38 Major Pop Songs Played with the Exact Same Four Chords: Watch a Captivating Medley Performed by the Axis of Awesome

When we call music a uni­ver­sal lan­guage, it’s usu­al­ly under­stood to be a metaphor. In its purest the­o­ret­i­cal form, music may be more like math—a tru­ly uni­ver­sal language—but in its man­i­fes­ta­tions in the real world, it resem­bles more the great diver­si­ty of tongues around the globe. Each region­al, nation­al, and glob­al music has its gram­mar of scales, rhythms, and chords, each its syn­tax of melodies and har­monies, though these share some impor­tant com­mon­al­i­ties.

The syn­tax of pop music, like its blues pre­de­ces­sor, con­sists of stan­dard chord pro­gres­sions, eas­i­ly swapped from song to song: repeat­able units that form a range of avail­able emo­tion­al expres­sion. Want to see that range on full dis­play, in a brava­do per­for­mance by an Aus­tralian com­e­dy rock band? Look no fur­ther: just above, the Axis of Awe­some per­form their live ren­di­tion of “4 Chord Song,” a stun­ning med­ley of pop hits from Jour­ney to Mis­sy Hig­gins that all use the same four-chord sequence.

With the excep­tion of an orig­i­nal com­po­si­tion, “Bird­plane,” the ensemble’s selec­tion of 38 songs includes some of the biggest hits of the past few decades. The tonal breadth is sur­pris­ing, as we leap from “Don’t Stop Believ­ing” to “Can You Feel the Love Tonight” to “With or With­out You” to Aqua’s “Bar­bie Girl” and Lady Gaga’s “Pok­er Face.” Imag­ine Natal­ie Imbruglia, Green Day, and Toto trad­ing licks, or Pink, the Bea­t­les, and A‑Ha. Maybe these artists have more in com­mon, lin­guis­ti­cal­ly speak­ing, than we thought. Or, as one of the Axis of Awe­some band­mem­ber asks, mock-incred­u­lous­ly, “You can take those four chords, repeat them, and pop out every pop song ever?”

Well, maybe not every pop song. One could choose oth­er pro­gres­sions and make sim­i­lar com­pi­la­tions. These par­tic­u­lar four chords have some­thing of a melan­choly sound, and tend to come up music with an under­cur­rent of sad­ness (yes, even “Bar­bie Girl”). One can quib­ble with some of the par­tic­u­lars here. “Don’t Stop Believ­ing,” for exam­ple, throws a dif­fer­ent chord into the sec­ond phrase of its pro­gres­sion. But the ubiq­ui­ty of this melody in pop is quite reveal­ing, and amus­ing in this musi­cal mashup. See the Axis of Awe­some in a pol­ished video ver­sion of “4 Chord Song,” above, and con­sid­er all the oth­er ways pop music recy­cles and reuses the same ele­ments over and over to con­vey its range of feel­ings.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Music Is Tru­ly a Uni­ver­sal Lan­guage: New Research Shows That Music World­wide Has Impor­tant Com­mon­al­i­ties

John Coltrane Talks About the Sacred Mean­ing of Music in the Human Expe­ri­ence: Lis­ten to One of His Final Inter­views (1966)

Alan Lomax’s Mas­sive Music Archive Is Online: Fea­tures 17,000 His­toric Blues & Folk Record­ings

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

Watch A‑ha’s “Take On Me” Video Newly Remastered in 4K .… and Learn About the Band’s Struggle to Make the Classic Song

Though the ‘80s didn’t invent music videos, they did become an essen­tial form of cul­tur­al cur­ren­cy, as high pro­file direc­tors, big bud­gets, and a chan­nel that played them non-stop pushed them into our col­lec­tive con­scious­ness. But it’s only recent­ly that those orig­i­nal videos–most shot on film, not video by the way–have been get­ting the remas­ter treat­ment that Hol­ly­wood block­busters and art house clas­sics receive. Last month, we saw the film grain and roman­tic light­ing in Wham’s “Last Christ­mas” video remas­tered in 4K. And now anoth­er inescapably ‘80s ear­worm gets the treat­ment: “Take on Me” by Norway’s finest, A‑ha.

