The Theory of Walter Benjamin, Ludwig Wittgenstein & Sigmund Freud Sung by Kenneth Goldsmith

Goldsmith Benjamin_0

Wal­ter Ben­jamin, Lud­wig Wittgen­stein, and Sig­mund Freud: if these the­o­rists share any qual­i­ty at all, they share a rep­u­ta­tion for not going easy on their read­ers. Each of them wrote in a way that exudes a dif­fer­ent kind of intel­lec­tu­al dif­fi­cul­ty — Ben­jam­in’s sud­den swerves into the zone where high rel­e­vance meets high irrel­e­vance, Wittgen­stein’s aus­tere cer­tain­ty, Freud’s elab­o­rate flights into the near-fan­tas­ti­cal  — but all of their work pos­es a chal­lenge to read­ers approach­ing it for the first time. And so Ken­neth Gold­smith Sings The­o­ry address­es the obvi­ous ques­tion: what if you did­n’t read it, but heard it sung instead?

“What is it about aca­d­e­m­ic the­o­ry that begs to be, well, sung by peo­ple who can’t sing?” asks Gold­smith, poet, prof, UBUweb cre­ator, and WFMU radio host, on the sta­tion’s blog. He cites exam­ples from a punk-rock­i­fied Theodor Adorno to a Finnish eccen­tric’s con­ver­sion of the Trac­ta­tus Logi­co-Philo­soph­i­cus into a song­book, even­tu­al­ly com­ing to his own “adven­tures into the field,” which you can hear in the Pennsound archive. Just above, we have have Gold­smith singing Ben­jam­in’s “Unpack­ing my Library” to music by exper­i­men­tal vio­lin­ist Eyvind Kang [MP3]. “Just as Ben­jamin lists copies of oth­er books and the asso­ci­a­tions they bring,” writes Jacob Edmond at Jacket2, “so Gold­smith copies Ben­jamin, cre­at­ing an idio­syn­crat­ic audio book ver­sion. ”

Wittgen­stein Part 1

Wittgen­stein Part 2

“In his per­for­mance of the text, Gold­smith fus­es pre­cise­ly delin­eat­ed musi­cal sec­tions, or move­ments, with the chaot­ic, shift­ing pitch and tone of his voice, par­al­lel­ing Benjamin’s obser­va­tion in the essay that ‘if there is a coun­ter­part to the con­fu­sion of a library, it is the order of its cat­a­logue.’ ” Can you find sim­i­lar par­al­lels between Gold­smith’s man­ner of singing and the the­o­ry he deliv­ers with it when he per­forms Wittgen­stein’s Philo­soph­i­cal Inves­ti­ga­tions to Igor Stravin­sky [MP3 part one, MP3 part two]? Or below, where he sings Sig­mund Freud’s The Psy­chopathol­o­gy of Every­day Life, start­ing on the pas­sage of the “slips of the tongue” which have pop­u­lar­ly come to bear Freud’s name, to The Who [MP3]? After all, style does­n’t count for much, as such a strik­ing­ly dressed char­ac­ter as Gold­smith knows full well, unless it aligns with sub­stance.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Wal­ter Benjamin’s Mys­ti­cal Thought Pre­sent­ed by Two Exper­i­men­tal Films

Wal­ter Benjamin’s Radio Plays for Kids (1929–1932)

Wittgenstein’s Mas­ter­piece, the Trac­ta­tus Logi­co-Philo­soph­i­cus, Gets Turned into Beau­ti­ful, Med­i­ta­tive Music

Lud­wig Wittgenstein’s Trac­ta­tus Gets Adapt­ed Into an Avant-Garde Com­ic Opera

Sig­mund Freud Speaks: The Only Known Record­ing of His Voice, 1938

Col­in Mar­shall writes on cities, lan­guage, Asia, and men’s style. He’s at work on a book about Los Ange­les, A Los Ange­les Primer, and the video series The City in Cin­e­ma. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall or on Face­book.

