Leonard Bernstein Conducts Beethoven’s 9th in a Classic 1979 Performance

Even if you don’t know clas­si­cal music, you know Lud­wig van Beethoven’s Sym­pho­ny No. 9. Fin­ished in 1824, Beethoven’s final com­plete sym­pho­ny, and the first from any major com­pos­er to use voic­es, has risen to and remained at the top of the West­ern orches­tral canon as one of the most fre­quent­ly per­formed sym­phonies in exis­tence. The Japan­ese have even gone so far as to make it a New Year’s tra­di­tion. I remem­ber, when first learn­ing the Japan­ese lan­guage, watch­ing an edu­ca­tion­al video about an ama­teur neigh­bor­hood cho­rus con­vert­ing the orig­i­nal Ger­man into more read­able Japan­ese pho­net­ic script, so as to bet­ter sing it for their cel­e­bra­tion. A charm­ing sto­ry, to be sure, but at the top of the post, you’ll find Beethoven’s 9th ren­dered with the exact oppo­site of ama­teurism by the Wiener Phil­har­moniker, with Leonard Bern­stein con­duct­ing. (Part one, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four.) Then again, at the root of “ama­teur” lies the term “to love,” and who would dare accuse Bern­stein, how­ev­er con­sum­mate­ly pro­fes­sion­al a man of music, of not lov­ing this sym­pho­ny?

“I’ve just fin­ished film­ing and record­ing the great 9th Sym­pho­ny,” Bern­stein says in the clip just above, describ­ing how the expe­ri­ence got him think­ing about his­tor­i­cal dates. “My asso­ci­a­tions led me back to the year of my own birth, 1918, the year of the great armistice which brought the First World War to an end. Now, I had the key. The pass­word was peace, armistice, broth­er­hood — ‘ain’t gonna study war no more.’  Peace, broth­er­hood, we are all chil­dren of one father, let us embrace one anoth­er, all the mil­lions of us, friend­ship, love, joy: these, of course, are the key words and phras­es from [Friedrich] Schiller’s [“Ode to Joy”] to which Beethoven attached that glo­ri­ous music, rang­ing from the mys­te­ri­ous to the radi­ant to the devout to the ecsta­t­ic.” You can also watch the per­for­mance that put Bern­stein’s mind on this track as one of the many includ­ed in Beethoven 9, Deutsche Gram­mophon’s first iPad/iPhone/iPod app. For free, you get two min­utes of the sym­pho­ny with all fea­tures enabled. “The full expe­ri­ence,” their site adds, ” is then unlocked through In-App Pur­chase.”

Relat­ed Con­tent:

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

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

Bern­stein Breaks Down Beethoven

Col­in Mar­shall hosts and pro­duces Note­book on Cities and Cul­ture and writes essays on lit­er­a­ture, film, cities, Asia, and aes­thet­ics. He’s at work on a book about Los Ange­lesA Los Ange­les Primer. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall.

Beth, I Hear You Loud and Clear: A Fictional Origin Story of KISS’ Best Selling Single

A cou­ple of days ago, Mick Fleet­wood told NPR that a band’s great­est hits belong to its fans “to be rein­ter­pret­ed and cre­ate a back­drop for parts of their lives.”

With that in mind, who among us has not relat­ed … or yearned for the boyfriend or girl­friend that might allow us to relate to Peter Criss’ chart-top­ping “Beth”? The pow­er bal­lad went gold for Criss’ band KISS in 1976, and has reigned as an ear worm on Clas­sic Rock sta­tions ever since:

Beth, I hear you call­in’ 

But I can’t come home right now 

Me and the boys are playin’ 

And we just can’t find the sound.

Close your eyes and visu­al­ize poor Beth, alone in her neg­ligee on that giant bed, the scent­ed can­dles gut­ter­ing in sad recog­ni­tion that art always comes first for a soul­ful dude like Pete.

Now open them wide for the alter­nate and extreme­ly spir­it­ed take above. This ver­sion gives us Beth’s side, com­pli­ments of writer Bob Win­ter, direc­tor Bri­an Bil­low of Anony­mous Con­tent, and actress Lil­li Bird­sell, MILF-ing it up to vin­tage per­fec­tion as she jug­gles the kids and a meat­loaf in the oven. Rock­star hus­bands’ salaries aside, Bird­sel­l’s Beth is the embod­i­ment of the red-blood­ed female mul­ti­tasker pop­u­lar­ized by the Enjoli com­mer­cial of the same peri­od. The news that her hus­band “can’t” come home right now is met not with a tear, but a hilar­i­ous­ly flat “What?” (I loved how it took sev­er­al rep­e­ti­tions for the lyri­cal hook to reg­is­ter with her.)

