When Kris Kristofferson (RIP) Stood by Sinéad O’Connor at the Height of Her Controversy

in History, Music | October 3rd, 2024

One would have imag­ined Sinéad O’Con­nor imper­vi­ous to any reac­tion from a hos­tile audi­ence, no mat­ter how vit­ri­olic. But even for a pub­lic fig­ure as out­spo­ken and unapolo­getic as her, it could all get to be a bit much at times. Take the 1992 con­cert Colum­bia Records put on for the 30th anniver­sary of Bob Dylan’s first album. “Avail­able on pay-per-view,” writes the New York Times’ Marc Tra­cy, it “fea­tured per­for­mances by Dylan along with some of the biggest stars of his era, among them Ste­vie Won­der, George Har­ri­son, John­ny Cash and Eric Clap­ton,” as well as the late out­law-coun­try icon Kris Kristof­fer­son.

The young O’Con­nor also per­formed, despite being “at the cen­ter of a firestorm. Just two weeks ear­li­er, the Irish singer was the musi­cal guest on Sat­ur­day Night Live when, at the con­clu­sion of her sec­ond and final per­for­mance of the evening, she ripped up a pic­ture of Pope John Paul II and exhort­ed, ‘Fight the real ene­my,’ a defi­ant act of protest against sex­u­al abuse in the Catholic Church.” It fell to Kristof­fer­son to intro­duce her, where­upon she “took the stage to a cas­cade of applause and boos, which did not let up as O’Connor stood silent­ly at the micro­phone with her hands behind her back.”

As you can see in the video at the top of the post, Kristof­fer­son did­n’t stay off­stage. After a minute he “re-emerged from stage left, put his arm around O’Connor and whis­pered some­thing in her ear.” The show then went on, albeit not as planned: instead of doing Dylan’s “I Believe in You,” she did Bob Mar­ley’s “War,” the very same song she’d sung on SNL before the noto­ri­ous Pope-rip­ping. Rather than leav­ing his mes­sage as a Lost in Trans­la­tion moment, Kristof­fer­son lat­er revealed the words he’d sum­moned to encour­age her: “ ‘Don’t let the bas­tards get you down.’ To which, he said, she respond­ed: ‘I’m not down.’ ”

That response was char­ac­ter­is­tic of O’Con­nor, as was her 2021 auto­bi­og­ra­phy’s note that she was think­ing, “I don’t need a man to res­cue me, thanks.” What­ev­er her feel­ings in the moment, her friend­ship with Kristof­fer­son seems to have last­ed until her death last year. “Kristof­fer­son appeared with her in the 1997 music video for the song ‘This Is to Moth­er You,’ ” writes Tra­cy. “In 2010, the two per­formed a duet of Kristofferson’s ‘Help Me Make It Through the Night’ on an Irish talk show. It was a year after Kristof­fer­son had released a song about the 1992 inci­dent, ‘Sis­ter Sinead.’ ” Out­ward­ly, the two could hard­ly have had less in com­mon, but inward­ly, they must have rec­og­nized each oth­er as kin­dred spir­its — the likes of which we’ll sure­ly not see again.

via New York Times

Relat­ed con­tent:

Hear a Rare First Record­ing of Janis Joplin’s Hit “Me and Bob­by McGee,” Writ­ten by Kris Kristof­fer­son

Shane Mac­Gowan & Sinéad O’Connor Duet Togeth­er, Per­form­ing a Mov­ing Ren­di­tion of “Haunt­ed” (RIP)

Sinéad O’Connor’s Raw Iso­lat­ed Vocals for “Noth­ing Com­pares 2 U”

A Choir with 1,000 Singers Pays Trib­ute to Sinéad O’Connor & Per­forms “Noth­ing Com­pares 2 U”

5 Musi­cal Guests Banned From Sat­ur­day Night Live: From Elvis Costel­lo to Frank Zap­pa

Based in Seoul, Col­in Marshall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, and cul­ture. His projects include the Sub­stack newslet­ter Books on Cities and the book The State­less City: a Walk through 21st-Cen­tu­ry Los Ange­les. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall or on Face­book.

