A Tour of the New David Bowie Archive Featuring 90,000 Artifacts from His Life & Career

in Museums, Music | September 25th, 2025

With the tenth anniver­sary of David Bowie’s death com­ing up ear­ly next year, more than a few fans will have their minds on a pil­grim­age to mark the occa­sion. Per­haps with that very time frame in mind, the V&A East Store­house in Lon­don has just opened the David Bowie Cen­ter. Run by the Vic­to­ria and Albert Muse­um, to which Bowie left an archive of about 90,000 of his pos­ses­sions, this new insti­tu­tion will show a few hun­dred of those arti­facts at a time, and even make a range of them avail­able on request to vis­i­tors. As for what exact­ly is in there, Jes­si­ca the Muse­um Guide makes a brief sur­vey of the Bowieana cur­rent­ly on dis­play in the video above.

Some of the fea­tured objects, like the suits Bowie wore in his videos for “Life on Mars?” and “Let’s Dance” or the crys­tal ball he held aloft as Jareth the Gob­lin King in Labyrinth, may well be rec­og­niz­able even to casu­al Bowie appre­ci­a­tors. Longer-term fans will sure­ly rec­og­nize the out­landish but ele­gant Kan­sai Yamamo­to-designed cos­tumes that visu­al­ly defined per­son­ae like Zig­gy Star­dust and Aladdin Sane, the Alexan­der McQueen-designed Union Jack frock from the cov­er of Earth­ling, and per­haps even the met­al angel wings Bowie donned onstage dur­ing the high­ly ambi­tious but much-derid­ed Glass Spi­der Tour of the late nine­teen-eight­ies.

Going deep­er, there’s also the Sty­lo­phone, a kind of toy elec­tron­ic instru­ment from the late six­ties, that Bowie used on “Space Odd­i­ty” (and had to repur­chase on eBay); the much more pro­fes­sion­al-grade EMS suit­case syn­the­siz­er giv­en to him by Bri­an Eno, which he used on the “Berlin tril­o­gy” albums they made togeth­er; the per­son­al deck of Oblique Strate­gies, co-cre­at­ed by Eno, that shows signs of inten­sive use in Bowie’s own cre­ative process; his cor­re­spon­dence with Let’s Dance pro­duc­er Nile Rodgers (a cura­tor of the Bowie Cen­ter’s cur­rent exhi­bi­tion), about their sec­ond album Black Tie White Noise; and mate­ri­als from Omikron: The Nomad Soul, the com­put­er game to which he con­tributed music as well as a dig­i­tized per­for­mance in the late nineties.

The col­lec­tion that Bowie donat­ed to the V&A already came care­ful­ly orga­nized and cat­a­loged, which shows a metic­u­lous­ness uncom­mon to rock stars, and a delib­er­ate­ness about not just cul­ti­vat­ing his pub­lic image at any giv­en cul­tur­al moment, but also active­ly curat­ing the mate­ri­als of his own his­tor­i­cal nar­ra­tive. It seems Bowie always had one eye on the past: his own, of course, but also more dis­tant eras, rich with dis­used aes­thet­ics to revive and make his own. The oth­er eye he kept on the future, espe­cial­ly as the inter­net was grow­ing into a cul­tur­al force. The David Bowie Cen­ter has his per­son­al notes on the sub­ject, which include a ref­er­ence to BowieNet, the inter­net ser­vice provider he found­ed around the turn of the mil­len­ni­um. BowieNet is now long gone, of course, but Bowie’s lega­cy — espe­cial­ly now that it’s been insti­tu­tion­al­ly enshrined and made so acces­si­ble to the pub­lic — will out­last us all.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Stream David Bowie’s Com­plete Discog­ra­phy in a 19-Hour Playlist: From His Very First Record­ings to His Last

The Art Col­lec­tion of David Bowie: An Intro­duc­tion

Behold The Paint­ings of David Bowie: Neo-Expres­sion­ist Self Por­traits, Illus­tra­tions of Iggy Pop, and Much More

