Bruce Springsteen Won’t Back Down: Performs “Streets of Minneapolis” Live in Minneapolis

When the his­to­ry books are writ­ten, we’ll remem­ber the politi­cians, law firms, and CEOs who quick­ly bent the knee to Don­ald Trump. We’ll also remem­ber the scant few Amer­i­can fig­ures who refused to back down. Bruce Spring­steen will be high on that short list.

Tour­ing in Europe last sum­mer, Spring­steen warned his audi­ence: “The Amer­i­ca that I love, the Amer­i­ca I have writ­ten about, that has been a bea­con of hope and lib­er­ty for 250 years, is cur­rent­ly in the hands of a cor­rupt, incom­pe­tent and trea­so­nous admin­is­tra­tion.” Those words seem par­tic­u­lar­ly pre­scient giv­en the chaos and vio­lence now unfold­ing in Min­neso­ta.

Fol­low­ing the shoot­ings of Renee Good and Alex Pret­ti, Spring­steen made his voice heard again—this time through music. Last week, he released the protest song “Streets of Min­neapo­lis” and soon after­ward trav­eled to Min­neso­ta to per­form the song live at a ben­e­fit con­cert arranged by Tom Morel­lo. Speak­ing to the crowd, Spring­steen said, “I wrote Streets of Min­neapo­lis and record­ed it the next day.” When he won­dered if the song sound­ed too ‘soap­boxy,’ he turned to Morel­lo, and the Rage Against the Machine gui­tarist replied, “Bruce, nuance is won­der­ful, but some­times you need to kick them in the teeth.” We’ll say amen to that.

After “Streets of Min­neapo­lis,” Spring­steen and Morel­lo per­formed “The Ghost of Tom Joad.” Watch it above. The start of the show began with “Killing In The Name Of.” Catch it below.

Relat­ed Con­tent 

Bruce Spring­steen Revives the Protest Song, Con­demns ICE Vio­lence in “Streets of Min­neapo­lis”

Scott Gal­loway Unveils “Resist and Unsub­scribe,” an Action Plan for Con­sumers to Push Back Against Gov­ern­ment Over­reach

Tom Morel­lo Responds to Angry Fans Who Sud­den­ly Real­ize That Rage Against the Machine’s Music Is Polit­i­cal: “What Music of Mine DIDN’T Con­tain Polit­i­cal BS?”

by | Permalink | Make a Comment ( 1 ) |

Why Jerry Seinfeld Lives by the Stoic Philosophy of Marcus Aurelius

Hav­ing pre­vi­ous­ly con­sid­ered whether come­di­ans are the philoso­phers of our time, we must now ask whether they, too, build upon the work of oth­er philoso­phers. Few of today’s most promi­nent fun­ny men and women live a philo­soph­i­cal life — or have cul­ti­vat­ed the tem­pera­ment nec­es­sary to live a philo­soph­i­cal life — more pub­licly than Jer­ry Sein­feld. This has been sug­gest­ed by, among oth­er things, a 2012 New York Times Mag­a­zine pro­file by Jon­ah Wein­er. “Sein­feld will nurse a sin­gle joke for years, amend­ing, abridg­ing and rework­ing it incre­men­tal­ly, to get the thing just so,” writes Wein­er. “It’s sim­i­lar to cal­lig­ra­phy or samu­rai,” Sein­feld says. “I want to make crick­et cages. You know those Japan­ese crick­et cages? Tiny, with the doors? That’s it for me: soli­tude and pre­ci­sion, refin­ing a tiny thing for the sake of it.”

Or, as Sein­feld puts it in the more recent inter­view above with pod­cast­er Gra­ham Ben­siger, he wants to know what time it is, but he wants even more to take the watch apart in order to learn how it works. This has become his life­long quest, in his pro­fes­sion­al are­na of com­e­dy and with his oth­er obses­sions as well.

Cul­ti­vat­ing both his under­stand­ing and him­self has entailed indulging his taste for dif­fi­cult sit­u­a­tions, or rather, chal­lenges with­in what he calls the appro­pri­ate “brack­et of strug­gle.” At this point in the jour­ney, he’s found what could at first sound like a sur­pris­ing guide: sec­ond-cen­tu­ry Roman emper­or Mar­cus Aure­lius, whose book the Med­i­ta­tions, along with Epicte­tus’ Enchirid­ion and the writ­ings of Seneca the Younger, con­sti­tute the core texts of Sto­icism.