For those who haven’t seen the video, it’s a fairy­tale of a down-on-her luck girl who falls in love with the hero (A‑ha’s lead singer Morten Har­ket) in a com­ic book, then falls into the com­ic book where both become pen­cil draw­ings. Under attack from wrench-wield­ing bad guys, she escapes back into the real world and in a love-con­quers-all mir­a­cle, Morten makes it into the real world and into the arms of his love. All in three min­utes and change.

A‑ha might have been seen as a one-hit won­der band by some, but the lov­ing doc on the mak­ing of the song and video demon­strates there’s no such thing as an overnight suc­cess. The band strug­gled for years to make it, and “Take On Me” wasn’t even their first choice for a song–the band called it “Juicy Fruit” because its relent­less cheer­ful pop sound­ed to the band like an Amer­i­can chew­ing gum ad.

And they strug­gled to get the song right–an ear­ly ver­sion was released three times but failed to catch on. They even record­ed a ver­sion and filmed a bland music video for it. For some groups, this fail­ure might have been it, but you have to admire A‑ha. They were hun­gry and they knew, just knew, that the song should be a hit.

As the doc shows, sev­er­al music indus­try execs thought so too. The band plead­ed and got them­selves a new pro­duc­er: Alan Tar­ney. He went back to the group’s orig­i­nal demo and brought back what their first pro­duc­er had tak­en out, but lay­ered on synth after synth as well. From orig­i­nal demo to the hit sin­gle, it had tak­en four years.

For the video, Warn­er Bros. exec Jeff Ayeroff want­ed some­thing com­ic book based, and co-work­er John Beug knew what might work. He had seen a stu­dent ani­ma­tion called “Com­muter” by Can­dace Reckinger and Mike Pat­ter­son, and the two were hired to recre­ate their roto­scoped tech­nique for the video, tak­ing months and months of hand-drawn hard work to com­plete.

The result­ing video, direct­ed by Steve Bar­ron is a clas­sic. It’s been par­o­died on Fam­i­ly Guy and as a Chil­dren In Need char­i­ty spe­cial. And it still works as a mini nar­ra­tive: each verse adds an ele­ment to the sto­ry, the fre­net­ic piano instru­men­tal bridge brings in the ele­ment of dan­ger, and the final cho­rus brings it all togeth­er with a tear and an embrace. (The influ­ence of Ken Russell’s Altered States is not men­tioned in the doc, but it’s an obvi­ous touch­stone.)

The young woman co-star­ring in the video is Bun­ty Bai­ley, who appeared in sev­er­al oth­er ‘80s videos (like this one for Bil­ly Idol). For a lump in the throat moment reunion, keep watch­ing through to the end, where old friends get reunit­ed.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

A‑ha Per­forms a Beau­ti­ful Acoustic Ver­sion of Their 1980s Hit, “Take on Me”: Record­ed Live in Nor­way

A‑ha’s “Take On Me” Per­formed by North Kore­an Kids with Accor­dions

19-Year-Old Russ­ian Gui­tarist Plays an Inge­nious Cov­er of Michael Jackson’s “Bil­lie Jean”

The Trick That Made Ani­ma­tion Real­is­tic: Watch a Short His­to­ry of Roto­scop­ing

Ted Mills is a free­lance writer on the arts who cur­rent­ly hosts the artist inter­view-based FunkZone Pod­cast and is the pro­duc­er of KCR­W’s Curi­ous Coast. You can also fol­low him on Twit­ter at @tedmills, read his oth­er arts writ­ing at tedmills.com and/or watch his films here.

