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Tibetan Musical Notation Is Beautiful

Reli­gions take the cast and hue of the cul­tures in which they find root. This was cer­tain­ly true in Tibet when Bud­dhism arrived in the 7th cen­tu­ry. It trans­formed and was trans­formed by the native reli­gion of Bon. Of the many cre­ative prac­tices that arose from this syn­the­sis, Tibetan Bud­dhist music ranks very high­ly in impor­tance.

As in sacred music in the West, Tibetan music has com­plex sys­tems of musi­cal nota­tion and a long his­to­ry of writ­ten reli­gious song. “A vital com­po­nent of Tibetan Bud­dhist expe­ri­ence,” explains Google Arts & Cul­tures Bud­dhist Dig­i­tal Resource Cen­ter, “musi­cal nota­tion allows for the trans­fer­ence of sacred sound and cer­e­mo­ny across gen­er­a­tions. A means to mem­o­rize sacred text, express devo­tion, ward off fer­al spir­its, and invoke deities.”

Some of these fea­tures may be alien to sec­u­lar West­ern Bud­dhists focused on mind­ful­ness and silent med­i­ta­tion, but to vary­ing degrees, Tibetan schools place con­sid­er­able val­ue on the aes­thet­ic expe­ri­ence of extra-human realms. As Uni­ver­si­ty of Tul­sa musi­col­o­gist John Pow­ell writes, “the use of sacred sound” in Tibetan Bud­dhism, a “Mantrayana” tra­di­tion, acts “as a for­mu­la for the trans­for­ma­tion of human con­scious­ness.”

Tibetan musi­cal nota­tions, Google points out, “sym­bol­i­cal­ly rep­re­sent the melodies, rhythm pat­terns, and instru­men­tal arrange­ments. In har­mo­ny with chant­i­ng, visu­al­iza­tions, and hand ges­tures, [Tibetan] music cru­cial­ly guides rit­u­al per­for­mance.” It is char­ac­ter­ized not only by its inte­gra­tion of rit­u­al dance, but also by a large col­lec­tion of rit­u­al instruments—including the long, Swiss-like horns suit­ed to a moun­tain environment—and unique forms of poly­phon­ic over­tone singing.

The exam­ples of musi­cal nota­tion you see here came from the appro­pri­ate­ly-named Twit­ter account Musi­cal Nota­tion is Beau­ti­ful and type­face design­er and researcher Jo De Baerde­maek­er. At the top is a 19th cen­tu­ry man­u­script belong­ing to the “Yang” tra­di­tion, “the most high­ly involved and regard­ed chant tra­di­tion in Tibetan music,” notes the Schoyen Col­lec­tion, “and the only one to rely on a sys­tem of nota­tion (Yang-Yig).”

The curved lines rep­re­sent “smooth­ly effect­ed ris­es and falls in into­na­tion.” The nota­tion also “fre­quent­ly con­tains detailed instruc­tions con­cern­ing in what spir­it the music should be sung (e.g. flow­ing like a riv­er, light like bird song) and the small­est mod­i­fi­ca­tions to be made to the voice in the utter­ance of a vow­el.” The Yang-Yig goes all the way back to the 6th cen­tu­ry, pre­dat­ing Tibetan Bud­dhism, and “does not record nei­ther the rhyth­mic pat­tern nor dura­tion of notes.” Oth­er kinds of music have their own types of nota­tion, such as that in the piece above for voice, drums, trum­pets, horns, and cym­bals.

Though they artic­u­late and elab­o­rate on reli­gious ideas from India, Tibet’s musi­cal tra­di­tions are entire­ly its own. “It is essen­tial to rethink the entire con­cept of melody and rhythm” to under­stand Tibetan Bud­dhist chant, writes Pow­ell in a detailed overview of Tibetan music’s vocal and instru­men­tal qual­i­ties. “Many out­side Tibetan cul­ture are accus­tomed to think of melody as a sequence of ris­ing or falling pitch­es,” he says. “In Tibetan Tantric chant­i­ng, how­ev­er, the melod­ic con­tent occurs in terms of vow­el mod­i­fi­ca­tion and the care­ful con­tour­ing of tones.”  Hear an exam­ple of tra­di­tion­al Tibetan Bud­dhist chant just above, and learn more about Tibetan musi­cal nota­tion at Google Arts & Cul­ture.

Note: An ear­li­er ver­sion of this post appeared on our site in 2019.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Breath­tak­ing­ly-Detailed Tibetan Book Print­ed 40 Years Before the Guten­berg Bible

The World’s Largest Col­lec­tion of Tibetan Bud­dhist Lit­er­a­ture Now Online

Free Online Course: Robert Thurman’s Intro­duc­tion to Tibetan Bud­dhism (Record­ed at Colum­bia U)

Leonard Cohen Nar­rates Film on The Tibetan Book of the Dead, Fea­tur­ing the Dalai Lama (1994)

The Old­est Book Print­ed with Mov­able Type is Not The Guten­berg Bible: Jikji, a Col­lec­tion of Kore­an Bud­dhist Teach­ings, Pre­dat­ed It By 78 Years and It’s Now Dig­i­tized Online

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

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The Soviet Union Creates a List of 38 Dangerous Rock Bands: Kiss, Pink Floyd, Talking Heads, Village People & More (1985)

Image by Mario Cas­ciano via Wiki­me­dia Com­mons

Music is dan­ger­ous and pow­er­ful, and can be, with­out intend­ing to, a polit­i­cal weapon. All author­i­tar­i­an regimes have under­stood this, includ­ing repres­sive ele­ments in the U.S. through­out the Cold War. I remem­ber hav­ing books hand­ed to me before the Berlin Wall came down, by fam­i­ly friends fear­ful of the evils of pop­u­lar music—especially punk rock and met­al, but also pret­ty much every­thing else. The descrip­tions in these para­noid tracts of the bands I knew and loved sound­ed so ludi­crous and hyper­bol­ic that I couldn’t help sus­pect that each was in fact a work of satire. They were at the very least anachro­nis­tic, yet ide­al, types of Poe’s Law.

