Patti Smith Shares William S. Burroughs’ Advice for Writers and Artists

Would you take advice from William S Bur­roughs? What if it were fil­tered through the human­is­tic sen­si­bil­i­ties of Pat­ti Smith? Address­ing the crowd at last sum­mer’s Louisiana Lit­er­a­ture Fes­ti­val at the Louisiana Muse­um of Mod­ern Art, the punk poet­ess shared some good coun­sel laid on her in her youth by the Beat­’s high­est priest. Build a good name, he told her, and make sure every­thing you cre­ate stays true to it, until even­tu­al­ly that name becomes its own cur­ren­cy.

It cer­tain­ly worked out well for her, though Smith is quick to give solace to those toil­ing in obscu­ri­ty.  It’s con­ceiv­able that one as relent­less­ly cre­ative as she would occa­sion­al­ly feel the sting of indif­fer­ence. It’s also wel­come when some­one in her posi­tion acknowl­edges how fan­tas­tic it is to have one’s work embraced by the peo­ple. (And she’s got a choice snarl for the knee jerks who equate pop­u­lar­i­ty with sell­ing out.)

An old soul from the out­set, the sea­soned Smith has teen spir­it to spare when it comes to the democ­ra­tiz­ing pos­si­bil­i­ties of the Inter­net. It’s here, she pre­dicts, that those with the met­tle to keep at their cre­ative work will find the recog­ni­tion their good names deserve.

- Ayun Hal­l­i­day does­n’t brush her hair much either. Fol­low her @AyunHalliday

Relat­ed Con­tent:

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

Pat­ti Smith’s Cov­er of Nirvana’s “Smells Like Teen Spir­it” Strips the Song Down to its Heart

William S. Bur­roughs’ “The Thanks­giv­ing Prayer,” Shot by Gus Van Sant

Charles Bukows­ki: Depres­sion and Three Days in Bed Can Restore Your Cre­ative Juices (NSFW)

Watch Live Stream of Coachella Music Festival on YouTube This Weekend

A quick fyi: Through­out the week­end, you can watch a live stream of the Coachel­la music fes­ti­val that’s tak­ing place in the desert of South­ern Cal­i­for­nia. Tonight’s line­up includes Moby, New Order, and more. Get the full line­up for the fes­ti­val here, and the stream from dif­fer­ent stages on YouTube right here. Or just watch it above. The three-day extrav­a­gan­za will con­tin­ue through Sun­day night, end­ing with a per­for­mance by The Red Hot Chili Pep­pers.

Fol­low us on Face­book, Twit­ter and Google Plus and share intel­li­gent media with your friends!

Pakistani Musicians Play a Delightful Version of Dave Brubeck’s Jazz Classic, “Take Five”

How’s this for fusion? Here we have The Sachal Stu­dios Orches­tra, based in Lahore, Pak­istan, play­ing an inno­v­a­tive cov­er of “Take Five,” the jazz stan­dard writ­ten by Paul Desmond and per­formed by The Dave Brubeck Quar­tet in 1959. Before he died in 2012, Brubeck called it the “most inter­est­ing” ver­sion he had ever heard. Once you watch the per­for­mance above, you’ll know why.

Accord­ing to The Guardian, The Sachal Stu­dios Orches­tra was cre­at­ed by Izzat Majeed, a phil­an­thropist based in Lon­don. When Pak­istan fell under the dic­ta­tor­ship of Gen­er­al Zia-ul-Haq dur­ing the 1980s, Pakistan’s clas­si­cal music scene fell on hard times. Many musi­cians were forced into pro­fes­sions they had nev­er imag­ined — sell­ing clothes, elec­tri­cal parts, veg­eta­bles, etc. What­ev­er was nec­es­sary to get by. Today, many of these musi­cians have come togeth­er in a 60-per­son orches­tra that plays in a state-of-the-art stu­dio, designed part­ly by Abbey Road sound engi­neers.

You can pur­chase their album, Sachal Jazz: Inter­pre­ta­tions of Jazz Stan­dards & Bossa Nova, on Ama­zon and iTunes. It includes ver­sions of “Take Five” and “The Girl from Ipane­ma.”