The Music, Books & Films Liberated into the Public Domain in 2020: Rhapsody in Blue, The Magic Mountain, Sherlock, Jr., and More

“I heard it as a sort of musi­cal kalei­do­scope of Amer­i­ca, of our vast melt­ing pot, of our undu­pli­cat­ed nation­al pep, of our blues, our met­ro­pol­i­tan mad­ness.” So said Por­gy and Bess com­pos­er George Gersh­win of Rhap­sody in Blue, the orches­tral piece he wrote back in 1924 and which has remained in the Amer­i­can canon ever since. It will sure­ly become even more wide­ly heard from this year on, since 1924 plus 95 — the term of a copy­right under cur­rent Unit­ed States law — equals 2020. Giv­en that Rhap­sody in Blue’s entrance into the pub­lic domain means that cre­ators can now freely do what they like with it, the piece will also, no doubt, under­go all man­ner of cre­ative rearrange­ment and repur­pos­ing in order to reflect the Amer­i­ca of the 2020s.

Copy­right terms did­n’t always last near­ly a cen­tu­ry. Before the 1998 Copy­right Term Exten­sion Act they last­ed only 75 years, and for the addi­tion­al two decades of wait­ing for works to enter the pub­lic domain we usu­al­ly blame Dis­ney. That enter­tain­ment giant did indeed do much of the lob­by­ing for copy­right exten­sion, seek­ing to retain its rights to Mick­ey Mouse’s 1928 debut Steam­boat Willie.

But as Duke Law’s Cen­ter for the Study of the Pub­lic Domain reports in a post on the works new­ly in pub­lic domain this year, “the Gersh­win Fam­i­ly Trust also pushed for the exten­sion, so that George and Ira Gershwin’s works from the 1920s and 1930s would remain under copy­right.” But now sev­er­al been lib­er­at­ed from it: not just Rhap­sody in Blue, but also stan­dards (with lyrics penned by Gersh­win’s broth­er Ira) like “Fas­ci­nat­ing Rhythm” and “Oh, Lady Be Good!”

2020’s is a promis­ing Pub­lic Domain Day indeed for fans of the Great Amer­i­can Song­book, what with the work of oth­er com­posers like Irv­ing Berlin (specif­i­cal­ly the pop­u­lar tune “Lazy,” well known from Mar­i­lyn Mon­roe’s per­for­mance in There’s No Busi­ness Like Show Busi­ness.) But the list of lit­er­ary works that have just gone pub­lic-domain is even more impres­sive, boast­ing inter­na­tion­al­ly acclaimed books like Thomas Man­n’s The Mag­ic Moun­tain, E.M. Forster’s A Pas­sage to India, Edith Whar­ton’s novel­la col­lec­tion Old New York, and the pil­lar of mod­ern dystopi­an lit­er­a­ture that is Yevge­ny Zamy­at­in’s We (in Eng­lish trans­la­tion by Gre­go­ry Zil­boorg). In many works of 1924, we can see the roots of the art we make and enjoy in 2020.

That holds espe­cial­ly true in the realm of film, which this year con­tributes to the pub­lic domain pic­tures from two mas­ters of silent com­e­dy: Harold Lloyd’s Girl Shy and Hot Water, and Buster Keaton’s The Nav­i­ga­tor and Sher­lock, JrThat last film has the hon­or of being pre­served by the Unit­ed States Library of Con­gress for its cul­tur­al sig­nif­i­cance, as well as of hav­ing been named by the Amer­i­can Film Insti­tute one of the fun­ni­est motion pic­tures in Amer­i­can his­to­ry. You can learn more about all that entered the pub­lic domain this year (and what might, but for changes in the law, have entered it) at the Cen­ter for the Study of the Pub­lic Domain and the Pub­lic Domain review. But even more impor­tant than what enters the increas­ing­ly kalei­do­scop­ic melt­ing pot of the pub­lic domain, of course, is what we do with it. Future George Gersh­wins, Thomas Manns, and Buster Keatons, take note.

via Hyper­al­ler­gic

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Gersh­win Plays Gersh­win: Hear the Orig­i­nal Record­ing of Rhap­sody in Blue, with the Com­pos­er Him­self at the Piano (1924)

Ella Fitzger­ald Sings ‘Sum­mer­time’ by George Gersh­win, Berlin 1968

The Gen­er­al, “Per­haps the Great­est Film Ever Made,” and 20 Oth­er Buster Keaton Clas­sics Free Online

Safe­ty Last, the 1923 Movie Fea­tur­ing the Most Icon­ic Scene from Silent Film Era, Just Went Into the Pub­lic Domain

Rare 1940 Audio: Thomas Mann Explains the Nazis’ Ulte­ri­or Motive for Spread­ing Anti-Semi­tism

Based in Seoul, Col­in Mar­shall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, 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.