Such may be your reac­tion to a list pub­lished in 1985 by the Kom­so­mol, the Sovi­et youth orga­ni­za­tion formed as the All-Union Lenin­ist Young Com­mu­nist League in 1918. (Find it below.) Con­sist­ing of thir­ty-eight punk, rock, met­al, dis­co, and New Wave bands, the list is not at all unlike the mate­ri­als print­ed around the same time by cer­tain youth orga­ni­za­tions I came into con­tact with.

The mech­a­nisms of state repres­sion in the Sovi­et Union on the eve of per­e­stroi­ka over­matched com­par­a­tive­ly mild attempts at music cen­sor­ship made by the U.S. gov­ern­ment, but the pro­pa­gan­da mech­a­nisms were sim­i­lar. As in the alarmed pam­phlets and books hand­ed to me in church­es and sum­mer camps, the Kom­so­mol list describes each band in obtuse and absurd terms, each one a cat­e­go­ry of the “type of pro­pa­gan­da” on offer.

Black Sab­bath, a legit­i­mate­ly scary—and polit­i­cal­ly astute—band gets pegged along with Iron Maid­en for “vio­lence” and “reli­gious obscu­ran­tism.” (Nazareth is sim­i­lar­ly guilty of “vio­lence” and “reli­gious mys­ti­cism.”) A great many artists are charged with only “vio­lence” or with “sex,” which in some cas­es was kind of their whole méti­er. A hand­ful of punk bands—the Sex Pis­tols, the Clash, the Stranglers—are cit­ed for vio­lence, and also sim­ply charged with “punk,” a crime giv­en as the Ramones’ only offense. There are a few odd­ly spe­cif­ic charges: Pink Floyd is guilty of a “dis­tor­tion of Sovi­et for­eign pol­i­cy (‘Sovi­et aggres­sion in Afghanistan’)” and Talk­ing Heads endorse the “myth of the Sovi­et mil­i­tary threat.” A cou­ple hilar­i­ous­ly incon­gru­ous tags offer LOLs: Yazoo and Depeche Mode, two of the gen­tlest bands of the peri­od, get called out for “punk, vio­lence.” Kiss and the Vil­lage Peo­ple (above), two of the sil­li­est bands on the list, are said to prop­a­gate, “neo­fas­cism” and “vio­lence.”

  1. Sex Pis­tols: punk, vio­lence
  2. B‑52s: punk, vio­lence
  3. Mad­ness: punk, vio­lence
  4. Clash: punk, vio­lence
  5. Stran­glers: punk, vio­lence
  6. Kiss: neo­fas­cism, punk, vio­lence
  7. Cro­cus: vio­lence, cult of strong per­son­al­i­ty
  8. Styx: vio­lence, van­dal­ism
  9. Iron Maid­en: vio­lence, reli­gious obscu­ri­tanism
  10. Judas Priest: anti­com­mu­nism, racism
  11. AC/DC: neo­fas­cism, vio­lence
  12. Sparks: neo­fas­cism, racism
  13. Black Sab­bath: vio­lence, reli­gious obscu­ri­tanism
  14. Alice Coop­er: vio­lence, van­dal­ism
  15. Nazareth: vio­lence, reli­gious mys­ti­cism
  16. Scor­pi­ons: vio­lence
  17. Gengis Khan: anti­com­mu­nism, nation­al­ism
  18. UFO: vio­lence
  19. Pink Floyd (1983): dis­tor­tion of Sovi­et for­eign pol­i­cy (“Sovi­et agres­sion in Afghanistan”)***
  20. Talk­ing Heads: myth of the Sovi­et mil­i­tary threat
  21. Per­ron: eroti­cism
  22. Bohan­non: eroti­cism
  23. Orig­i­nals: sex
  24. Don­na Sum­mer: eroti­cism
  25. Tina Turn­er: sex
  26. Junior Eng­lish: sex
  27. Canned Heat: homo­sex­u­al­i­ty
  28. Munich Machine: eroti­cism
  29. Ramones: punk
  30. Van Halen: anti-sovi­et pro­pa­gan­da
  31. Julio Igle­sias: neo­fas­cism
  32. Yazoo: punk, vio­lence
  33. Depeche Mode: punk, vio­lence
  34. Vil­lage Peo­ple: vio­lence
  35. Ten CC: neo­fas­cism
  36. Stooges: vio­lence
  37. Boys: punk, vio­lence
  38. Blondie: punk, vio­lence

