For the longest time, Facebook gave you no ability to control what content you see in your Facebook newsfeed. Some 378,000 people have “liked” our Facebook page. But only a fraction actually see Open Culture posts in their newsfeed. That’s because a Facebook algorithm started making the decisions for you, showing you material from some people/publishers, and not others.
Now, Facebook has finally introduced a new feature that will let you control what you see. Please check out the instructions below. When you’re done reading them, consider giving us a Like on Facebook, and then set your newsfeed accordingly. (You get bonus points if you Follow us on Twitter too!)
Hope all of that makes sense.
Read More...A quick note for our readers: This week, we soft launched a new mobile web site for Open Culture – one designed to give our readers the ability to access Open Culture content with far greater ease on their smartphones. If you have an iPhone, iPod Touch, Android phone (or any phone with an advanced web browser), you should be able to read our posts, watch videos, and listen to audio much more cleanly, no matter where you are. Simply pick up your phone, visit any page on openculture.com, and you will see what I mean.
This mobile site is still in “beta.” So if you experience any problems, or have any feedback, please send it our way. We want your input. And, if you don’t prefer the mobile site, you can always turn it off. Just scroll to the bottom of the mobile page and click “Switch to Standard View.”
Finally, as you can imagine, this project required some time and expense. If you can comfortably afford it, please consider making a donation via PayPal to support this initiative and others like it. And if you can’t swing it, that’s a‑okay. Maybe just tell a friend about the site (or about our Free iPhone app) and otherwise enjoy the ride.
Thanks for any feedback you might have, and hope you enjoy the mobile version of Open Culture.
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As you probably know, Open Culture launched a new look last week, and it seemed worth devoting a few words to it. With the new design, I was hoping to give the site a more inviting look and streamline the overall navigation. I was also hoping to make it clear that user contributions are always welcome. If you have tips on good media, send them our way. And if you ever want to write a guest blog post, please feel free to let me know what you have in mind. The more individual readers contribute, the more our community of readers benefits.
I definitely want to send a word of thanks to the folks at Rolling Orange, who handled all of the design and implementation. An excellent group to work with. Also, I want to thank Eric Oberle who has been very generous with his tech support since the beginning.
Lastly, this is a great time to ask you what you would like to see from Open Culture in the future. What should the site do more of? What should it do less of? What good things haven’t we thought about? Your input would be really appreciated. Feel free to send thoughts from the contact page, or add any thoughts in the comments section below. Thanks in advance to all…
Read More...The only downside to using a feed reader (Bloglines, Google Reader, MyYahoo, etc.) to access Open Culture
is that you won’t be able to see our podcast directories which reside
in our left nav bar. To assist you, we have pasted links below that
will give you direct access to the podcast collections. We’ll post this reminder from time to time.
If you like what we’re doing here, please email your friends and let them know about Open Culture.
If you need a new/bigger iPod or iPod Gear to listen to our podcasts, visit our new Amazon store.
Read More...The only downside to using a feed reader (Bloglines, Google Reader, MyYahoo, etc.) to access Open Culture is that you won’t be able to see our podcast directories which reside in our left nav bar. To assist you, we have pasted links below that will give you direct access to the podcast collections. Bookmark & enjoy.
It can be frustrating for Led Zeppelin fans to hear the band reduced to plagiarism lawsuits or the quintessence of sexually-aggressive rock-star entitlement (though much of that is deserved). For one thing, Zeppelin’s occult songwriting tendencies, courtesy of both Page and Plant, play just as prominent a role as their blues-rock come-ons (as several generations of fantasy metal bands can attest). For another, their studio productions and live shows are renowned for pioneering mash-ups of modern rock, folk, and classical instrumentation, courtesy of both Page and Jones. And finally, the band’s recording techniques were—for the time—demonstrations of technical wizardry.
Thus it should come as no surprise that technical wizard Jimmy Page would play the Theremin, though he does play on it the kind of screaming, feedback-laden bends he unleashed from his Les Paul. Introduced to the world by Soviet inventor Leon Theremin in 1919, the early electronic instrument emits high-pitched singing when a player’s hands come within range of its invisible electrical fields. “It hasn’t got six strings,” Page says in his demonstration at the top of the post, from the 2009 film It Might Get Loud, “but it’s a lot of fun.”
