Stream 8,000 Vintage Afropop Recordings Digitized & Made Available by The British Library

Sta­bil­i­ty or cul­tur­al vital­i­ty: many nations seem as if they can only have one or the oth­er. The Repub­lic of Guinea, for instance, has endured quite a tur­bu­lent his­to­ry, yet its musi­cians have also enjoyed roles as “pio­neers in the cre­ation of African pop­u­lar music styles and as the voice of a new Africa.” That’s the view of the Uni­ver­si­ty of Mel­bourne’s Graeme Coun­sel, who over the past decade has made a series of trips to the Guinean cap­i­tal of Conakry on a mis­sion to pre­serve the great vari­ety of music, part of the tra­di­tion now broad­ly labeled “Afropop,” record­ed dur­ing the decades of state-spon­sored cul­tur­al abun­dance after the coun­try gained inde­pen­dence from France in 1958.

“Under the lead­er­ship of music lover Pres­i­dent Ahmed Sék­ou Touré,” writes Hyper­al­ler­gic’s Alli­son Meier, “the gov­ern­ment was soon send­ing out gui­tars, sax­o­phones, and brass instru­ments to 35 state-fund­ed pre­fec­ture orches­tras as part of a new authen­tic­ité pol­i­cy.

This direc­tive encour­aged a cul­tur­al revival that mixed tra­di­tion­al sounds with con­tem­po­rary music, par­tic­u­lar­ly Cuban and Latin rhythms.” The effort had its own record label called Syli­phone, which record­ed and dis­trib­uted this new Guinean music until the mid-1980s, and the pow­er­ful radio sig­nal of Radiod­if­fu­sion Télévi­sion Guinée (RTG) turned lis­ten­ers on to it well beyond the new coun­try’s bor­ders.

Coun­sel, already a col­lec­tor of Syli­phone records, dis­cov­ered dur­ing his PhD research in 2001 that the Guinean gov­ern­ment still held a col­lec­tion of that era’s music (though “a large part of the archive had been destroyed in 1985 when the RTG was bombed by Guinean artillery dur­ing an unsuc­cess­ful coup”). Apply­ing for and receiv­ing, ulti­mate­ly, three rounds of fund­ing from the British Library’s Endan­gered Archives Pro­gramme, he set about dig­i­tiz­ing and cat­a­loging the unex­pect­ed­ly numer­ous and per­haps expect­ed­ly dis­or­ga­nized and poor­ly main­tained reels of mag­net­ic tape he found, work­ing through bureau­crat­ic has­sles, coups d’é­tat, and even a mas­sacre.

“Noth­ing would deter me,” writes Coun­sel in a series of essays (part one, part two, part three) on the project, “not the author­i­ties’ indif­fer­ence towards the sound archive, not the recal­ci­trance of their atti­tudes, nor the tragedies of every­day life in Guinea. Noth­ing.” The fruits of his labors have now become avail­able at the British Library’s online Syli­phone archive, which boasts over 8,000 Guinean Afropop tracks record­ed over 26 years. Meier names among the “leg­endary” music it makes avail­able “the loose rhythms of the Bem­beya Jazz Nation­al, the horn-heavy melodies of the Super Boiro Band, the Latin-influ­enced beats of Orchestre de la Pail­lote, and the all-women Cuban-infused les Ama­zones de Guinée.” Those musi­cians’ names may not ring a bell for you now, but a lit­tle time with the archive will guar­an­tee a long-term inabil­i­ty to get their songs out of your head.

Find the 8,000 record­ings here.

via Hyper­al­ler­gic/Elec­tron­ic Beats

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Every­thing Is Rhythm

New Doc­u­men­tary Brings You Inside Africa’s Lit­tle-Known Punk Rock Scene

The Alan Lomax Sound Archive Now Online: Fea­tures 17,000 Blues & Folk Record­ings

Based in Seoul, Col­in Mar­shall writes and broad­casts on cities and cul­ture. He’s at work on a book about Los Ange­les, A Los Ange­les Primer, the video series The City in Cin­e­ma, the crowd­fund­ed jour­nal­ism project Where Is the City of the Future?, and the Los Ange­les Review of Books’ Korea Blog. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall or on Face­book.

