Neil Young’s New Album, The Monsanto Years, Now Streaming Free Online (For a Limited Time)

The Monsanto Years
A quick heads up: Neil Young’s 36th stu­dio album, The Mon­san­to Years, is now stream­ing for free online thanks to NPR’s First Lis­ten web site:

The album can also be pre-ordered as a CD on Ama­zon, or bought in dig­i­tal for­mat from the Pono music store (which pre-sup­pos­es that you have one of Neil’s Pono music play­ers.)

About the new album, NPR has this to say:

Here, we have a series of taut and stone-sim­ple Neil Young songs that fit togeth­er under a catchall con­cept (about com­pa­nies wield­ing extra­or­di­nary influ­ence over many aspects of our qual­i­ty of life), each pow­ered by its own sup­ply of right­eous fury. Enjoy­ment of it prob­a­bly depends less on whether you agree with Young’s posi­tions than on how much tol­er­ance you have for a mantra, repeat­ed fre­quent­ly, using the three syl­la­bles that make up the trade name Mon­san­to. It also helps to like your harangues set to three-chord rock and expressed through tri­adic melodies. This is not sub­tle, Har­vest Moon Neil, brood­ing at the piano. This is ornery, snarly Neil.

Mean­while, if you actu­al­ly do side with Neil’s polit­i­cal posi­tions, you’ll prob­a­bly find some amuse­ment in today’s news that Young, hav­ing blast­ed Don­ald Trump for using his 1989 song “Rockin’ in the Free World,” turned around and gave Bernie Sanders free license to use the song. And that he did.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Neil Young Busk­ing in Glas­gow, 1976: The Sto­ry Behind the Footage

Great Sto­ry: How Neil Young Intro­duced His Clas­sic 1972 AlbumHar­vest to Gra­ham Nash

Miles Davis Opens for Neil Young and “That Sor­ry-Ass Cat” Steve Miller at The Fill­more East (1970)

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Hear Seven Hours of Women Making Electronic Music (1938–2014)

seven hours of women making music

Image via Flickr Com­mons

Two years ago, in a post on the pio­neer­ing com­pos­er of the orig­i­nal Doc­tor Who theme, we wrote that “the ear­ly era of exper­i­men­tal elec­tron­ic music belonged to Delia Der­byshire.” Derbyshire—who almost gave Paul McCart­ney a ver­sion of “Yes­ter­day” with an elec­tron­ic back­ing in place of strings—helped invent the ear­ly elec­tron­ic music of the six­ties through her work with the Radio­phon­ic Work­shop, the sound effects lab­o­ra­to­ry of the BBC. She went on to form one of the most influ­en­tial, if large­ly obscure, elec­tron­ic acts of the decade, White Noise. And yet, call­ing the ear­ly eras of the elec­tron­ic music hers is an exag­ger­a­tion. Of course her many col­lab­o­ra­tors deserve men­tion, as well as musi­cians like Bruce Haack, Pierre Hen­ry, Kraftwerk, Bri­an Eno, and so many oth­ers. But what gets almost com­plete­ly left out of many his­to­ries of elec­tron­ic music, as with so many oth­er his­to­ries, is the promi­nent role so many women besides Der­byshire played in the devel­op­ment of the sounds we now hear all around us all the time.

In recog­ni­tion of this fact, musi­cian, DJ, and “escaped housewife/schoolteacher” Bar­bara Gold­en devot­ed two episodes of her KPFA radio pro­gram “Crack o’ Dawn” to women in elec­tron­ic music, once in 2010 and again in 2013. She shares each broad­cast with co-host Jon Lei­deck­er (“Wob­bly”), and in each seg­ment, the two ban­ter in casu­al radio show style, offer­ing his­to­ry and con­text for each musi­cian and com­pos­er. Recent­ly high­light­ed on Ubu’s Twit­ter stream, the first show, “Women in Elec­tron­ic Music 1938–1982 Part 1” (above) gives Der­byshire her due, with three tracks from her, includ­ing the Doc­tor Who theme.

It also includes music from twen­ty one oth­er com­posers, begin­ning with Clara Rock­more, a refin­er and pop­u­lar­iz­er of the theremin, that weird instru­ment designed to sim­u­late a high, tremu­lous human voice. Also fea­tured is Wendy Carlos’s “Timesteps,” an orig­i­nal piece from her A Clock­work Orange score. (You’ll remem­ber her enthralling syn­the­siz­er recre­ations of Beethoven’s 9th Sym­pho­ny from the film).