The History of the Fisheye Photo Album Cover

Like goth­ic script in heavy met­al, the fish­eye album cov­er pho­to seems like a nat­u­ral­ly occur­ring fea­ture of cer­tain psy­che­del­ic strains of music. But it has a his­to­ry, as does the fish­eye pho­to­graph itself. The Vox video above begins in 1906 with Johns Hop­kins sci­en­tist and inven­tor Robert Wood, a some­what eccen­tric pro­fes­sor of opti­cal physics who want­ed to dupli­cate the way fish see the world: “the cir­cu­lar pic­ture,” he wrote, “would con­tain every­thing with­in an angle of 180 degrees in every direc­tion, i.e. a com­plete hemi­sphere.”

Rather than putting them to under­wa­ter use, lat­er sci­en­tists employed Wood’s ideas in astro­nom­i­cal obser­va­tion. Their next stop was the pro­fes­sion­al pho­tog­ra­phy mar­ket: the first mass-pro­duced fish­eye lens, made by Nikon, cost $27,000 in 1957. From aca­d­e­m­ic jour­nals to the pages of Life mag­a­zine: mass media brought fish­eye pho­tog­ra­phy into pop­u­lar cul­ture. An afford­able, con­sumer-grade lens in 1962 brought it with­in the reach of the mass­es. For the way it com­press­es angles, the fish­eye lens “was, and always has been, a handy tool to cap­ture tight quar­ters, as well as huge spaces.”

The fish­eye lens suit­ed the Bea­t­les phe­nom­e­non per­fect­ly, com­press­ing back­stage hall­ways and sta­di­um-sized crowds into the same hyp­not­i­cal­ly cir­cu­lar dimen­sions. “Per­haps its great­est strength was mak­ing rock stars appear larg­er than life.”

The fish­eye pho­to “reflect­ed the trip­pi­ness of the psy­che­del­ic era.” Although one of the ear­li­est uses on an album cov­er was Sam Rivers’ Fuschia Swing Song, it soon adorned the Byrds Mr. Tam­bourine Man and—of course—the cov­er of Jimi Hendrix’s Are You Expe­ri­enced. The icon­ic band pho­to of the Expe­ri­ence, tak­en by graph­ic design­er Karl Fer­ris, inspired hun­dreds of psy­che­del­ic imi­ta­tors.

Fer­ris thought of the fish­eye pho­to with ref­er­ence, again, not to the ocean but the stars: Hendrix’s music, he said, was “so far out that it seemed to come from out­er space.” In order to intro­duce the band to audi­ences who hadn’t heard of them yet, he con­ceived of them as a “group trav­el­ing through space in a Bios­phere on their way to bring their oth­er­world­ly space music to earth.” Insep­a­ra­ble from space trav­el after NASA’s many fish­eye pho­tos of the Apol­lo mis­sions, the fish­eye album cov­er con­tains entire worlds in a sin­gle droplet, and promis­es to trans­port us to the out­er reach­es of sound.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Enter the Cov­er Art Archive: A Mas­sive Col­lec­tion of 800,000 Album Cov­ers from the 1950s through 2018

The Impos­si­bly Cool Album Cov­ers of Blue Note Records: Meet the Cre­ative Team Behind These Icon­ic Designs

Peo­ple Pose in Uncan­ny Align­ment with Icon­ic Album Cov­ers: Dis­cov­er The Sleeve­face Project

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

John Coltrane Talks About the Sacred Meaning of Music in the Human Experience: Listen to One of His Final Interviews (1966)


A few years ago, the ani­mat­ed series Blank on Blank released a video with five min­utes from one of John Coltrane’s last inter­views in 1966, eight months before his death from liv­er can­cer at age 40. In the excerpts, Coltrane tells inter­view­er Frank Kof­sky, a Paci­fi­ca Reporter, about his intu­itive approach to prac­tic­ing, his switch to sopra­no sax, and his desire to “be a force for real good.” As juicy as these tid­bits are for Coltrane fans, the full inter­view, above, is even better—an hour-long encounter with the jazz saint, who opens up to Kof­sky in his relaxed, yet guard­ed way.

