Hear the Nazi’s Bizzaro Propaganda Jazz Band, “Charlie and His Orchestra” (1940–1943)

As you might expect from a vicious polit­i­cal move­ment front­ed by a frus­trat­ed illus­tra­tor, the Nazi par­ty had a com­pli­cat­ed­ly dis­dain­ful yet aspi­ra­tional — and need­less to say, unceas­ing­ly fas­ci­nat­ing — rela­tion­ship with art. We pre­vi­ous­ly fea­tured their philis­tine grudge against mod­ernism that led to the “Degen­er­ate Art Exhi­bi­tion” of 1937, their mega-bud­get pro­pa­gan­da film on the Titan­ic dis­as­ter that turned into a dis­as­ter itself, and their con­trol-freak list of rules for dance orches­tras. The Nazis, as you might expect, did­n’t much care for jazz, or at least saw some polit­i­cal cap­i­tal in open­ly denounc­ing it. Yet it seems they also saw some in embrac­ing it, turn­ing the quin­tes­sen­tial­ly free art form toward, as always, their own pro­pa­gan­dis­tic pur­pos­es. What if they could come up with their own pop­u­lar jazz band and, using long-dis­tance short- and medi­um-wave broad­cast sig­nals, turn the Allies’ own music against them? Enter, in 1940, Char­lie and His Orches­tra. Anoth­er Joseph Goebbels cre­ation.

“The idea behind the Nazis’ Char­lie cam­paign,” writes the Wall Street Jour­nal’s Will Fried­wald, “was that they could under­mine Allied morale through musi­cal pro­pa­gan­da, with a spe­cial­ly devised orches­tra broad­cast­ing mes­sages in Eng­lish to British and Amer­i­can troops.” The groups’ fea­tured singer, “Char­lie” him­self (real name: Karl Schwedler), would sing not just “irre­sistible” jazz stan­dards but ver­sions with anti-British, ‑Amer­i­can, and ‑Semit­ic lyrics. You can hear much of their cat­a­log in the clips here, includ­ing what Fried­wald cites as their “weird­est record­ings”: “Irv­ing Berlin’s ‘Slum­ming on Park Avenue,’ in which Schwedler, por­tray­ing a British pilot with a mock-Eng­lish accent, sings ‘Let’s go bomb­ing!’ ” and “So You Left Me for the Leader of a Swing Band” refash­ioned as “So You Left Me for the Leader of the Sovi­ets.” Ulti­mate­ly, not only did the out­side world prove to have bet­ter taste than the Nazis, their own fight­ers did too: “Not only did the Char­lie project fail to con­vert any Allies to the oth­er side, but even Ger­many’s own troops could­n’t bring them­selves to take Nazi swing seri­ous­ly.” It don’t mean a thing if it ain’t got that swing, I sup­pose — and Char­lie and his Orches­tra def­i­nite­ly did­n’t have it. More audio sam­ples can be heard over at WFMU.

via WSJ

Relat­ed Con­tent:

The Nazis’ 10 Con­trol-Freak Rules for Jazz Per­form­ers: A Strange List from World War II

The Nazi’s Philis­tine Grudge Against Abstract Art and The “Degen­er­ate Art Exhi­bi­tion” of 1937

Titan­ic: The Nazis Cre­ate a Mega-Bud­get Pro­pa­gan­da Film About the Ill-Fat­ed Ship … and Then Banned It (1943)

Col­in Mar­shall hosts and pro­duces Note­book on Cities and Cul­ture and writes essays on cities, lan­guage, Asia, and men’s style. He’s at work on a book about Los Ange­les, A Los Ange­les Primer. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall or on Face­book.

Electric Guitars Made from the Detritus of Detroit

When Frank Nor­ris plays a gui­tar made by Wal­lace Detroit Gui­tars, he says it “feels like home.” And maybe that’s because Wal­lace Detroit Gui­tars are made with reclaimed wood from aban­doned Detroit homes.