The list cir­cu­lat­ed for “the pur­pose of inten­si­fy­ing con­trol over the activ­i­ties of dis­cothe­ques.” It comes to us from Alex­ei Yurchak’s Every­thing Was For­ev­er, Until It Was No More: The Last Sovi­et Gen­er­a­tion, which cites it as an exam­ple, writes one read­er, of “the con­tra­dic­to­ry nature of Sovi­et life, where as cit­i­zens par­tic­i­pat­ed in the rit­u­al­ized, pro for­ma ide­o­log­i­cal dis­course, this very dis­course allowed them to carve out what they called ‘nor­mal mean­ing­ful life’ that went beyond the state’s ide­ol­o­gy.” A large part of that “nor­mal” life involved cir­cu­lat­ing bootlegs of ide­o­log­i­cal­ly sus­pect music on impro­vised mate­ri­als like dis­card­ed and stolen X‑Rays. The Kom­so­mol even­tu­al­ly wised up. As Yur­chak doc­u­ments in his book, they co-opt­ed local ama­teur rock bands and pro­mot­ed their own events as a counter-attack on the influ­ence of bour­geois cul­ture. You can prob­a­bly guess how much suc­cess they had with this strat­e­gy.

See the full list of thir­ty-eight bands and their “type of pro­pa­gan­da” above.

Note: An ear­li­er ver­sion of this post appeared on our site in 2015.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Frank Zap­pa Debates Whether the Gov­ern­ment Should Cen­sor Music in a Heat­ed Episode of Cross­fire: Why Are Peo­ple Afraid of Words? (1986)

The Sovi­ets Who Boot­legged West­ern Music on X‑Rays: Their Sto­ry Told in New Video & Audio Doc­u­men­taries

Watch the Sur­re­al­ist Glass Har­mon­i­ca, the Only Ani­mat­ed Film Ever Banned by Sovi­et Cen­sors (1968)

The His­to­ry of Sovi­et Rock: From the 70s Under­ground Rock Scene, to Sovi­et Punk & New Wave in the 1980s

Young Pat­ti Smith Rails Against the Cen­sor­ship of Her Music: An Ani­mat­ed, NSFW Inter­view from 1976

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

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The History of the World in One Beautiful, 5‑Foot-Long Chart (1931)

In the image above, we see an impres­sive pre-inter­net macro-info­graph­ic called a “His­tom­ap.” Its cre­ator John B. Sparks (who lat­er cre­at­ed “his­tom­aps” of reli­gion and evo­lu­tion) pub­lished the graph­ic in 1931 with Rand McNal­ly. The five-foot-long chart—purportedly cov­er­ing 4,000 years of “world” history—is, in fact, an exam­ple of an ear­ly illus­tra­tion trend called the “out­line,” of which Rebec­ca Onion at Slate writes: “large sub­jects (the his­to­ry of the world! every school of phi­los­o­phy! all of mod­ern physics!) were dis­tilled into a form com­pre­hen­si­ble to the most une­d­u­cat­ed lay­man.” Here we have the full descrip­tion of most every polit­i­cal chart, graph, or ani­ma­tion in U.S.A. Today, most Inter­net news sites, and, of course, The Onion.

The sim­i­lar­i­ty here isn’t sim­ply one of form. The “out­line” func­tioned in much the same way that sim­pli­fied ani­ma­tions do—condensing heavy, con­tentious the­o­ret­i­cal freight trains and ide­o­log­i­cal bag­gage. Rebec­ca Onion describes the chart as an arti­fact very much of its time, pre­sent­ing a ver­sion of his­to­ry promi­nent in the U.S. between the wars. Onion writes:

The chart empha­sizes dom­i­na­tion, using col­or to show how the pow­er of var­i­ous “peo­ples” (a qua­si-racial under­stand­ing of the nature of human groups, quite pop­u­lar at the time) evolved through­out his­to­ry.

Sparks’ map, how­ev­er, remains an inter­est­ing doc­u­ment because of its seem­ing dis­in­ter­est­ed­ness. While the focus on racial­ism and impe­r­i­al con­quest may seem to place Sparks in com­pa­ny with pop­ulist “sci­en­tif­ic” racists of the peri­od like Lothrop Stod­dard (whom Tom Buchanan quotes in Fitzgerald’s Gats­by), it would also seem that his design has much in com­mon with ear­ly Enlight­en­ment fig­ures whose con­cep­tion of time was not nec­es­sar­i­ly lin­ear. Fol­low­ing clas­si­cal mod­els, thinkers like Thomas Hobbes tend­ed to divide his­tor­i­cal epochs into ris­ing and falling actions of var­i­ous peo­ple groups, rather than the grad­ual ascent of one race over all oth­ers towards an end of his­to­ry. For exam­ple, poet Abra­ham Cow­ley writes a com­pressed “uni­ver­sal his­to­ry” in his 1656 poem “To Mr. Hobs,” mov­ing from Aris­to­tle (the “Sta­girite”) to the poem’s sub­ject Thomas Hobbes. The move­ment is pro­gres­sive, yet the his­tor­i­cal rep­re­sen­ta­tives of each civ­i­liza­tion receive some equal weight and sim­i­lar empha­sis.