To live Sto­ical­ly in the Aure­lian sense is to bear always in mind that, as Sein­feld puts it, “every­thing that you’re wor­ried about is going to be gone like that. The peo­ple that are crit­i­ciz­ing you, they’re going to be gone. You’re going to be gone. All this hand-wring­ing, wor­ry, and con­cern over ‘How are peo­ple view­ing me,’ ‘Some­one said some­thing bad about me’ — and you get so upset about it — is wast­ed time and ener­gy.” In the view of Mar­cus Aure­lius, “your only focus should be on get­ting bet­ter at what you’re doing. Focus on what you’re doing, get bet­ter at what you’re doing. Every­thing else is a com­plete waste of time.” It’s not hard to under­stand why such a world­view would appeal to the man Sarah Sil­ver­man, in the Times Mag­a­zine Pro­file, calls “the ulti­mate crafts­man” among come­di­ans.

In addi­tion to the Med­i­ta­tions, Sein­feld also relies on the prac­tice of actu­al med­i­ta­tion, which he cred­its with pro­vid­ing him both the phys­i­cal and men­tal ener­gy nec­es­sary to keep pur­su­ing his goals into his sev­en­ties. “Med­i­ta­tion is like if I said to you, ‘I’m going to need you to get in the hot tub once a day, and just sit there for five min­utes. Could you do that? That’s pret­ty easy. Med­i­ta­tion is even eas­i­er than that.” Exer­cise is the oppo­site, since it “takes more effort than any­thing,” but it’s become just as impor­tant a part of his life, the three keys to whose suc­cess he enu­mer­ates as fol­lows: “Tran­scen­den­tal med­i­ta­tion, lift weights, espres­so.” One likes to imag­ine that, had Mar­cus Aure­lius installed a Mar­zoc­co up on Pala­tine Hill, he’d have enjoyed a few shots through­out the day too.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Mar­cus Aure­lius’ 9 Rules for Liv­ing a Sto­ic Life

What’s the Deal with Pop Tarts? Jer­ry Sein­feld Explains How to Write a Joke

Jer­ry Sein­feld Deliv­ers Com­mence­ment Address at Duke Uni­ver­si­ty: You Will Need Humor to Get Through the Human Expe­ri­ence

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

How Sein­feld, the Sit­com Famous­ly “About Noth­ing,” Is Like Gus­tave Flaubert’s Nov­els About Noth­ing

The Sto­ic Wis­dom of Roman Emper­or Mar­cus Aure­lius: An Intro­duc­tion in Six Short Videos

Based in Seoul, Col­in Marshall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, and cul­ture. He’s the author of the newslet­ter Books on Cities as well as the books 한국 요약 금지 (No Sum­ma­riz­ing Korea) and Kore­an Newtro. Fol­low him on the social net­work for­mer­ly known as Twit­ter at @colinmarshall.

What Happens When Mortals Try to Drink Winston Churchill’s Daily Intake of Alcohol

I have tak­en more out of alco­hol than alco­hol has tak­en out of me. — Win­ston Churchill

Win­ston Churchill had a rep­u­ta­tion as a bril­liant states­man and a prodi­gious drinker.

The for­mer prime min­is­ter imbibed through­out the day, every day.  He also burned through 10 dai­ly cig­ars, and lived to the ripe old age of 90.

His come­back to Field Mar­shal Bernard Mont­gomery’s boast that he nei­ther smoked nor drank, and was 100 per­cent fit was “I drink and smoke, and I am 200 per­cent fit.”

First Lady Eleanor Roo­sevelt mar­veled “that any­one could smoke so much and drink so much and keep per­fect­ly well.”

In No More Cham­pagne: Churchill and His Mon­ey, author David Lough doc­u­ments Churchill’s dis­as­trous alco­hol expens­es, as well as the bot­tle count at Chartwell, his Ken­tish res­i­dence. Here’s the tal­ly for March 24,1937:

180 bot­tles and 30 half bot­tles of Pol Roger cham­pagne

20 bot­tles and 9 half bot­tles of oth­er cham­pagne

100+ bot­tles of claret

117 bot­tles and 389 half bot­tles of Barsac

13 bot­tles of brandy

5 bot­tles of cham­pagne brandy

7 bot­tles of liqueur whisky


All that liquor was not going to drink itself.

Did Churchill have a hol­low leg?  An extra­or­di­nar­i­ly high tol­er­ance? An uncan­ny abil­i­ty to mask his intox­i­ca­tion?

