Bruce Springsteen Performs Moving Acoustic Versions of “Thunder Road,” “The Rising” & “Land of Hope & Dreams” on the Howard Stern Show

After try­ing for 35 years, the Howard Stern Show final­ly land­ed an inter­view with Bruce Springsteen–an inter­view that last­ed 2 hours and 15 min­utes and cov­ered a tremen­dous amount of ground. Along the way, Spring­steen talked about his song-writ­ing process and the ori­gins of his clas­sic songs, and then per­formed some acoustic ver­sions, alter­nat­ing between gui­tar and piano. Above and below, you can watch stir­ring per­for­mances of  “Thun­der Road,” “The Ris­ing,” “Land of Hope and Dreams,” “Born to Run, and “Tougher Than the Rest.”

Those who have the Sir­ius XM app can watch the entire per­for­mance online. For those who don’t, you can always sign up for a free tri­al to the ser­vice.

Land of Hope and Dreams

The Ris­ing


Tougher Than the Rest

Born to Run

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

Bruce Spring­steen and the E Street Band Impro­vis­es and Plays, Com­plete­ly Unre­hearsed, Chuck Berry’s “You Nev­er Can Tell,” Live Onstage (2013)

Bruce Spring­steen Lists 20 of His Favorite Books: The Books That Have Inspired the Song­writer & Now Mem­oirist

Bruce Spring­steen Plays East Berlin in 1988: I’m Not Here For Any Gov­ern­ment. I’ve Come to Play Rock

How Pink Floyd Built The Wall: The Album, Tour & Film

The mak­ing of Pink Floyd’s 1979 rock opera The Wall is rife with the kind of rock star ironies exploit­ed a few years lat­er by This Is Spinal Tap. Their fall into frac­tious­ness and bloat began when Roger Waters firm­ly estab­lished him­self as cap­tain on 1977’s Ani­mals, his trib­ute album for George Orwell. Stage shows became even more grandiose, lead­ing key­boardist Richard Wright to wor­ry they were “in dan­ger of becom­ing slaves to our equip­ment.” Cer­tain moments dur­ing the 1977 In the Flesh tour in sup­port of the album seem right out of a Christo­pher Guest brain­storm.

One night in Frank­furt, “the stage filled with so much dry ice that the band were almost com­plete­ly obscured,” Mark Blake writes in Com­fort­ably Numb. Fans threw bot­tles. Crowds felt fur­ther alien­at­ed when Waters start­ed wear­ing head­phones onstage, try­ing to sync the music and visu­als. Dur­ing a five-night run at London’s Wem­b­ley Empire Pool, “offi­cials from the Greater Lon­don Coun­cil descend­ed on the venue to check that the band’s inflat­able pig had been equipped with a safe­ty line” (due to a minor pan­ic caused by an ear­li­er escaped pig). “Roger Waters over­saw the inspec­tion, bark­ing orders to the pig’s oper­a­tors… “ ‘Halt pig! Revolve pig!’ ”

Moments like these could have added lev­i­ty to Alan Parker’s 1982 film of The Wall, star­ring Bob Geld­of as the main char­ac­ter, dis­af­fect­ed rock star Pink. Waters hat­ed the movie at the time, though lat­er said, “I’ve actu­al­ly grown quite fond of it, though I very much regret there’s no humour in it, but that’s my fault. I don’t think I was in a par­tic­u­lar­ly jol­ly state.” A pris­on­er of his own suc­cess, Waters resent­ed ine­bri­at­ed fans who were (under­stand­ably) dis­tract­ed by stage shows that threat­ened to over­whelm the music. See­ing fans singing along in the front row instead of lis­ten­ing intent­ly sent him into a rage, lead­ing to the infa­mous spit­ting inci­dent, as recalled by tour­ing gui­tarist Snowy White: “It was a fun­ny gig. It was a real­ly weird vibe… to look across the stage and see Roger spit­ting at this guy at the front… It was a very strange gig. Not very good vibes.”