Meet the Mem­phis Group, the Bob Dylan-Inspired Design­ers of David Bowie’s Favorite Fur­ni­ture

David Bowie Is: The First Major Exhib­it Ded­i­cat­ed to Bowie Spans 50 Years & Fea­tures 300 Great Objects

The Musi­cal Career of David Bowie in One Minute … and One Con­tin­u­ous Take

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

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How Erik Satie Invented Modern Music: A Visual Explanation

in History, Music | September 10th, 2025

Once you hear Erik Satie’s Gymnopédie No. 1, you nev­er for­get it. Not that pop­u­lar cul­ture would let you for­get it: the piece has been, and con­tin­ues to be, rein­ter­pret­ed and sam­pled by musi­cians work­ing in a vari­ety of gen­res from pop to elec­tron­ic to met­al. In ver­sions that sound close to what Satie would have intend­ed when he com­posed it in 1888, it’s also been fea­tured in count­less films and tele­vi­sion shows. It’s even heard with some fre­quen­cy in YouTube videos, though in the case of the one from The Music Pro­fes­sor above, it’s not just the sound­track, but also the sub­ject. Using an anno­tat­ed score, it explains just what makes the piece so endur­ing and influ­en­tial.

Upon “a sim­ple iambic rhythm with two ambigu­ous major 7th chords,” Gymnopédie No. 1 intro­duces a melody that “floats above an aus­tere pro­ces­sion of notes,” then “moves down the octave from F# to F#.” With its lack of a clear key, as well as its lack of devel­op­ment and dra­ma that the orches­tral music of the day would have trained lis­ten­ers to expect, the piece was “as shock­ing as the dance of naked Spar­tans it was meant to evoke.”

The melody makes its turns, but nev­er quite arrives at its seem­ing des­ti­na­tions, going around in cir­cles instead — before, all of a sud­den, swerv­ing into the “minor and dis­so­nant” before end­ing in “pro­found melan­choly.”

Despite music in gen­er­al hav­ing long since assim­i­lat­ed the dar­ing qual­i­ties of Gymnopédie No. 1, the orig­i­nal piece still catch­es our ears — in its sub­tle way — when­ev­er it comes on. So, in anoth­er way, do the less rec­og­niz­able and more exper­i­men­tal Gnossi­ennes with which Satie fol­lowed them up. In the video above, the Music Pro­fes­sor pro­vides a visu­al expla­na­tion of Gnossi­enne No. 1, dur­ing whose per­for­mance “soft dis­so­nance hangs in the air” while “a curi­ous melody floats over gen­tle syn­co­pa­tions in the left hand” over just two chords. The score comes with “sur­re­al com­ments”: “Très luisant,” “Du bout de la pen­sée,” “Pos­tulez en vous-même,” “Ques­tionez.” Satie is often cred­it­ed with pio­neer­ing what would become ambi­ent music; could these be pro­to-Oblique Strate­gies?

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Watch Ani­mat­ed Scores of Eric Satie’s Most Famous Pieces: “Gymno­pe­die No. 1” and “Gnossi­enne No. 1”

Lis­ten to Nev­er-Before-Heard Works by Erik Satie, Per­formed 100 Years After His Death

The Vel­vet Underground’s John Cale Plays Erik Satie’s Vex­a­tions on I’ve Got a Secret (1963)

Watch the 1917 Bal­let “Parade”: Cre­at­ed by Erik Satie, Pablo Picas­so & Jean Cocteau, It Pro­voked a Riot and Inspired the Word “Sur­re­al­ism”

Japan­ese Art Instal­la­tion Lets Peo­ple Play Erik Satie’s “Gymnopédie No. 1” As They Walk on Social­ly-Dis­tanced Notes on the Floor

How Erik Satie’s “Fur­ni­ture Music” Was Designed to Be Ignored and Paved the Way for Ambi­ent Music