Fol­low­ing the finan­cial cri­sis of 2008, per­haps no Amer­i­can city fared worse than Detroit. The city found itself with 10,000 vacant homes. And even­tu­al­ly the city pur­chased entire blocks and razed the hous­es to the ground. Accord­ing to the Detroit web site Mod­el D, a lot of the wood [from these struc­tures] has­n’t gone to waste. The wood can be found, they write, in “trendy cof­fee hous­es, in table tops, even in the frames of sun­glass­es.” And now high-end elec­tric gui­tars.

Wal­lace Detroit Gui­tars just launched its new web site two days ago, and its first gui­tars, made of cen­tu­ry-old wood, can now be yours.

If you like play­ing gui­tars made of found objects, you might also want to check out anoth­er new com­pa­ny — Bohemi­an Gui­tars. They’ve start­ed build­ing elec­tric gui­tars made of vin­tage oil cans, tak­ing inspi­ra­tion from South African musi­cians who turn used mate­ri­als into playable instru­ments.

via Coudal

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Bri­an May’s Home­made Gui­tar, Made From Old Tables, Bike and Motor­cy­cle Parts & More

The Recy­cled Orches­tra: Paraguayan Youth Play Mozart with Instru­ments Clev­er­ly Made Out of Trash

Artist Ken But­ler Turns One Man’s Trash Into Anoth­er Man’s Quirky Stringed Instru­ment

Oxford Scientist Explains the Physics of Playing Electric Guitar Solos

You’ve heard it before. A pow­er bal­lad from the 1970s or 1980s is play­ing and there, smack in the mid­dle, is a face-melt­ing gui­tar solo that seems to go all over the place before blow­ing your mind with sheer awe­some­ness. Think Jimi Hen­drix. Think Eric Clap­ton. And espe­cial­ly think Eddie Van Halen. Unlike the piano, which can only play dis­crete notes, the gui­tar can, in the hands of some­one like Sir Eddie, bend notes. It’s a qual­i­ty that recalls the human voice, and it’s most like­ly what has made the elec­tric gui­tar the go-to instru­ment for pop­u­lar music over the past 50 years.

Enter Dr. David Grimes of Oxford Uni­ver­si­ty. While by day he might be work­ing out math­e­mat­i­cal mod­els of oxy­gen dis­tri­b­u­tion to help improve can­cer treat­ment, by night he, too, likes to shred on his elec­tric gui­tar. So, at some point along the line, he decid­ed to apply a lit­tle sci­en­tif­ic rig­or to the instru­ment he loves. “I want­ed to under­stand what it was about these gui­tar tech­niques that allows you to manip­u­late pitch,” he said in an inter­view.

In the name of sci­ence, Grimes was forced to make some pret­ty bru­tal sac­ri­fices. “I took one of my old­est gui­tars down to the engi­neer­ing lab at Dublin City Uni­ver­si­ty to one of the peo­ple I knew there and explained that I want­ed to strip it down to do this exper­i­ment. We had to accu­rate­ly bend the strings to dif­fer­ent extents and mea­sure the fre­quen­cy pro­duced. He was a musi­cian too and looked at me with abject hor­ror. But we both knew it need­ed to be done – We put some nails into my gui­tar for sci­ence.’

Grimes end­ed up writ­ing an aca­d­e­m­ic paper on the top­ic called “String The­o­ry — The Physics of String-Bend­ing and Oth­er Elec­tric Gui­tar Tech­niques.” “It turns out it’s actu­al­ly rea­son­ably straight­for­ward,’ said Grimes. “It’s an exper­i­ment a decent physics under­grad­u­ate could do, and a cool way of study­ing some basic physics prin­ci­ples. It’s also poten­tial­ly use­ful to string man­u­fac­tur­ers and dig­i­tal instru­ment mod­ellers.”