Hear Mahler’s 9th Played in 6 Minutes on the Squeezebox by “The Greatest Accordionist in the World”

Theater of the Accordion- William Schimmel

NPR called William Schim­mel “the great­est accor­dion­ist in the world,” and thanks to NPR you can hear Schim­mel at work, tak­ing Gus­tav Mahler’s sprawl­ing Ninth Sym­pho­ny and “squeez­ing this immense musi­cal can­vas down to just 6 1/2 min­utes.” That’s a feat in itself.

Trum­peter Wyn­ton Marsalis makes an appear­ance on the track, which comes from the new­ly-released album, The­ater of the Accor­dion: William Schim­mel. Enjoy.

 

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Amanda Palmer Animates & Narrates Husband Neil Gaiman’s Unconscious Musings

Accord­ing to singer, song­writer and crowed fun­der extra­or­di­naire, Aman­da Palmer, there’s an “epi­dem­ic of mild-man­nered British men who say weird shit in their sleep.”

Her hus­band, author Neil Gaiman, is no excep­tion.

Neil Gaiman is a total weirdo when he’s half asleep. in a GOOD way, usu­al­ly. you know all that cray shit he’s been writ­ing for the past 30 years? it has to come from *some­where*. the guy is a fleshy repos­i­to­ry of sur­re­al strange­ness, and he’s at his best when he’s in the twi­light zone of half-wake­ful­ness. he’s the strangest sleep­er I’ve ever slept with (let’s not get into who I’ve slept with…different ani­ma­tion) not just because of the bizarro things that come out of his mouth when he’s in the gray area, but because he actu­al­ly seems to take on a total­ly dif­fer­ent per­sona when he’s asleep. and when that dude shows up, the wak­ing Neil Gaiman is impos­si­ble to get back, unless you real­ly shout him awake.

She’s made a habit of jot­ting down her husband’s choic­est som­nam­bu­lis­tic mut­ter­ings. One paper­less night, she repaired to the bath­room to recre­ate his noc­tur­nal state­ments on her iPhone’s voice recorder as best she could remem­ber.

As some­one who’s sore­ly tempt­ed to get incon­tro­vert­ible proof of her bedmate’s errat­ic snor­ing pat­terns, I won­der that Palmer wasn’t tempt­ed to hit record mid-rant, and let him hoist him­self on his own petard. Revenge does not seem to be the motive here, though. Palmer uses the device as more of a diary, rarely revis­it­ing what she’s laid down. It’s more process than prod­uct.

That said, when she redis­cov­ered this track, she felt it deserved to be ani­mat­ed, a la the Blank on Blank series. (Brain­Pick­ing’s Maria Popo­va urged her on too.) The ever-game Gaiman report­ed­ly “laughed his head off” at the prospect of get­ting the Janis Joplin found text treat­ment.

The finan­cial sup­port of some 5,369 fans on the artist-friend­ly crowd fund­ing plat­form, Patre­on, allowed Palmer  to secure the ser­vices of ani­ma­tor Avi Ofer, who reen­vi­sioned the cou­ple as a New York­er car­toon of sorts. He also man­aged to squeeze in a deft Lit­tle Prince ref­er­ence.

Per­haps his ser­vices will be called upon again. Gaiman reports that his very preg­nant bride is also prone to non­sen­si­cal sleep talk. (“I want to go danc­ing and i don’t want them to take the sheep, Don’t let them take the sheep.”) Turn­about is fair play.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Neil Gaiman’s Free Short Sto­ries

Where Do Great Ideas Come From? Neil Gaiman Explains

Watch Love­birds Aman­da Palmer and Neil Gaiman Sing “Makin’ Whoopee!” Live

Aman­da Palmer’s Tips for Being an Artist in the Rough-and-Tum­ble Dig­i­tal Age

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

The 10 Commandments of Rock ‘n’ Roll, According to Robert Hunter

roadiessm

In the after­glow of the Grate­ful Dead­’s Fare Thee Well con­certs, we high­light­ed The Anno­tat­ed Grate­ful Dead Lyrics, an online project launched in 1995, which pro­vid­ed edi­to­r­i­al foot­notes explain­ing the ref­er­ences of every orig­i­nal Grate­ful Dead song.