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

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Discover the 100-Year-Old Self-Playing Violin, One of the Most Complex Music Players Ever Made

in Music | September 9th, 2025

At the 1910 World’s Exhi­bi­tion in Brus­sels, Lud­wig Hupfeld unveiled the Phono­liszt-Vio­li­na, an instru­ment once dubbed “the eighth won­der of the world.” A lead­ing mak­er of auto­mat­ed instru­ments in Ger­many, Hupfeld built a com­pa­ny that pro­duced every­thing from phono­la push-up play­ers to play­er pianos. In 1907 he cre­at­ed his most famous inven­tion, the Phono­liszt-Vio­li­na. It fea­tured three ver­ti­cal­ly mount­ed vio­lins, each with a sin­gle active string, played by a rotat­ing bow of 1,300 horse­hairs. Mean­while, pneu­mat­ic bel­lows pressed the strings accord­ing to per­fo­rat­ed rolls. And a play­er piano could accom­pa­ny the vio­lins. Sold in upright home and com­mer­cial mod­els, the Phono­liszt-Vio­li­na enter­tained patrons of upscale hotels, restau­rants, and cafes, before grad­u­al­ly fad­ing into obso­les­cence. The Win­ter­gatan video above, along with the Wel­teMax video below, will give you a nice intro­duc­tion to one of the most com­plex music play­ers ever made.

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!

Relat­ed Con­tent 

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Hear the First Masterpiece of Electronic Music, Karlheinz Stockhausen’s Gesang der Jünglinge

in Music | September 3rd, 2025

Karl­heinz Stock­hausen appears, among many oth­er cul­tur­al fig­ures, on the cov­er of Sgt. Pep­per’s Lone­ly Hearts Club Band. His inclu­sion was more than a trendy ges­ture toward the Euro­pean avant-garde; any­one who knows that path­break­ing elec­tron­ic com­poser’s work will notice its influ­ence on the album at first lis­ten. Paul McCart­ney him­self went on record with his notion that assum­ing the alter egos of the title would allow him and his fel­low Bea­t­les to branch out both cul­tur­al­ly and intel­lec­tu­al­ly in their music, incor­po­rat­ing pas­tich­es of Ravi Shankar, B. B. King, Albert Ayler, the Doors, the Beach Boys, and indeed Stock­hausen, whose Gesang der Jünglinge had already inspired “Tomor­row Nev­er Knows” on Revolver.

Lit­er­al­ly “Song of the Youths,” Gesang der Jünglinge was an ear­ly work for Stock­hausen, who com­posed it in 1954, when he was still a PhD stu­dent in com­mu­ni­ca­tions at the Uni­ver­si­ty of Bonn. Inspired by not just his tech­no­log­i­cal inter­ests but also his devout Catholi­cism, he decid­ed to cre­ate a mass for elec­tron­ic sounds and voic­es, with the intent to debut it at Cologne Cathe­dral. (Leg­end has it that he was rebuffed by reli­gious author­i­ties, who insist­ed that loud­speak­ers had no place in a house of wor­ship, but sources dis­agreed on whether he actu­al­ly sought their per­mis­sion in the first place.)

He drew its words from a pas­sage of the Old Tes­ta­ment sto­ry of three boys cast into the fire by King Neb­uchad­nez­zar for their refusal to wor­ship a gold­en idol and kept unharmed by the praise to God they sang amid the flames.

In Stock­hausen’s high-tech ren­der­ing, the boys are rep­re­sent­ed by the voice of twelve-year-old Josef Protsch­ka (who would grow up to become an acclaimed vocal­ist in his own right), and the fire by a col­lage of elec­tron­ic sounds. Though the com­poser’s manip­u­la­tions, part design and part chance, the human and mechan­i­cal halves of the piece become one: Protschka’s vocals break apart and reform into frag­ments of lan­guage nev­er before heard, and the arti­fi­cial­ly gen­er­at­ed tones bend uncan­ni­ly toward the sound of sung vow­els. All this, to say noth­ing of its play­back in five-chan­nel sound in a time when stereo was still a nov­el­ty, would have sound­ed deeply, even dis­turbing­ly unfa­mil­iar to the audi­ence at Gesang der Jünglinge’s pre­miere — and its impact prob­a­bly had­n’t been much dimin­ished by the time of the 2001 per­for­mance above. Stock­house­n’s music may have been after the shock of the new, but it also faced the eter­nal.