You can read Grime’s paper here or, if your idea of fun does not include wad­ing through a lot of com­plex equa­tions, you can watch the brief video pre­sen­ta­tion above on his research. And below is a ridicu­lous­ly sweet gui­tar solo from Van Halen. While you watch pon­der the total­ly awe­some physics involved.

via Oxford Uni­ver­si­ty

Jonathan Crow is a Los Ange­les-based writer and film­mak­er whose work has appeared in Yahoo!, The Hol­ly­wood Reporter, and oth­er pub­li­ca­tions. You can fol­low him at @jonccrow. And check out his blog Veep­to­pus, fea­tur­ing one new draw­ing of a vice pres­i­dent with an octo­pus on his head dai­ly.  The Veep­to­pus store is here.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Take First-Class Phi­los­o­phy Cours­es Any­where with Free Oxford Pod­casts

The Physics of Guin­ness Beer Demys­ti­fied

The (Beau­ti­ful) Physics of Adding Cream to Your Cof­fee

The Physics of Cof­fee Rings Final­ly Explained

The Physics of the Bike

How to Sing Julia Child’s Mastering the Art of French Cooking

Though she had no ten­der feel­ings for Julie Powell’s Julia/Julie blog, I like to think Julia Child wouldn’t have been entire­ly dis­pleased by the Bush­wick Book Club’s efforts to musi­cal­ize Mas­ter­ing the Art of French Cook­ing, Child’s two vol­ume labor of love (and the inspi­ra­tion for Powell’s cel­e­brat­ed blog).

The “club,” a free float­ing, dis­cus­sion-free group of New York City-based singer-song­writ­ers, start­ed in 2009, when Kurt Vonnegut’s Break­fast of Cham­pi­ons was cel­e­brat­ed with music and the­mat­ic drink spe­cials. In the ensu­ing half-decade, they’ve met month­ly to wres­tle with such titles as The Great Gats­by, Madame Bovary and Dol­ly Parton’s auto­bi­og­ra­phy.

Some con­tri­bu­tions to these events do feel half-baked, as if the per­former delayed start­ing work in case he or she might be able to fin­ish the book on the bus ride to the show. Oth­ers are well craft­ed, as well as insight­ful.

Leslie Graves’ musi­cal recita­tion of Child’s “Flam­ing Tart” is the sort of naughty fun Bessie Smith want­ed in her bowl:

And just before enter­ing 

Put a warm liqueur 

Over the hot caramelized sur­face…

Not, pre­sum­ably, what Child had in mind when she wrote those words, although the hap­pi­ness of her mar­riage is well doc­u­ment­ed. (If we could just have the kitchen and the bed­room, that would be all we need.”)

The link between stom­ach and heart under­scores Hilary Downes’ bossa nova-inflect­ed “Mas­ters of the Table” and Shan­non Pelcher’s gen­tle “Eat­ing” which looks past Child’s tow­er­ing culi­nary achieve­ment to her yearn­ing TV audi­ence.

I did hear a sound mid­way between an egg beat­er and some­one spin­ning beneath her Bon Appetit-engraved tomb­stone when club founder Susan Hwang slipped the phrase “walk­ing corpses” into Child’s “List of Equip­ment.” But she bal­anced the scales with a sin­cere com­pli­ment to the all-too-rare sound of Child’s unmis­tak­able voice.

(This made me so nos­tal­gic, I had to rus­tle up Dan Aykroyd’s taste­less but clas­sic imper­son­ation from 1978…)

Stuff your­self on the entire evening’s songs using the link at the top of this page.