Long did the mighty Sta­girite retain
The uni­ver­sal Intel­lec­tu­al reign,
Saw his own Coun­treys short-liv’ed Leop­ard slain;
The stronger Roman-Eagle did out-fly,
Oft­ner renewed his Age, and saw that Dy.
Mecha it self, in spight of Mahumet pos­s­est,
And chas’ed by a wild Del­uge from the East,
His Monar­chy new plant­ed in the West.
But as in time each great impe­r­i­al race
Degen­er­ates, and gives some new one place:

The peri­od of Cow­ley rec­og­nized the­o­ries of racial, cul­tur­al, and nat­ur­al suprema­cy, but such qual­i­ties, as in Sparks’ map, were the prod­uct of a long line of suc­ces­sion from equal­ly pow­er­ful and note­wor­thy empires and groups to oth­ers, not a social evo­lu­tion in which a supe­ri­or race nat­u­ral­ly arose. Rand McNal­ly adver­tised the chart as pre­sent­ing “the march of civ­i­liza­tion, from the mud huts of the ancients thru the monar­chis­tic glam­our of the mid­dle ages to the liv­ing panora­ma of life in present day Amer­i­ca.” While the blurb is filled with pseu­do­sci­en­tif­ic colo­nial­ist talk­ing points, the chart itself has the dat­ed, yet strik­ing­ly egal­i­tar­i­an arrange­ment of infor­ma­tion that—like much of the illus­tra­tion in Nation­al Geo­graph­ic—sought to accom­mo­date the best con­sen­sus mod­els of the times, dis­play­ing, but not pros­e­ly­tiz­ing, its bias­es.

Note: An ear­li­er ver­sion of this post appeared on our site in 2013.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

180,000 Years of Reli­gion Chart­ed on a “His­tom­ap” in 1943

The Big Map of Who Lived When Shows Which Cul­tur­al Fig­ures Walked the Earth at the Same Time: From 1200 to Present

Joseph Priest­ley Visu­al­izes His­to­ry & Great His­tor­i­cal Fig­ures with Two of the Most Influ­en­tial Info­graph­ics Ever (1769)

10 Mil­lion Years of Evo­lu­tion Visu­al­ized in an Ele­gant, 5‑Foot Long Info­graph­ic from 1931

The His­to­ry of the World in One Video: Every Year from 200,000 BCE to Today

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

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The Dylatov Pass Incident: Has One of the Biggest Soviet Mysteries Been Solved?

Most of us would go out of our way not to set foot any­where near a place the local natives refer to as “Dead Moun­tain.” That did­n’t stop the Dyat­lov Hik­ing Group, who set out on a six­teen-day ski­ing expe­di­tion across the north­ern Urals in late Jan­u­ary of 1959. Expe­ri­enced and intre­pid, those ten young Sovi­et ski hik­ers had what it took to make the jour­ney, at least if noth­ing went ter­ri­bly wrong. A bout of sci­at­i­ca forced one mem­ber of the group to turn back ear­ly, which turned out to be lucky for him. About a month lat­er, the irra­di­at­ed bod­ies of his nine com­rades were dis­cov­ered scat­tered in dif­fer­ent areas of Dead Moun­tain some dis­tance from their camp­site, with var­i­ous trau­mat­ic injuries and in var­i­ous states of undress.

Some­thing had indeed gone ter­ri­bly wrong, but nobody could fig­ure out what. For decades, the fate of the Dyat­lov Hik­ing Group inspired count­less expla­na­tions rang­ing wide­ly in plau­si­bil­i­ty. Some the­o­rized a freak weath­er phe­nom­e­non; oth­ers some kind of tox­ic air­borne event; oth­ers still, the actions of Amer­i­can spies or even a yeti.

“In a place where infor­ma­tion has been as tight­ly con­trolled as in the for­mer Sovi­et Union, mis­trust of offi­cial nar­ra­tives is nat­ur­al, and noth­ing in the record can explain why peo­ple would leave a tent undressed, in near-sui­ci­dal fash­ion,” writes the New York­er’s Dou­glas Pre­ston. Only in the late twen­ty-tens, when the Dyat­lov Group Memo­r­i­al Foun­da­tion got the case reopened, did inves­ti­ga­tors assess the con­tra­dic­to­ry evi­dence while mak­ing new mea­sure­ments and con­duct­ing new exper­i­ments.

The prob­a­ble caus­es were nar­rowed down to those explained by experts in the Vox video above: a severe bliz­zard and a slab of ice that must have shift­ed and crushed the tent. Dense­ly packed by the wind, that mas­sive, heavy slab would have “pre­vent­ed them from retriev­ing their boots or warm cloth­ing and forced them to cut their way out of the downs­lope side of the tent,” pro­ceed­ing to the clos­est nat­ur­al shel­ter from the avalanche they believed was com­ing. But no avalanche came, and they could­n’t find their way back to their camp in the dark­ness. “Had they been less expe­ri­enced, they might have remained near the tent, dug it out, and sur­vived,” writes Pre­ston. “The skiers’ exper­tise doomed them.” Not every­one accepts this the­o­ry, but then, the idea that knowl­edge can kill might be more fright­en­ing than even the most abom­inable snow­man.