Icelandic Folk Singers Break Into an Impromptu Performance of a 13th Century Hymn in a Train Station, and It’s Delightful

Ice­landic folk group Árstíðir know a good acoustic cathe­dral when they see one, even when it’s in a train sta­tion. In the above video, the sex­tet was return­ing from a con­cert in Wup­per­tal, Ger­many, when they were struck by the acoustic prop­er­ties of this one sec­tion of the train ter­mi­nal.

Indeed, this was a fine place to stop and offer a spe­cial encore to their show, a per­for­mance of the ear­ly 13th cen­tu­ry Ice­landic hymn “Heyr him­na smiður” (“Hear, Smith of Heav­ens”) by Kol­beinn Tuma­son.

Hear­ing this music strips away the con­crete and the indus­tri­al rev­o­lu­tion and we are sud­den­ly back in the mists of time…even when the tan­noy speak­ers in the back­ground announce a train depar­ture. In fact, it just adds anoth­er lay­er of atmos­phere to this beau­ti­ful work. The sparse crowd stops and just lis­tens. It’s a beau­ti­ful video that has earned over six mil­lion views in the near­ly four years it has been online.

Com­pos­er Kol­beinn Tuma­son is best known for this hymn–you can see a trans­la­tion of the lyrics here–and was both a deeply reli­gious man and one of the most pow­er­ful chief­tains in Ice­land. He met his mak­er at age 34 in a bat­tle between reli­gious and sec­u­lar clans, where his head was bashed in by a rock. Still, the his­to­ry goes, he held on long enough to write this hymn on his deathbed, and it remains an oft-per­formed work.

Hope­ful­ly no such bat­tle­field fate awaits the group Árstíðir, who formed in Reyk­javik in 2008 and con­tin­ue to per­form, though their style is clos­er to Fleet Fox­es than this 13th cen­tu­ry times­lip might indi­cate.

Look­ing for free, pro­fes­­sion­al­­ly-read audio books from Audible.com? Here’s a great, no-strings-attached deal. If you start a 30 day free tri­al with Audible.com, you can down­load two free audio books of your choice. Get more details on the offer here.

via Atlas Obscu­ra

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Learn What Old Norse Sound­ed Like, with UC Berkeley’s “Cow­boy Pro­fes­sor, Dr. Jack­son Craw­ford

Wear­able Books: In Medieval Times, They Took Old Man­u­scripts & Turned Them into Clothes

The Mys­ti­cal Poet­ry of Rumi Read By Til­da Swin­ton, Madon­na, Robert Bly & Cole­man Barks

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.

Hear a Rare Poetry Reading by Captain Beefheart (1993)

When I find myself in times of musi­cal trou­ble, Cap­tain Beef­heart comes to me. His Mar­cel Duchamp-meets-James Brown shtick goes places no oth­er exper­i­men­tal prog-blues-jazz artist ever has—places of absur­dist vir­tu­os­i­ty where the gap between the artist and the mask dis­ap­pears, where words and music have rela­tion­ships that defy phys­i­cal laws. Many have tried, but few have so well suc­ceed­ed in the wild ambi­tion to make sur­re­al­ist verse cohere in songs that defy all tra­di­tion­al arrange­ments. For my exper­i­men­tal rock dime, no one has mas­tered the art so well as Beef­heart and his Mag­ic Band.

In fact, every musi­cian, I believe, should some­times ask them­selves, “what would Cap­tain Beef­heart do?” But what about Beefheart’s rela­tion­ship with the oth­er arts? We prob­a­bly know that the man also named Don Van Vli­et was a pro­lif­ic abstract painter through­out his career, the medi­um he chose for the last 28 years of his life after he hung up his sax­o­phone in 1982. But did his “strange uncle of post-punk” musi­cal sen­si­bil­i­ties trans­late into poet­ry, a relat­ed but quite dif­fer­ent art than that of even the most abstract song­writ­ing?