Or, should you crave a dif­fer­ent sort of fare, join the Bush­wick Book Club on the Fry­ing Pan Octo­ber 29, when they con­sid­er The Shin­ing by Stephen King.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Julia Child Shows How to Edit Video­tape with a Meat Cleaver, and Cook Meat with a Blow Torch

Remem­ber­ing Julia Child on Her 100th Birth­day with Her Clas­sic Appear­ance on the Let­ter­man Show

How Cook­ing Can Change Your Life: A Short Ani­mat­ed Film Fea­tur­ing the Wis­dom of Michael Pol­lan

Ayun Hal­l­i­day is an author whose Zinester’s Guide to NYC inspired a pret­ty great song of its own. Fol­low her @AyunHalliday

Muddy Waters, Howlin’ Wolf, Sister Rosetta Tharpe & Other American Blues Legends Perform in the UK (1963–66)


What is Amer­i­can music? Like most things it depends on who you ask. Who­ev­er it is, you’re bound at least to hear jazz… or coun­try, blues, and rock ‘n’ roll. You might even get those last three all at once. There was a brief time in the six­ties when we did, with the resur­gence of the coun­try blues, or folk blues, as it was called for the Amer­i­can Folk-Blues fes­ti­val, a long-run­ning Euro­pean tour of the Delta’s most revered names: Son­ny Boy Williamson, Mud­dy Waters, Lon­nie John­son, Big Joe Williams, Light­nin’ Hop­kins, Sug­ar Pie DeSan­to, Howl­in’ Wolf, Big Joe Turn­er, and Sis­ter Roset­ta Tharpe. And that’s only to name a very few. Just to get your feet wet, see all those names above per­form, in order. The footage was filmed for broad­cast on British TV between 1963 and 1966. Son­ny Boy Williams opens, strid­ing onstage in a dap­per suit, umbrel­la, bowler hat, and leather case. He takes his time arriv­ing, and in the pause between his announce­ment of “Keep It to Your­self” and the first note, he has com­plete­ly mes­mer­ized the audi­ence. Next Mud­dy Waters, with his easy charis­ma (at 5:10), deliv­ers “Got My Mojo Work­ing” like a rock ‘n’ roll hyp­no­tist, and leaves the crowd dazed.

The mojo works. Whether tra­di­tion­al acoustic or elec­tri­fied hybrid blues, you will get chills at least once dur­ing each song. That is, if you like Amer­i­can music. The British kids in the audi­ence sure did. At the tour’s first British stop, Man­ches­ter in 1962, Mick Jag­ger, Kei­th Richards, Bri­an Jones, and Jim­my Page were in the crowd. It’s said that in Lon­don, Erics Bur­don and Clap­ton watched the show. But while those young dudes invad­ed the States, the Folk Blues Tour kept rolling through Ger­many, France, the UK and points East, every year until 1972, then again from 1980 to 1985. A stag­ger­ing num­ber of those per­for­mances were record­ed and released on LP and CD. Scroll through this discog­ra­phy to get a sense of the embar­rass­ing wealth of blues the entire col­lec­tion rep­re­sents. As a bonus for col­lec­tors, the albums boast some of the coolest cov­ers to ever grace a live com­pi­la­tion. If these albums sound any­thing like the film com­pi­la­tion above, then they’ve cap­tured these musi­cians at their best—if also at times their least edgy and most com­posed. But it’s no won­der. For a great many of the blues artists rep­re­sent­ed, All­mu­sic crit­ic Bruce Elder notes, “these were the largest audi­ences they’d ever played to, and the first (and often only) decent mon­ey they ever made.”

Relat­ed Con­tent:

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

Zep­pelin Took My Blues Away: An Illus­trat­ed His­to­ry of Zeppelin’s “Copy­right Indis­cre­tions”

Djan­go Rein­hardt Demon­strates His Gui­tar Genius in Rare Footage From the 1930s, 40s & 50s