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:

Watch Jimi Hendrix’s ‘Voodoo Chile’ Per­formed on a Gayageum, a Tra­di­tion­al Kore­an Instru­ment

Talk­ing Heads’ “This Must Be the Place (Naive Melody)” Per­formed on Tra­di­tion­al Chi­nese Instru­ments

An Uplift­ing Musi­cal Sur­prise for Dave Brubeck in Moscow (1997)

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

Here’s a won­der­ful­ly weird per­for­mance by David Bowie, dressed in drag for his last appear­ance as Zig­gy Star­dust, and Mar­i­anne Faith­full as a way­ward nun, singing the mawk­ish Son­ny & Cher tune, “I Got You Babe.”

The duet was record­ed for Amer­i­can tele­vi­sion on Octo­ber 19, 1973 at the Mar­quee Club in Lon­don. The pro­duc­er Burt Sug­ar­man had approached Bowie about appear­ing on his late-night NBC pro­gram The Mid­night Spe­cial. Accord­ing to the Zig­gy Star­dust Com­pan­ion, Bowie agreed to appear on the show after being grant­ed com­plete artis­tic con­trol for a one-hour spe­cial. He put togeth­er a cabaret-style show fea­tur­ing him­self and a cou­ple of acts from the 1960s, per­form­ing on a futur­is­tic set. Bowie called it “The 1980 Floor Show,” as a pun on the title of his song “1984,” which was played dur­ing the open­ing title sequence.

Film­ing took place over two days. The audi­ences were com­posed of Bowie fan club mem­bers and oth­er spe­cial guests. Due to the cramped quar­ters in the night­club, the cam­era crew was­n’t able to cov­er more than two angles at any moment, so Bowie and the oth­ers had to play the same songs over and over. On the day “I Got You Babe” was filmed, the musi­cians and crew worked for ten straight hours.

Faith­full was invit­ed to appear on the show as one of the back-up acts, along with The Trog­gs and the “fla­men­co rock” group Car­men. At the very end of the evening, Bowie and Faith­full appeared onstage together–he in a red PVC out­fit with black ostrich plumes (he called it his “Angel of Death” cos­tume) and she in a nun’s habit that was, by more than one account, open in the back. “This isn’t any­thing seri­ous,” Bowie report­ed­ly told the audi­ence. “It’s just a bit of fun. We’ve hard­ly even rehearsed it.”

The Mid­night Spe­cial appear­ance marked a momen­tary reunion of Bowie’s band, The Spi­ders from Mars, which had dis­solved three months ear­li­er, after Bowie’s sur­prise announce­ment that he was retir­ing. The line­up includ­ed Mick Ron­son on lead gui­tar, Trevor Bold­er on bass, Mike Gar­son on piano, Mark Carr Pritchard on rhythm gui­tar and Ayns­ley Dun­bar on drums. Back­ing vocals were pro­vid­ed by The Astronettes: Ava Cher­ry, Jason Guess and Geof­frey Mac­Cor­ma­ck. As the final per­for­mance of “The 1980 Floor Show,” Bowie’s duet with Faith­full turned out to be the very last appear­ance of Zig­gy Star­dust.

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:

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

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

How “Space Odd­i­ty” Launched David Bowie to Star­dom: Watch the Orig­i­nal Music Video From 1969

Tom Lehrer’s Mathematically and Scientifically Inclined Singing and Songwriting, Animated

I went through child­hood lis­ten­ing to Tom Lehrer’s “New Math”. The 1965 song, per­formed in part like stan­dard spo­ken-word com­e­dy, made me laugh every time. “In the new approach,” the satirist says of the rev­o­lu­tion­ary math­e­mat­ics he pur­ports to teach us, “the impor­tant thing is to under­stand what you’re doing rather than to get the right answer.” Work­ing aloud through a sub­trac­tion prob­lem at the piano, Lehrer sings the oper­a­tions: “And so you’ve got thir­teen tens and you take away sev­en and that leaves five. Well, six, actu­al­ly, but the idea’s the impor­tant thing.” This struck me at the time as noth­ing more than an amus­ing­ly goofy numer­ic riff, and per­haps one with harsh impli­ca­tions for the flaky edu­ca­tion­al fads of the nineties my peers and I then endured. Only years lat­er did I find out that Cold War Amer­i­ca of the ear­ly six­ties actu­al­ly went through a New Math phase, shak­en hard enough by Sput­nik to des­per­ate­ly foist abstract, set the­o­ry-dri­ven math text­books upon its ele­men­tary school­ers.