Relat­ed con­tent:

What Caused the Mys­te­ri­ous Death of Edgar Allan Poe?: A Brief Inves­ti­ga­tion into the Poet’s Demise 171 Years Ago Today

The Denali Exper­i­ment: A Test of Human Lim­its

The Curi­ous Death of Vin­cent van Gogh

The Grue­some Doll­house Death Scenes That Rein­vent­ed Mur­der Inves­ti­ga­tions

Archae­ol­o­gists Dis­cov­er 1300-Year-Old Pair of Skis, the Best-Pre­served Ancient Skis in Exis­tence

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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An Introduction to George Orwell’s 1984 and How Power Manufactures Truth

Soon after the first elec­tion of Don­ald Trump to the pres­i­den­cy of the Unit­ed States, George Orwell’s Nine­teen Eighty-Four became a best­seller again. Shoot­ing to the top of the Amer­i­can charts, the nov­el that inspired the term “Orwellian” passed Danielle Steel’s lat­est opus, the poet­ry of Rupi Kaur, the eleventh Diary of a Wimpy Kid book, and the mem­oir of an ambi­tious young man named J. D. Vance. But how much of its renewed pop­u­lar­i­ty owed to the rel­e­vance of a near­ly 70-year-old vision of shab­by, total­i­tar­i­an future Eng­land to twen­ty-first cen­tu­ry Amer­i­ca, and how much to the fact that, as far as influ­ence on pop­u­lar cul­ture’s image of polit­i­cal dystopia, no oth­er work of lit­er­a­ture comes close?

For all the myr­i­ad ways one can crit­i­cize his two admin­is­tra­tions, Trump’s Amer­i­ca bears lit­tle super­fi­cial resem­blance to Ocea­ni­a’s Airstrip One as ruled by The Par­ty. But it can hard­ly be a coin­ci­dence that this peri­od of his­to­ry has also seen the con­cept “post-truth” become a fix­ture in the zeit­geist.

There are many rea­sons not to want to live in the world Orwell imag­ines in Nine­teen Eighty-Four: the thor­ough bureau­cra­ti­za­tion, the lack of plea­sure, the unceas­ing sur­veil­lance and pro­pa­gan­da. But none of this is quite so intol­er­a­ble as what makes it all pos­si­ble: the rulers’ claim to absolute con­trol over the truth, a form of psy­cho­log­i­cal manip­u­la­tion hard­ly lim­it­ed to regimes we regard as evil.

As James Payne says in his Great Books Explained video on Nine­teen Eighty-Four, Orwell worked for the BBC’s over­seas ser­vice dur­ing the war, and there received a trou­bling edu­ca­tion in the use of infor­ma­tion as a polit­i­cal weapon. The expe­ri­ence inspired the Min­istry of Truth, where the nov­el­’s pro­tag­o­nist Win­ston Smith spends his days re-writ­ing his­to­ry, and the dialect of Newspeak, a severe­ly reduced Eng­lish designed to nar­row its speak­ers’ range of thought. Orwell may have over­es­ti­mat­ed the degree to which lan­guage can be mod­i­fied from the top down, but as Payne reminds us, we now all hear cul­ture war­riors describe real­i­ty in high­ly slant­ed, polit­i­cal­ly-charged, and often thought-ter­mi­nat­ing ways all day long. Every­where we look, some­one is ready to tell us that two plus two make five; if only they were as obvi­ous about it as Big Broth­er.

Relat­ed con­tent:

George Orwell Explains How “Newspeak” Works, the Offi­cial Lan­guage of His Total­i­tar­i­an Dystopia in 1984

George Orwell Explains in a Reveal­ing 1944 Let­ter Why He’d Write 1984

George Orwell’s Har­row­ing Race to Fin­ish 1984 Before His Death

George Orwell’s Final Warn­ing: Don’t Let This Night­mare Sit­u­a­tion Hap­pen. It Depends on You!

What “Orwellian” Real­ly Means: An Ani­mat­ed Les­son About the Use & Abuse of the Term

Aldous Hux­ley to George Orwell: My Hell­ish Vision of the Future is Bet­ter Than Yours (1949)

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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When the State Department Used Dizzy Gillespie and Jazz to Fight the Cold War (1956)

It’s been said that the Unit­ed States won the Cold War with­out fir­ing a shot — a state­ment, as P. J. O’Rourke once wrote, that doubt­less sur­prised vet­er­ans of Korea and Viet­nam. But it would­n’t be entire­ly incor­rect to call the long stare-down between the U.S. and the Sovi­et Union a bat­tle of ideas. Dwight Eisen­how­er cer­tain­ly saw it that way, a world­view that inspired the 1956 cre­ation of the Pres­i­den­t’s Spe­cial Inter­na­tion­al Pro­gram for Par­tic­i­pa­tion in Inter­na­tion­al Affairs, which aimed to use Amer­i­can cul­ture to improve the coun­try’s image around the world. (That same year, Eisen­how­er also signed off on the con­struc­tion of the Inter­state High­way Sys­tem, such was the coun­try’s ambi­tion at the time.)

For an unam­bigu­ous­ly Amer­i­can art form, one could hard­ly do bet­ter than jazz, which also had the advan­tage of coun­ter­bal­anc­ing U.S.S.R. pro­pa­gan­da focus­ing on the U.S.’ trou­bled race rela­tions. And so the State Depart­ment picked a series of “jazz ambas­sadors” to send on care­ful­ly planned world tours, begin­ning with Dizzy Gille­spie and his eigh­teen-piece inter­ra­cial band (with the late Quin­cy Jones in the role of music direc­tor).