This is still only back­sto­ry for the album and tour to come — the mak­ing of which you can learn all about in the three-part Vinyl Rewind video series here. Waters based the jad­ed Pink on him­self and for­mer Pink Floyd front­man Syd Bar­rett, who did not return from his own onstage melt­down. Waters found him­self wish­ing he could build a wall between him­self and the fans. The band liked his demo ideas and vot­ed to move for­ward with the project. Then things real­ly went sour. Pink Floyd began to fall apart dur­ing the record­ing ses­sions. As engi­neer James Guthrie remem­bers, at the start, “they were still play­ing togeth­er, rather than one guy at a time, which is the way we end­ed up record­ing in France.” Frac­tures between Waters and Richard Wright would even­tu­al­ly lead to Wright’s fir­ing from the band.

Most of the per­son­al dis­putes were already estab­lished before The Wall. Cer­tain­ly Roger’s rela­tion­ship with Rick, but things did dete­ri­o­rate fur­ther on that lev­el dur­ing the mak­ing of the album. There were some very dif­fi­cult moments, but I don’t think there was ever a ques­tion of Roger not fin­ish­ing the album. He’s a very strong per­son. Not eas­i­ly deterred from his path. If every­one else had walked out, he would still have fin­ished it.

Waters would have toured the album by him­self as well — as he did after he left the band fol­low­ing 1983’s The Final Cut, a Pink Floyd album in name only. As it was, The Wall tour end­ed up send­ing the band into debt. Only Richard Wright made a prof­it, play­ing with the band as a salaried musi­cian. For all the stage mishaps and inter­per­son­al feuds — despite it all — Pink Floyd did what they set out to do. “We knew when we were mak­ing it,” says David Gilmour, in rec­ol­lec­tions mel­lowed by time and age, “that it was a good record.” It still stands, some forty-three years lat­er, as one of the greats. Learn how it earned the dis­tinc­tion, and what that great­ness cost the band that made it.

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: 

Pink Floyd Adapts George Orwell’s Ani­mal Farm into Their 1977 Con­cept Album, Ani­mals (a Cri­tique of Late Cap­i­tal­ism, Not Stal­in)

Pink Floyd’s First Mas­ter­piece: An Audio/Video Explo­ration of the 23-Minute Track, “Echoes” (1971)

Pink Floyd’s Entire Stu­dio Discog­ra­phy is Now on YouTube: Stream the Stu­dio & Live Albums

Pink Floyd Releas­es Its First New Song in 28 Years to Help Sup­port Ukraine

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

200 Bassists Play the Famous Bass Line of Queen & Bowie’s “Under Pressure”

Ding, ding, ding, de de, ding, ding–the bassline for Queen and David Bowie’s “Under Pres­sure” is sim­ple and unfor­get­table. In Sao Paulo, ​British bassist Charles Berthoud paid trib­ute to John Dea­con’s riff, per­form­ing it with 200 oth­er bassists. Berthoud plays a beau­ti­ful lead; the oth­ers keep the rhythm going. Evi­dent­ly, the event was spon­sored by Rockin’ 1000, a col­lec­tive that stages gigs where hun­dreds of musi­cians per­form rock clas­sics togeth­er. You can find more of their videos in the Relat­eds below.

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 Laugh­ing Squid

Relat­ed Con­tent

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

1,000 Musi­cians Per­form “My Hero” in a Mov­ing Trib­ute to Foo Fight­ers’ Drum­mer Tay­lor Hawkins

David Bowie’s “Rebel Rebel” Per­formed Live by The Biggest Rock Band on Earth (1,000 Musi­cians in Total)

Watch 1,000 Musi­cians Play the Foo Fight­ers’ “Learn to Fly,” Nirvana’s “Smells Like Teen Spir­it,” Queen’s “We Will Rock You,” Bowie’s “Rebel Rebel,” and The Who’s “Won’t Get Fooled

 

 

 

Unpopular Music Fandom — Musicians and Philosophers Discuss on Pretty Much Pop: A Culture Podcast #134

 width=

With the dis­so­lu­tion of pop­u­lar music cul­ture by the Inter­net, what is it now to be into music gen­res that aren’t cur­rent­ly pop­u­lar? Is it still an act of rebel­lion, or is even that passé?