Well, if Bob Dylan can win a Nobel Prize—and why not?—I see no rea­son why we can’t con­sid­er the work of Cap­tain Beef­heart lit­er­ary art. And in addi­tion to his extra­or­di­nary Dadaist songs, Beef­heart penned restrained, mas­ter­ful­ly imag­is­tic poems with wry humor and crys­talline intel­li­gence. His work sure­ly belongs in Alan Kaufman’s Out­law Bible of Amer­i­can Poet­ry right next to that of Dylan, Tom Waits, Pat­ti Smith, Tupac Shakur, Gil Scott-Heron, Jim Mor­ri­son, the Beats, and dozens more non-musi­cal writ­ers. But it seems that Beefheart’s lit­er­ary genius has been most­ly over­looked.

That’s unfor­tu­nate. In tense, vivid­ly observed poems like “A Tin Peened Rein­deer,” he approach­es the ellip­ti­cal mys­tery of Wal­lace Stevens and the baroque lan­guage of John Ash­bery. Late songs like “The Thou­sandth and Tenth Day of the Human Totem Pole” con­dense the grotesque imag­i­nary of Dali into a few stag­ger­ing lines. Yet we don’t get a col­lec­tion of Beef­heart read­ings until 1993, when he appeared in a short doc­u­men­tary by Anton Cor­bi­jn called Some Yo Yo Stuff.

You can watch that film at the top of the post, and in the videos below it, hear Van Vli­et read poems and song lyrics in record­ings from his time with Cor­bi­jn. Both in the film and in the read­ings, it is evi­dent that the mul­ti­ple scle­ro­sis that killed Beef­heart in 2010 had ren­dered speech dif­fi­cult for him. But with patient lis­ten­ing, we hear that his sparkling wit and absur­dist genius remained at full strength, as in anoth­er, long 1993 inter­view with Dutch radio host Co De Kloet.

Beef­heart earned a rep­u­ta­tion as an auto­crat­ic-yet-capri­cious band­leader (record­ing a tongue-in-cheek spo­ken word piece on the sub­ject in ear­li­er years). But in inter­views, he came across as hum­ble, sweet-tem­pered, and gen­tle, and as an artist whose work was an authen­tic out­growth of his per­son­al­i­ty. These qual­i­ties shine through in even the goofi­est, most out-there poems and lyrics.

Fur­ther up, hear Beef­heart read the poems and songs “Fallin’ Ditch,” “The Tired Plain,” “Skele­ton Makes Good,” “Safe Sex Drill,” and “Gill,” and in the playlist below, he reads all of those plus his poem, “Tulip,” a short mod­ernist gem rem­i­nis­cent of both Ezra Pound and William Car­los Williams:

It could be
a tremen­dous black upside-down tulip
it could be
a black fish­es’ tail
it could be a day, artis­ti­cal­ly crimped
and buoy­ant
in its taped togeth­er way

Cap­tain Beef­heart’s poems will be added to our col­lec­tion, 1,000 Free Audio Books: Down­load Great Books for Free.

via Ubuweb

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Cap­tain Beef­heart Issues His “Ten Com­mand­ments of Gui­tar Play­ing”

The Night Frank Zap­pa Jammed With Pink Floyd … and Cap­tain Beef­heart Too (Bel­gium, 1969)

Hear Pat­ti Smith Read 12 Poems From Sev­enth Heav­en, Her First Col­lec­tion (1972)

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

Watch Leonard Bernstein Conduct the Vienna Philharmonic Using Only His Eyebrows

Per­haps you’ll recall the episode from Sein­feld when Bob Cobb, a con­duc­tor for The Police Orches­tra, insists that every­one call him “mae­stro”–and only “mae­stro.” The pre­ten­tious­ness of the sug­ges­tion makes for some good com­e­dy, that’s for sure.

But occa­sion­al­ly the hon­orif­ic title is fit­ting. Here’s one such instance. Above, watch Leonard Bern­stein con­duct the Vien­na Phil­har­mon­ic Orches­tra, lead­ing them through Haydn’s Sym­pho­ny No. 88 … with only his eye­brows and small facial ges­tures. No baton, thank you. A mae­stro indeed.