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Joan Jett and the Blackhearts Perform a Rollicking Cover of the Mary Tyler Moore Theme Song (1996)

in Music, Television | October 1st, 2024

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Orig­i­nal­ly writ­ten by Son­ny Cur­tis and released in 1970, “Love Is All Around”–otherwise known as the Mary Tyler Moore theme song–has been cov­ered by many acts: Sam­my Davis Jr, Hüsker Dü, and Joan Jett & the Black­hearts, to name a few. After releas­ing a stu­dio ver­sion in 1996, Jett per­formed the song live on the Late Show with David Let­ter­man that same year. If you’re old enough, this per­for­mance will give you a dou­ble dose of nos­tal­gia. It lets you recall the spir­it of 1970s sec­ond-wave-fem­i­nist tele­vi­sion, and it recap­tures the sheer play­ful­ness of Let­ter­man’s free­wheel­ing 90s late night show. Enjoy!

via Laugh­ing Squid

Relat­ed Con­tent 

How Joan Jett Start­ed the Run­aways at 15 and Faced Down Every Bar­ri­er for Women in Rock and Roll

Isaac Asi­mov Pre­dicts the Future on The David Let­ter­man Show (1980)

What Makes a Cov­er Song Great?: Our Favorites & Yours

Frank Zappa’s 1980s Appear­ances on The David Let­ter­man Show

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David Bowie’s Fashionable Mug Shot From His 1976 Marijuana Bust

in Music | September 30th, 2024


David Bowie always man­aged to look cool, even when he was being booked for a felony.

In ear­ly 1976, Bowie was on his “Iso­lar” tour, per­form­ing as the Thin White Duke, a per­sona he would describe as “a very Aryan fas­cist type — a would-be roman­tic with no emo­tions at all.” Bowie invit­ed his friend and some­time cre­ative col­lab­o­ra­tor Iggy Pop to trav­el with him.

In the ear­ly morn­ing hours of March 21, after a con­cert at the Com­mu­ni­ty War Memo­r­i­al are­na in Rochester, New York, four local vice squad detec­tives and a state police inves­ti­ga­tor searched Bowie’s three-room suite at the Amer­i­cana Rochester Hotel. Accord­ing to reports in the Rochester Demo­c­rat and Chron­i­cle, the cops found 182 grams (a lit­tle over 6.4 ounces) of mar­i­jua­na there. Bowie and three oth­ers — Pop, a body­guard named Dwain Voughns, and a young Rochester woman named Chi­wah Soo — were charged with fifth-degree crim­i­nal pos­ses­sion of mar­i­jua­na, a class C felony, pun­ish­able by up to 15 years in prison.

Bowie and Pop were booked under their real names, David Jones and James Oster­berg Jr. The group spent the rest of the night in the Mon­roe Coun­ty Jail and were released at about 7 a.m. on $2,000 bond each. They were sup­posed to be arraigned the next day, but Bowie left town to go to his next con­cert in Spring­field, Mass­a­chu­setts. His lawyer appeared and asked for the court’s indul­gence, explain­ing the heavy penal­ties for break­ing con­cert engage­ments. He promised the judge that Bowie would appear the fol­low­ing morn­ing, March 23.

Bowie showed up for his arraign­ment look­ing dap­per in his Thin White Duke cloth­ing. It was then that his mug shot was tak­en — so we’ll nev­er actu­al­ly know what Bowie looked like when he was unex­pect­ed­ly dragged into jail at 3 a.m. The police escort­ed the rock star in and out of the court­room most­ly through back cor­ri­dors, shield­ing him from a crowd of fans who showed up at the cour­t­house. Reporter John Stew­art describes the scene in the next day’s Demo­c­rat and Chron­i­cle:

Bowie and his group ignored reporters’ shout­ed ques­tions and fans’ yells as he walked in — except for one teenag­er who got his auto­graph as he stepped off the esca­la­tor.

His biggest greet­ing was the screams of about a half-dozen sus­pect­ed pros­ti­tutes await­ing arraign­ment in the rear of the cor­ri­dor out­side the court­room.