Your Pret­ty Much Pop host Mark Lin­sen­may­er is joined by com­poser/­mul­ti-instru­men­tal­ist Jonathan Segel from Camper van Beethoven, philoso­pher Matt Teich­man of the Elu­ci­da­tions pod­cast, and musi­cian and Inter­net DJ Steve Petrinko to talk about our rela­tion to the main­stream, the dif­fer­ent types of unpop­u­lar music (pop­u­lar 30 years ago vs. nev­er pop­u­lar avant garde), post-irony, and more.

Lis­ten to Jonathan and Steve talk­ing about their own music on Mark’s Naked­ly Exam­ined Music pod­cast. Lis­ten to one of Matt’s elec­tron­ic com­po­si­tions from col­legeLis­ten to Mark and Matt on Matt’s pod­cast.

Watch Richard Thomp­son sing “Oops I Did It Again.” Here’s that attempt to give a 2022 remix to the 80s hit “Come On Eileen.”

As rec­om­men­da­tions, Jonathan men­tioned Venet­ian Snares, Steve rec­om­mend­ed ear­ly Weath­er ReportRead Jonathan’s blog about var­i­ous ver­sions of The Grate­ful Dead’s “Dark Star.” Read Pat Methe­ny pick­ing on Ken­ny G.

Hear more Pret­ty Much Pop. Sup­port the show and hear bonus talk­ing for this and near­ly every oth­er episode at patreon.com/prettymuchpop or by choos­ing a paid sub­scrip­tion through Apple Pod­casts. This pod­cast is part of the Par­tial­ly Exam­ined Life pod­cast net­work.

Pret­ty Much Pop: A Cul­ture Pod­cast is the first pod­cast curat­ed by Open Cul­ture. Browse all Pret­ty Much Pop posts.

How Rick Astley’s “Never Gonna Give You Up” Went from 80s Pop Smash to Bastion of Internet Culture: A Short Documentary

It was an iso­lat­ing exis­tence, being a Rick Ast­ley fan at the turn of the mil­len­ni­um. I was in high school at the time, and it was on a week­end-morn­ing cable-TV binge that I hap­pened first to hear his music — albeit just a few sec­onds of it — on a com­mer­cial for one of those order-by-phone nos­tal­gia com­pi­la­tions. Intrigued by the con­trast of the unabashed nine­teen-eight­ies pro­duc­tion, equal­ly ener­getic and syn­thet­ic, against Ast­ley’s pow­er­ful, unusu­al­ly tex­tured voice, I went straight to Audio­Galaxy for the MP3. Even before I’d heard its whole three and a half min­utes, I was hooked. The song of which I speak is, of course, “Togeth­er For­ev­er.” 

You’ve got to remem­ber that, two decades ago, Ast­ley’s debut sin­gle “Nev­er Gonna Give You Up” had­n’t yet racked up a bil­lion views on Youtube. Nor could you even find it on Youtube; nor, come to that, could you find any­thing on Youtube, since it did­n’t exist. It was then quite easy to be unaware of the song, and indeed of Ast­ley him­self, giv­en that he’d burnt out and retired from the music busi­ness in the mid-nine­teen-nineties. If you’d heard of him, you might well have writ­ten him off as an eight­ies flash-in-the-pan. (Yet to be res­ur­rect­ed by the retro gods, the aes­thet­ics of that decade were still at their nadir of fash­ion­abil­i­ty.) But in its day, “Nev­er Gonna Give You Up” was a pop phe­nom­e­non of rare dis­tinc­tion.