For many of these songs we have Robert Hunter to thank. The major­i­ty of the Dead­’s songs were Robert Hunter/Jerry Gar­cia col­lab­o­ra­tions. Gar­cia com­posed the music, and Hunter, the lyrics. Hunter did­n’t per­form with the group (Gar­cia called him “the band mem­ber who does­n’t come out on stage with us”), but he was an inte­gral part of the group all the same. When the Dead entered the Rock n Roll Hall of Fame in 1994, Robert Hunter was one of the inductees.

Being part of the Grate­ful Dead fam­i­ly, Hunter some­times joined the band on tours, which weren’t always fun and games. As Den­nis McNal­ly, the Dead­’s offi­cial his­to­ri­an, wrote in A Long Strange Trip: The Inside His­to­ry of the Grate­ful Dead, the band, espe­cial­ly as it gained pop­u­lar­i­ty and toured on a big­ger scale, pulled some rough and tum­ble peo­ple into its orbit. The busi­ness man­agers made life dif­fi­cult for the musi­cal purists. And there was dis­sen­sion at times. At one point, writes McNal­ly, Robert Hunter wrote an open let­ter to the band mem­bers, struc­tured as a sar­cas­tic list, which “iden­ti­fies the least-char­i­ta­ble aspects of life in the Grate­ful Dead hier­ar­chy.” It reads as fol­lows:

The Ten Com­mand­ments of Rock & Roll

1. Suck up to the top cats

2. Do not express inde­pen­dent opin­ions.

3. Do not work for com­mon inter­ests, only fac­tion­al inter­ests.

4. If there’s noth­ing to com­plain about, dig up some old gripe.

5. Do not respect prop­er­ty or per­sons oth­er than band prop­er­ty and per­son­nel.

6. Make dev­as­tat­ing judg­ments about per­sons and sit­u­a­tions with­out ade­quate infor­ma­tion.

7. Dis­cour­age and con­found per­son­al, tech­ni­cal, and/or cre­ative projects.

8. Sin­gle out absent per­sons for intense crit­i­cism.

9. Remem­ber that any­thing you don’t under­stand is try­ing to fuck with you.

10 Destroy your­self phys­i­cal­ly and moral­ly and insist that all true broth­ers do like­wise as an expres­sion of uni­ty.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Every Grate­ful Dead Song Anno­tat­ed in Hyper­text: Web Project Reveals the Deep Lit­er­ary Foun­da­tions of the Dead’s Lyrics

The Grate­ful Dead’s “Rip­ple” Played by Musi­cians Around the World

10,173 Free Grate­ful Dead Con­cert Record­ings in the Inter­net Archive

The Grate­ful Dead’s “Ulti­mate Boot­leg” Now Online & Added to the Library of Con­gress’ Nation­al Record­ing Reg­istry

R. Crumb’s Vibrant, Over-the-Top Album Covers (1968–2004)

Cheapthrills

It is sur­pris­ing to me, but a few peo­ple I’ve come across don’t know the name of car­toon­ist Robert Crumb, cult hero of under­ground comics and obscure Amer­i­cana record col­lect­ing. On sec­ond thought, maybe this should­n’t come as such a sur­prise. These are some pret­ty small worlds, after all, pop­u­lat­ed by obses­sive fans and archivists and not always par­tic­u­lar­ly wel­com­ing to out­siders. But Crumb is dif­fer­ent. For all his social awk­ward­ness and hyper-obses­sive­ness, he seems strange­ly acces­si­ble to me. The eas­i­est ref­er­ence for those who’ve nev­er heard of him is Steve Buscemi’s Sey­mour in Ter­ry Zwigof­f’s Ghost World. There’s an obvi­ous trib­ute to Crumb in the char­ac­ter (Zwigoff pre­vi­ous­ly made an R. Crumb doc­u­men­tary), though it’s cer­tain­ly not a one-to-one rela­tion (the film adapts Daniel Clowe’s com­ic of the same name.)