Whiskey som­me­li­er Rex Williams, a founder of the Whiskey Tribe YouTube chan­nel, and pod­cast host Andrew Heaton endeav­or to find out, above, by ded­i­cat­ing a day to the British Bulldog’s drink­ing reg­i­men.

They’re not the first to under­take such a fol­ly.

The Dai­ly Telegraph’s Har­ry Wal­lop doc­u­ment­ed a sim­i­lar adven­ture in 2015, wind­ing up queasy, and to judge by his 200 spelling mis­takes, cog­ni­tive­ly impaired.

Williams and Heaton’s on-cam­era exper­i­ment achieves a Drunk His­to­ry vibe and tell­tale flushed cheeks.

Here’s the drill, not that we advise try­ing it at home:

BREAKFAST

An eye open­er of John­nie Walk­er Red — just a splash — mixed with soda water to the rim.

Fol­low with more of the same through­out the morn­ing.

This is how Churchill, who often con­duct­ed his morn­ing busi­ness abed in a dress­ing gown, man­aged to aver­age between 1 — 3 ounces of alco­hol before lunch.

Appar­ent­ly he devel­oped a taste for it as a young sol­dier post­ed in what is now Pak­istan, when Scotch not only improved the fla­vor of plain water, ‘once one got the knack of it, the very repul­sion from the fla­vor devel­oped an attrac­tion of its own.”

After a morn­ing spent sip­ping the stuff, Heaton reports feel­ing “play­ful and jokey, but not yet vio­lent.”

LUNCH

Time for “an ambi­tious quo­ta of cham­pagne!”

Churchill’s pre­ferred brand was Pol Roger, though he wasn’t averse to Giesler, Moet et Chan­don, or Pom­mery,  pur­chased from the upscale wine and spir­its mer­chant Ran­dolph Payne & Sons,  whose let­ter­head iden­ti­fied them as sup­pli­ers to “Her Majesty The Late Queen Vic­to­ria and to The Late King William The Fourth.”

Churchill enjoyed his impe­r­i­al pint of cham­pagne from a sil­ver tankard, like a “prop­er Edwar­dian gent” accord­ing to his life­long friend, Odette Pol-Roger.

Williams and Heaton take theirs in flutes accom­pa­nied by fish sticks from the freez­er case. This is the point beyond which a hang­over is all but assured.

Lunch con­cludes with a post-pran­di­al cognac, to set­tle the stom­ach and begin the diges­tion process.

Churchill, who declared him­self a man of sim­ple tastes — I am eas­i­ly sat­is­fied with the best — would have insist­ed on some­thing from the house of Hine.

RESTORATIVE  AFTERNOON NAP

This seems to be a crit­i­cal ele­ment of Churchill’s alco­hol man­age­ment suc­cess. He fre­quent­ly allowed him­self as much as 90 min­utes to clear the cob­webs.

A nap def­i­nite­ly pulls our re-enac­tors out of their tail spins. Heaton emerges ready to “bluff (his) way through a meet­ing.”

TEATIME

I guess we can call it that, giv­en the tim­ing.

No tea though.

Just a steady stream of extreme­ly weak scotch and sodas to take the edge off of admin­is­tra­tive tasks.

DINNER

More cham­pagne!!! More cognac!!!

“This should be the apex of our wit,” a bleary Heaton tells his belch­ing com­pan­ion, who fess­es up to vom­it­ing upon wak­ing the next day.

Their con­clu­sion? Churchill’s reg­i­men is unmanageable…at least for them.

And pos­si­bly also for Churchill.

As fel­low Scotch enthu­si­ast Christo­pher Hitchens revealed in a 2002 arti­cle in The Atlantic, some of Churchill’s most famous radio broad­casts, includ­ing his famous pledge to “fight on the beach­es” after the Mir­a­cle of Dunkirk, were voiced by a pinch hit­ter:

Nor­man Shel­ley, who played Win­nie-the-Pooh for the BBC’s Children’s Hour, ven­tril­o­quized Churchill for his­to­ry and fooled mil­lions of lis­ten­ers. Per­haps Churchill was too much inca­pac­i­tat­ed by drink to deliv­er the speech­es him­self.

Or per­haps the great man mere­ly felt he’d earned the right to unwind with a glass of Graham’s Vin­tage Char­ac­ter Port, a Fine Old Amon­til­la­do Sher­ry or a Fine Old Liquor brandy, as was his wont.

Note: An ear­li­er ver­sion of this post appeared on our site in 2022.