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

Open Culture Picks Our 10 Avant-Garde Favorites on Ubuweb: Joyce, Borges, Sontag, Wittgenstein & More

samuelbeckett-ubuweb

If you know about Open Cul­ture, sure­ly you know about Ubuweb. If you don’t, its slo­gan says almost every­thing you need to know about it: “All Avant-Garde. All the Time.” This vast online repos­i­to­ry of cut­ting-edge cul­tur­al arti­facts from a vari­ety of eras also adheres stead­fast­ly to the prin­ci­ple of keep­ing all of its mate­r­i­al free: free in the sense of charg­ing you noth­ing to read, hear or view it, and free in the sense that you can do what­ev­er you want with it. Need­less to say, the site, found­ed by poet Ken­neth Gold­smith in 1996, has made many fans, and Ubuweb itself has tapped quite a few of the high­er-pro­file ones to curate top ten lists. Assem­bled by peo­ple like New York­er music crit­ic Alex Ross, nov­el­ists Hari Kun­zru and Rick Moodyalter­na-pop star Nick “Momus” Cur­rie, these help the poten­tial­ly (and under­stand­ably) bewil­dered find their way through the trove of Ubuwe­b’s media, which is uni­ver­sal­ly influ­en­tial and van­ish­ing­ly obscure, vis­cer­al­ly trans­gres­sive and ver­tig­i­nous­ly intel­lec­tu­al, eter­nal­ly excit­ing and delib­er­ate­ly bor­ing.

This month, Ubuweb called upon our fear­less edi­tor here at Open Cul­ture for a top ten list. Most of the picks have been pre­vi­ous­ly fea­tured on OC. The list runs as fol­lows:

1. Finnegans Wake (1939), Read by Patrick Healy
Open Cul­ture: Hear All of Finnegans Wake Read Aloud: A 35 Hour Read­ing

“The sheer plea­sure one can derive — con­ven­tion­al expec­ta­tions duly set aside — from the almost tac­tile qual­i­ty of Joyce’s prose, its earthy, ancient, elven sounds, seems more to the point of appre­ci­at­ing this odd, frus­trat­ing work. Per­haps, like any well-writ­ten poem, one sim­ply needs to hear it read aloud. Joyce him­self said so, and so you can.”

2. The Craft of Verse: Jorge Luis Borges’ Nor­ton Lec­tures, 1967–68
Open Cul­ture: Jorge Luis Borges’ 1967–8 Nor­ton Lec­tures On Poet­ry (And Every­thing Else Lit­er­ary)

“Near­ing both 70 years of age and total blind­ness, Borges nonethe­less gives a vir­tu­osi­cal­ly wide-rang­ing series of talks, freely reach­ing across forms, coun­tries, eras, and lan­guages with­out the aid of notes. Enti­tled ‘This Craft of Verse,’ these lec­tures osten­si­bly deal with poet­ry. Alas, like many lit­er­ary geeks, I know too lit­tle of poet­ry, but if Borges can’t moti­vate you to learn more, who can?”

3. Three Rare Films by Susan Son­tag
Open Cul­ture: The Film­mak­ing of Susan Son­tag & Her 50 Favorite Films (1977)

“Son­tag, they say, ‘sought to lib­er­ate art from inter­pre­ta­tion (which is a bit iron­ic, of course, for some­one who was essen­tial­ly an exalt­ed crit­ic). When it came to her own film, she made some­thing that intend­ed to delib­er­ate­ly con­found the notion that there was any sort of under­ly­ing mean­ing beyond exact­ly what the audi­ence was see­ing on the screen direct­ly in front of them.’ ”

4.  M.A. Num­mi­nen Sings Wittgen­stein (1983 / 1989)
Open Cul­ture: Lud­wig Wittgenstein’s Trac­ta­tus Gets Adapt­ed Into an Avant-Garde Com­ic Opera

“Giv­en the Trac­ta­tus’s fire­bomb­ing of an entire area of human endeav­or, it’s no sur­prise it hasn’t fared well in many tra­di­tion­al depart­ments, but that hasn’t stopped Wittgenstein’s work from find­ing pur­chase else­where, influ­enc­ing mod­ern artists like Jasper Johns, the Coen Broth­ers, and, not least sure­ly, Finnish avant garde com­pos­er and musi­cian M.A. Num­mi­nen. This odd char­ac­ter, who caused a stir in the 60s by set­ting sex guides to music, took it upon him­self to do the same for many of the Trac­ta­tus’s propo­si­tions, and the results are, well…. Lis­ten for your­self.”