Lehrer, who turned 85 on Tues­day, knows the sub­ject well: he holds degrees in math­e­mat­ics from Har­vard, has co-authored such papers as “Ran­dom walks with restrain­ing bar­ri­er as applied to the biased bina­ry counter” and “The dis­tri­b­u­tion of the num­ber of local­ly max­i­mal ele­ments in a ran­dom sam­ple”, and, after retir­ing from music in the ear­ly sev­en­ties, taught math class­es at the Uni­ver­si­ty of Cal­i­for­nia, San­ta Cruz. Leg­end has it that he would incor­po­rate rel­e­vant songs from his cat­a­log into lec­tures. But he nev­er sang only about math­e­mat­ics; he also sang about physics, as you can see in the ani­mat­ed ver­sion of his 1959 song “The Ele­ments” above, a trib­ute simul­ta­ne­ous­ly to the peri­od­ic table and The Pirates of Pen­zance. Nobody can deny the impor­tance of learn­ing how to sub­tract or how to tell one ele­ment from anoth­er, but we’d do well to keep Lehrer’s sharp human insights, present implic­it­ly in all his music and explic­it­ly in some of it, in mind. So put one of his records on the next time you have a birth­day of your own, tak­ing a brac­ing shot of his wit before you con­tin­ue, as he put it in “Bright Col­lege Days”, “slid­ing down the razor blade of life.”

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 Ange­les, A Los Ange­les Primer. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall.

John Bonham’s Isolated Drum Track For Led Zeppelin’s ‘Fool in the Rain’

His play­ing was as loud as thun­der and as fast as light­ning. John Bon­ham of Led Zep­pelin was arguably the great­est of rock-and-roll drum­mers. When Rolling Stone asked its read­ers in 2011 to name the great­est drum­mer of all time, Bon­ham won by a land­slide. Drum­mer­world says of his play­ing:

Imi­ta­tors are usu­al­ly left frus­trat­ed, since Bon­ham made it look so easy–not only in his play­ing but also in the incred­i­ble drum sound he achieved. His leg­endary right foot (on his bass ped­al) and light­ning-fast triplets were his instant trade­mark. He lat­er refined his style from the hard skin-bash­ing approach to a more del­i­cate wrist-con­trolled one–which pro­duced an even more pow­er­ful and loud­er sound with less effort.

Bon­ham’s lat­er play­ing is on dis­play in this iso­lat­ed drum track (above) from “Fool in the Rain,” a sin­gle from the 1979 album In Through the Out Door, the last album released by Zep­pelin before Bon­ham’s death in 1980. The record­ing above includes about one-third of the entire drum track, end­ing just before the sam­ba-style break­down in the mid­dle.

Bon­ham is play­ing a vari­ant of the half-time Pur­die Shuf­fle, a pat­tern devel­oped by the leg­endary ses­sion drum­mer Bernard Pur­die, who began play­ing it when he was a young­ster try­ing to imi­tate the dynam­ics of a train. “The way a loco­mo­tive kind of push­es and pulls,” Pur­die said in a 2011 Mus­i­cRadar inter­view, “that’s what I was feel­ing.”

Vari­a­tions of the Pur­die Shuf­fle can be heard across pop­u­lar music. Pur­die him­self played it on Steely Dan’s “Home at Last.” More recent­ly, Death Cab for Cutie’s Jason McGerr played it on “Grapevine Fires.” Per­haps the most famous vari­a­tion is the so-called “Rosan­na Shuf­fle” played by the late Jeff Por­caro of Toto on the sin­gle “Rosan­na,” which blend­ed ele­ments of Pur­die’s orig­i­nal shuf­fle, Bon­ham’s “Fool in the Rain” pat­tern and the Bo Did­dley Beat.