Relat­ed Con­tent 

Win­ston Churchill Gets a Doctor’s Note to Drink Unlim­it­ed Alco­hol While Vis­it­ing the U.S. Dur­ing Pro­hi­bi­tion (1932)

Win­ston Churchill’s Paint­ings: Great States­man, Sur­pris­ing­ly Good Artist

Oh My God! Win­ston Churchill Received the First Ever Let­ter Con­tain­ing “O.M.G.” (1917)

Win­ston Churchill Goes Back­ward Down a Water Slide & Los­es His Trunks (1934)

- Ayun Hal­l­i­day is the Chief Pri­ma­tol­o­gist in NYC.

by | Permalink | Make a Comment ( 2 ) |

When Pianist Maria João Pires Prepared to Perform the Wrong Mozart Concerto, Then Recovered Miraculously

Imag­ine, if you will, tak­ing a seat at the piano before a full house of 2,000 music lovers ready to hear Mozart’s Piano Con­cer­to No. 20 in D minor — and, more impor­tant­ly, on stage with an orches­tra and con­duc­tor more than ready to play it. That would be dif­fi­cult enough, but now imag­ine that you thought you were sup­posed to play the Piano Con­cer­to No.23 in A major, anoth­er piece of music entire­ly. This is the stuff of night­mares, and indeed, the very sit­u­a­tion in which pianist Maria João Pires found her­self in 2013, after she’d been recruit­ed to fill in for anoth­er play­er at an open rehearsal held at Ams­ter­dam’s Con­cert­ge­bouw. You can watch it unfold, assum­ing you can bear it, in the clip above.

As Pires says in the Clas­sic FM inter­view below, it had been “per­haps 11 months” since she’d last played the piece into which she could hear the orches­tra launch­ing, “and that’s the moment where you start los­ing the mem­o­ry of the details. That’s how the mem­o­ry func­tions, you know. And when peo­ple see this pan­ic, they per­haps don’t know that the real­i­ty is, we lose our mem­o­ries after just a cou­ple of months.”

It seems to have been the encour­age­ment of con­duc­tor Ric­car­do Chail­ly that got her through the moment of pan­ic and into a cred­itable per­for­mance. “You know it so well!” he insist­ed to her, and indeed, as he remem­bered lat­er, “The mir­a­cle is that she has such a mem­o­ry that she could, with­in a minute, switch to a new con­cer­to with­out mak­ing one mis­take.”

The eleventh-hour call Pires received ask­ing her to take the gig was part of the prob­lem, but so was a mis­heard num­ber. Accord­ing to the Köchel cat­a­logue, which orga­nizes all of Mozart’s work, the Piano Con­cer­to No. 20 in D minor is 466, where­as the Piano Con­cer­to No. 23 in A major is 488. Whether Pires mis­heard the K‑number or the caller mis­spoke, she soon found her­self faced with a musi­cal chal­lenge for which she felt com­plete­ly unpre­pared. In fact, she was­n’t: as Chail­ly knew, or at least banked on, her career as a clas­si­cal pianist up to that point had giv­en her all the expe­ri­ence she need­ed to draw upon to over­come the cri­sis. As her recov­ery reminds us, pro­fes­sion­al­ism isn’t so much about mak­ing sure that things always go right as being able to han­dle it when they go wrong. It hap­pens that Pires has gone through this par­tic­u­lar kind of mix-up three times, which makes her a con­sum­mate pro­fes­sion­al indeed.

via MyMod­ern­Met

Relat­ed Con­tent:

How Kei­th Jar­rett Played on a Bro­ken Piano & Turned a Poten­tial­ly Dis­as­trous Con­cert Into the Best-Sell­ing Piano Album of All Time (1975)

Watch the First Per­for­mance of a Mozart Com­po­si­tion That Had Been Lost for Cen­turies

Hear the Exper­i­men­tal Piano Jazz Album by Come­di­an H. Jon Ben­jamin — Who Can’t Play Piano

The Piano Played with 16 Increas­ing Lev­els of Com­plex­i­ty: From Easy to Very Com­plex

The Mis­take Waltz: Watch the Hilar­i­ous Bal­let by Leg­endary Chore­o­g­ra­ph­er Jerome Rob­bins

Based in Seoul, Col­in Marshall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, and cul­ture. He’s the author of the newslet­ter Books on Cities as well as the books 한국 요약 금지 (No Sum­ma­riz­ing Korea) and Kore­an Newtro. Fol­low him on the social net­work for­mer­ly known as Twit­ter at @colinmarshall.