The sec­ond show, above, fills in sev­er­al gaps in the orig­i­nal broad­cast and “could eas­i­ly be six hours” says co-host Lei­deck­er, giv­en the sheer amount of elec­tron­ic music out there com­posed and record­ed by women over the past sev­en­ty years. This show includes one of our host Golden’s own com­po­si­tions, “Melody Sum­n­er Car­na­han,” as well as music from Lau­rie Ander­son and musique con­crete com­pos­er Doris Hays. These two broad­casts alone cov­er an enor­mous range of styl­is­tic and tech­no­log­i­cal ground, but for even more disco­graph­i­cal his­to­ry of women in elec­tron­ic music, see the playlist below, com­piled by “Nerd­girl” Antye Greie-Ripat­ti for Women’s Day, 2014. Com­mis­sioned by Club Trans­me­di­ale Berlin, the mix includes such well-known names as Yoko Ono, Bjork, and M.I.A., as well as fore­moth­ers Der­byshire and Car­los, and dozens more.

In lieu of the radio-show chat­ter of Gold­en and Lei­deck­er, we have Greie-Ripatti’s post detail­ing each artist’s time peri­od, coun­try of ori­gin, and con­tri­bu­tions to elec­tron­ic music his­to­ry. Many of the com­posers rep­re­sent­ed here worked for major radio and film stu­dios, scored fea­ture films (like 1956’s For­bid­den Plan­et), invent­ed and inno­vat­ed new instru­ments and tech­niques, wrote for orches­tras, and passed on their knowl­edge as edu­ca­tors and pro­duc­ers. Greie-Ripatti’s page quotes a Dan­ish elec­tron­ic pro­duc­er and per­former say­ing “there is a lot of women in elec­tron­ic music… invis­i­ble women.” Thanks to efforts like hers and Golden’s, these pio­neer­ing cre­ators need no longer go unseen or, more impor­tant­ly, unheard.

via Ubuweb

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Meet the Dr. Who Com­pos­er Who Almost Turned The Bea­t­les’ “Yes­ter­day” Into Ear­ly Elec­tron­i­ca

Mr. Rogers Intro­duces Kids to Exper­i­men­tal Elec­tron­ic Music by Bruce Haack & Esther Nel­son (1968)

Thomas Dol­by Explains How a Syn­the­siz­er Works on a Jim Hen­son Kids Show (1989)

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

Hear Ornette Coleman Collaborate with Lou Reed, Which Lou Called “One of My Greatest Moments”

Sax­o­phon­ist Ornette Cole­man died yes­ter­day at age 85, leav­ing behind one of jaz­z’s most inter­est­ing and illus­tri­ous lega­cies. Cole­man strode into the fifties and six­ties with a hand­ful of van­guard artists—Miles Davis, John Coltrane, Dave Brubeck—and, as the New York Times writes, “widened the options in jazz.” This meant tak­ing jazz places it had not been before, even­tu­al­ly into the psy­che­del­ic jams on Cole­man’s 1971 Sci­ence Fic­tion album, which fea­tures one track with “a ‘Pur­ple Haze’-styled bassline through a wah-wah ped­al,” Jaz­zTimes wrote in 2000, while “Ornette over­dubs on trum­pet and vio­lin and Dewey Red­man wails on musette over Ed Black­well’s inim­itable groove.” The track “Hap­py House” seems to bend space and time in new direc­tions, pair­ing two trum­pet play­ers and two drummers—one for each ear in stereo record­ing.

Cole­man’s free form will­ing­ness to exper­i­ment made him a sought after col­lab­o­ra­tor (at least once against his will) with artists who also bent, or invent­ed, their own genre bound­aries. Thir­ty-two years after Sci­ence Fic­tion, Cole­man made an appear­ance on the 2003 Edgar Allan Poe-trib­ute The Raven, a late album by Lou Reed, the pio­neer­ing artist who took pop and R&B down a dark, psy­che­del­ic path.