I was root­ing for this Beth to pull a Thel­ma and Louise, load­ing the twins into the Coun­try Squire and dump­ing them at the stu­dio for their father to deal with. Sad­ly, our hero­ine is no match for years of built-up fan inter­pre­ta­tions. Guess Bet­ty Drap­er’s not the only pret­ty woman doomed to sip her din­ner as she sto­ical­ly ignores both chil­dren and part­ner’s emp­ty plate.

- Ayun Hal­l­i­day has­n’t even start­ed to think about what’s for din­ner tonight, so quit ask­ing. Fol­low her at @AyunHalliday

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

Blank on Blank, the non­prof­it group that uses the mag­ic of ani­ma­tion to bring for­got­ten inter­views back to life, has come out with a new episode fea­tur­ing the Beast­ie Boys in their ear­ly days. “Beast­ie Boys on Being Stu­pid” (above) is built on excerpts from a 1985 inter­view with Roc­ci Fisch for ABC Radio. The three mem­bers of the group–Mike Dia­mond, Adam Horowitz and Adam Yauch–were between 19- and 21-years old at the time and had not yet released their first full-length album, Licensed to Ill. They were tour­ing with Madon­na, and just begin­ning to get a taste of the nation­al spot­light. The inter­view is infused with the Boys’ self-dep­re­cat­ing wit.

Roc­ci Fisch: “How did you get your group name, Beast­ie Boys?”

Adam “MCA” Yauch: “It’s from the good old days. We were a hard­core band.”

Mike “Mike D” Dia­mond: “Yeah, we were like–I was like what, 14?”

Adam “MCA” Yauch: “Yeah.”

Mike “Mike D” Dia­mond: “I was like, 14, 15? That’s when we made our first record. We were all going to high school at the time and that’s how we met.”

Adam “MCA” Yauch: “At the time it was the stu­pid­est name that I could pos­si­bly think of. And if you could think of a stu­pid­er name I’d prob­a­bly be pret­ty impressed now. So lay it on me: Can you think of a stu­pid­er name name than the Beast­ie Boys?”

Roc­ci Fisch: “Not real­ly.”

Adam “MCA” Yauch: “So then that answers your ques­tion right there.”

For a full tran­script, go to the Blank on Blank Web site. And for more about Blank on Blank, includ­ing three ear­li­er videos, see our April 19 post, “Ani­ma­tions Revive Lost Inter­views with David Fos­ter Wal­lace, Jim Mor­ri­son & Dave Brubeck.”

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Fight For Your Right Revis­it­ed: Adam Yauch’s 2011 Film Com­mem­o­rates the Beast­ie Boys’ Leg­endary Music Video

Cold­play Cov­ers Fight For Your Right to Par­ty at the Hol­ly­wood Bowl: A Trib­ute to MCA

New Jazz Archive Features Rare Audio of Louis Armstrong & Other Legends Playing in San Francisco

satchmo club hangover

Any inves­ti­ga­tion into San Francisco’s jazz hey­day of the 1950s requires a stop at the Club Hang­over. Oper­at­ed by band­leader Doc Dougher­ty on Bush Street through­out the decade, the club became a Dix­ieland jazz head­quar­ters.

Now home to an adult movie the­ater, the club is long closed. The music lives on how­ev­er in record­ings made at the time, which are now avail­able online, much of it for the first time ever, in com­plete, unedit­ed record­ings.

Using tapes pre­served by radio sta­tion KCBS, jazz broad­cast­er Dave Rad­lauer has archived KCBS broad­casts of Hang­over ses­sions from 1954–58. On-air host Bob Goern­er inter­viewed musi­cians from the KCBS sta­tion using a ded­i­cat­ed phone line that deliv­ered a sig­nal from the club on Nob Hill. Goern­er pre­served the show tapes, which are now housed in the Stan­ford Uni­ver­si­ty Braun Music archive.