The short Vice doc­u­men­tary above recounts how Ast­ley became an overnight sen­sa­tion, bring­ing in the singer him­self as well as his orig­i­nal pro­duc­tion team: Mike Stock, Matt Aitken, and Pete Water­man, the trio who cre­at­ed the sound of British eight­ies pop. It was while play­ing with a band in his small north­ern home­town that Ast­ley caught Stock Aitken Water­man’s ear, and soon there­after he found him­self work­ing as a “tea boy” in their Lon­don stu­dio. At that time he lived at Water­man’s home, and after over­hear­ing the lat­ter scream­ing at his girl­friend through his giant eight­ies phone, he made a fate­ful remark: “You’re nev­er gonna give her up, are you?”

From there, “Nev­er Gonna Give You Up” seems prac­ti­cal­ly to have writ­ten itself, though its pro­duc­ers admit to hav­ing ill sensed its poten­tial dur­ing record­ing. Shelved for a time, the song was final­ly includ­ed on a mag­a­zine mix tape, at which point it went the eight­ies equiv­a­lent of viral: air­play on the inde­pen­dent Cap­i­tal Lon­don soon crossed over to a vari­ety of main­stream radio for­mats. “They had­n’t got a clue that he was a white guy,” says Water­man, nor, as Ast­ley him­self adds, that he “looked about eleven years old.” All was soon revealed by the music video — then still a nov­el form — hasti­ly and some­what ama­teur­ish­ly pro­duced in the wake of the sin­gle’s chart-top­ping suc­cess.

These not-unap­peal­ing incon­gruities inspired one of my fel­low Mil­len­ni­als, a young enlist­ed man named Sean Cot­ter, to relaunch Ast­ley’s hit into the zeit­geist in 2007. “I imme­di­ate­ly knew I want­ed to make this thing into a meme,” he says, and so he invent­ed “rick­rolling,” the prank of send­ing an unre­lat­ed-look­ing link that actu­al­ly leads to the “Nev­er Gonna Give You Up” video. Despite orig­i­nat­ing in a spir­it of mock­ery, it enabled the come­back Ast­ley had been ten­ta­tive­ly attempt­ing in the pre­ced­ing years. Today, at a dis­tance from the eight­ies and the two-thou­sands alike, we can final­ly hear “Nev­er Gonna Give You Up” for what it is: an inspired work of pop songcraft that reflects the dis­tinc­tive appeal of both its era and its per­former — or as Ast­ley puts it, “a bloody hit, man.”

Relat­ed con­tent:

How Youtube’s Algo­rithm Turned an Obscure 1980s Japan­ese Song Into an Enor­mous­ly Pop­u­lar Hit: Dis­cov­er Mariya Takeuchi’s “Plas­tic Love”

The Ulti­mate 80s Med­ley: A Nos­tal­gia-Induc­ing Per­for­mance of A‑Ha, Tears for Fears, Depeche Mode, Peter Gabriel, Van Halen & More

Is the Viral “Red Dress” Music Video a Soci­o­log­i­cal Exper­i­ment? Per­for­mance Art? Or Some­thing Else?

Rick Ast­ley Sings an Unex­pect­ed­ly Enchant­i­ng Cov­er of the Foo Fight­ers’ “Ever­long”

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

Based in Seoul, Col­in Mar­shall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, and cul­ture. His projects include the Sub­stack newslet­ter Books on Cities, the book The State­less City: a Walk through 21st-Cen­tu­ry Los Ange­les and the video series The City in Cin­e­ma. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall or on Face­book.