The result­ing col­lab­o­ra­tion, which you can hear at the top of the post, just bare­ly holds togeth­er in a gospel/free jazz/funk groove that hyp­no­tizes even as it bewil­ders lis­ten­ers, giv­ing us an ensem­ble of musi­cians each hear­ing slight­ly dif­fer­ent rhythms and tim­bres in the repet­i­tive drone of Reed’s lead vocal.

Reed was excit­ed about Cole­man’s con­tri­bu­tion, writ­ing on his web­site, “THIS IS ONE OF MY GREATEST MOMENTS.” The jazz great “did sev­en versions—all dif­fer­ent and all amaz­ing and won­drous.” You can hear four above. “Each take,” Reed explains, “is Ornette play­ing against a dif­fer­ent instrument—ie drum, gui­tar 1 gui­tar 2 etc. Lis­ten to this!!!” And lis­ten you should. Try to fig­ure out which of the sev­en takes made the album ver­sion above. Then lis­ten to them again. Then read this inter­view between Jacques Der­ri­da and Cole­man in which he explains how he came to devel­op his sin­u­ous style, one writes the New York Times Ben Ratliff, less behold­en to the rules of har­mo­ny and rhythm” and more in tune with “an intu­itive, col­lec­tive musi­cal lan­guage.”

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Philoso­pher Jacques Der­ri­da Inter­views Jazz Leg­end Ornette Cole­man: Talk Impro­vi­sa­tion, Lan­guage & Racism (1997)

Charles Min­gus Explains in His Gram­my-Win­ning Essay “What is a Jazz Com­pos­er?”

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

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

The Sex Pistols’ 1976 Manchester “Gig That Changed the World,” and the Day the Punk Era Began

“Ever get the feel­ing you’ve been cheat­ed?”

John­ny Rot­ten aka John Lydon’s clos­ing words at the last Sex Pis­tols gig (watch it online) seemed apt this week when Vir­gin Bank announced their cur­rent line of cred­it cards would fea­ture the band’s sig­na­ture art­work. That Jamie Reid’s famous cut-n-paste zine-cum-Sit­u­a­tion­al­ist aes­thet­ic has turned into a bit of cap­i­tal­ist plas­tic for your wal­let is an irony that the Sex Pis­tols might nev­er have seen com­ing back in 1976, when they played the “gig that changed the world.”

Recre­at­ed above in a clip from Michael Winterbottom’s 24 Hour Par­ty Peo­ple, the June 4, 1976 gig at Manchester’s Less­er Free Trade Hall spawned the British punk move­ment and the post-punk move­ment that was soon to fol­low in a scant two years. For in the audi­ence were future mem­bers of the Buz­zcocks Howard Devo­to and Pete Shel­ley (who orga­nized the gig and opened for the Pis­tols); a nascent ver­sion of Joy Divi­sion; the two founders of Fac­to­ry Records Mar­tin Han­net and Tony Wil­son; Mark E. Smith of The Fall, Mick Huck­nall of Fran­tic Ele­va­tors and much lat­er Sim­ply Red; and a one Steven Patrick Mor­ris­sey, who would form The Smiths. (That’s Steve Coogan play­ing Tony Wil­son in the clip, by the way.)

The Sex Pis­tols played 13 songs in their set, includ­ing cov­ers of Dave Berry’s “Don’t Give Me No Lip Child,” Paul Revere and the Raiders “(I’m Not Your) Step­ping Stone”, the Small Faces “What’cha Gonna Do About It,” The Stooges’ “No Fun”, and The Who’s “Sub­sti­tute.” When asked for an encore, they played “No Fun” again.

Of their orig­i­nals, their two most famous songs–”God Save the Queen” and “Anar­chy in the U.K.” had yet to be written–but “Pret­ty Vacant,” “Prob­lems,” “New York,” “No Feel­ings” are all here in their raw form.

A few songs nev­er made it onto their first album, but can be found on their heav­i­ly boot­legged demo tape they record­ed the same year.

Also of note is how non “punk” the mem­bers are dressed, not in the sense of how Mal­colm McLaren and Vivi­enne West­wood would design, pack­age and sell the fash­ion. The boys look clos­er to the work­ing class job­bers of ear­ly Devo and the Stooges. Plus: no Sid Vicious. He’d come lat­er. That’s Glen Mat­lock on bass, who left the band in ear­ly ’77 after clash­ing with Lydon. He went on to form Rich Kids with Midge Ure.