5. Aldous Huxley’s Vision­ary Expe­ri­ence
Open Cul­ture: Aldous Hux­ley, Psy­che­delics Enthu­si­ast, Lec­tures About “the Vision­ary Expe­ri­ence” at MIT (1962)

“Hux­ley had already gained world­wide fame for his views on bet­ter liv­ing, which was some­times achieved, he believed, through psy­che­del­ic drugs. This might have already sound­ed like old hat in, say, the San Fran­cis­co of the late 1960s, let alone the 70s and onward, but in these record­ings Hux­ley says his piece in — I still can’t quite believe it — the MIT of the ear­ly 1960s. But diag­nosed a cou­ple years before with the can­cer that would claim his life the next, he had noth­ing to lose by spread­ing the word of his sub­stance-induced dis­cov­er­ies.”

6. Jacques Derrida’s Inter­view with Ornette Cole­man [PDF]
Open Cul­ture: Philoso­pher Jacques Der­ri­da Inter­views Jazz Leg­end Ornette Cole­man: Talk Impro­vi­sa­tion, Lan­guage & Racism (1997)

“Trans­lat­ing Coleman’s tech­nique into ‘a domain that I know bet­ter, that of writ­ten lan­guage,’ Der­ri­da ven­tures to com­pare impro­vi­sa­tion to read­ing, since it ‘doesn’t exclude the pre-writ­ten frame­work that makes it pos­si­ble.’ For him, the exis­tence of a framework—a writ­ten composition—even if only loose­ly ref­er­enced in a jazz per­for­mance, ‘com­pro­mis­es or com­pli­cates the con­cept of impro­vi­sa­tion.’ ”

7. Joey Ramone Sings a Piece by John Cage Adapt­ed from James Joyce’s Finnegans Wake: “The Won­der­ful Wid­ow of Eigh­teen Springs,”
Open Cul­ture: Hear Joey Ramone Sing a Piece by John Cage Adapt­ed from James Joyce’s Finnegans Wake

“Ramone’s inter­pre­ta­tion of the piece is enthralling sim­ply as a piece of record­ed music.  But it’s also a fas­ci­nat­ing piece of cul­tur­al his­to­ry, rep­re­sent­ing a con­flu­ence of the fore­most fig­ures in ear­ly twen­ti­eth cen­tu­ry mod­ernist lit­er­a­ture, mid-cen­tu­ry avant-garde music, and late cen­tu­ry punk rock.”

8. The Avant-Garde Project
Open Cul­ture: The Avant-Garde Project: An Archive of Music by 200 Cut­ting-Edge Com­posers, Includ­ing Stravin­sky, Schoen­berg, Cage & More

“Every sphere of record­ed music has its crate-dig­gers, those hap­py to flip through hun­dreds — nay, hun­dreds of thou­sands — of obscure, for­got­ten vinyl albums in search of their subgenre’s even obscur­er, more for­got­ten gems. This holds espe­cial­ly true, if not in num­ber than in avid­i­ty, for enthu­si­asts of the 20th-cen­tu­ry clas­si­cal-exper­i­men­tal-elec­troa­coustic tra­di­tion that The Avant-Garde Project takes as its preser­va­tion man­date.”

9. Alice Tok­las Reads Her Hashish Fudge Recipe
Open Cul­ture: Alice B. Tok­las Reads Her Famous Recipe for Hashish Fudge (1963)

“In this 1963 record­ing from Paci­fi­ca Radio, Tok­las reads her noto­ri­ous recipe. The snack ‘might pro­vide an enter­tain­ing refresh­ment for a Ladies’ Bridge Club or a chap­ter meet­ing of the DAR,’ Tok­las notes in her reedy, dig­ni­fied voice.”