Relat­ed con­tent:

Watch Karl­heinz Stockhausen’s Great Heli­copter String Quar­tet, Star­ring 4 Musi­cians, 4 Cam­eras & 4 Copters

Pio­neer­ing Elec­tron­ic Com­pos­er Karl­heinz Stock­hausen Presents “Four Cri­te­ria of Elec­tron­ic Music” & Oth­er Lec­tures in Eng­lish (1972)

Hear Karl­heinz Stockhausen’s Pio­neer­ing Com­po­si­tions for Music Box­es

A Karl­heinz Stock­hausen Brand­ed Car: A Play­ful Trib­ute to the Ground­break­ing Elec­tron­ic Com­pos­er

“Tomor­row Nev­er Knows”: How The Bea­t­les Invent­ed the Future With Stu­dio Mag­ic, Tape Loops & LSD

The His­to­ry of Elec­tron­ic Music in 476 Tracks (1937–2001)

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

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The World’s Most Famous Organ Piece Played on the World’s Largest Fully Operational Pipe Organ

in Music | September 3rd, 2025

The world’s most famous organ piece, played on the world’s largest ful­ly func­tion­ing pipe organ. That’s what you have above. Here, organ­ist Dylan David Shaw per­forms Bach’s Toc­ca­ta and Fugue in D minor on the famous Wana­mak­er organ.

Orig­i­nal­ly built for the St. Louis World’s Fair in 1904, the organ end­ed up in Philadel­phi­a’s Wana­mak­er’s depart­ment store in 1911. More than a cen­tu­ry lat­er, the organ still resides in the same store. But Macy’s even­tu­al­ly took over Wanamaker’s, and Macy’s now plans to close the store, leav­ing the fate of the organ unknown. Where will the 28,000-pipe organ find a new home? That’s still TBD, some­thing that’s like­ly to get resolved in the months to come.

Relat­ed Con­tent 

Down­load the Com­plete Organ Works of J.S. Bach for Free

Bohemi­an Rhap­sody Played on the Pipe Organ

The “All of Bach” Project Is Mak­ing Per­for­mances of Every Bach Piece Avail­able Online: Watch 346 High-Qual­i­ty Record­ings

Bach’s Most Famous Organ Piece Played on Wine Glass­es

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A Massive Choir Sings “Paranoid” to Honor Ozzy Osbourne

in Music | September 2nd, 2025

In Toron­to, 7,000 singers par­tic­i­pat­ed in Choir Choir Choir’s trib­ute to Ozzy Osbourne, all tak­ing part in a giant sing-along of “Para­noid.”  The first sin­gle on Black Sab­bath’s sec­ond album (1970), “Para­noid” reached #4 in the UK mar­ket and put Sab­bath on the map. The song also became an ear­ly heavy met­al clas­sic. Watch Sab­bath per­form the song live in 1970 here; or watch them per­form it for the very last time on July 5, 2025 here. Then enjoy the Choir Choir Choir trib­ute above.

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!

Relat­ed Con­tent 

Watch David Byrne Lead a Mas­sive Choir in Singing David Bowie’s “Heroes”

Watch The Nine Lives of Ozzy Osbourne: A Free Doc­u­men­tary on the Heavy Met­al Pio­neer (RIP)

Ozzy Osbourne’s Gui­tarist Zakk Wylde Plays Black Sab­bath on a Hel­lo Kit­ty Gui­tar

Kids Orches­tra Plays Ozzy Osbourne’s “Crazy Train” and Zeppelin’s “Kash­mir”

