now Come Adorned with William Blake’s Art, Thanks to a Part­ner­ship with Tate Britain

Doc Martens Boots Adorned with Hierony­mus Bosch’s “Gar­den of Earth­ly Delights”

Down­load 2,500 Beau­ti­ful Wood­block Prints and Draw­ings by Japan­ese Mas­ters (1600–1915)

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

How David Bowie Turned His “Adequate” Voice into a Powerful Instrument: Hear Isolated Vocal Tracks from “Life on Mars,” “Starman,” “Modern Love” “Under Pressure” & More

Believe it or not, the odds were against David Bowie becom­ing an inter­na­tion­al pop super­star. When it seemed he’d final­ly arrived, with the release of Zig­gy Star­dust and the Spi­ders from Mars in 1972, “we didn’t real­ize,” says Jarvis Cock­er in a 2012 doc­u­men­tary, “that he’d been try­ing to be suc­cess­ful for 10 years.” Bowie was 24, a ripe old age in pop star years, and already had four albums under his belt as a solo artist, the first a total com­mer­cial fail­ure, and the sec­ond notable for its one hit, “Space Odd­i­ty,” which seemed like it might have been the artist’s big break in 1969, but some­how wasn’t.

He had played in sev­er­al bands and tried per­form­ing under his giv­en name, Davy Jones, which he just hap­pened to share with one of the biggest pop stars of the day. Had he not per­sist­ed, changed his name and style, and, cru­cial­ly, invent­ed his Mar­t­ian glam per­sona, he might have remained a one-hit-won­der, his excel­lent The Man Who Sold the World and Hunky Dory revered as under­rat­ed cult favorites among fans in the know.

In addi­tion to the dif­fi­cul­ty Bowie had find­ing his niche, he was not a nat­u­ral­ly gift­ed singer and was a reluc­tant per­former. Drawn ear­ly to “move­ment and music” class­es in school, Bowie’s teach­ers called his idio­syn­crat­ic style “vivid­ly artis­tic,” but only rat­ed his voice as “ade­quate.” As voice coach Lisa Popeil writes, “though vocal­ly agile as an adult, Bowie was nev­er known for great pitch accu­ra­cy.”

Such things mat­ter less these days, what with pitch cor­rec­tion soft­ware. In the old days of ana­log, singers couldn’t lean on dig­i­tal wiz­ardry to make them sound bet­ter than they were. Bowie wasn’t “par­tic­u­lar­ly fond” of his own voice, he revealed in an inter­view, and unlike most hun­gry, young would-be stars, he didn’t set out to put him­self in the spotlight—not at first.

“I thought that I wrote songs and wrote music and that was sort of what I thought I was best at doing. And because nobody else was ever doing my songs, I felt, you know, I had to go out and do them.”

So the shy, retir­ing Bowie charged ahead. “With his the­atri­cal bent and fear­less­ness,” Popeil writes, his “abil­i­ty to cre­ate mem­o­rable and emo­tion­al vocal stylings was of the high­est order.” This, we might say, is almost an under­state­ment. Aspir­ing singers and musi­cians can learn much from Bowie’s career, per­haps fore­most the les­son that one needn’t be a prodi­gy or a bub­bly extro­vert to fol­low a musi­cal pas­sion. Bowie honed his vocal skills and achieved mas­tery over his haunt­ing bari­tone, while also learn­ing to move into a pow­er­ful tenor range.

Wit­ness these iso­lat­ed vocal tracks from through­out this career. At the top, the vocal mix from “Life on Mars” shows, as Clas­sic fM writes, that “while unpol­ished, his tremu­lous voice has real qual­i­ty and range.” Fur­ther down, we hear Bowie goof­ing around a bit in the vocal booth before launch­ing into his first hit, “Space Odd­i­ty,” his voice a bit thin in the verse, then hit­ting its full stride in the cho­rus. Three years lat­er, on “Star­man” from Zig­gy Star­dust, we hear more con­fi­dence and con­trol in the vocal track. Then, ten years after Zig­gy, Bowie belts it out on “Mod­ern Love,” above, hav­ing already kept pace with arguably the great­est rock singer of all time on “Under Pres­sure,” fur­ther up.

On “Gold­en Years,” above, Bowie explores his full range, from deep­est bari­tone to falset­to. His voice inevitably waned with age and the sick­ness of his final years, but he nev­er lost the abil­i­ty to imbue a song with max­i­mal emo­tion­al range, mak­ing the ragged vocals on his last album, espe­cial­ly its chill­ing sin­gle “Lazarus,” some of the most grip­ping in his entire body of work. The video below from The Last Five Years doc­u­men­tary strips away the instru­men­ta­tion, leav­ing us with the image of an aged, blind­ed Bowie in bed, singing “Look up here man, I’m in danger/I’ve got noth­ing left to lose.” His breath­ing is audi­bly labored, giv­ing the record­ing a poignant imme­di­a­cy. But the for­ev­er-dis­tinc­tive Bowie vocal style is as deeply mov­ing as ever.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

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

Hear Fred­die Mercury’s Vocals Soar in the Iso­lat­ed Vocal Track for “Some­body to Love”

Hear Dolores O’Riordan’s Beau­ti­ful­ly-Pained Vocals in the Unplugged Ver­sion of The Cran­ber­ries’ 1994 Hit “Zom­bie”

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

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