Lizzo Plays James Madison’s Priceless, 200-Year-Old Crystal Flute

In the annals of mod­ern pop­u­lar music, one does not find a sur­feit of flautists. Tim Weis­berg, in part­ner­ship with singer-song­writer Dan Fogel­berg, did score a mod­est his or two in the sev­en­ties. More incon­gru­ous­ly, Jethro Tul­l’s Ian Ander­son set his band apart with his deci­sion to take up the flute not long before their ear­li­est per­for­mances. But today, out­side the realm of orches­tral music, there is sure­ly no high­er-pro­file flautist than Liz­zo. Though best known as a pop singer, she con­tin­ues to put to use the flute skills she honed at the Uni­ver­si­ty of Hous­ton, with­out which she would­n’t have been able to han­dle a pre­cious piece of Amer­i­can his­to­ry.

Last month, writes the Library of Con­gress’ April Slay­ton, one of that insti­tu­tion’s librar­i­ans Car­la Hay­den “saw that the one and only Liz­zo was com­ing to D.C. for a con­cert.” Giv­en that “the Library has the world’s largest flute col­lec­tion,” Hay­den took the oppor­tu­ni­ty to point out that fact to the pop star on Twit­ter. “One of about 1,700 flutes in the col­lec­tion, she teased, is the crys­tal flute made for Pres­i­dent James Madi­son by Claude Lau­rent — a price­less instru­ment that Dol­ley Madi­son res­cued from the White House in April 1814 as the British entered Wash­ing­ton, DC dur­ing the War of 1812.. Might she want to drop by and play a few bars?”

Indeed she did, with results you can see in the video above: at the Library itself, Liz­zo tries out one of the col­lec­tion’s many flutes; then she plays the crys­tal flute itself on onstage at Capi­tol One Are­na, hav­ing been hand­ed it by the instru­men­t’s own secu­ri­ty detail. “It’s like play­ing out of a wine glass,” she tells her thrilled audi­ence. One won­ders if the com­par­i­son would ever have occurred to its first own­er: “It’s not clear if Madi­son did much with the flute oth­er than admire it,” Slay­ton writes, “but it became a fam­i­ly heir­loom and an arti­fact of the era.” Now it has become a unit­ing sym­bol of Amer­i­can cul­ture past and present: how­ev­er for­ward-look­ing the Found­ing Fathers were, we can safe­ly say they nev­er imag­ine twerk­ing.

The Library of Con­gress has post­ed pic­tures of Liz­zo’s vis­it on Flickr. See them here.

Relat­ed con­tent:

But­ter­fly Lands on Flutist’s Face Dur­ing Flute Com­pe­ti­tion: The Show Must Go On

Hear the World’s Old­est Instru­ment, the “Nean­derthal Flute,” Dat­ing Back Over 43,000 Years

Hear a 9,000 Year Old Flute — the World’s Old­est Playable Instru­ment — Get Played Again

The Flute of Shame: Dis­cov­er the Instrument/Device Used to Pub­licly Humil­i­ate Bad Musi­cians Dur­ing the Medieval Peri­od

The Library of Con­gress Makes 25 Mil­lion Records From Its Cat­a­log Free to Down­load

Based in Seoul, Col­in Mar­shall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, and cul­ture. His projects include the Sub­stack newslet­ter Books on Cities, the book The State­less City: a Walk through 21st-Cen­tu­ry Los Ange­les and the video series The City in Cin­e­ma. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall or on Face­book.

The Art of Translating Hamilton into German: “So Kribbeln Schmetterlinge, Wenn Sie Starten”

The city of Hamburg’s nick­name is Tor zur Welt- the gate­way to the world.

If the Ger­man lan­guage pro­duc­tion of Lin-Manuel Miranda’s record break­ing hiphop musi­cal now in pre­views in that city’s St. Pauli The­ater is as warm­ly received as the Eng­lish orig­i­nal has been in Lon­don, Mel­bourne, and, of course, the US, it may earn itself with an addi­tion­al one — Hamil­ton­burg.

Excite­ment has been build­ing since ear­ly sum­mer, when a dual lan­guage video mashup of the open­ing num­ber placed the orig­i­nal Broad­way cast along­side their Ger­man lan­guage coun­ter­parts.