Music Never Stopped

Whether or not Ghost World (or Zwigof­f’s Crumb) rings a bell, there’s still the mat­ter of how to com­mu­ni­cate the lov­able lewd­ness and aggres­sive anachro­nism that is Crum­b’s art. For that one may only need to men­tion Big Broth­er & the Hold­ing Com­pa­ny’s 1968 clas­sic Cheap Thrills (top), the first album cov­er Crumb designed—and which Janis Joplin insist­ed upon over the record com­pa­ny’s objec­tions. With its focus on musi­cians, and its appro­pri­a­tion of hip­pie weird­ness, racist Amer­i­can imagery, and an obses­sion with female pos­te­ri­ors that rivals Sir-Mix-a-Lot’s, the cov­er pret­ty much spans the spec­trum of peren­ni­al Crumb styles and themes. Above, see anoth­er of Crum­b’s cov­ers, for a com­pi­la­tion called The Music Nev­er Stopped: Roots of the Grate­ful Dead, which col­lects such roots and old-school rock and roll artists as Mer­le Hag­gard, Chuck Berry, Bob Dylan, Rev­erend Gary Davis, Howl­in’ Wolf, and more.

Crumb BBKing

 

Though he object­ed to the 1995 assignment—saying to Shanachie Records, “You want all these peo­ple on a CD cov­er? What are they, like, five inch­es across?”—Crumb must have rel­ished the sub­ject. (And he was paid, as per usu­al, in vin­tage 78s.) Next to those pos­te­ri­ors, Crum­b’s true love has always been Amer­i­can roots music—ragtime, swing, old coun­try and blue­grass, Delta coun­try blues—and he has spent a good part of his career illus­trat­ing artists he loves, and those he does­n’t. From famous names like Joplin, Dylan, and B.B. King (above, whose music Crumb said he “did­n’t care for, but I don’t find it that objec­tion­able either”), to much more obscure artists, like Bo Carter, known for his “Please Warm My Wiener,” on the 1974 com­pi­la­tion album below.

Crumb Weiner

Crum­b’s use of racial­ly ques­tion­able and sex­ist imagery—however satirical—has per­haps ren­dered him untouch­able in some cir­cles, and it’s hard to imag­ine many of his album cov­ers pass­ing cor­po­rate muster these days. His recent work has moved toward more straight­for­ward, respect­ful por­trai­ture, like that of King and of Skip James on the best-of below, from a series called “Heroes of the Blues.” (Crumb also illus­trat­ed “Heroes of Jazz” and “Heroes of Coun­try,” as we fea­tured in this post.) See Crum­b’s inim­itable, loos­er por­trait style again fur­ther down in 2002 album art for a group called Hawks and Eagles.

Crumb Skip James

Crumb Hawks and Eagles

Crumb may have shed some of his more unpalat­able ten­den­cies, but he has­n’t lost his las­civ­i­ous edge. How­ev­er, his work has matured over the years, tak­ing on seri­ous sub­jects like the book of Gen­e­sis and the Char­lie Heb­do mas­sacre. For an artist with such pecu­liar per­son­al focus, Crumb is sur­pris­ing­ly ver­sa­tile, but it’s his album cov­ers that com­bine his two great­est loves. “What makes Crum­b’s art so appro­pri­ate for the album sleeve,” writes The Guardian’s Lau­ra Bar­ton, “is its vivid­ness, and its cer­tain oomph; it’s in the min­gling of sex and joy and com­pul­sion, and the vibran­cy and move­ment of his illus­tra­tions.”

Crumb Soundtrack

Crumb has­n’t only com­bined his art with music fan­dom, but also with his own musi­cian­ship, illus­trat­ing cov­ers for sev­er­al of his own albums by his rag­time band Cheap Suit Ser­e­naders. And he even pro­vid­ed the illus­tra­tion for the sound­track to his own doc­u­men­tary, as you can see above—an extreme exam­ple of the many self-abas­ing por­traits Crumb has drawn of him­self over the years. Crum­b’s album cov­er art has been col­lect­ed in a book, and you can see many more of his cov­ers at Rolling Stone and on this list here.