Asked for a plea by City Court Judge Alphonse Cas­set­ti to the charge of fifth-degree crim­i­nal pos­ses­sion of a con­trolled sub­stance, Bowie said, “not guilty, sir.” The court used his real name — David Jones.

He stood demure­ly in front of the bench with his attor­neys. He wore a gray three-piece leisure suit and a pale brown shirt. He was hold­ing a match­ing hat. His two com­pan­ions were arraigned on the same charge.

The defense lawyer told the judge that Bowie and the oth­ers had nev­er been arrest­ed before. The judge allowed them to remain free on bond until a grand jury con­vened. Bowie and his entourage went on with their tour, and the grand jury even­tu­al­ly decid­ed not to indict any­one. The inci­dent was large­ly for­got­ten until an auc­tion house employ­ee named Gary Hess stum­bled on Bowie’s mug shot while sort­ing through the estate of a retired Rochester police offi­cer. Hess res­cued the pho­to from the trash bin, accord­ing to an arti­cle in Rochester Sub­way, and in late 2007 his broth­er sold it on eBay for $2,700.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

The Thin White Duke: A Close Study of David Bowie’s Dark­est Char­ac­ter

John Coltrane’s Naval Reserve Enlist­ment Mugshot (1945)

David Bowie Pre­dicts the Good & Bad of the Inter­net in 1999: “We’re on the Cusp of Some­thing Exhil­a­rat­ing and Ter­ri­fy­ing”

Watch David Bowie Per­form “Star­man” on Top of the Pops: Vot­ed the Great­est Music Per­for­mance Ever on the BBC (1972)

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

in History, Music | September 25th, 2024

For most musi­cians, a long-lost song writ­ten in their teenage years would be of inter­est only to seri­ous fans — and even then, prob­a­bly more for bio­graph­i­cal rea­sons than as a stand­alone piece of work. But that’s hard­ly the case for Wolf­gang Amadeus Mozart, who was com­pos­ing advanced music at the age of five, and indeed com­plet­ed the first act of his short life by ado­les­cence. Hence the guar­an­teed appre­cia­tive audi­ence for Ser­e­nade in C, a hith­er­to unknown piece recent­ly dis­cov­ered in the hold­ings of Germany’s Leipzig Munic­i­pal Libraries and first per­formed for the pub­lic just last week.

“Library researchers were com­pil­ing an edi­tion of the Köchel cat­a­log, a com­pre­hen­sive archive of Mozart’s work, when they stum­bled across a mys­te­ri­ous bound man­u­script con­tain­ing a hand­writ­ten com­po­si­tion in brown ink,” writes Smithsonian.com’s Son­ja Ander­son.

Com­posed in the mid-to-late 1760s, Ser­e­nade in C “con­sists of sev­en minia­ture move­ments for a string trio (two vio­lins and a bass).” Accord­ing to researchers, it “fits styl­is­ti­cal­ly” the work of that peri­od, “when Mozart was between the ages of 10 and 13”; a few years lat­er, he’d out­grown (or tran­scend­ed) this style of cham­ber music entire­ly.

You can see and hear Ser­e­nade in C in the video at the top of the post, per­formed ear­li­er this month, not long after its pre­miere, on the steps of the Leipzig Opera by Vin­cent Geer, David Geer, and Elis­a­beth Zim­mer­mann of the Leipzig School of Music’s youth sym­pho­ny orches­tra. Renamed Ganz kleine Nacht­musik, this “new” Mozart piece has been includ­ed in the lat­est Köchel cat­a­log with the num­ber K. 648. If you lis­ten to it in the con­text of Mozart’s artis­tic evo­lu­tion, you’ll also notice the ways in which it stands out in a peri­od when he wrote main­ly arias, sym­phonies, and piano music. As for the extent to which it pre­fig­ures things to come, it’s ear­ly enough that we should prob­a­bly leave that ques­tion to the Mozartol­o­gists.

via Smithsonian.com

Relat­ed con­tent:

Hear the Evo­lu­tion of Mozart’s Music, Com­posed from Ages 5 to 35

New­ly Dis­cov­ered Piece by Mozart Per­formed on His Own Fortepi­ano

Based in Seoul, Col­in Marshall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, and cul­ture. His projects include the Sub­stack newslet­ter Books on Cities and the book The State­less City: a Walk through 21st-Cen­tu­ry Los Ange­les. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall or on Face­book.