Coltrane choos­es his words care­ful­ly. His refusal to elab­o­rate is often its own sub­tle form of expres­sion. Dur­ing their open­ing ban­ter, Kof­sky asks him about see­ing Mal­colm X speak just before the latter’s death. Coltrane calls Mal­colm “impres­sive” and leaves it at that. Kof­sky then asks his first point­ed ques­tion: “Some musi­cians have said that there’s a rela­tion­ship between some of Malcom’s ideas and music, espe­cial­ly the new music. You think there’s any­thing in there?”

Kof­sky had his own rea­sons for push­ing this line. Just a few years lat­er, he pub­lished Black Nation­al­ism and the Rev­o­lu­tion in Music in 1971. The book was reprint­ed with the more spe­cif­ic, less threat­en­ing, title John Coltrane and the Jazz Rev­o­lu­tion of the 1960s. Both ver­sions promi­nent­ly fea­ture Coltrane on the cov­er. “Ded­i­cat­ed to both John Coltrane and Mal­colm X,” notes Soul Jazz Records, the book “places the rev­o­lu­tion­ary ‘new thing’ music and ideas of Coltrane, Albert Ayler and oth­ers in a wider con­text of 60’s rad­i­cal­ism, African Amer­i­can pol­i­tics and his­to­ry.”

An his­to­ri­an and aca­d­e­m­ic who pub­lished sev­er­al books on jazz, Kof­sky isn’t sub­tle about his agen­da, but Coltrane is unwill­ing to be pushed into a polit­i­cal cor­ner, as fans have point­ed out in dis­cus­sions of this inter­view. He wants to embrace every­thing. “I think that music, being an expres­sion of the human heart, or the human being itself,” he says, “does express just what is hap­pen­ing. It express­es the whole thing.” He con­sis­tent­ly refus­es to get drawn into a dis­cus­sion of racial pol­i­tics with Kof­sky.

When they final­ly move on to talk­ing about per­for­mance, the unflap­pable Coltrane stops demur­ring and opens up. We hear him describe his expe­ri­ence of being on stage at one con­cert as “too busy” to know what was hap­pen­ing in the audi­ence, but the right audi­ence can also be, he says, a par­tic­i­pat­ing mem­ber of the group. When Kof­sky again push­es Coltrane on the rela­tion­ship between his music and black nation­al­ism, Coltrane cool­ly replies, “I have con­scious­ly made an attempt to change what I’ve found. In oth­er words, I’ve tried to say, ‘this could be bet­ter, in my opin­ion, so I will try to do this to make it bet­ter.”

Coltrane’s knack for cut­ting to the heart of his purpose—to add to the world with his play­ing, with­out a need to con­trol what hap­pens afterwards—comes through in the entire hour-long inter­view. His ret­i­cence to engage with Kofsky’s analy­sis might have some­thing to do with who was ask­ing the ques­tions, but in any case, there’s no doubt that Coltrane was inte­gral to the fierce, uncom­pro­mis­ing Black Arts poet­ry of the 1970s, and many oth­er polit­i­cal­ly informed move­ments. He was influ­en­tial, how­ev­er, not as the rep­re­sen­ta­tive of an ide­ol­o­gy, but as the inventor—or the ves­sel, he might say—of an entire­ly new form of cre­ative expres­sion.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

An Ani­mat­ed John Coltrane Explains His True Rea­son for Being: “I Want to Be a Force for Real Good”

John Coltrane Per­forms A Love Supreme and Oth­er Clas­sics in Antibes (July 1965)

Itzhak Perlman Appears on Sesame Street and Poignantly Shows Kids How to Play the Violin and Push Through Life’s Limits (1981)

I always cham­pi­on any­thing that will improve the lives of peo­ple with dis­abil­i­ties and put it on the front burn­er. — Itzhak Perl­man

At its best, the Inter­net expands our hori­zons, intro­duc­ing us to new inter­ests and per­spec­tives, forg­ing con­nec­tions and cre­at­ing empa­thy.