Relat­ed Con­tent: 

R. Crumb’s Heroes of Blues, Jazz & Coun­try Fea­tures 114 Illus­tra­tions of the Artist’s Favorite Musi­cians

A Short His­to­ry of Amer­i­ca, Accord­ing to the Irrev­er­ent Com­ic Satirist Robert Crumb

Car­toon­ist R. Crumb Assess­es 21 Cul­tur­al Fig­ures, from Dylan & Hitch­cock, to Kaf­ka & The Bea­t­les

Ralph Steadman’s Evolv­ing Album Cov­er Designs: From Miles Davis & The Who, to Frank Zap­pa & Slash (1956–2010)      

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

 

Iggy Pop Reads Edgar Allan Poe’s Classic Horror Story, “The Tell-Tale Heart”

My intro­duc­tion to the work of James Newell Oster­berg, Jr, bet­ter known as Iggy Pop, came in the form of “Risky,” a song from Ryuichi Sakamo­to’s Neo Geo album that fea­tured not just singing but spo­ken word from the Stooges’ lead vocal­ist and punk icon. On that track, Pop speaks grim­ly and evoca­tive­ly in the per­sona of a pro­tag­o­nist “born in a cor­po­rate dun­geon where peo­ple are cheat­ed of life,” repeat­ed­ly invok­ing the human com­pul­sion to “climb to this point, move on, climb to this point, move on.” Ulti­mate­ly, he pos­es the ques­tion: “Career, career, acquire, acquire — but what is life with­out a heart?”

Today, we give you Iggy Pop the sto­ry­teller ask­ing what life is with a heart — or rather, one heart too many, unceas­ing­ly remind­ing you of your guilt. He tells the sto­ry, of course, of “The Tell-Tale Heart,” orig­i­nal­ly writ­ten by the Amer­i­can mas­ter of psy­cho­log­i­cal hor­ror Edgar Allan Poe in 1843.

This telling appears on the album Closed on Account of Rabies, which fea­tures Poe’s sto­ries as inter­pret­ed by the likes of Pop, Christo­pher Walken, Deb­bie Har­ry, Mar­i­anne Faith­full and Jeff Buck­ley. We fea­tured it here on Open Cul­ture a few years back, and more recent­ly includ­ed it in our ret­ro­spec­tive of album cov­ers by Ralph Stead­man.

Here, Pop takes on the role of anoth­er nar­ra­tor con­signed to a grim fate, though this one of his own mak­ing. As almost all of us know, if only through cul­tur­al osmo­sis, the tit­u­lar “Tell-Tale Heart,” its beat seem­ing­ly ema­nat­ing from under the floor­boards, unceas­ing­ly reminds this anx­ious char­ac­ter of the fact that he has mur­dered an old man — not out of hatred, not out of greed, but out of sim­ple need stoked, he insists, by the defense­less senior’s “vul­ture-eye.” For over 150 years, read­ers have judged the san­i­ty of the nar­ra­tor of “The Tell-Tale Heart” in any num­ber of ways, but don’t ren­der your own ver­dict until you’ve heard Iggy Pop deliv­er the tes­ti­mo­ny; nobody walks the line between san­i­ty and insan­i­ty quite like he does.

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:

Lou Reed Rewrites Edgar Allan Poe’s “The Raven.” See Read­ings by Reed and Willem Dafoe

Edgar Allan Poe’s “The Raven,” Read by Christo­pher Walken, Vin­cent Price, and Christo­pher Lee

Watch the 1953 Ani­ma­tion of Edgar Allan Poe’s “The Tell-Tale Heart,” Nar­rat­ed by James Mason

Hear a Great Radio Doc­u­men­tary on William S. Bur­roughs Nar­rat­ed by Iggy Pop

Edgar Allan Poe Ani­mat­ed: Watch Four Ani­ma­tions of Clas­sic Poe Sto­ries

Down­load The Com­plete Works of Edgar Allan Poe on His Birth­day

1,000 Free Audio Books: Down­load Great Books for Free

Col­in Mar­shall writes on cities, lan­guage, Asia, and men’s style. He’s at work on a book about Los Ange­les, A Los Ange­les Primer, and the video series The City in Cin­e­ma. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall or on Face­book.

The Women of the Avant-Garde: An Introduction Featuring Audio by Gertrude Stein, Kathy Acker, Patti Smith & More

stein avant garde

The sto­ry of the avant-garde is nev­er just one sto­ry. But it tends to get told that way, and we tend to think we know how mod­ernist and post-mod­ern lit­er­a­ture and music have tak­en shape: through a series of great men who thwart­ed con­ven­tion and remade lan­guage and sound in ways their pre­de­ces­sors nev­er dreamed. Arthur Rim­baud, Claude Debussy, Ezra Pound, T.S. Eliot, Arnold Schoen­berg, John Cage… We could make many such lists, and we do, all the time, occa­sion­al­ly includ­ing the names of a few women—Yoko Ono, for exam­ple, Gertrude Stein, Vir­ginia Woolf….