Buckminster Fuller’s Dymaxion Sleep Plan: He Slept Two Hours a Day for Two Years & Felt “Vigorous” and “Alert”

One poten­tial draw­back of genius, it seems, is rest­less­ness, a mind per­pet­u­al­ly on the move. Of course, this is what makes many cel­e­brat­ed thinkers and artists so pro­duc­tive. That and the extra hours some gain by sac­ri­fic­ing sleep. Voltaire report­ed­ly drank up to 50 cups of cof­fee a day, and seems to have suf­fered no par­tic­u­lar­ly ill effects. Balzac did the same, and died at 51. The caf­feine may have had some­thing to do with it. Both Socrates and Samuel John­son believed that sleep is wast­ed time, and “so for years has thought grey-haired Richard Buck­min­ster Fuller,” wrote Time mag­a­zine in 1943, “futu­rif­ic inven­tor of the Dymax­ion house, the Dymax­ion car and the Dymax­ion globe.”

Engi­neer and vision­ary Fuller intend­ed his “Dymax­ion” brand to rev­o­lu­tion­ize every aspect of human life, or—in the now-slight­ly-dat­ed par­lance of our obses­sion with all things hacking—he engi­neered a series of rad­i­cal “life­hacks.” Giv­en his views on sleep, that seem­ing­ly essen­tial activ­i­ty also received a Dymax­ion upgrade, the trade­marked name com­bin­ing “dynam­ic,” “max­i­mum,” and “ten­sion.” “Two hours of sleep a day,” Fuller announced, “is plen­ty.” Did he con­sult with spe­cial­ists? Med­ical doc­tors? Biol­o­gists? Noth­ing as dull as that. He did what many a mad sci­en­tist does in the movies. (In the search, as Vin­cent Price says at the end of The Fly, “for the truth.”) He cooked up a the­o­ry, and test­ed it on him­self.

“Fuller,” Time report­ed, “rea­soned that man has a pri­ma­ry store of ener­gy, quick­ly replen­ished, and a sec­ondary reserve (sec­ond wind) that takes longer to restore.” He hypoth­e­sized that we would need less sleep if we stopped to take a nap at “the first sign of fatigue.” Fuller trained him­self to do just that, for­go­ing the typ­i­cal eight hours, more or less, most of us get per night. He found—as have many artists and researchers over the years—that “after a half-hour nap he was com­plete­ly refreshed.” Naps every six hours allowed him to shrink his total sleep per 24-hour peri­od to two hours. Did he, like the 50s mad sci­en­tist, become a trag­ic vic­tim of his own exper­i­ment?

No dan­ger of merg­ing him with a fly or turn­ing him invis­i­ble. The exper­i­men­t’s fail­ure may have meant a day in bed catch­ing up on lost sleep. Instead, Fuller kept it up for two full years, 1932 and 1933, and report­ed feel­ing in “the most vig­or­ous and alert con­di­tion that I have ever enjoyed.” He might have slept two hours a day in 30 minute incre­ments indef­i­nite­ly, Time sug­gests, but found that his “busi­ness asso­ciates… insist­ed on sleep­ing like oth­er men,” and wouldn’t adapt to his eccen­tric sched­ule, though some not for lack of try­ing. In his book Buck­y­Works J. Bald­win claims, “I can per­son­al­ly attest that many of his younger col­leagues and stu­dents could not keep up with him. He nev­er seemed to tire.”

A research orga­ni­za­tion looked into the sleep sys­tem and “not­ed that not every­one was able to train them­selves to sleep on com­mand.” The point may seem obvi­ous to the sig­nif­i­cant num­ber of peo­ple who suf­fer from insom­nia. “Bucky dis­con­cert­ed observers,” Bald­win writes, “by going to sleep in thir­ty sec­onds, as if he had thrown an Off switch in his head. It hap­pened so quick­ly that it looked like he had had a seizure.” Buck­min­ster Fuller was undoubt­ed­ly an unusu­al human, but human all the same. Time report­ed that “most sleep inves­ti­ga­tors agree that the first hours of sleep are the sound­est.” A Col­gate Uni­ver­si­ty researcher at the time dis­cov­ered that “peo­ple awak­ened after four hours’ sleep were just as alert, well-coor­di­nat­ed phys­i­cal­ly and resis­tant to fatigue” as those who slept the full eight.