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The Real Reason Why Music Is Getting Worse: Rick Beato Explains

in Music, Technology | September 16th, 2024

Ear­li­er this month, a North Car­oli­na man was charged with gen­er­at­ing songs using an arti­fi­cial-intel­li­gence sys­tem and con­fig­ur­ing bots to stream them auto­mat­i­cal­ly, thus rack­ing up some $10 mil­lion in ille­gal roy­al­ties. Though that amount no doubt star­tles many of us, in this age when legit­i­mate musi­cians pub­licly lament the pit­tance they earn through stream­ing plat­forms, such a case prob­a­bly comes as no sur­prise to Rick Beato. This past June, the promi­nent music YouTu­ber put out a video deal­ing with just that inter­sec­tion of cul­ture and tech­nol­o­gy, with the high­ly click­able title “The Real Rea­son Why Music Is Get­ting Worse.”

Con­sid­er the ques­tion of how we evoke one par­tic­u­lar cul­tur­al era rather than anoth­er. We can use its fash­ions, its slang, or its inte­ri­or dec­o­ra­tion, to name just a few pos­si­bil­i­ties, but noth­ing works as pow­er­ful­ly or imme­di­ate­ly as its music. Most of us grew up in a world where the sound of pop­u­lar songs changed dra­mat­i­cal­ly every decade or so. This hap­pened for many rea­sons, prac­ti­cal­ly all of them down­stream of devel­op­ments in tech­nol­o­gy. Blues­men elec­tri­fy­ing their gui­tars; Frank Sina­tra singing into micro­phones sen­si­tive enough to pick up his nuances; the Bea­t­les cre­at­ing com­plex, often strange minia­ture sound worlds in the stu­dio; rap­pers telling their sto­ries over looped frag­ments of dis­co records: all of it was made pos­si­ble by feats of engi­neer­ing.

Yet, in Beat­o’s view, tech­no­log­i­cal progress has late­ly back­fired on music, and both musi­cians and lis­ten­ers are feel­ing it. The con­ver­gence of com­put­ers and music pro­duc­tion is now com­plete, mak­ing any sound the­o­ret­i­cal­ly pos­si­ble at vir­tu­al­ly no cost. But “the cre­ative depen­dence on tech­nol­o­gy lim­its the abil­i­ty of peo­ple to inno­vate,” and “the over­re­liance on sim­i­lar tools” brings about “a lack of diver­si­ty” and a per­sis­tence of for­mu­la­ic trend-fol­low­ing. The ease of cre­ation has caused “an over­sat­u­ra­tion of music, mak­ing it hard­er to find real­ly excep­tion­al things.” This is tak­en to an extreme by the only-just-begin­ning avalanche of AI-gen­er­at­ed songs (and the storm of law­suits it has drawn).

Of course, if I’d known back when I was grow­ing up in the nine­teen-nineties that all the music I want­ed to lis­ten to would be made instant­ly avail­able at lit­tle or no cost, I’d have regard­ed it as the immi­nent arrival of heav­en on earth. Pre­sum­ably, the prospect would also have excit­ed the ado­les­cent Beato, bag­ging gro­ceries to save up the mon­ey to buy Led Zep­pelin and Pat Methe­ny albums in the sev­en­ties. Today, by con­trast, “music is not as val­ued by young peo­ple. There is no sweat equi­ty put into obtain­ing it, hav­ing it be part of your col­lec­tion, hav­ing it be a part of your iden­ti­ty, of who you are.”

Music, in short, has become both too easy to pro­duce and too easy to con­sume. It would be easy for any­one under 30 to dis­miss Beat­o’s argu­ment as that of a mid­dle-aged man reflex­ive­ly insist­ing that things were bet­ter in his day, when we knew the val­ue of an album. But even the youngest gen­er­a­tion of music-lovers must, at times, feel a cer­tain dis­sat­is­fac­tion amid this end­less abun­dance. To them — and to all of us — Beato says this: “Vote with your atten­tion” by try­ing to lis­ten to music delib­er­ate­ly, with­out dis­trac­tion. Per­son­al­ly, I rec­om­mend lis­ten­ing to not just full albums but com­plete discogra­phies, which at the very least cul­ti­vates a cer­tain dis­cern­ment. And to cross the musi­cal land­scape ahead of us, we’ll need all the dis­cern­ment we can get.