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:

Leonard Bernstein’s Mas­ter­ful Lec­tures on Music (11+ Hours of Video Record­ed at Har­vard in 1973)

Hear What is Jazz?: Leonard Bernstein’s Intro­duc­tion to the Great Amer­i­can Art Form (1956)

Leonard Bern­stein Demys­ti­fies the Rock Rev­o­lu­tion for Curi­ous (if Square) Grown-Ups in 1967

Bach’s Most Famous Organ Piece Played on Wine Glasses

Robert Tiso takes stemmed wine glass­es and turns them into a mag­i­cal musi­cal instrument–or what he calls the “glass harp.” As his web­site explains, “each glass is tuned by adding a pre­cise amount of water (watch a tuto­r­i­al here), while the sound is pro­duced by rub­bing the fin­ger­tips around the rims, sim­u­lat­ing the fric­tion of a vio­lin bow.” Above you can watch him play Bach’s “Toc­ca­ta and Fugue in D minor” (BWV 565), the free sheet music for which you can find here. And if you head over to Tiso’s YouTube chan­nel, you can watch him tack­le Rav­el, Tchaikovsky, Beethoven, Pachel­bel, and much more. Enjoy.

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!

via @WFMU

Relat­ed Con­tent:

All of Bach is Putting Bach’s Com­plete Works Online: 150 Done, 930 to Come

Down­load the Com­plete Organ Works of J.S. Bach for Free

JS Bach’s The Well-Tem­pered Clavier Artis­ti­cal­ly Ani­mat­ed with Puls­ing Neon Lights

Down­load the Com­plete Organ Works of J.S. Bach for Free

Hamilton’s Lin-Manuel Miranda Creates a Playlist of Protest Music for Our Troubled Times

Pho­to by Steve Jurvet­son, via Flickr Com­mons

In 1992 Ice‑T’s met­al band Body Count mas­tered the art of shock pol­i­tics when the song “Cop Killer” put them “at the cen­tre of a nation­al out­rage.” But their polit­i­cal feroc­i­ty may have seemed much dimin­ished when, in 2015, they released a tongue-in-cheek update of Sui­ci­dal Ten­den­cies’ “Insti­tu­tion­al­ized” in which Ice‑T rails against his wife, bad tech sup­port, and an inter­rupt­ed ham sand­wich while on the set of Law & Order.

The past year’s events have jolt­ed Body Count back into fight­ing form. Their recent release “No Lives Mat­ter” com­bines top­i­cal social cri­tique with “Cop Killer”-style con­fronta­tion in a pum­mel­ing track rem­i­nis­cent of anoth­er 90s rap-met­al activist stal­wart. Ice‑T may have moved on from L.A. gang life to com­fort­able TV star­dom, but few would deny him his street cred or his con­tin­ued abil­i­ty to size up the sit­u­a­tion of the Amer­i­can under­class.

Anoth­er rap­per-slash-actor (slash-poet-slash-com­pos­er) has entered the world of protest music from a decid­ed­ly dif­fer­ent sphere. Now inter­na­tion­al­ly famous for his musi­cal Hamil­ton, Lin-Manuel Miranda’s work doesn’t speak truth to pow­er as much as it makes pow­er speak its truth. Hamil­ton, writes Mary Grace Garis at Bus­tle, “is a sear­ing reminder that Amer­i­ca is very much found­ed by immi­grants fac­ing per­se­cu­tion, and that our free­dom, like­wise, was fought for by immi­grants.”

Their musi­cal venues and polit­i­cal visions may span a wide Venn dia­gram, but like Body Count’s lat­est, Hamil­ton draws on both con­tem­po­rary polit­i­cal rhetoric and music from the hey­day of “con­scious” hip-hop and alter­na­tive. Miran­da has wide­ly shared his influ­ences in his HAMthol­o­gy Playlist, and he remade sev­er­al of the show’s songs with some of his idols on The Hamil­ton Mix­tape. Con­tin­u­ing his cura­to­r­i­al role, and hav­ing “learned how to use the Spo­ti­fy thingy on my day off,” Miran­da now brings his fans the playlist above, which he calls “Rise Up Eyes Up Wise Up.”

The new mix begins with The Hamil­ton Mix­tape’s “Immi­grants (We Get the Job Done)” and moves on to a thor­ough­ly eclec­tic but SFW mix of Green Day, Tal­ib Kweli, Regi­na Spek­tor, Bob Dylan, Ruben Blades, and many oth­ers. It’s down­tem­po protest music, overall—no Body Count or Rage Against the Machine. Even Green Day’s entry is a bal­lad, “Are We the Wait­ing” from Amer­i­can Idiot. But then again, Hamil­ton’s fans often tend toward the down­tem­po end of the spec­trum. Let a thou­sand protest songs bloom, I say.