But we might write it dif­fer­ent­ly, indeed, for the sim­ple rea­son that women have shaped the avant-garde just as much as men have, as promi­nent poets and com­posers, not sim­ply spous­es of famous men or guest stars in a most­ly male revue. You can hear one ver­sion of such a sto­ry here, thanks to Ubuweb, “the learned and vari­etous online repos­i­to­ry” of “all things avant-garde.” Their pod­cast Avant-Garde All the Time offers us two episodes called “The Women of the Avant-Garde,” host­ed by poet Ken­neth Gold­smith, who admits the sur­vey is a cor­rec­tive for the podcast’s own blind spots. Through a small but select num­ber of poets and musi­cians, Gold­smith aims “to show that there are dozens and dozens of great women artists on Ubuweb”—and every­where else art lives.

Instead of a his­to­ry, Gold­smith gives us some­thing of a con­stel­la­tion of artists, many of them clus­tered tight­ly togeth­er in time and space. New York poets, writ­ers, and musi­cians who came of age in the 70s and 80s—Kathy Ack­er, Lydia Lunch, Lau­rie Ander­son, Pat­ti Smith, Eileen Myles—all fea­ture in Goldsmith’s account. Theirs was a time and place the poet Myles has described as “a moment” that was “very uncen­sored and real­ly excit­ed and it just made you feel like there was room for more.”

It’s a moment that saw a revival in the 90s, when riot grrrl arose to chal­lenge the patri­ar­chal estab­lish­ment. Around this time, artists work­ing in a more aca­d­e­m­ic con­text direct­ly and indi­rect­ly engaged with lit­er­ary his­to­ry ancient and mod­ern. Schol­ar and poet Anne Car­son has twist­ed and trans­lat­ed the texts of Ovid, Aeschy­lus, Sopho­cles, and the writ­ers (and trans­la­tors) of the King James Bible. And Ger­man-Nor­we­gian-French exper­i­men­tal poet Car­o­line Bergvall, whom Gold­smith dis­cuss­es in episode one above, rewrote Chaucer and rearranged Dante.

In episode two, Gold­smith reach­es some­what fur­ther back—to Yoko Ono and Denise Lev­er­tov—and far­ther away from New York, with work from Iran­ian poet and film­mak­er Forugh Far­rokhzad. Promi­nent­ly fea­tured in this sec­ond part of the series, and for good rea­son, is fierce patroness of ear­ly twen­ti­eth cen­tu­ry avant-garde art and writ­ing, Gertrude Stein. Stein’s own poet­ry rad­i­cal­ly dis­rupt­ed the accept­ed, and accept­able, codes of speech and writing—setting a prece­dent for sev­er­al decades of fem­i­nist writ­ers and artists whose appear­ance in archives like Ubuweb, Gold­smith notes, increas­ing­ly come to match or out­weigh those of their male coun­ter­parts. Hear Stein read from her own work at anoth­er such archive, PennSound, and vis­it the Poet­ry Foun­da­tion to stream and down­load more episodes of Ubuweb’s Avant-Garde all the Time, includ­ing an episode devot­ed to Stein called “Almost Com­plete­ly Under­stand­ing.”

Relat­ed Con­tent:

74 Essen­tial Books for Your Per­son­al Library: A List Curat­ed by Female Cre­atives

Watch Pat­ti Smith Read from Vir­ginia Woolf, and Hear the Only Sur­viv­ing Record­ing of Woolf’s Voice

Yoko Ono Lets Audi­ence Cut Up Her Clothes in Con­cep­tu­al Art Per­for­mance (Carnegie Hall, 1965)