One need not speak Ger­man to appre­ci­ate the sim­i­lar­i­ties in atti­tude — in both per­for­mance, and inter­nal asso­nances, a lyri­cal aspect of hip hop that Miran­da was intent on pre­serv­ing.

Trans­la­tor Kevin Schroed­er quipped that he and co-trans­la­tor rap­per Sera Finale embraced the mot­to “as free as nec­es­sary, as close as pos­si­ble” in approach­ing the score, which at 46 num­bers and over 20,000 words, more than dou­bles the word count of any oth­er musi­cal:

At least we had all these syl­la­bles. It gave us room to play around.

Good thing, as the Ger­man lan­guage abounds with mul­ti­syl­lab­ic com­pound nouns, many of which have no direct Eng­lish equiv­a­lent.

Take schaden­freude which the cre­ators of the musi­cal Avenue Q summed up as “hap­pi­ness at the mis­for­tune of oth­ers.”

Or torschlusspanik — the sense of urgency to achieve or do some­thing before it’s too late.

Might that one speak to a trans­lat­ing team who’ve devot­ed close to four years of their lives to get­ting every­thing — words, syl­la­bles, meter, sound, flow, posi­tion, musi­cal­i­ty, mean­ing, and dou­ble mean­ings — right?

Before Schroed­er and Finale were entrust­ed with this her­culean task, they had to pass muster with Miranda’s wife’s Aus­tri­an cousin, who lis­tened to their sam­ples and pro­nounced them in keep­ing with the spir­it of the orig­i­nal.

As trans­la­tors have always done, Schroed­er and Finale had to take their audi­ence into account, swap­ping out ref­er­ences, metaphors and turns of phrase that could stump Ger­man the­ater­go­ers for ones with proven region­al res­o­nance.

In a round up demon­strat­ing the Ger­man team’s dex­ter­i­ty, the New York Times Michael Paul­son points to “Sat­is­fied,” a song where­in Hamilton’s prospec­tive sis­ter-in-law recalls their first encounter:

ORIGINAL

So this is what it feels like to match wits

With some­one at your lev­el! What the hell is the catch?

It’s the feel­ing of free­dom, of see­ing the light

It’s Ben Franklin with a key and a kite

You see it right?

 

GERMAN

So kribbeln Schmetter­linge, wenn sie starten

Wir bei­de voll auf einem Lev­el, offene Karten!

Das Herz in den Wolken, ich flieg’ aus der Bahn

Die Füße kom­men an den Boden nich’ ran

Mein lieber Schwan!

 

ENGLISH TRANSLATION OF GERMAN

So that’s how but­ter­flies tin­gle when they take off

We’re on the same lev­el, all cards on the table!

My heart in the clouds, I’m thrown off track

My feet don’t touch the floor

My dear swan!

Miran­da, who par­tic­i­pat­ed in shap­ing the Ger­man trans­la­tion using a 3 col­umn sys­tem remark­ably sim­i­lar to the com­pare and con­trast con­tent above, gives this change a glow­ing review:

That sec­tion sounds fan­tas­tic, and gives the same feel­ing of falling in love for the first time. The metaphor may be dif­fer­ent, but it keeps its propul­sive­ness.

And while few Ger­man the­ater­go­ers can be expect­ed to be con­ver­sant in Rev­o­lu­tion­ary War era Amer­i­can his­to­ry, Ger­many’s size­able immi­grant pop­u­la­tion ensures that cer­tain of the musical’s themes will retain their cul­tur­al rel­e­vance.

The Ham­burg pro­duc­tion fea­tures play­ers from Liberia and Brazil. Oth­er cast mem­bers were born in Ger­many to par­ents hail­ing from Ghana, the Philip­pines, Aru­ba, Benin, Suriname…and the Unit­ed States.

For more of Michael Paulson’s insights into the chal­lenges of trans­lat­ing Hamil­ton, click here.