When the Pis­tols returned to Lon­don, every­body in Man­ches­ter and beyond had start­ed a band, or at least that’s how it felt. By the time the Pis­tols got back to Lon­don, The Clash and The Damned had formed. And even if you hadn’t been at Less­er Free Trade Hall, you told your friends you had been and picked up a gui­tar.

The Sex Pis­tols would return three weeks lat­er to play the Hall again, play­ing to hun­dreds this time and solid­i­fy­ing the dawn of the punk era.

Below is a BBC doc­u­men­tary on the famous gig, telling­ly titled I Swear I Was There, which has an accom­pa­ny­ing book.

On a side note: Less­er Free Trade Hall–named after the rad­i­cal Free Trade polit­i­cal move­ment–was the site of anoth­er famous moment in rock his­to­ry. It was here that a new­ly elec­tri­fied Bob Dylan was called “Judas” by a very upset folk music fan.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

The Sex Pis­tols Do Dal­las: A Strange Con­cert from the Strangest Tour in His­to­ry (Jan­u­ary 10, 1978)

John­ny Rotten’s Cor­dial Let­ter to the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame: Next to the Sex Pis­tols, You’re ‘a Piss Stain’

Sid Vicious Sings Paul Anka’s “My Way” in His Own Spec­tac­u­lar Way

Rock Crit­ic Greil Mar­cus Picks 10 Unex­pect­ed Songs That Tell the Sto­ry of Rock ‘n’ Roll

Ted Mills is a free­lance writer on the arts who cur­rent­ly hosts the FunkZone Pod­cast. You can also fol­low him on Twit­ter at @tedmills, read his oth­er arts writ­ing at tedmills.com and/or watch his films here.

Hear Friedrich Nietzsche’s Classical Piano Compositions: They’re Aphoristic Like His Philosophy

In March, we fea­tured 43 orig­i­nal tracks of clas­si­cal music by philoso­pher and self-taught com­pos­er Friedrich Niet­zsche, bet­ter known as the author of books like Thus Spoke Zarathus­tra and Beyond Good and Evil. Despite the endur­ing impor­tance of his tex­tu­al out­put, Josh Jones not­ed that “what Niet­zsche loved most was music.” He “found the mun­dane work of pol­i­tics and nation­al­ist con­quest, with its trib­al­ism and moral pre­ten­sions, thor­ough­ly dis­taste­ful. Instead, he con­sid­ered the cre­ative work of artists, writ­ers, and musi­cians, as well as sci­en­tists, of para­mount impor­tance.”

Today we offer more of the eccen­tric, high­ly opin­ion­at­ed 19th-cen­tu­ry Ger­man philoso­pher’s musi­cal side. In the playlist just above, you can hear his piano com­po­si­tions as col­lect­ed on Michael Krück­er’s Friedrich Niet­zsche: Com­plete Solo Piano Works. “Most of the works on this album date from the 1860s, when [Niet­zsche] was a cel­e­brat­ed young pro­fes­sor and philoso­pher,” writes All­Mu­sic’s James Man­heim. “The music is light, often qua­si-impro­visato­ry, and some of it resem­bles the key­board music of the com­pos­er whom Niet­zsche extolled lat­er in life, Georges Bizet. The most sub­stan­tial piece, the 20-minute Hym­nus an die Fre­und­schaft, was essen­tial­ly his last com­po­si­tion, but he lat­er reworked it with texts by his then-love inter­est, Lou Andreas-Salomé; that ver­sion was lat­er arranged for cho­rus and orches­tra by anoth­er com­pos­er.”

Man­heim also notes that this selec­tion of piano pieces, in their brevi­ty, sug­gest that “the apho­ris­tic style of Niet­zsche’s late writ­ings was antic­i­pat­ed by his musi­cal think­ing.” Enthu­si­asts of Niet­zsche’s life and career will cer­tain­ly find them­selves mak­ing even more con­nec­tions between his musi­cal and philo­soph­i­cal work than that. But those look­ing for his moti­va­tion to work in this purest of all arts per­haps need look no fur­ther than this typ­i­cal­ly unequiv­o­cal pro­nounce­ment: “With­out music, life would be a mis­take.”