Sleep research since the for­ties has made a num­ber of oth­er find­ings about vari­able sleep sched­ules among humans, study­ing shift work­ers’ sleep and the so-called “bipha­sic” pat­tern com­mon in cul­tures with very late bed­times and sies­tas in the mid­dle of the day. The suc­cess of this sleep rhythm “con­tra­dicts the nor­mal idea of a monopha­sic sleep­ing sched­ule,” writes Evan Mur­ray at MIT’s Cul­ture Shock, “in which all our time asleep is lumped into one block.” Bipha­sic sleep results in six or sev­en hours of sleep rather than the sev­en to nine of monopha­sic sleep­ers. Polypha­sic sleep­ing, how­ev­er, the kind pio­neered by Fuller, seems to gen­uine­ly result in even less need­ed sleep for many. It’s an idea that’s only become wide­spread “with­in rough­ly the last decade,” Mur­ray not­ed in 2009. He points to the redis­cov­ery, with­out any clear indebt­ed­ness, of Fuller’s Dymax­ion sys­tem by col­lege stu­dent Maria Staver, who named her method “Uber­man,” in hon­or of Niet­zsche, and spread its pop­u­lar­i­ty through a blog and a book.

Mur­ray also reports on anoth­er blog­ger, Steve Pavli­na, who con­duct­ed the exper­i­ment on him­self and found that “over a peri­od of 5 1/2 months, he was suc­cess­ful in adapt­ing com­plete­ly,” reap­ing the ben­e­fits of increased pro­duc­tiv­i­ty. But like Fuller, Pavli­na gave it up, not for “health rea­sons,” but because, he wrote, “the rest of the world is monopha­sic” or close to it. Our long block of sleep appar­ent­ly con­tains a good deal of “wast­ed tran­si­tion time” before we arrive at the nec­es­sary REM state. Polypha­sic sleep trains our brains to get to REM more quick­ly and effi­cient­ly. For this rea­son, writes Mur­ray, “I believe it can work for every­one.” Per­haps it can, pro­vid­ed they are will­ing to bear the social cost of being out of sync with the rest of the world. But peo­ple like­ly to prac­tice Dymax­ion Sleep for sev­er­al months or years prob­a­bly already are.

Note: An ear­li­er ver­sion of this post appeared on our site in 2017.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

The Pow­er of Pow­er Naps: Sal­vador Dali Teach­es You How Micro-Naps Can Give You Cre­ative Inspi­ra­tion

Peo­ple in the Mid­dle Ages Slept Not Once But Twice Each Night: How This Lost Prac­tice Was Redis­cov­ered

Bertrand Rus­sell & Buck­min­ster Fuller on Why We Should Work Less, and Live & Learn More

Every­thing I Know: 42 Hours of Buck­min­ster Fuller’s Vision­ary Lec­tures Free Online (1975)

Josh Jones is a writer and musi­cian based in Durham, NC. 

by | Permalink | Make a Comment ( 1 ) |

Elementary School Choir Sings the Grateful Dead’s “Ripple,” “Box of Rain,” “Brokedown Palace” & More: RIP Bob Weir

?si=euaFB6jMJ_TPxRmf

Down in Austin, Texas, music teacher Gavin Tabone leads the Bar­ton Hills Choir, made up of 3rd- through 6th-grade stu­dents. Backed by pro­fes­sion­al musi­cians, the choir per­forms a wide-rang­ing mix of music, from clas­sic pop and rock to indie songs by artists like Wilco, Muse, The Flam­ing Lips, and espe­cial­ly the Grate­ful Dead. Above and below, you can find per­for­mances of such Dead clas­sics as “Rip­ple,” “Box of Rain” and “Going Down the Road Feel­ing Bad” → “I Know You Rid­er.” And if you head to their YouTube chan­nel, you can find ver­sions of “Cas­sidy,” “Touch of Grey,” “Scar­let Bego­nias,” “Broke­down Palace,” and more.

With the pass­ing of Bob Weir this week­end, it seems like a fit­ting time to high­light these per­for­mances. Weir first joined the Dead when only a teenag­er, still basi­cal­ly a kid him­self, and then con­tin­ued the jour­ney for the next 60 years, intro­duc­ing the Dead­’s song­book to suc­ces­sive gen­er­a­tions of fans. In recent years, he talked about the Dead song­book endur­ing for the next 200 to 300 years, much as Beethoven remains with us today. As we watch ele­men­tary stu­dents per­form Grate­ful Dead clas­sics, it’s hard not to think that Weir was on to some­thing.