Pat­ti Smith Sings “Peo­ple Have the Pow­er” with a Choir of 250 Fel­low Singers

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Hear the Long-Lost Chants of English Monks, Revived for the First Time in 500 Years

in History, Music, Religion | August 29th, 2025

Lis­ten­ing to music, espe­cial­ly live music, can be a reli­gious expe­ri­ence. These days, most of us say that fig­u­ra­tive­ly, but for medieval monks, it was the lit­er­al truth. Every aspect of life in a monastery was meant to get you that much clos­er to God, but espe­cial­ly the times when every­one came togeth­er and sang. For Eng­lish monks accus­tomed to that way of life, it would have come as quite a shock, to say the very least, when Hen­ry VIII ordered the dis­so­lu­tion of the monas­ter­ies between the mid fif­teen-thir­ties and the ear­ly fif­teen-for­ties. Not only were the inhab­i­tants of those refuges sent pack­ing, their sacred music was cast to the wind.

Near­ly half a mil­len­ni­um lat­er, that music is still being recov­ered. As report­ed by the Guardian’s Steven Mor­ris, Uni­ver­si­ty of Exeter his­to­ri­an James Clark found the lat­est exam­ple while research­ing the still-stand­ing Buck­land Abbey in Devon for the Nation­al Trust.

“Only one book — rather bor­ing­ly set­ting out the cus­toms the monks fol­lowed — was known to exist, held in the British Library.” But lo and behold, a few leaves of parch­ment stuck in the back hap­pened to con­tain pieces of ear­ly six­teenth-cen­tu­ry music, or rather chant, with both text and nota­tion, a van­ish­ing­ly rare sort of arti­fact of medieval monas­tic life.

Just this month, for the first time in almost five cen­turies, the music from the “Buck­land book” res­onat­ed with­in the walls of Buck­land Abbey once again. You can hear a clip from the Uni­ver­si­ty of Exeter chapel choir’s per­for­mance just above, which may or may not get across the grim­ness of the orig­i­nal work. “The themes are heavy — the threats from dis­ease and crop fail­ures, not to men­tion pow­er­ful rulers — but the poly­phon­ic style is bright and joy­ful, a con­trast to the sort of mourn­ful chants most asso­ci­at­ed with monks,” writes Mor­ris. For lis­ten­ers here in the twen­ty-first cen­tu­ry, these com­po­si­tions offer the addi­tion­al tran­scen­den­tal dimen­sion of aes­thet­ic time trav­el. The only way their redis­cov­ery could be more for­tu­itous is if it had hap­pened in time to ben­e­fit from the nine­teen-nineties Gre­go­ri­an-chant boom.

Relat­ed con­tent:

See the Guidon­ian Hand, the Medieval Sys­tem for Read­ing Music, Get Brought Back to Life

A YouTube Chan­nel Com­plete­ly Devot­ed to Medieval Sacred Music: Hear Gre­go­ri­an Chant, Byzan­tine Chant & More

The Medieval Ban Against the “Devil’s Tri­tone”: Debunk­ing a Great Myth in Music The­o­ry

New Dig­i­tal Archive Will Bring Medieval Chants Back to Life: Project Amra Will Fea­ture 300 Dig­i­tized Man­u­scripts and Many Audio Record­ings

A Beat­box­ing Bud­dhist Monk Cre­ates Music for Med­i­ta­tion

The His­to­ry of Clas­si­cal Music in 1200 Tracks: From Gre­go­ri­an Chant to Górec­ki (100 Hours of Audio)

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

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Did Paul McCartney Really Die in 1966? How the Biggest Beatles Conspiracy Theory Spread

in History, Music | August 22nd, 2025

No pop music can have inspired more scruti­ny than that of the Bea­t­les. Of course, intense and sus­tained atten­tion has been paid to every aspect of the band’s exis­tence — and, in the case of Paul McCart­ney, his pur­port­ed non-exis­tence as well. The the­o­ry that he actu­al­ly died in the nine­teen-six­ties and was there­after secret­ly played by a dou­ble has demon­strat­ed such pop-cul­tur­al stay­ing pow­er that even those who bare­ly know the Bea­t­les’ music make ref­er­ence to it. The phrase “Turn me on, dead man” now floats free of its ori­gin, an act of cre­ative lis­ten­ing applied to “Rev­o­lu­tion 9” played back­wards.