Miran­da announced the playlist on a new Twit­ter account, where he’s received a cou­ple hun­dred replies, includ­ing one from a fan who put the mix on Google Play. For those so inspired to revis­it or hear for the first time Hamil­ton’s reimag­in­ing of the Amer­i­can exper­i­ment, find the orig­i­nal cast record­ing below. If you need Spo­ti­fy’s free soft­ware, down­load it here.

via Bus­tle

Relat­ed Con­tent:

A Whiskey-Fueled Lin-Manuel Miran­da Reimag­ines Hamil­ton as a Girl on Drunk His­to­ry

Alexan­der Hamil­ton: Hip-Hop Hero at the White House Poet­ry Evening

“Alexan­der Hamil­ton” Per­formed with Amer­i­can Sign Lan­guage

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

Japanese Priest Tries to Revive Buddhism by Bringing Techno Music into the Temple: Attend a Psychedelic 23-Minute Service

Many reli­gious lead­ers would like to liv­en up their ser­vices to attract a younger, hip­per flock, but few have the nec­es­sary back­ground to pull it off in a tru­ly impres­sive way. Not so for the Japan­ese Bud­dhist priest Gyōsen Asaku­ra, who answered the high­er call­ing after a career as a DJ but evi­dent­ly nev­er lost his feel for the unstop­pable pulse of elec­tron­ic music. Get­ting behind his decks and don­ning his head­phones once again, he has begun using sound, light, and the orig­i­nal splen­dor of Fukui City’s Shō-onji tem­ple to hold “tech­no memo­r­i­al ser­vices.” You can see and hear a bit of one such audio­vi­su­al spir­i­tu­al spec­ta­cle in the video just above, shot at a memo­r­i­al ser­vice last fall.

“Bud­dhism may be approach­ing some­thing of a cri­sis point in Japan,” reports Bud­dhist­door’s Craig Lewis, “with 27,000 of the country’s 77,000 Bud­dhist tem­ples fore­cast to close over the next 25 years, reflect­ing shrink­ing pop­u­la­tions in small rur­al com­mu­ni­ties and a loss of faith in orga­nized reli­gion among the country’s pop­u­la­tion as a whole.”

He also sites an Asahi Shim­bun sur­vey that found 434 tem­ples closed over the past decade and 12,065 Japan­ese Bud­dhist tem­ples cur­rent­ly with­out res­i­dent monks. Can this tem­ple in a small city, itself known for its phoenix-like rise from the ash­es of the Sec­ond World War, do its part to reverse the trend?

Gyōsen Asaku­ra frames his tech­no memo­r­i­al ser­vices, how­ev­er incon­gru­ous they might at first seem, as in keep­ing with the tra­di­tions of his branch of Pure Land Bud­dhism. “Orig­i­nal­ly, gold­en dec­o­ra­tions in the tem­ple are expres­sions of par­adise light,” he told THUMP. “How­ev­er, the light of a tra­di­tion­al tem­ple has not changed its form from 1000 years ago to use can­dle­light, even after elec­tric­i­ty was invent­ed. I felt doubt­ful about that, and then I thought about express­ing par­adise with the lat­est stage light­ing such as 3D map­ping.”

After all, as he said to Japankyo, “peo­ple used to use the most advanced tech­nolo­gies avail­able to them at the time in order to orna­ment tem­ples with gold leaf,” so why not har­ness today’s tech­nol­o­gy to evoke the Bud­dhist “world of light” as well? And in any case, ecsta­t­ic sen­so­ry expe­ri­ences are noth­ing new in the realm of faith, though ecsta­t­ic sen­so­ry expe­ri­ences of Gyōsen Asaku­ra’s kind do cost mon­ey to put togeth­er. And so he, in the way of most reli­gious projects the world over, has asked for dona­tions to fund them, using not a bowl but the crowd­fund­ing site Ready­for. Judg­ing by 383,000 yen (more than $3300 U.S. dol­lars) he’s already raised, quite a few tech­no-heads have seen the light.