Rad­lauer makes the archive avail­able as .mp3 files, includ­ing one par­tic­u­lar­ly his­toric jam ses­sion star­ring Louis Arm­strong. The sto­ry goes that in Jan­u­ary, 1951 Arm­strong was in San Fran­cis­co to vis­it his friend clar­inetist Pee Wee Rus­sell in the hos­pi­tal and decid­ed to throw Rus­sell a fundrais­er. He brought togeth­er a mas­ter­ful group includ­ing pianist Earl “Fatha” Hines, cred­it­ed with help­ing tran­si­tion jazz piano from stride to swing. The place was packed and $1,500 went into the kit­ty for Russell’s med­ical bills. You can lis­ten to Arm­strong’s rehearsal and per­for­mance below.

Rehearsal:

Per­for­mance:

“Fatha” Hines was quite a per­former him­self. A pop­u­lar head­lin­er, his music ranged from Dix­ieland to bop. Anoth­er favorite at the Hang­over was Mug­gsy Spanier, a cor­netist known for his emo­tion­al solos and mas­ter­ful use of the plunger mute.

These guys lived in the Bay Area: Hines was a res­i­dent of Oak­land, Spanier lived in Sausal­i­to and trom­bon­ist Kid Ory raised chick­ens for a time in Petaluma.

club hangover

via Metafil­ter

Kate Rix writes about edu­ca­tion and dig­i­tal media. Vis­it her web­site: .

Relat­ed Con­tent:

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

10 Great Per­for­mances From 10 Leg­endary Jazz Artists: Djan­go, Miles, Monk, Coltrane & More

A Child’s Intro­duc­tion to Jazz by Can­non­ball Adder­ley (with Louis Arm­strong & Thelo­nious Monk)

John Cage Plays Amplified Cacti and Plant Materials with a Feather (1984)

On Jan­u­ary 1, 1984, 25 mil­lion view­ers tuned in to watch Good Morn­ing, Mr. Orwell!, a live satel­lite pro­gram cre­at­ed by the Kore­an-born video artist, Nam June Paik. Accord­ing to reports in The New York Times, Paik cre­at­ed the pro­gram with the hope of prov­ing that tele­vi­sion could be “an instru­ment for inter­na­tion­al under­stand­ing rather than an omi­nous means of thought con­trol,” as George Orwell warned in 1984. And Paik made his pitch with the help of names you’ll rec­og­nize from the 1980s cul­tur­al scene (assum­ing your mem­o­ry goes back that far) — Peter GabrielLau­rie Ander­son, George Plimp­ton, Oin­go Boin­go, Philip Glass, the Thomp­son Twins, Mer­ce Cun­ning­ham and Allen Gins­berg.

Above, we’re fea­tur­ing one mem­o­rable per­for­mance from Good Morn­ing, Mr. Orwell!, which aired on PBS sta­tions across the US: the avant-garde com­pos­er John Cage play­ing ampli­fied cac­ti and plant mate­ri­als with noth­ing but a feath­er. Joined on stage by fel­low com­pos­er Take­hisa Kosu­gi, Cage per­forms an impro­vi­sa­tion that could have accom­pa­nied a Mer­ce Cun­ning­ham dance. Mean­while, George Plimp­ton, a founder of The Paris Review and the host of Good Morn­ing, Mr. Orwell!, pro­vides some nar­ra­tion.

Fol­low Open Cul­ture on Face­book and Twit­ter and share intel­li­gent media with your friends. Or bet­ter yet, sign up for our dai­ly email and get a dai­ly dose of Open Cul­ture in your inbox. And if you want to make sure that our posts def­i­nite­ly appear in your Face­book news­feed, just fol­low these sim­ple steps.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

John Cage Unbound: A New Dig­i­tal Archive Pre­sent­ed by The New York Pub­lic Library

John Cage Per­forms Water Walk on “I’ve Got a Secret” (1960)

The Con­tro­ver­sial Sounds of Silence: John Cage’s 4’33″ Per­formed by the BBC Sym­pho­ny Orches­tra

David Bowie Recalls the Strange Experience of Inventing the Character Ziggy Stardust (1977)

Oh, not anoth­er Bowie post! Oh yes, yes it is. We don’t keep our love for Bowie secret, and along with his first album in ten years comes new archival mate­r­i­al: new to us that is, and maybe to you too.