Start­ing in March of 1956, Gille­spie’s ten-week tour fea­tured dates all over Europe, Asia, and South Amer­i­ca. These would­n’t be his last State Depart­ment-spon­sored tours abroad: in the videos above, you can see a clip from his per­for­mance in Ger­many in 1960. This tour­ing even result­ed in live albums like Dizzy in Greece and World States­man.

Oth­er jazz ambas­sadors would fol­low: Louis Arm­strong (who quit over the high-school inte­gra­tion cri­sis in Lit­tle Rock), Duke Elling­ton, Ben­ny Good­man, and Dave Brubeck (whose dim view of the pro­gram inspired the musi­cal The Real Ambas­sadors). But none went quite so far in pur­su­ing their cul­tur­al-polit­i­cal inter­ests as Gille­spie, who announced him­self as a write-in can­di­date in the 1964 U.S. pres­i­den­tial elec­tion. He promised not only to rename the White House the Blues house, but also to appoint a cab­i­net includ­ing Miles Davis as Direc­tor of the CIA, Charles Min­gus as Sec­re­tary of Peace, Arm­strong as Sec­re­tary of Agri­cul­ture, and Elling­ton as Sec­re­tary of State. This jazzed-up admin­is­tra­tion was, alas, nev­er to take pow­er, but the music itself has left more of a lega­cy than any gov­ern­ment could. Sure­ly the fact that I write these words in a café in Korea sound­tracked entire­ly by jazz speaks for itself.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Dizzy Gille­spie Wor­ries About Nuclear & Envi­ron­men­tal Dis­as­ter in Vin­tage Ani­mat­ed Films

Louis Arm­strong Plays His­toric Cold War Con­certs in East Berlin & Budapest (1965)

When Louis Arm­strong Stopped a Civ­il War in The Con­go (1960)

Louis Arm­strong Plays Trum­pet at the Egypt­ian Pyra­mids; Dizzy Gille­spie Charms a Snake in Pak­istan

Dizzy Gille­spie Runs for US Pres­i­dent, 1964. Promis­es to Make Miles Davis Head of the CIA

How the CIA Secret­ly Used Jack­son Pol­lock & Oth­er Abstract Expres­sion­ists to Fight the Cold War

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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Albert Einstein’s Grades: A Fascinating Look at His Report Cards

Albert Ein­stein was a pre­co­cious child.

At the age of twelve, he fol­lowed his own line of rea­son­ing to find a proof of the Pythagore­an The­o­rem. At thir­teen he read Kant, just for the fun of it. And before he was fif­teen he had taught him­self dif­fer­en­tial and inte­gral cal­cu­lus.

But while the young Ein­stein was engrossed in intel­lec­tu­al pur­suits, he did­n’t much care for school. He hat­ed rote learn­ing and despised author­i­tar­i­an school­mas­ters. His sense of intel­lec­tu­al supe­ri­or­i­ty was resent­ed by his teach­ers.

In Sub­tle is the Lord: The Sci­ence and Life of Albert Ein­stein, author Abra­ham Pais tells a fun­ny sto­ry from Ein­stein’s days at the Luit­pold Gym­na­si­um, a sec­ondary school in Munich now called the Albert-Ein­stein-Gym­na­si­um:

At the Gym­na­si­um a teacher once said to him that he, the teacher, would be much hap­pi­er if the boy were not in his class. Ein­stein replied that he had done noth­ing wrong. The teacher answered, “Yes, that is true. But you sit there in the back row and smile, and that vio­lates the feel­ing of respect that a teacher needs from his class.”

The same teacher famous­ly said that Ein­stein “would nev­er get any­where in life.”

What both­ered Ein­stein most about the Luit­pold was its oppres­sive atmos­phere. His sis­ter Maja would lat­er write:

“The mil­i­tary tone of the school, the sys­tem­at­ic train­ing in the wor­ship of author­i­ty that was sup­posed to accus­tom pupils at an ear­ly age to mil­i­tary dis­ci­pline, was also par­tic­u­lar­ly unpleas­ant for the boy. He con­tem­plat­ed with dread that not-too-dis­tant moment when he will have to don a sol­dier’s uni­form in order to ful­fill his mil­i­tary oblig­a­tions.”

When he was six­teen, Ein­stein’s par­ents moved to Italy to pur­sue a busi­ness ven­ture. They told him to stay behind and fin­ish school. But Ein­stein was des­per­ate to join them in Italy before his sev­en­teenth birth­day. “Accord­ing to the Ger­man cit­i­zen­ship laws,” Maja explained, “a male cit­i­zen must not emi­grate after his com­plet­ed six­teenth year; oth­er­wise, if he fails to report for mil­i­tary ser­vice, he is declared a desert­er.”

So Ein­stein found a way to get a doc­tor’s per­mis­sion to with­draw from the school on the pre­text of “men­tal exhaus­tion,” and fled to Italy with­out a diplo­ma. Years lat­er, in 1944, dur­ing the final days of World War II, the Luit­pold Gym­na­si­um was oblit­er­at­ed by Allied bomb­ing. So we don’t have a record of Ein­stein’s grades there. But there is a record of a prin­ci­pal at the school look­ing up Ein­stein’s grades in 1929 to fact check a press report that Ein­stein had been a very bad stu­dent. Wal­ter Sul­li­van writes about it in a 1984 piece in The New York Times:

With 1 as the high­est grade and 6 the low­est, the prin­ci­pal report­ed, Ein­stein’s marks in Greek, Latin and math­e­mat­ics oscil­lat­ed between 1 and 2 until, toward the end, he invari­ably scored 1 in math.