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

Ralph Steadman’s Evolving Album Cover Designs: From Miles Davis & The Who, to Frank Zappa & Slash (1956–2010)

steadman02

Ralph Stead­man will always best be known—and for good reason—as the visu­al inter­preter of Hunter S. Thompson’s drug­gy gonzo vision of Amer­i­can excess and hubris. As Col­in Mar­shall wrote in a pre­vi­ous post on Stead­man and Thompson’s pow­er­ful col­lab­o­ra­tive rela­tion­ship, it’s hard to imag­ine a more “suit­able visu­al accom­pa­ni­ment to the simul­ta­ne­ous­ly clear- and wild-eyed sen­si­bil­i­ty of Thomp­son­ian prose.” But the British artist has had a long and dis­tin­guished career, pre- and post-Thomp­son: illus­trat­ing Lewis Carroll’s sur­re­al­ist clas­sic Alice in Won­der­land; cre­at­ing lim­it­ed edi­tion DVD cov­ers for the dark cult hit TV show Break­ing Bad; mak­ing bul­let-rid­dled col­lage art with coun­ter­cul­ture hero William S. Bur­roughs…. To name just a few of his off­beat assign­ments over the years.

happy jack steadman

Today we bring you a less­er-known facet of Steadman’s work: design­ing album cov­ers. As artist and illus­tra­tor John Coulthart notes in a post on Steadman’s album designs, he’s been at it since the mid-fifties, when—for example—he illus­trat­ed a release of Con­cep­tion (top), “an under­ap­pre­ci­at­ed mas­ter­piece of cere­bral cool jazz” fea­tur­ing the likes of Miles Davis, Stan Getz, and Son­ny Rollins. Stead­man’s abstract expres­sion­ist-inspired jazz cov­ers soon gave way to more Stead­manesque, though still rel­a­tive­ly tame, cov­ers like that above for The Who’s sin­gle “Hap­py Jack”/“I’ve Been Away” from 1966.

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It’s not until the 70s, however—after he’d begun his col­lab­o­ra­tion with Thompson—that his album cov­ers begin to take on the decid­ed­ly crazed look his work is known for, such as in the cov­er for Paul Bret­t’s Phoenix Future, above, from 1975.

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By 1997, Stead­man seems to have per­fect­ed his inim­itable riot of grotesque imagery, wild col­or palette, and unhinged black lines and let­ter­ing, as in the cov­er for Closed On Account Of Rabies: Poems And Tales Of Edgar Allan Poe, a com­pi­la­tion of Poe read­ings by stars like Christo­pher Walken, Iggy Pop, Mar­i­anne Faith­full, Jeff Buck­ley, and Abel Fer­rara, which we’ve fea­tured on OC before. The artists rep­re­sent­ed here are—as in his work with Thomp­son and Burroughs—perfectly fit­ting for Stead­man’s sen­si­bil­i­ty. So, of course, is the clean-liv­ing but oth­er­wise total­ly bonkers Frank Zap­pa, whose 1997 Have I Offend­ed Some­one? received the Stead­man treat­ment, as you can see below.

zappa steadman

In the past few years, Stead­man has mel­lowed a bit, if you could call it that, and his work has tak­en on a slight­ly more refined char­ac­ter. His Break­ing Bad illus­tra­tions seem restrained by the stan­dards of his work with Thomp­son or Zap­pa. And in a 2010 cov­er for Slash’s first offi­cial sin­gle, “By the Sword,” below, he reigns in some of his wilder graph­ic impuls­es while retain­ing all of the styl­ist sig­na­tures he devel­oped over the decades.

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Stead­man has always been a one-of-a-kind illus­tra­tor. In his album cov­er design, we can per­haps best watch his work evolve. As Coulthart writes, “the style of the ear­ly sleeves is marked­ly dif­fer­ent to the angry, splat­tery cre­ations that made his name, and with­out a sig­na­ture you’d be unlike­ly to recog­nise the artist.” See many more Stead­man album cov­ers over at Coulthart’s excel­lent blog.

via Feuil­leton

Relat­ed Con­tent: 

Break­ing Bad Illus­trat­ed by Gonzo Artist Ralph Stead­man

See Ralph Steadman’s Twist­ed Illus­tra­tions of Alice’s Adven­tures in Won­der­land on the Story’s 150th Anniver­sary

Gun Nut William S. Bur­roughs & Gonzo Illus­tra­tor Ralph Stead­man Make Polaroid Por­traits Togeth­er

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

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