Now, if your pri­ma­ry expe­ri­ence of Bowie was through his ear­ly 70s char­ac­ter Zig­gy Star­dust—a rock opera cre­ation as much as Hed­wig or Dr. Frank-N-Furter—it would be easy to believe Bowie was Zig­gy. He inhab­it­ed the char­ac­ter so ful­ly that it’s hard to imag­ine he was play­ing a very delib­er­ate part the whole time.

But of course, he was. Zig­gy and the Spi­ders were, as Bowie says above, a “the­ater piece.” Pre­vi­ous­ly, we’ve fea­tured a doc­u­men­tary (see again below) that chron­i­cles the rise of Zig­gy Star­dust, from Bowie’s some­what obscure begin­nings to his break­out as the char­ac­ter. In the 1977 inter­view clip above from the CBC, watch Bowie, as him­self, describe the expe­ri­ence of being Zig­gy.

He talks of his influences—a mélange of kabu­ki the­ater, mime, and New York art rock (“Vel­vet Under­ground, what­ev­er”). He calls the music from Zig­gy Star­dust and the Spi­ders From Mars “a British view of Amer­i­can street ener­gy.” In ret­ro­spect, it’s easy to see the act as just that, but in the moment, Bowie’s fans believed in Zig­gy as sure­ly as they believed any­thing else. Watch, for exam­ple, as starstruck audi­ence mem­bers rap­tur­ous­ly mouth the words to “Moon­age Day­dream” in this clip from D.A. Pennebaker’s Zig­gy Star­dust film.


P
ennebaker’s film caught Bowie’s final per­for­mance as the alien rock star at London’s Ham­mer­smith in 1973. No doubt these fans were hor­ri­bly crushed when Zig­gy announced his retire­ment before the final song. But I’m sure they kept their elec­tric eye on the re-invent­ed Bowie in Berlin, a peri­od he also dis­cuss­es above, when he left L.A. for Ger­many and began work­ing with Bri­an Eno and Iggy Pop.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

The Sto­ry of Zig­gy Star­dust: How David Bowie Cre­at­ed the Char­ac­ter that Made Him Famous

David Bowie Sings ‘I Got You Babe’ with Mar­i­anne Faith­full in His Last Per­for­mance As Zig­gy Star­dust

David Bowie Releas­es Vin­tage Videos of His Great­est Hits from the 1970s and 1980s

Josh Jones is a writer and musi­cian based in Wash­ing­ton, DC. Fol­low him @jdmagness

Joan Baez Live in 1965: Full Concert

On June 5, 1965, Joan Baez played a spe­cial con­cert at the BBC Tele­vi­sion The­atre in Shep­herd’s Bush, Lon­don. Although her fame at the time was new­ly eclipsed by that of her recent­ly estranged lover Bob Dylan, Baez was very much in her prime.

The con­cert was record­ed less than a month after Dylan’s 1965 tour of Eng­land, chron­i­cled in D.A. Pen­nebak­er’s film Don’t Look Back, in which Dylan failed to invite Baez onstage despite the fact that she had intro­duced him to nation­al audi­ences in Amer­i­ca.

Baez plays sev­er­al Dylan songs in the BBC con­cert, along with oth­er folk and pop songs from her reper­toire. Includ­ed is Baez’s first hit sin­gle, her ver­sion of the Phil Ochs song “There but for For­tune,” which was released the same month in Amer­i­ca but would not come out in the UK until the fol­low­ing month. The con­cert was orig­i­nal­ly broad­cast by the BBC as two sep­a­rate half-hour spe­cials, both end­ing with the clas­sic French love song “Plaisir d’amour.” Baez’s moth­er Joan Senior, or “Big Joan” as she was called (and who died this month at the age of 100), can be seen in the back­ground at the 33:30 and 104:43 marks applaud­ing and smil­ing proud­ly. The set list for the two back-to-back pro­grams is:

  1. “I’m a Ram­bler, I’m a Gam­bler”
  2. “There but for For­tune”
  3. “Cop­per Ket­tle”
  4. “Mary Hamil­ton”
  5. “Don’t Think Twice, it’s Alright”
  6. “I’m Trou­bled and I Don’t Know Why”
  7. “We Shall Over­come”
  8. “With God on Our Side”
  9. “Plaisir d’amour”
  10. “Sil­ver Dag­ger”
  11. “Oh Free­dom”
  12. “She’s a Trou­ble­mak­er”
  13. “The Unqui­et Grave”
  14. “It Ain’t Me Babe”
  15. “Isn’t it Grand”
  16. “500 Miles”
  17. “Te Ador/Ate Aman­ha”
  18. “Plaisir d’amour”