Relat­ed Con­tent 

Ele­men­tary School Kids Sing David Bowie’s “Space Odd­i­ty” & Oth­er Rock Hits: A Cult Clas­sic Record­ed in 1976

The Grate­ful Dead’s “Rip­ple” Played By Musi­cians Around the World (with Cameos by David Cros­by, Jim­my Buf­fett & Bill Kreutz­mann)

When the Grate­ful Dead Played at the Egypt­ian Pyra­mids, in the Shad­ow of the Sphinx (1978)

The Iso­lat­ed Bass Grooves of The Grate­ful Dead’s Phil Lesh (RIP)

Stream a Mas­sive Archive of Grate­ful Dead Con­certs from 1965–1995

How the Grate­ful Dead’s “Wall of Sound”–a Mon­ster, 600-Speak­er Sound System–Changed Rock Con­certs & Live Music For­ev­er

by | Permalink | Make a Comment ( 1 ) |

Trevor Noah Explains How Kintsugi, the Japanese Art of Repairing Pottery, Helped Him Overcome Life’s Tragedies

Trevor Noah end­ed his stint as the host of The Dai­ly Show a lit­tle over three years ago, but he’s made him­self into anoth­er kind of pop-cul­tur­al pres­ence since then. In evi­dence, we have his appear­ance above on the pop­u­lar pod­cast and YouTube show Diary of a CEO. For more than two and a half hours, Noah dis­cuss­es with host Steven Bartlett (who, like Noah, also hap­pens to be African-born with mixed parent­age) his rea­sons for quit­ting that polit­i­cal-news-com­e­dy TV insti­tu­tion, his strug­gles with depres­sion, and the time his step­fa­ther shot his moth­er in the head. She lived, owing to the mirac­u­lous­ly unlike­ly tra­jec­to­ry of the bul­let, but that did­n’t stop the expe­ri­ence from becom­ing what Noah describes as the worst of his life.

Dis­cussing all this brings to his mind the Japan­ese art of kintsu­gi (pre­vi­ous­ly fea­tured here on Open Cul­ture). “It’s a prac­tice of repair­ing pot­tery and ceram­ics that have bro­ken,” Noah explains. “What hap­pens is, you break a plate, or you break a vase or some­thing,” and “they put it back togeth­er, these arti­sans who do it. But they don’t just glue it back togeth­er, they glue it back togeth­er and they sort of adorn it with a gold­en bind­ing. And what you get is an object that is some­how more beau­ti­ful than before it was bro­ken.”

Kintsu­gi struck him as “one of the most beau­ti­ful con­cepts, and a dif­fer­ent way to think about being ‘fixed’ or ‘over­com­ing’ ”; it was­n’t “the idea that we are per­fect, the way we were before some­thing hap­pened to us, but rather, it is that we get to wear our cracks with a new type of pride, and a new type of beau­ty.”

Noah would hard­ly be the only per­son to see in these recon­sti­tut­ed ceram­ic ves­sels with their gleam­ing kintsu­gi seams a metaphor for him­self. Like more than a few pub­lic fig­ures in the West, he’s been will­ing to dis­cuss the vicis­si­tudes of his life in detail, and even use them for mate­r­i­al in work like his stand-up com­e­dy and his mem­oir Born a Crime. But it is unusu­al, in a chat like this with mil­lions and mil­lions of view­ers, to hear ref­er­ence made to a half-mil­len­ni­um-old Japan­ese form of pot­tery repair. That pos­si­bil­i­ty, of course, is cen­tral to the appeal of long-form inter­view pod­casts, whose con­ver­sa­tions have the time and space to go far down unex­pect­ed paths. The Dai­ly Show may deliv­er more laughs per minute, but giv­en its for­mat’s time con­straints, kintsu­gi-type talk is no doubt the first thing to get edit­ed out — and the cut cer­tain­ly won’t be high­light­ed.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

A Visu­al Intro­duc­tion to Kintsu­gi, the Japan­ese Art of Repair­ing Bro­ken Pot­tery and Find­ing Beau­ty in Imper­fec­tion

How Japan­ese Kintsu­gi Mas­ters Restore Pot­tery by Beau­ti­fy­ing the Cracks

David Lynch Explains Why Depres­sion Is the Ene­my of Cre­ativ­i­ty — and Why Med­i­ta­tion Is the Solu­tion

Stanford’s Robert Sapol­sky Demys­ti­fies Depres­sion, Which, Like Dia­betes, Is Root­ed in Biol­o­gy

Stephen Fry on Cop­ing with Depres­sion: It’s Rain­ing, But the Sun Will Come Out Again

Charles Bukows­ki Explains How to Beat Depres­sion: Spend 3–4 Days in Bed and You’ll Get the Juices Flow­ing Again (NSFW)

Based in Seoul, Col­in Marshall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, and cul­ture. He’s the author of the newslet­ter Books on Cities as well as the books 한국 요약 금지 (No Sum­ma­riz­ing Korea) and Kore­an Newtro. Fol­low him on the social net­work for­mer­ly known as Twit­ter at @colinmarshall.