Hamil­ton is in pre­views at Hamburg’s St. Pauli The­ater, with open­ing night sched­uled for Octo­ber 6.

- Ayun Hal­l­i­day is the Chief Pri­ma­tol­o­gist of the East Vil­lage Inky zine and author, most recent­ly, of Cre­ative, Not Famous: The Small Pota­to Man­i­festo. Fol­low her @AyunHalliday.

The Evolution of the Electric Guitar: An Introduction to Every Major Variety of the Instrument That Made Rock-and-Roll

The past cen­tu­ry has seen many styl­is­tic changes in pop­u­lar cul­ture, none more dra­mat­ic than in music. We need only hear a few mea­sures of a song to place it in the right decade. The sound of an era’s music reflects the state of its tech­nol­o­gy: when­ev­er engi­neer­ing can make pos­si­ble tools like mul­ti­track recorders, tape loops, sam­plers, and syn­the­siz­ers — to say noth­ing of lis­ten­ing media like cylin­ders, vinyl records, and online stream­ing — the sound­track of the zeit­geist has been trans­formed. But in liv­ing mem­o­ry, sure­ly no devel­op­ment has made quite so pow­er­ful an impact on pop­u­lar music as the elec­tric gui­tar.

“Almost all gui­tars cur­rent­ly on the mar­ket are either a direct descen­dant of, or very sim­i­lar to, a hand­ful of instru­ments that came to life dur­ing the span of one decade: the fifties.” With these words, Dutch Youtu­ber Paul Davids launch­es into a video jour­ney through the evo­lu­tion of the elec­tric gui­tar as we know it, begin­ning in 1950 with the Fend­er Tele­cast­er.

Davids does­n’t just explain the com­po­nents and con­struc­tion of that ven­er­a­ble instru­ment, he plays it — just as he does a vari­ety of oth­er elec­tric gui­tars, each with a sound rep­re­sen­ta­tive of its era. Even if you don’t know them by name, they’ll all sound famil­iar from a vari­ety of musi­cal con­texts.

The inven­tion of the elec­tric gui­tar made pos­si­ble the birth of rock and roll, which shows no few signs of frailty even here in the twen­ty-first cen­tu­ry. The ear­li­est mod­els pro­duced are ever more high­ly val­ued for their sound, their feel, and their appar­ent sim­plic­i­ty, a qual­i­ty many rock­ers hold in the utmost regard. But despite long adher­ing to the same basic form, the elec­tric gui­tar has incor­po­rat­ed a great vari­ety of inno­va­tions — in its pick­ups, its vibra­to sys­tems, and much else besides — whose com­bi­na­tions and per­mu­ta­tions have giv­en rise to entire sub­gen­res like surf, heavy met­al, rock­a­bil­ly, and grunge. Like rock itself, the elec­tric gui­tar arrived hav­ing already attained a kind of per­fec­tion, but pos­sessed too much vital­i­ty to stand still.

Relat­ed con­tent:

Behold the First Elec­tric Gui­tar: The 1931 “Fry­ing Pan”

The World’s First Bass Gui­tar (1936)

The Sto­ry of the Gui­tar: The Com­plete Three-Part Doc­u­men­tary

Oxford Sci­en­tist Explains the Physics of Play­ing Elec­tric Gui­tar Solos

All of the Dif­fer­ent Kinds of Acoustic Gui­tars, and the Dif­fer­ent Woods They’re Made Of: The Ulti­mate Acoustic Gui­tar Guide

Learn to Play Gui­tar for Free: Intro Cours­es Take You From The Very Basics to Play­ing Songs In No Time

Based in Seoul, Col­in Mar­shall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, and cul­ture. His projects include the Sub­stack newslet­ter Books on Cities, the book The State­less City: a Walk through 21st-Cen­tu­ry Los Ange­les and the video series The City in Cin­e­ma. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall, on Face­book, or on Insta­gram.

« Go BackMore in this category... »
Quantcast