Relat­ed con­tent:

Joan Baez Per­forms at Age 17

Two Leg­ends Togeth­er: A Young Bob Dylan Talks and Plays on The Studs Terkel Pro­gram, 1963

Bob Dylan Shares a Drug-Hazed Taxi Ride with John Lennon (1966)

Rare Miles Davis Live Recordings Capture the Jazz Musician at the Height of His Powers

Very ear­ly in his career as a band­leader, Miles Davis devel­oped a rep­u­ta­tion for a too-cool per­sona on stage. Whether turn­ing his back on the crowd or walk­ing off­stage while his side­men soloed, his refusal to cater to audi­ence expec­ta­tions only enhanced his mys­tique. What­ev­er fans and crit­ics made of Miles’ seem­ing contempt—political state­ment, eccen­tric­i­ty, or daz­zling egotism—his live play­ing trans­fixed those who had the priv­i­lege to see him and con­sis­tent­ly drew the best play­ers in his­to­ry into his orbit.

The six­ties saw him at the peak of his pow­ers as a live per­former. He hit the pop charts in the ear­ly part of the decade with the 1962 two-LP set In Per­son, record­ed over two nights at the Black­hawk in San Fran­cis­co. The very next month he record­ed the Gram­my-nom­i­nat­ed Miles Davis at Carnegie Hall with an orches­tra led by Gil Evans. In 2007, a never‑before released live gem from the 1963 Mon­terey Jazz Fes­ti­val thrilled fans (lis­ten to “So What” from that record­ing above). All of these record­ings cap­ture Davis dur­ing his “tran­si­tion peri­od,” between his first and sec­ond “great quin­tets” (which fea­tured John Coltrane and Wayne Short­er on sax, respec­tive­ly).

Direct­ly above, hear a less­er-known, offi­cial­ly unre­leased record­ing from that tran­si­tion­al peri­od. Cap­tured by French pub­lic broad­cast­ing com­pa­ny ORFT, the ses­sions took place at the Juan-Les-Pins Fes­ti­val in Antibes in July 26–28, 1963, just a few months before Mon­terey. Davis is backed here by the same ensem­ble: George Cole­man on tenor sax, Her­bie Han­cock on piano, Ron Carter on bass, and (then sev­en­teen-year-old) Tony Williams on drums. These record­ings rep­re­sent alter­nates and out­takes from the record orig­i­nal­ly released in ’64 as In Europe, reis­sued in 1989 as Miles in Antibes. The full track­list (below) is book­end­ed by two ver­sions of Kind of Blue open­er “So What,” and it’s inter­est­ing to com­pare these wild­ly fre­net­ic ’63 live iter­a­tions from Mon­terey and Antibes to the clas­sic of laid-back cool from the late 50s.

1. So What (July 26, 1963)

2  Stel­la By Starlight (July 26)

3. Sev­en Steps To Heav­en – Walkin’ (July 26)

4. If I were a Bell (July 28, 1963)

5. So What (July 28)

Davis’ first and sec­ond “great quin­tets” are per­haps his most-loved groups. How­ev­er, the short-lived 1963 ensem­ble above cer­tain­ly pushed him in a new direc­tion. For anoth­er piv­otal moment of tran­si­tion, watch the 1969 return to the Juan-Les-Pins Jazz Fest in the video below, which shows Davis again mov­ing in a very dif­fer­ent direc­tion, pre­sag­ing his ’70s swerves into acid rock and funk. This per­for­mance fea­tures anoth­er all-star ensem­ble, with Wayne Short­er on tenor and sopra­no sax, Chick Corea on elec­tric piano, Dave Hol­land on bass, and Jack DeJohnette on drums.

via Past Dai­ly

Relat­ed Con­tent:

The Miles Davis Sto­ry, the Defin­i­tive Film Biog­ra­phy of a Jazz Leg­end

Miles Davis and His ‘Sec­ond Great Quin­tet,’ Filmed Live in Europe, 1967

‘The Sound of Miles Davis’: Clas­sic 1959 Per­for­mance with John Coltrane

Josh Jones is a writer and musi­cian based in Wash­ing­ton, DC. Fol­low him @jdmagness

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