Page used a Sonic Wave Theremin in his Zeppelin days in a very guitar-like way—running it through a Maestro Echoplex and Orange amps and cabinets. (Watch him revive the technique in a 1995 French TV broadcast above.) For several months in 1971, writes fansite Achilles Last Stand, Page “used a double-stacked Theremin” for twice the sonic assault.
Though he seems to have gone back to just the one Theremin in the solo above, the effect is no less electrifying, if you’ll excuse the pun, as he sends echoes of ray-gun noise cascading around the theater. Well over five minutes into the hypnotic affair, Page takes to his Les Paul, creating more ragged patterns with violin bow and Echoplex. Even if you aren’t in a dazed and confused state, you’ll feel like you are if you give yourself over to this piece of performance art. Heroics? Yes, and indeed the bowed guitar act has its phallic overtones. But it begins and ends with long stretches of the kind of droning experimental noise one would expect to find onstage at an early Kraftwerk show.
Those in the know will know that Page put the theremin to use on one of the band’s most technically experimental recordings (though it also happens to be an appropriated blues stomper), “Whole Lotta Love” from 1969’s Led Zeppelin II. “I always envisioned the middle to be quite avant-garde,” Page told Guitar World, “The Theremin generates most of the higher pitches and my Les Paul makes the lower sounds.” Watch him rip out a theremin-and-guitar solo above in the live performance from 1973. Taken with the psychedelic video effects, the performance reaches mystical planes of rhythmic abstraction.
Note: An earlier version of this post appeared on our site in 2016.
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Josh Jones is a writer and musician based in Durham, NC.
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When television mogul Ted Turner died earlier this month, it gave cinephiles occasion to remember his brief but high-profile foray into colorization. In the mid-nineteen-eighties, he commissioned for broadcast colorized versions of more than 100 classic movies, from The Treasure of the Sierra Madre to It’s a Wonderful Life to Casablanca. It was only thanks to a clause specifying a black-and-white picture in Orson Welles’ contract with RKO that Citizen Kane never got the full Turner treatment. That blessedly failed project is now being invoked again in comparison with the startup Fable Studio’s enterprise, underway even now, of using artificial intelligence to restore Welles’ sophomore feature The Magnificent Ambersons, which was notoriously mutilated by the studio before its release in 1942.
The recut happened in Welles’ absence. After the attack on Pearl Harbor, he received what sounds like something more than a request from Nelson Rockefeller, then the government’s Coordinator of Inter-American Affairs, to go to Brazil and shoot a documentary about Carnival in the interest of “Pan-American unity.” Due to a disastrous test screening, as Welles explains in the clip from a 1982 Arena broadcast above, “it was thought by everyone in Hollywood, while I was in South America, that it was too ‘downbeat,’ a famous Hollywood word at the time.” Yet the entire film, to his mind, was about the downfall of the titular family, who lose their wealth and prestige as the society they knew slips out from underneath them during the transformations of the early automobile age: not a widely resonant theme, it seems, in mid-twentieth-century America.
“They destroyed Ambersons,” Welles says of the RKO’s recut, “and the picture itself destroyed me.” Yet even the Bowdlerized version has more than a few admirers. Among them is Edward Saatchi, the movie-loving advertising-company scion behind this AI restoration and/or reconstruction project. “His Amazon-backed generative‑A.I. platform, Showrunner, would feed off the data from the extant version of the film to prompt entire new scenes, based on voluminous production materials that survived, including scripts, photographs, and detailed notes,” writes the New Yorker’s Michael Schulman. “For emotional authenticity, Fable would first shoot live actors, then overlay the footage with the digitized voices and likenesses of the long-dead cast members.” The result has the potential to be unsettling on several levels at once.