10. Jean Bau­drillard Sings!
Open Cul­ture: Jean Bau­drillard Reads His Poet­ry, Backed By All-Star Arts Band (1996)

“Known to hip aca­d­e­m­ic types and avant-garde-ists, Bau­drillard’s maybe the kind of thinker who gets name-dropped more than read (and he’s no easy read). But in the audio clip above, he reads to us, from his poet­ry no less, while backed by the swirling abstract sounds of The Chance Band. It’s an odd, one-time, assem­blage of artists and thinkers Ubuweb describes as ‘unbe­liev­able but true!’ ”

If you’ve already seen every­thing on it, con­grat­u­la­tions: you can con­sid­er your­self a true, shall we say, OC OG.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Avant-Garde Media: The UbuWeb Col­lec­tion

Exten­sive Archive of Avant-Garde & Mod­ernist Mag­a­zines (1890–1939) Now Avail­able Online

Take a Vir­tu­al Tour of the 1913 Exhi­bi­tion That Intro­duced Avant-Garde Art to Amer­i­ca

Col­in Mar­shall hosts and pro­duces Note­book on Cities and Cul­ture and writes essays on cities, lan­guage, Asia, and men’s style. He’s at work on a book about Los Ange­les, A Los Ange­les Primer. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall or on Face­book.

Django Reinhardt Demonstrates His Guitar Genius in Rare Footage From the 1930s, 40s & 50s

In one of my favorite Woody Allen films, Sweet and Low­down, Sean Penn plays Emmett Ray, a fic­tion­al jazz gui­tarist who embod­ies the tit­u­lar qual­i­ties in equal­ly great mea­sure. “Already con­sid­ered peer­less among Amer­i­can jazz gui­tarists,” Ray admits of only one rival—Parisian gyp­sy gui­tarist Djan­go Rein­hardt, whom Emmett wor­ships, obvi­ous­ly pat­terns him­self after, and can’t stand to see in per­son with­out faint­ing dead away. Where Ray is a tremen­dous­ly con­vinc­ing cre­ation of Allen and Penn, Rein­hardt was very much a real musi­cian, and was indeed the reign­ing king of jazz gui­tar from the 1930s to the 50s. Reinhardt’s incred­i­ble skill is all the more impres­sive con­sid­er­ing he only had use of three fin­gers on his left hand due to injuries sus­tained in a car­a­van fire in 1928.

Rein­hardt and jazz vio­lin­ist Stéphane Grap­pel­li found­ed the Quin­tette du Hot Club de France in 1934, and in the for­ties, Rein­hardt began com­pos­ing, and toured Eng­land, Switzer­land, and the U.S. as a soloist with Duke Ellington’s band. He record­ed his final album, Djan­gol­o­gy in 1949, retired in 51, and died in 53, already a leg­end, “one of the few Euro­pean musi­cians to exert a seri­ous influ­ence on the Amer­i­can art form of jazz,” writes an NPR “Week­end Edi­tion” pro­file. Django’s play­ing, “at times joy­ous, fierce and lyri­cal,” draws heav­i­ly on his Roma roots while mas­ter­ing the vocab­u­lary of swing—a lan­guage, it seems, still new to many audi­ences in 1938, when the film at the top of the post, Jazz “Hot,” was made.

In a pre­vi­ous post, Mike Springer points out the “didac­tic tone” of the first cou­ple min­utes of the doc­u­men­tary, cre­at­ed by Reinhardt’s man­ag­er Lew Grade in order to famil­iar­ize the British pub­lic with jazz in advance of the quintet’s first UK tour. The film “real­ly comes alive when Djan­go arrives on the screen,” play­ing an arrange­ment of the pop­u­lar French song “J’attendrai.” Pri­or to the UK tour, the Quin­tet du Hot Club trav­eled to the Nether­lands and played The Hague. See them in the Dutch film clip above, begin­ning at 0:34. Grap­pel­li solos while Djan­go holds down the rhythm.