You can find more Niet­zschean piano com­po­si­tions below, these per­formed by Dorothea Klotz. To hear the music, you will need to down­load Spo­ti­fy’s free soft­ware, if you haven’t already.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Hear Clas­si­cal Music Com­posed by Friedrich Niet­zsche: 43 Orig­i­nal Tracks

130+ Free Online Phi­los­o­phy Cours­es

The Phi­los­o­phy of Niet­zsche: An Intro­duc­tion by Alain de Bot­ton

A Free Playlist of Music From The Works Of James Joyce (Plus Songs Inspired by the Mod­ernist Author)

The Dig­i­tal Niet­zsche: Down­load Nietzsche’s Major Works as Free eBooks

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.

 

David Bowie, Mick Jagger, Queen & Elvis Presley Star in Delightfully Absurd Musicless Music Videos

Some­time in the last decade, as both YouTube and smart phones became our pri­ma­ry means of cul­tur­al trans­mis­sion, the iso­lat­ed vocal track meme came into being, reach­ing its sum­mit in the sub­lime ridicu­lous­ness of David Lee Roth’s unadorned “Run­ning With the Dev­il” vocal tics. His yelps, howls, and “Whoooohoooos!” pro­duced the very best ver­sion of that vir­tu­al nov­el­ty known as the sound­board app, and wel­comed many a caller to many a kooky voice­mail greet­ing. The iso­lat­ed track has since become a phe­nom­e­non wor­thy of study, and we’ve done our share here of por­ing over var­i­ous voic­es and instru­ments stripped from their song’s con­text and placed before us in ways we’d nev­er heard before.

Per­haps seri­ous analy­sis too shall be the fate of a goofy visu­al meme that also thrives on the ridicu­lous­ness of pop music’s pre­sen­ta­tion: the musi­c­less music video. The idea is a sim­i­lar one, iso­lat­ing the image instead of the sound: pop­u­lar videos, already weird­ly over the top, become exer­cis­es in chore­o­graphed awk­ward­ness or voy­ages into uncan­ny val­leys as we watch their stars pose, preen, and con­tort them­selves in weird cos­tumes for seem­ing­ly no rea­son, accom­pa­nied only by the mun­dane sounds of their shuf­fling feet and grunts, belch­es, ner­vous laugh­ter, etc. Take the par­tic­u­lar­ly fun­ny exam­ples here: Mick Jag­ger and David Bowie pranc­ing through the bizarre “Danc­ing in the Streets” video (orig­i­nal here); the mem­bers of Queen per­form­ing domes­tic chores in “I Want to Break Free” (orig­i­nal); Elvis Pres­ley squeak­ing and spas­ming onstage in a TV take of “Blue Suede Shoes”; Nir­vana mop­ing and sway­ing in that high school gym while a near­by cus­to­di­an goes about his busi­ness…..

Though these skewed re-eval­u­a­tions of famous moments in pop his­to­ry make use of a sim­i­lar premise as the iso­lat­ed track, the sounds we hear are not—as they some­times seem—vérité audio record­ings from the videos’ sets. They are the cre­ation of Aus­tri­an sound design­er, edi­tor, and mix­er Mario Wienerroither, who, The Dai­ly Dot informs us, “works from a sound library that he’s spent years amass­ing.” The results, as you will hear for your­self, “range from humor­ous to dis­turb­ing and every­where in between.” Musi­c­less music videos remind us of how sil­ly and arti­fi­cial these kinds of staged, mimed pseu­do-per­for­mances real­ly are—they only become con­vinc­ing to us through the mag­i­cal edit­ing togeth­er sound and image on cue and on beat.

Wienerroither began his project with the Queen video, inspired when he caught it play­ing while his TV was on mute. The moment, he says, was “a vital spark.” Since then, dozens of musi­c­less music videos, and TV and film clips, have popped up on YouTube (see a size­able playlist here.) One of the most awk­ward, The Prodi­gy’s “Firestarter,” helped rock­et the phe­nom­e­non into major pop­u­lar­i­ty. Imi­ta­tors have since post­ed musi­c­less videos of the Friends intro and Miley Cyrus’ “Wreck­ing Ball.” What can we learn from these videos? Noth­ing, per­haps, we did­n’t already know: that pop cul­ture’s most endur­ing moments are also its most absurd, that nos­tal­gia is a dish best served remixed, that the internet—a pow­er­ful force for good as well as ill—is often at its best when it is a pow­er­ful force for weird. Though the medi­um may be friv­o­lous, these are mes­sages worth remem­ber­ing.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