Relat­ed con­tent:

The Sur­pris­ing­ly Long His­to­ry of Auto-Tune, the Vocal-Pro­cess­ing Tech­nol­o­gy Music Crit­ics Love to Hate

Nick Cave Answers the Hot­ly Debat­ed Ques­tion: Will Arti­fi­cial Intel­li­gence Ever Be Able to Write a Great Song?

Based in Seoul, Col­in Marshall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, and cul­ture. His projects include the Sub­stack newslet­ter Books on Cities and the book The State­less City: a Walk through 21st-Cen­tu­ry Los Ange­les. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall or on Face­book.

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David Bowie Songs Reimagined as Pulp Fiction Book Covers: Space Oddity, Heroes, Life on Mars & More

in Comics/Cartoons, Literature, Music | September 15th, 2024

In the last year, screen­writer Todd Alcott’s hob­by has blown up into a legit side career.

This Etsy sell­er isn’t ped­dling kom­bucha SCOBYs, let­ter press­ing new baby announce­ments, or repur­pos­ing old barns for use as cut­ting boards.

No, Alcott’s crafty for­tunes fall square­ly at the inter­sec­tion of pulp fic­tion and rock and roll, with clas­sic song titles, lyrics, and oth­er cun­ning ref­er­ences replac­ing the cov­er text of pre-exist­ing vin­tage paper­backs.

David Bowie’s life­long fas­ci­na­tion with space trav­el, tor­tured anti heroes, and out­ra­geous fash­ion make him a nat­ur­al fit with Alcott’s ongo­ing project, which has lav­ished sim­i­lar atten­tion on such lumi­nar­ies as Bob Dylan, Radio­head, Talk­ing Heads, and Elvis Costel­lo.

As Alcott, who con­ceives of his mash ups as trib­utes to his long time musi­cal favorites, told Open Cul­ture:

Bowie dressed as an androg­y­nous alien, went out onstage and told his audi­ence “You’re not alone, give me your hands,” I can’t think of a more encom­pass­ing ges­ture to a mis­fit. No mat­ter how weird you were in your com­mu­ni­ty, you would always find some­one like you at a Bowie con­cert. Dur­ing a time of my life when I felt incred­i­bly iso­lat­ed and alone, (Bowie was one of) the key artists who made me feel like I was part of a big­ger world, an artis­tic con­tin­u­um.

Mean­while, Alcott is tend­ing to anoth­er con­tin­u­um by posthu­mous­ly pair­ing such late greats as Bowie and Queen’s Fred­die Mer­cury (“co-author” of the deep sea-themed Under Pres­sure cov­er, above) with the sort of adven­tur­ous, occa­sion­al­ly steamy read­ing mate­r­i­al that were among the hall­marks of their 1950s’ boy­hoods.

Many of these items have found their way to used book and thrift stores, where, tat­tered and worn, they pro­vide a vast trove for some­one like Alcott, who brows­es with his favorite acts’ cat­a­logues deeply imprint­ed on his men­tal hard dri­ve.

It must’ve been a grand day when he hap­pened across the above 1970s sci fi cov­er. A few deft tweaks, and Life on Mars, a nonex­is­tent “new adven­ture from the author of Space Odd­i­ty,” was born.

(Hard­core fans, take note of the doc­tored pub­lish­er in the upper left cor­ner)

Heroes, which takes its inspi­ra­tion from the 1981 X‑Men com­ic Days of Future Past, is crammed full of such East­er eggs. Can you spot them all?

What a fit­ting trib­ute to the Starman’s endur­ing hold on the public’s imag­i­na­tion.