By 1944, Rein­hardt was well known to jazz lovers and musi­cians alike, appear­ing at the upscale Paris cabaret Bal Tabarin in the footage above at 2:54, fol­low­ing a clip of Mar­lene Diet­rich look­ing on from the audi­ence.

In 1952, the year before his death, Rein­hardt was famous enough to be cast along­side Louis Arm­strong and Sid­ney Bechet in the French-Ital­ian film La Route de Bon­heur (titled Salu­ti e baci in Italy). In this clip, Rein­hardt enter­tains a packed train car. The song dubbed over the footage is Nuits de St. Ger­main des Pres.

See much more film and pho­tog­ra­phy of Djan­go Rein­hardt and his famous quin­tet in this bio­graph­i­cal doc­u­men­tary, The Genius of Djan­go Rein­hardt. Described as an unsta­ble and child­like man capa­ble of the most unusu­al whims, the por­trait of Rein­hardt, prac­ti­cal­ly the inven­tor of jazz gui­tar, traces his life from birth in a Roma encamp­ment in Bel­gium to his final years in semi-retire­ment. And for even more Djan­go, don’t miss this French doc­u­men­tary film, Trois doigts de genie.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Jazz ‘Hot’: The Rare 1938 Short Film With Jazz Leg­end Djan­go Rein­hardt

Djan­go Rein­hardt and the Inspir­ing Sto­ry Behind His Gui­tar Tech­nique

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

Swedish Scientists Sneak Bob Dylan Lyrics Into Their Academic Publications For Last 17 Years

Sci­en­tists who study and write about intesti­nal gases—just like the rest of us, I guess—find it hard to resist the occa­sion­al fart joke. And when they’re John Jund­berg and Eddie Weitzberg, two pro­fes­sors at the Karolin­s­ka Insti­tute in Stock­holm, they can’t resist couch­ing their occa­sion­al fart joke in a Bob Dylan lyric, part of a now sev­en­teen-year tra­di­tion among five Swedish sci­en­tists who’ve been slip­ping Dylan lyrics into their pub­li­ca­tions, wager­ing on who can fit the most in before retire­ment.

It all began with Jund­berg and Weitzberg’s “Nitric oxide and inflam­ma­tion: the answer is blow­ing in the wind,” pub­lished in the jour­nal Nature Med­i­cine in 1997. (See Dylan play the paper’s inspi­ra­tion above in 1963.) Next came arti­cles like “Blood on the tracks: a sim­ple twist of fate” by Kon­stan­ti­nos Meletis and Jonas Frisen and “Tan­gled up in blue: Mol­e­c­u­lar car­di­ol­o­gy in the post­mol­e­c­u­lar era” by Ken­neth Chien.

The five aren’t the only sci­en­tists who try to spice up dry research pub­li­ca­tions with word­play. “If you read oth­er sci­en­tif­ic arti­cles,” ways Weitzberg, “you’ll find peo­ple try­ing to be clever in dif­fer­ent ways.” But they don’t do so at the expense of the sci­ence, or their careers: “We’re not talk­ing about sci­en­tif­ic papers—we could have got in trou­ble for that-but rather arti­cles we have writ­ten about research by oth­ers, book intro­duc­tions, edi­to­ri­als and things like that.”

The writer with the most Dylan ref­er­ences gets lunch in a restau­rant in Sol­na, a town north of Stock­holm. But thanks to inter­est from out­lets like the Wash­ing­ton Post, he may also get a few extra min­utes of fame. Weitzberg’s response? “I would much rather become famous for my sci­en­tif­ic work than for my Bob Dylan quotes, but yes, I am enjoy­ing this!”

via The Local

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Phys­i­cal Attrac­tion: Mar­riage Pro­pos­al Comes in the Form of a Physics Paper

Fake Bob Dylan Sings Real Dr. Seuss

Stu­dent Rick­rolls Teacher By Sneak­ing Rick Ast­ley Lyrics into Quan­tum Physics Paper

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

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