The edu­ca­tion­al chil­dren’s series Sesame Street was doing all that decades ear­li­er.

Wit­ness this brief clip from 1981, star­ring vio­lin vir­tu­oso Itzhak Perl­man and a six-year-old stu­dent from the Man­hat­tan School of Music.

For many child—and per­haps adult—viewers, this excerpt pre­sent­ed their first sig­nif­i­cant encounter with clas­si­cal musi­cal and/or dis­abil­i­ty.

The lit­tle girl scam­pers up the steps to the stage as Perl­man, who relies on crutch­es and a motor­ized scoot­er to get around, fol­lows behind, heav­ing a sigh of relief as he low­ers him­self into his seat.

Already the point has been made that what is easy to the point of uncon­scious­ness for some presents a chal­lenge for oth­ers.

Then each takes a turn on their vio­lin.

Perlman’s skills are, of course, unpar­al­leled, and the young girl’s seem pret­ty excep­tion­al, too, par­tic­u­lar­ly to those of us who nev­er man­aged to get the hang of an instru­ment. (She began lessons at 3, and told the Suzu­ki Asso­ci­a­tion of the Amer­i­c­as that her Sesame Street appear­ance with Perl­man was the “high­light of [her] pro­fes­sion­al career.”)

In the near­ly 40 years since this episode first aired, pub­lic aware­ness of dis­abil­i­ty and acces­si­bil­i­ty has become more nuanced, a devel­op­ment Perl­man dis­cussed in a 2014 inter­view with the Wall Street Jour­nal, below.

Hav­ing resent­ed the way ear­ly fea­tures about him invari­ably show­cased his dis­abil­i­ty, he found that he missed the oppor­tu­ni­ty to advo­cate for oth­ers when men­tions dropped off.

Trans­paren­cy cou­pled with celebri­ty pro­vides him with a mighty plat­form. Here he is speak­ing in the East Room of the White House in 2015, on the day that Pres­i­dent Oba­ma hon­ored him with the Medal of Free­dom:

And his col­lab­o­ra­tions with Sesame Street have con­tin­ued through­out the decadesinclud­ing per­for­mances of “You Can Clean Almost Any­thing” (to the tune of Bach’s Par­ti­ta for Solo Vio­lin), “Put Down the Duck­ie,” Pagli­ac­ci’s Vesti la giub­ba (back­ing up Placido Flamin­go), and Beethoven’s Min­uet in G, below.

Read more of Perlman’s thoughts on dis­abil­i­ty, and enroll in his Mas­ter Class here.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Great Vio­lin­ists Play­ing as Kids: Itzhak Perl­man, Anne-Sophie Mut­ter, & More

Philip Glass Com­pos­es Music for a Sesame Street Ani­ma­tion (1979)

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

Ayun Hal­l­i­day is an author, illus­tra­tor, the­ater mak­er and Chief Pri­ma­tol­o­gist of the East Vil­lage Inky zine.  Join her in NYC on Mon­day, Jan­u­ary 6 when her month­ly book-based vari­ety show, Necro­mancers of the Pub­lic Domaincel­e­brates Cape-Cod­di­ties by Roger Liv­ingston Scaife (1920). Fol­low her @AyunHalliday.

Hear Every Sample on the Beastie Boys’ Acclaimed Album, Paul’s Boutique–and Discover Where They Came From

How would the Beast­ie Boys fol­low their debut, Licensed to Ill, won­dered crit­ics when the album rose to num­ber one after its 1986 release. The cross-over appeal of their hip hop/frat rock solid­i­fied a fan base whose devo­tion often mir­rored their par­ents’ revul­sion. Like many of their lat­er imi­ta­tors, the Beast­ie Boys could have played over­grown delin­quents till their fans aged out of the act.