Browse Todd Alcott’s Bowie-themed pulp fic­tion col­lec­tion in his Etsy shop.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Lis­ten to Fred­die Mer­cury & David Bowie on the Iso­lat­ed Vocal Track for the Queen Hit ‘Under Pres­sure,’ 1981

The Art Col­lec­tion of David Bowie: An Intro­duc­tion

Behold The Paint­ings of David Bowie: Neo-Expres­sion­ist Self Por­traits, Illus­tra­tions of Iggy Pop, and Much More

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Stanford Continuing Studies Offering an Online Course Exploring the Music of the Grateful Dead

in Music | September 12th, 2024

Image via Wiki­me­dia Com­mons

A quick heads up: On Octo­ber 3rd, Stan­ford Con­tin­u­ing Stud­ies will kick off an 8‑week online course called Did It Mat­ter? Does It Now? The Music and Cul­ture of the Grate­ful Dead. Led by David Gans (author of Play­ing in the Band: An Oral and Visu­al Por­trait of the Grate­ful Dead), the course will fea­ture a num­ber of spe­cial guests, includ­ing Jesse Jarnow (host of The Good Ol’ Grate­ful Dead­cast), Den­nis McNal­ly (author of A Long Strange Trip: The Inside His­to­ry of the Grate­ful Dead) and David Lemieux (Grate­ful Dead Archivist). Open to any adult, the course descrip­tion reads:

The Grate­ful Dead’s ground­break­ing fusion of music, coun­ter­cul­ture, and com­mu­ni­ty engage­ment forged an endur­ing lega­cy that tran­scends gen­er­a­tions while shap­ing the evo­lu­tion of music and cul­tur­al expres­sion. Near­ly 30 years after the band played its last show, Grate­ful Dead music is more pop­u­lar than ever—in both live and record­ed form. This course invites stu­dents to delve into the phe­nom­e­non that is the Grate­ful Dead through a cap­ti­vat­ing explo­ration of the band’s his­to­ry, music, and cul­tur­al impact.

The course will fea­ture a col­lec­tion of sto­ries and con­ver­sa­tions with schol­ars and his­to­ri­ans, each offer­ing facts and per­son­al per­spec­tives illu­mi­nat­ing every aspect of the Grate­ful Dead cul­ture. Togeth­er, we will take a guid­ed tour of the music in the form of focused excerpts from live and stu­dio per­for­mances to learn what makes the Dead’s music-mak­ing unique and explore the broad musi­cal uni­verse the band cre­at­ed in its 30-year his­to­ry.

Final­ly, we’ll exam­ine the Dead’s impact on soci­ety, div­ing into the band’s influ­ence on art, lit­er­a­ture, and social change, as well as its unique fan cul­ture and the phe­nom­e­non of the Dead­head. By the end of the course, stu­dents will have a well-round­ed appre­ci­a­tion for the roots, strug­gles, and mile­stones that shaped the Grate­ful Dead’s tra­jec­to­ry, an under­stand­ing of their pro­found impact on music and cul­ture, and insight into a lega­cy that still res­onates deeply today.

Again, the course starts on Thurs­day, Octo­ber 3rd. Tuition is $465. You can enroll here.

Stan­ford Con­tin­u­ing Stud­ies also offers many oth­er cours­es online, across many dis­ci­plines, at a rea­son­able price. Check out the cat­a­logue here.

Relat­ed Con­tent 

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

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 Grate­ful Dead Movie: Watch It Free Online

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

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Why You Can Never Tune a Piano

in Music, Science | September 11th, 2024

Grab a cup of cof­fee, put on your think­ing cap, and start work­ing through this video from Minute Physics, which explains why gui­tars, vio­lins and oth­er instru­ments can be tuned to a tee. But when it comes to pianos, it’s an entire­ly dif­fer­ent sto­ry, a math­e­mat­i­cal impos­si­bil­i­ty. Pianos are slight­ly but nec­es­sar­i­ly out of tune.

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 and BlueSky.

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 

How the Clavi­chord & Harp­si­chord Became the Mod­ern Piano: The Evo­lu­tion of Key­board Instru­ments, Explained

What Does the World’s Old­est Sur­viv­ing Piano Sound Like? Watch Pianist Give a Per­for­mance on a 1720 Cristo­fori Piano

The Mak­ing of a Stein­way Grand Piano, From Start to Fin­ish

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