The idea, as explained in the Vinyl Rewind video above, is that “after an argu­ment dur­ing a Bea­t­les record­ing ses­sion on Novem­ber 9th, 1966, Paul McCart­ney sped off in his car, only to be decap­i­tat­ed in an auto acci­dent when he lost con­trol of his vehi­cle. The U.K. secu­ri­ty ser­vice MI5 advised the band to find a replace­ment, for they feared that if the news of Paul’s death got out, mass hys­te­ria would spread among Bea­t­les fans, lead­ing to civ­il unrest and, pos­si­bly, mass sui­cide.” The hunt for a Paul looka­like turned up “a Scot­tish orphan named William Shears Camp­bell, also known as Bil­ly Shears.”

That name will sound famil­iar to even casu­al Bea­t­les lis­ten­ers, announced as it is so promi­nent­ly, and so ear­ly, on Sgt. Pep­per’s Lone­ly Hearts Club Band. The album’s cov­er, too, proved to be a fount of imagery sug­gest­ing that the rumor of Paul’s death, which had been ref­er­enced in an offi­cial Bea­t­les pub­li­ca­tion in 1967 specif­i­cal­ly to dis­pel it, was actu­al­ly true. A cou­ple of years lat­er, a Detroit radio DJ and a Uni­ver­si­ty of Michi­gan stu­dent-jour­nal­ist got the sto­ry into wide cir­cu­la­tion. No one clue — the recur­ring shoe­less­ness of Paul or his imper­son­ator, the death-of-Oswald lines from King Lear incor­po­rat­ed into “I Am the Wal­rus,” the car wreck described in “A Day in the Life,” the license-plate of the VW on Abbey Road’s cov­er  — was dis­pos­i­tive, but even­tu­al­ly, they added up.

They added up if you were express­ly look­ing for evi­dence of Paul’s death and sub­sti­tu­tion: engag­ing in parei­do­lia, in oth­er words, the ten­den­cy to per­ceive mean­ing­ful pat­terns in ran­dom noise, or in this case a range of minor, non-orches­trat­ed details across pieces of media. Giv­en the Bea­t­les’ per­son­al­i­ties, nobody would put it past them to make cheeky hid­den ref­er­ences to exact­ly what they weren’t sup­posed to talk about, but any­one famil­iar with the music busi­ness would also sus­pect that Capi­tol Records had no inter­est in putting a stop to a false rumor that was gen­er­at­ing a prof­it. It’s cer­tain­ly a stretch to imag­ine that some­one who just hap­pens to look like Paul McCart­ney would also be will­ing and able to car­ry on the man’s solo career for decade after decade. But then, the his­to­ry of pop­u­lar music is full of lucky men, and maybe — just maybe — Bil­ly Shears was among the luck­i­est.

Relat­ed con­tent:

How the “Paul McCart­ney is Dead” Hoax Start­ed at an Amer­i­can Col­lege News­pa­per and Went Viral (1969)

Paul McCart­ney Breaks Down His Most Famous Songs and Answers Most-Asked Fan Ques­tions in Two New Videos

The Paul McCart­ney is Dead Con­spir­a­cy The­o­ry, Explained

Paul McCart­ney vs. Bri­an Wil­son: A Rival­ry That Inspired Pet Sounds, Sgt. Pep­per, and Oth­er Clas­sic Albums

Hear The Bea­t­les’ Abbey Road with Only Paul McCartney’s Bass: You Won’t Believe How Good It Sounds

Paul McCart­ney Admits to Drop­ping Acid in a Scrap­py Inter­view with a Pry­ing Reporter (June, 1967)

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

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