via Elec­tron­ic Beats

Relat­ed Con­tent:

The “Amen Break”: The Most Famous 6‑Second Drum Loop & How It Spawned a Sam­pling Rev­o­lu­tion

Edward Snow­den & Jean-Michel Jarre Record a Tech­no Protest Song, “Exit”

Hear the Great­est Hits of Isao Tomi­ta (RIP), the Father of Japan­ese Elec­tron­ic Music

Based in Seoul, Col­in Mar­shall writes and broad­casts on cities and cul­ture. He’s at work on a book about Los Ange­les, A Los Ange­les Primer, the video series The City in Cin­e­ma, the crowd­fund­ed jour­nal­ism project Where Is the City of the Future?, and the Los Ange­les Review of Books’ Korea Blog. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall or on Face­book.

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!

Rufus Harley, the First Jazz Musician to Make the Bagpipes His Main Instrument, Performs on I’ve Got a Secret (1966)

Musi­cian Rufus Harley did the peo­ple of Scot­land a great favor when he took up the bag­pipes. Like the Loch Ness Mon­ster and hag­gis, out­side its coun­try of ori­gin, the nation­al instru­ment has evolved into a hack­neyed punch­line.

What bet­ter, more unex­pect­ed ambas­sador for its expand­ed pos­si­bil­i­ties than a cer­ti­fied Amer­i­can jazz cat?

He cer­tain­ly stumped the all-white celebri­ty pan­el when he appeared on Steve Allen’s pop­u­lar TV game show, “I’ve Got a Secret” in 1966.

Politi­cian and for­mer Miss Amer­i­ca Bess Myer­son’s open­ing ques­tion feels a bit impolitic from a 50 year remove:

Is it how well you play it that’s unusu­al?

“Yes, def­i­nite­ly,” Harley agrees.

Hav­ing quick­ly sussed out that the instru­ment in ques­tion is a wood­wind, the pan­el cycles through a list of can­di­dates — flute?

Oboe?

Clar­inet?

No?

A…sweet pota­to?

Once they start bat­ting around sax­o­phones, Allen issues a brisk cor­rec­tive:

He wouldn’t be here tonight if he, you know, just played the sax­o­phone and that was his secret because that wouldn’t be too good a secret. 

Point tak­en.

Some­thing tells me a white guy in a suit and a tie would have elicit­ed less won­der from the pan­el upon the rev­e­la­tion that the instru­ment they failed to guess was the bag­pipes.

On the oth­er hand, here is a per­son of col­or com­mand­ing atten­tion and respect on nation­al tele­vi­sion in 1966, two days after the Black Pan­ther Par­ty was offi­cial­ly found­ed.

Harley had had pro­fes­sion­al train­ing in the sax­o­phone, oboe, trum­pet and flute, but as a bag­piper he was self-taught. As the com­ments on the video above demon­strate, his unortho­dox han­dling of the instru­ment con­tin­ues to con­found more tra­di­tion­al pipers. No mat­ter. The sounds he coaxed out of that thing are unlike any­thing you’re like­ly to hear on the bon­ny, bon­ny banks of Loch Lomond.

At the end of the seg­ment, Harley joined his back up musi­cians onstage for a live, Latin-inflect­ed cov­er of “Feel­ing Good.”

Spo­ti­fy lis­ten­ers can enjoy more of Harley’s dis­tinc­tive pip­ing here.

And just for fun, check out this list of bag­pipe terms.There’s more to this instru­ment than its asso­ci­a­tion with Groundskeep­er Willy might sug­gest.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Hear What is Jazz?: Leonard Bernstein’s Intro­duc­tion to the Great Amer­i­can Art Form (1956)

A Young Frank Zap­pa Turns the Bicy­cle into a Musi­cal Instru­ment on The Steve Allen Show (1963)

John Cage Per­forms Water Walk on US Game Show I’ve Got a Secret (1960)

Ayun Hal­l­i­day is an author, illus­tra­tor, and the­ater mak­er whose lat­est play, Zam­boni Godot, is open­ing in New York City on March 2. Fol­low her @AyunHalliday.

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