After he dropped out, Ein­stein’s fam­i­ly enlist­ed a well-con­nect­ed friend to per­suade the Swiss Fed­er­al Insti­tute of Tech­nol­o­gy, or ETH, to let him take the entrance exam, even though he was only six­teen years old and had not grad­u­at­ed from high school. He scored bril­liant­ly in physics and math, but poor­ly in oth­er areas. The direc­tor of the ETH sug­gest­ed he fin­ish prepara­to­ry school in the town of Aarau, in the Swiss can­ton of Aar­gau. A diplo­ma from the can­ton­al school would guar­an­tee Ein­stein admis­sion to the ETH.

At Aarau, Ein­stein was pleas­ant­ly sur­prised to find a lib­er­al atmos­phere in which inde­pen­dent thought was encour­aged.  “When com­pared to six years’ school­ing at a Ger­man author­i­tar­i­an gym­na­si­um,” he lat­er said, “it made me clear­ly real­ize how much supe­ri­or an edu­ca­tion based on free action and per­son­al respon­si­bil­i­ty is to one rely­ing on out­ward author­i­ty.”

In Ein­stein’s first semes­ter at Aarau, the school still used the old method of scor­ing from 1 to 6, with 1 as the high­est grade. In the sec­ond semes­ter the sys­tem was reversed, with 6 becom­ing the high­est grade. Bar­ry R. Park­er talks about Ein­stein’s first-semes­ter grades in his book, Ein­stein: The Pas­sions of a Sci­en­tist:

His grades over the first few months were: Ger­man, 2–3; French, 3–4; his­to­ry, 1–2; math­e­mat­ics, 1; physics, 1–2; nat­ur­al his­to­ry, 2–3; chem­istry, 2–3; draw­ing, 2–3; and vio­lin, 1. (The range is 1 to 6, with 1 being the high­est.) Although none of the grades, with the excep­tion of French, were con­sid­ered poor, some of them were only aver­age.

The school head­mas­ter, Jost Win­tel­er, who had wel­comed Ein­stein into his home as a board­er and had become some­thing of a sur­ro­gate father to him dur­ing his time at Aarau, was con­cerned that a young man as obvi­ous­ly bril­liant as Albert was receiv­ing aver­age grades in so many cours­es. At Christ­mas in 1895, he mailed a report card to Ein­stein’s par­ents. Her­mann Ein­stein replied with warm thanks, but said he was not too wor­ried. As Park­er writes, Ein­stein’s father said he was used to see­ing a few “not-so-good grades along with very good ones.”

In the next semes­ter Ein­stein’s grades improved, but were still mixed. As Toby Hendy of the YouTube chan­nel Tibees shows in the video above, Ein­stein’s final grades were excel­lent in math and physics, but clos­er to aver­age in oth­er areas.

Ein­stein’s uneven aca­d­e­m­ic per­for­mance con­tin­ued at the ETH, as Hendy shows. By the third year his rela­tion­ship with the head of the physics depart­ment, Hein­rich Weber, began to dete­ri­o­rate. Weber was offend­ed by the young man’s arro­gance. “You’re a clever boy, Ein­stein,” said Weber. “An extreme­ly clever boy. But you have one great fault. You’ll nev­er allow your­self to be told any­thing.” Ein­stein was par­tic­u­lar­ly frus­trat­ed that Weber refused to teach the ground­break­ing elec­tro­mag­net­ic the­o­ry of James Clerk Maxwell. He began spend­ing less time in the class­room and more time read­ing up on cur­rent physics at home and in the cafes of Zurich.

Ein­stein increas­ing­ly focused his atten­tion on physics, and neglect­ed math­e­mat­ics. He came to regret this. “It was not clear to me as a stu­dent,” he lat­er said, “that a more pro­found knowl­edge of the basic prin­ci­ples of physics was tied up with the most intri­cate math­e­mat­i­cal meth­ods.”

Ein­stein’s class­mate Mar­cel Gross­mann helped him by shar­ing his notes from the math lec­tures Ein­stein had skipped. When Ein­stein grad­u­at­ed, his con­flict with Weber cost him the teach­ing job he had expect­ed to receive. Gross­mann even­tu­al­ly came to Ein­stein’s res­cue again, urg­ing his father to help him secure a well-paid job as a clerk in the Swiss patent office. Many years lat­er, when Gross­mann died, Ein­stein wrote a let­ter to his wid­ow that con­veyed not only his sad­ness at an old friend’s death, but also his bit­ter­sweet mem­o­ries of life as a col­lege stu­dent:

“Our days togeth­er come back to me. He a mod­el stu­dent; I untidy and a day­dream­er. He on excel­lent terms with the teach­ers and grasp­ing every­thing eas­i­ly; I aloof and dis­con­tent­ed, not very pop­u­lar. But we were good friends and our con­ver­sa­tions over iced cof­fee at the Metropol every few weeks belong among my nicest mem­o­ries.”