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

Kurt Cobain’s Iso­lat­ed Vocal Track From ‘Smells Like Teen Spir­it,’ 1991

Hear Iso­lat­ed Gui­tar Tracks From Some of Rock’s Great­est: Slash, Eddie Van Halen, Eric Clap­ton & More

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

The John Lennon Sketchbook, a Short Animation Made of Lennon’s Drawings

In 1986, Yoko Ono com­mis­sioned the Oscar-win­ning ani­ma­tor John Cane­mak­er to bring to life the draw­ings and doo­dles of John Lennon (1940–1980), cul­mi­nat­ing in the release of a short film called The John Lennon Sketch­book. Almost 30 years lat­er, that film has now been offi­cial­ly released on YouTube.

A prod­uct of Liv­er­pool’s art schools, John Lennon drew through­out his life, illus­trat­ing two of his books with play­ful draw­ings, and draw­ing Christ­mas Cards for Oxfam, just to cite two exam­ples. You can see Lennon’s visu­al tal­ents on full dis­play in The John Lennon Sketch­book, a short ani­ma­tion that is pret­ty whim­si­cal and fun — until the very end, when Lennon seem­ing­ly pre­dicts his own vio­lent death in the audio record­ing that serves as the film’s sound­track.

The John Lennon Sketch­book will be added to the Ani­ma­tion sec­tion of our larg­er col­lec­tion, 4,000+ Free Movies Online: Great Clas­sics, Indies, Noir, West­erns, Doc­u­men­taries & More. 

If you would like to sign up for Open Culture’s free email newslet­ter, please find it here. It’s a great way to see our new posts, all bun­dled in one email, each day.

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 Car­toon Brew

Relat­ed Con­tent:

I Met the Wal­rus: An Ani­mat­ed Film Revis­it­ing a Teenager’s 1969 Inter­view with John Lennon

The Bea­t­les: Why Music Mat­ters in Two Ani­mat­ed Min­utes

John Lennon Illus­trates Two of His Books with Play­ful Draw­ings (1964–1965)

Bed Peace Revis­its John Lennon & Yoko Ono’s Famous Anti-Viet­nam Protests

Brazilian Man Sings The Beatles’ “Yesterday” as Doctors Perform Brain Surgery on Him

It’s a bit­ter­sweet scene. Actu­al­ly, more bit­ter than sweet. The video above doc­u­ments a recent oper­a­tion where doc­tors removed a brain tumor from Antho­ny Kulkamp, a 33 year old Brazil­ian banker, all while he sang and played The Bea­t­les’ “Yes­ter­day” on the gui­tar. Clear­ly the song was­n’t an arbi­trary pick, not with lyrics like:

Yes­ter­day, all my trou­bles seemed so far away
Now it looks as though they’re here to stay
oh, I believe in yes­ter­day

Sud­den­ly, I’m not half the man I used to be
There’s a shad­ow hang­ing over me
Oh, yes­ter­day came sud­den­ly.

There was a point to singing “Yes­ter­day” and oth­er songs. Sur­geons were able to mon­i­tor Kulkam­p’s cere­bral activ­i­ty and ensure that his sen­so­ry, motor, and speech areas remained unharmed dur­ing the oper­a­tion. Dr Jean Abreu Macha­do, a clin­i­cal direc­tor at the hos­pi­tal in Brazil, told The Tele­graph: “By keep­ing the patient awake dur­ing surgery, these areas [of the brain] can be mon­i­tored in real time. A kind of map­ping of impor­tant areas can be done.”

Mr. Kulkamp was dis­charged from the hos­pi­tal last Wednes­day, and we hope to see him play­ing some­thing opti­mistic before too long. Maybe a lit­tle “Here Comes the Sun” …

Relat­ed Con­tent:

The Sci­ence of Singing: New, High-Speed MRI Machine Images Man Singing ‘If I Only Had a Brain’

This is Your Brain on Jazz Impro­vi­sa­tion: The Neu­ro­science of Cre­ativ­i­ty

The 10-Minute, Nev­er-Released, Exper­i­men­tal Demo of The Bea­t­les’ “Rev­o­lu­tion” (1968)

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