As Schulman emphasizes, the film’s concern with the human cost of a technological revolution is hardly lost on Saatchi. “With all their speed forward, they may be a step backward in civilization,” says Joseph Cotten’s character, an early automobile investor, in a scene from the studio cut. “It may be that they won’t add to the beauty of the world or the life of men’s souls — I’m not sure. But automobiles have come, and almost all outward things are going to be different because of what they bring.” Even the human mind, he speculates, will be “changed in subtle ways,” a process clearly in effect by the forties. As far as the consequences of AI, we can already see how it’s begun changing the thinking of its early adopters. Saatchi himself displays an ambivalence about the technology, describing it as “potentially the end of human creativity” but also going full-speed-ahead with his unauthorized work on The Magnificent Ambersons — which, at the very least, he’s keeping in black-and-white.
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Based in Seoul, Colin Marshall writes and broadcasts on cities, language, and culture. He’s the author of the newsletter Books on Cities as well as the books 한국 요약 금지 (No Summarizing Korea) and Korean Newtro. Follow him on the social network formerly known as Twitter at @colinmarshall.
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Image via Wikimedia Commons
A number of years ago, in a post on the pioneering composer of the original Doctor Who theme, we wrote that “the early era of experimental electronic music belonged to Delia Derbyshire.” Derbyshire—who almost gave Paul McCartney a version of “Yesterday” with an electronic backing in place of strings—helped invent the early electronic music of the sixties through her work with the Radiophonic Workshop, the sound effects laboratory of the BBC. She went on to form one of the most influential, if largely obscure, electronic acts of the decade, White Noise. And yet, calling the early eras of electronic music hers is an exaggeration. Of course her many collaborators deserve mention, as well as musicians like Bruce Haack, Pierre Henry, Kraftwerk, Brian Eno, and so many others. But what gets almost completely left out of many histories of electronic music, as with so many other histories, is the prominent role so many women besides Derbyshire played in the development of the sounds we now hear around us all the time.
In recognition of this fact, musician, DJ, and “escaped housewife/schoolteacher” Barbara Golden devoted two episodes of her KPFA radio program “Crack o’ Dawn” to women in electronic music, once in 2010 and again in 2013. She shares each broadcast with co-host Jon Leidecker (“Wobbly”), and in each segment, the two banter in casual radio show style, offering history and context for each musician and composer. Highlighted on Ubu’s former Twitter stream, the first show, “Women in Electronic Music 1938–1982 Part 1” (above) gives Derbyshire her due, with three tracks from her, including the Doctor Who theme.
It also includes music from twenty one other composers, beginning with Clara Rockmore, a refiner and popularizer of the theremin, that weird instrument designed to simulate a high, tremulous human voice. Also featured is Wendy Carlos’s “Timesteps,” an original piece from her A Clockwork Orange score.
The second show, above, fills in several gaps in the original broadcast and “could easily be six hours” says co-host Leidecker, given the sheer amount of electronic music out there composed and recorded by women over the past seventy years. This show includes one of our host Golden’s own compositions, “Melody Sumner Carnahan,” as well as music from Laurie Anderson and musique concrete composer Doris Hays. These two broadcasts alone cover an enormous range of stylistic and technological ground, but for even more discographical history of women in electronic music, see the playlist below, compiled by “Nerdgirl” Antye Greie-Ripatti. Commissioned by Club Transmediale Berlin, the mix includes such well-known names as Yoko Ono, Bjork, and M.I.A., as well as foremothers Derbyshire and Carlos, and dozens more.
In lieu of the radio-show chatter of Golden and Leidecker, we have Greie-Ripatti’s post detailing each artist’s time period, country of origin, and contributions to electronic music history. Many of the composers represented here worked for major radio and film studios, scored feature films (like 1956’s Forbidden Planet), invented and innovated new instruments and techniques, wrote for orchestras, and passed on their knowledge as educators and producers. Greie-Ripatti’s page quotes a Danish electronic producer and performer saying “there is a lot of women in electronic music… invisible women.” Thanks to efforts like hers and Golden’s, these pioneering creators need no longer go unseen or, more importantly, unheard.
Note: An earlier version of this post appeared on our site in 2015.
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Thomas Dolby Explains How a Synthesizer Works on a Jim Henson Kids Show (1989)
Josh Jones is a writer and musician based in Durham, NC.
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