Few crit­ics expect­ed more from them. “Rolling Stone enti­tled their review ‘Three Idiots Cre­ate a Mas­ter­piece’ and gave more cred­it to pro­duc­er Rick Rubin,” writes Colleen Mur­phy at Clas­sic Album Sun­days. Three years lat­er, they far sur­passed expec­ta­tions with their exper­i­men­tal sec­ond album, 1989’s Paul’s Bou­tique, though it took a lit­tle while for the fans to catch up.

It’s a record so dense with allu­sions both musi­cal and lyri­cal, so orig­i­nal in its ver­bal inter­play and com­ic sto­ry­telling, that the Beast­ie Boys were sud­den­ly hailed as seri­ous artists. As Mur­phy puts it:

Paul’s Bou­tique gave the Beast­ie Boys the crit­i­cal acclaim they des­per­ate­ly desired. Rolling Stone maneu­vered a U‑turn and brazen­ly called it, “the Pet Sounds / The Dark Side of the Moon of hip hop.” But more impor­tant­ly, it also earned the group respect with their peers and idols. Miles Davis claimed he nev­er got tired of lis­ten­ing to it, and Pub­lic Enemy’s Chuck D even said, ‘The dirty secret among the Black hip hop com­mu­ni­ty at the time of the release was that Paul’s Bou­tique had the best beats.”

They spat absurd­ly hilar­i­ous rhymes by the dozen in mock epic nar­ra­tives brim­ming with rhyth­mic and melod­ic com­plex­i­ty, thanks to the high-con­cept pro­duc­tion by the Dust Broth­ers. The two pro­duc­ers pieced the album’s sound­scape togeth­er from an esti­mat­ed 150-odd sam­ples, a method that “would be pro­hib­i­tive­ly expen­sive if not impos­si­ble” today, notes Kot­tke. In the video above, you can hear every sam­ple on the album, “from the sound­track to Car Wash to the Sug­arhill Gang to the Eagles to the Ramones to the Bea­t­les.”

For legal and cre­ative rea­sons, noth­ing has ever sound­ed quite like Paul’s Bou­tique (except, per­haps, De La Soul’s Three-Feet High and Ris­ing, a sim­i­lar­ly ground­break­ing, sam­ple-heavy album released the same year). Thir­ty years after it came out, “it’s still not out of the ordi­nary to dis­cov­er some­thing you nev­er heard before across this 15-track odyssey into a thrift sto­ry rack full of weird vinyl,” Bill­board points out in a list of 10 deep cuts sam­pled on the record.

Like every clas­sic album, Paul’s Bou­tique repays end­less re-lis­tens, both for its sur­re­al lyri­cal play­ful­ness and library of musi­cal ref­er­ences. Hear­ing the breadth of sam­ples that built the album dri­ves home how much those two fea­tures are inter­wo­ven. Head over to Kot­tke for more Paul’s Bou­tique good­ies, includ­ing a remix with source tracks and audio com­men­tary and a Spo­ti­fy playlist of all the sam­pled songs.

via Laugh­ing Squid/Kot­tke

Relat­ed Con­tent:

The Beast­ie Boys Release a New Free­wheel­ing Mem­oir, and a Star-Stud­ded 13-Hour Audio­book Fea­tur­ing Snoop Dogg, Elvis Costel­lo, Bette Midler, John Stew­art & Dozens More

Look How Young They Are!: The Beast­ie Boys Per­form­ing Live Their Very First Hit, “Cooky Puss” (1983)

‘Beast­ie Boys on Being Stu­pid’: An Ani­mat­ed Inter­view From 1985

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

Revisiting Band Aid’s Cringe-Inducing 1984 Single, “Do They Know It’s Christmas?”