Discover Ichi-go Ichi‑e, the Japanese Art of Savoring Every Moment

Each cul­ture has its own say­ings about the unique­ness and tran­sience of the present moment. In recent years, the Eng­lish-speak­ers have often found them­selves remind­ed, through the expres­sion “YOLO,” that they only live once. (The ques­tion of whether that should real­ly be “YLOO,” or “You Live Only Once,” we put aside for the time being.) In Japan, unsur­pris­ing­ly, one some­times hears a much more ven­er­a­ble equiv­a­lent: “ichi-go ichi‑e,” which some read­ers acquaint­ed with the Japan­ese lan­guage should be assured has noth­ing to do with straw­ber­ries, ichi­go. Rather, the say­ing’s under­ly­ing Chi­nese char­ac­ters (一期一会) can be trans­lat­ed as “one time, one meet­ing.”

The Bud­dhis­ti­cal­ly inflect­ed “ichi-go ichi‑e” is just one in the vast library of yoji­juku­go, high­ly con­densed apho­ris­tic expres­sions writ­ten with just four char­ac­ters. (Oth­er coun­tries with Chi­nese-influ­enced lan­guages have their ver­sions, includ­ing sajaseon­geo in Korea and chéngyǔ in Chi­na itself.) It descends, as the sto­ry goes, from a slight­ly longer say­ing favored by the six­teenth-cen­tu­ry tea mas­ter Sen no Rikyū, “ichi-go ni ichi-do” (一期に一度).

One must pay respects to the host of a tea cer­e­mo­ny because the meet­ing would only ever occur once — which, of course, it would, even if the cer­e­mo­ny was a reg­u­lar­ly sched­uled event. For we nev­er, to bor­row an ancient Greek take on this whole sub­ject, step into the same riv­er twice; no two events, sep­a­rat­ed in time, can ever tru­ly be iden­ti­cal.

One impli­ca­tion, as not­ed in the explana­to­ry videos above from the BBC and Einzel­gänger, is that we should savor what­ev­er moment we hap­pen to find our­selves in, how­ev­er imper­fect, because we won’t get a sec­ond chance to do so. And if it offers lit­tle or noth­ing to enjoy, we can find solace in the fact that its par­tic­u­lar dis­plea­sure, too, can nev­er revis­it us. With the past gone and the future nev­er guar­an­teed, the present moment, in any case, is the only time that actu­al­ly exists for us, so we’d bet­ter make our­selves com­fort­able with­in it. Though these ideas have per­haps found their most ele­gant and mem­o­rable expres­sion in Japan, they’re hard­ly con­sid­ered exclu­sive cul­tur­al prop­er­ty there. The Japan­ese title of For­rest Gump, after all, was Fore­su­to Gan­pu: Ichi-go Ichi‑e.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

What is the Secret to Liv­ing a Long, Hap­py & Cre­ative­ly Ful­fill­ing Life?: Dis­cov­er the Japan­ese Con­cept of Iki­gai

Wabi-Sabi: A Short Film on the Beau­ty of Tra­di­tion­al Japan

Marie Kon­do v. Tsun­doku: Com­pet­ing Japan­ese Philoso­phies on Whether to Keep or Dis­card Unread Books

The Art of the Japan­ese Teapot: Watch a Mas­ter Crafts­man at Work, from the Begin­ning Until the Star­tling End

Memen­to Mori: How Smil­ing Skele­tons Have Remind­ed Us to Live Ful­ly Since Ancient Times

An Ani­mat­ed Intro­duc­tion to Sto­icism, the Ancient Greek Phi­los­o­phy That Lets You Lead a Hap­py, Ful­fill­ing Life

Based in Seoul, Col­in Marshall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, and cul­ture. He’s the author of the newslet­ter Books on Cities as well as the books 한국 요약 금지 (No Sum­ma­riz­ing Korea) and Kore­an Newtro. Fol­low him on the social net­work for­mer­ly known as Twit­ter at @colinmarshall.

More in this category... »
Quantcast