For more on Bernard Pur­die and his trade­mark shuf­fle, see the 2009 video below from the New York Times. In the accom­pa­ny­ing arti­cle, David Segal writes: “Cre­at­ed with six bass, high-hat and snare tones, the Pur­die Shuf­fle is a groove that seems to spin in con­cen­tric cir­cles as it lopes for­ward. The result is a Tilt-a-Whirl of sound, and if you can lis­ten with­out shak­ing your hips, you should prob­a­bly see a doc­tor.”

via That Eric Alper

Relat­ed Con­tent:

‘Stair­way to Heav­en’: Watch a Mov­ing Trib­ute to Led Zep­pelin at The Kennedy Cen­ter

Jim­my Page Tells the Sto­ry of Kash­mir

Kei­th Moon, Drum­mer of The Who, Pass­es Out at 1973 Con­cert; 19-Year-Old Fan Takes Over

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

William Shatner Sings Nearly Blasphemous Version of “Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds” (1968)

On a lazy sum­mer week­end last year, we asked for a lit­tle help from our friends. We asked: “What are the worst Bea­t­les’ cov­ers you’ve ever heard — ones so bad, they’re good?” And boy did you deliv­er. You rat­tled off 15 cringe-induc­ing cov­ers, includ­ing Bill Cos­by singing “Sgt. Pepper’s Lone­ly Hearts Club Band;” Sean Con­nery talk­ing his way through “In My Life;” Wing screech­ing “I Wan­na Hold Your Hand;” Tiny Tim doing dam­age to “Nowhere Man;” and much more. Look­ing back, I’m still per­son­al­ly drawn (in a it’s-so-cheesy-it’s-great kind of way) to William Shat­ner’s ver­sion of “Lucy in the Sky with Dia­monds.” Rid­ing high on his Star Trek fame, Shat­ner record­ed the song for his first music album, The Trans­formed Man, a 1968 con­cept album that jux­ta­posed clas­sic lit­er­a­ture with mod­ern pop lyrics. For exam­ple, he put lines from Cyra­no de Berg­er­ac next to Bob Dylan’s “Mr. Tam­bourine Man.” Years lat­er, in a 2001 inter­view, Paul McCart­ney laugh­ing­ly gave props to Shat­ner’s per­for­mance.

When you’re done with this piece of work, I’d encour­age to vis­it The 15 Worst Cov­ers of Bea­t­les Songs.

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Artist Shepard Fairey Curates His Favorite YouTube Videos

In a video for MOCA, the “defin­ing muse­um of con­tem­po­rary art” in Los Ange­les, Shep­ard Fairey, the graph­ic design­er and illus­tra­tor best known for the Oba­ma Hope poster of 2008, spent a few min­utes rap­ping about the YouTube videos that have inspired him, both per­son­al­ly and pro­fes­sion­al­ly. He starts with one we’ve fea­tured here before  — Saul Bass’ Pitch for the Redesign of Ma Bel­l’s Logo. Read all about that fas­ci­nat­ing 1969 project here.

Next up comes the 1981 music video for Blondie’s “Rap­ture” — momen­tous because it was the first rap video ever aired on MTV and because it fea­tures an appear­ance by graf­fi­ti artist Jean-Michel Basquiat, who stepped in for Grand­mas­ter Flash when he inex­plic­a­bly went MIA.

Now let’s roll George Clin­ton’s video for “Atom­ic Dog” (1982), an inspi­ra­tion to Fairey because it lay­ers 1980s-video game imagery on top of prison scenes, cre­at­ing a “tem­plate for what a lot of gang­ster rap­pers would embrace lat­er.” Call it the ur-gangs­ta rap video.

Final­ly, Shep­ard refers to videos by The Sex Pis­tols, the Eng­lish punk band formed in 1975. But when it comes to select­ing a par­tic­u­lar clip, he leaves us hang­ing. So, giv­en that curat­ing YouTube videos is our every­day gig, hope you don’t mind if we lay some “God Save the Queen” on you. Enjoy.

via Boing Boing

 

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