We all know, don’t we, that the 1984 char­i­ty hit “Do They Know It’s Christ­mas?” qual­i­fies as pos­si­bly the worst Christ­mas song ever record­ed? Does that go too far? The song’s writer, Bob Geld­of, went even fur­ther, once say­ing, “I am respon­si­ble for two of the worst songs in his­to­ry. One is ‘Do They Know It’s Christ­mas?’ and the oth­er one is ‘We Are the World.’”

There’s no objec­tive mea­sure for such a thing, but I’m not inclined to dis­agree, with due respect for the mil­lions Geld­of, co-orga­niz­er and co-pro­duc­er Midge Ure, and British celebri­ty super­group Band Aid raised to feed vic­tims of famine in Ethiopia in the mid-80s. Revis­it­ing the lyrics now, I’m shocked to find they’re even more ridicu­lous and cringe-induc­ing than I remem­bered.

We can quick­ly dis­pense with the absur­di­ty of the title. As an exas­per­at­ed Spo­ti­fy employ­ee help­ful­ly point­ed out recent­ly in a series of anno­ta­tions, “the peo­ple of Ethiopia prob­a­bly did know it was Christmas—it’s one of the old­est Chris­t­ian nations in the world” with a major­i­ty Chris­t­ian pop­u­la­tion.

The song’s aid recip­i­ents are referred to as “the oth­er ones” who live in “a world of dread and fear.” Lis­ten­ers are enjoined to “thank God it’s them instead of you.” And two years after Toto’s “Africa,” Band Aid man­ages to deliv­er the clum­si­est, most ill-informed stan­za per­haps ever writ­ten about the con­ti­nent:

And there won’t be snow in Africa
This Christ­mas time
The great­est gift they’ll get this year is life
Where noth­ing ever grows
No rain or rivers flow
Do they know it’s Christ­mas time at all?

Trou­bling­ly, the song “ped­dles myths about the cause of the famine,” writes Greg Evans at The Inde­pen­dent, “sug­gest­ing it was down to a drought, rather than the cor­rupt gov­ern­ment mis­us­ing inter­na­tion­al aid.”

But it’s Christ­mas, as you prob­a­bly know, so let’s not be too hard on “Do They Know It’s Christ­mas?” The artists who par­tic­i­pat­ed, includ­ing George Michael, Bono, Boy George, Sting, and many oth­ers had a sig­nif­i­cant impact on the enter­tain­ment industry’s role in inter­na­tion­al aid, for good and ill. The song was re-record­ed three times, in 1989, 2004, and 2014, and it has become, believe it or not, “the sec­ond best­selling sin­gle in Britain’s his­to­ry,” Lau­ra June points out at The Out­line.

Evans notes that “a report­ed £200m was raised via sales of the sin­gle which went towards the relief fund and it lat­er went on to inspire the icon­ic Live Aid con­cert in July 1985, which raised a fur­ther £150m.” (Some of that mon­ey, it was lat­er dis­cov­ered, inad­ver­tent­ly made it into the hands of Ethiopia’s cor­rupt gov­ern­ment.) Oth­er ben­e­fit events, like Farm Aid in the U.S., would fol­low Geld­of and Urge’s lead, and the mod­el proved to be an endur­ing way for artists to sup­port caus­es they cared about.

See the unbear­ably earnest orig­i­nal video at the top of the post and, just above, a thir­ty-minute mak­ing of film with a who’s who of mid-1980s British pop roy­al­ty learn­ing to sing “let them know it’s Christ­mas time again” togeth­er.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Stream a Playlist of 68 Punk Rock Christ­mas Songs: The Ramones, The Damned, Bad Reli­gion & More

Stream 22 Hours of Funky, Rock­ing & Swing­ing Christ­mas Albums: From James Brown and John­ny Cash to Christo­pher Lee & The Ven­tures

Hear Paul McCartney’s Exper­i­men­tal Christ­mas Mix­tape: A Rare & For­got­ten Record­ing from 1965

Relive 16 Hours of His­toric Live Aid Per­for­mances with These Big YouTube Playlists: Queen, Led Zep­pelin, Neil Young & Much More

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

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