Note: An ear­li­er ver­sion of this post appeared on our site in 2020.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Einstein’s The­o­ry of Rel­a­tiv­i­ty Explained in One of the Ear­li­est Sci­ence Films Ever Made (1923)

Albert Ein­stein Appears in Remark­ably Col­orized Video & Con­tem­plates the Fate of Human­i­ty After the Atom­ic Bomb (1946)

Hear Albert Ein­stein Read “The Com­mon Lan­guage of Sci­ence” (1941)

When Albert Ein­stein & Char­lie Chap­lin Met and Became Fast Famous Friends (1930)

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Pablo Picasso’s Childhood Paintings: Precocious Works Painted Between the Ages of 8 and 15

It’s hard to imag­ine from this his­tor­i­cal dis­tance how upset­ting Pablo Picasso’s 1907 mod­ernist paint­ing Les Demoi­selles d’Avignon was to Parisian soci­ety at its debut. On its 100th anniver­sary, Guardian crit­ic Jonathan Jones described it as “the rift, the break that divides past and future.” The paint­ing caused an uproar, even among the artist’s peers. It was a moment of cul­ture shock, notes PBS. Its five nude fig­ures, bro­ken into pro­to-cubist planes and angles with faces paint­ed like African masks, met “with almost unan­i­mous shock, dis­taste, and out­rage.”

Hen­ri Matisse, him­self often cred­it­ed with ush­er­ing in mod­ernist paint­ing with his flat­tened fields of col­or, “is angered by the work, which he con­sid­ers a hoax, an attempt to paint the fourth dimen­sion.” Much of the out­rage was pur­port­ed to come from mid­dle-class moral qualms about the painting’s sub­ject, “the sex­u­al free­dom depict­ed in a broth­el.”

This is a lit­tle hard to believe. Nude women in broth­els, “odal­isques,” had long been a favorite sub­ject of some of the most revered Euro­pean painters. But where the women in these paint­ings always appear pas­sive, if not sub­mis­sive, Picas­so’s nudes pose sug­ges­tive­ly and meet the view­er’s gaze, active­ly unashamed.

What like­ly most dis­turbed those first view­ers was the per­ceived vio­lence done to tra­di­tion. While we can­not recov­er the ten­der sen­si­bil­i­ties of ear­ly 20th-cen­tu­ry Parisian crit­ics, we can, I think, expe­ri­ence a sim­i­lar kind of shock by look­ing at work Picas­so had done ten years ear­li­er, such as the 1896 First Com­mu­nion, fur­ther up, and 1897 study Sci­ence and Char­i­ty at the top, con­ser­v­a­tive genre paint­ings in an aca­d­e­m­ic style, beau­ti­ful­ly ren­dered with exquis­ite skill by a then 15-year-old artist. See an ear­li­er draw­ing, Study for a Tor­so, above, com­plet­ed in 1892 when Picas­so was only 11.

Giv­en his incred­i­ble pre­coc­i­ty, it may seem hard­ly any won­der that Picas­so inno­vat­ed scan­dalous­ly new means of using line, col­or, and com­po­si­tion. He was a prodi­gious mas­ter of tech­nique at an age when many artists are still years away from for­mal study. Where else could his rest­less tal­ent go? He paint­ed a favorite sub­ject in 1900, in the loose, impres­sion­ist Bull­fight, above, a return of sorts to his first oil paint­ing, Pic­a­dor, below, made when he was 8. Fur­ther down, see a draw­ing from the fol­low­ing year in his ear­ly devel­op­ment, “Bull­fight and Pigeons.”

This piece, with its real­is­tic-look­ing birds care­ful­ly drawn upside-down atop a loose sketch of a bull­fight, appeared in a 2006 show at the Phillips Col­lec­tion in Wash­ing­ton, DC fea­tur­ing child­hood art­works from Picas­so and Paul Klee. Con­trary, per­haps, to our expec­ta­tions, cura­tor Jonathan Fineberg remarks of this draw­ing that “9‑year-old Picasso’s con­fi­dent, play­ful scrib­ble” gives us more indi­ca­tion of his tal­ent than the fine­ly-drawn birds.

“It’s not just that Picas­so could ren­der well, because you could teach any­body to do that,” Fineberg says. Maybe not any­body, but the point stands—technique can be taught, cre­ative vision can­not. “It’s not about skill. It’s about unique qual­i­ties of see­ing. That’s what makes Picas­so a bet­ter artist than Andrew Wyeth. Art is about a nov­el way of look­ing at the world.” You may pre­fer Wyeth, or think the down­ward com­par­i­son unfair, but there’s no deny­ing Picas­so had a very “nov­el way of see­ing,” from his ear­li­est sketch­es to his most rev­o­lu­tion­ary mod­ernist mas­ter­pieces. See sev­er­al more high­ly accom­plished ear­ly works from Picas­so here.

Note: An ear­li­er ver­sion of this post appeared on our site in 2018.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

9‑Year-Old Edward Hop­per Draws a Pic­ture on the Back of His 3rd Grade Report Card

14 Self-Por­traits by Pablo Picas­so Show the Evo­lu­tion of His Style: See Self-Por­traits Mov­ing from Ages 15 to 90

Watch Pablo Picasso’s Cre­ative Process Unfold in Real-Time: Rare Footage Shows Him Cre­at­ing Draw­ings of Faces, Bulls & Chick­ens

The Gestapo Points to Guer­ni­ca and Asks Picas­so, “Did You Do This?;” Picas­so Replies “No, You Did!”

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

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Harvard Lets You Take 133 Free Online Courses: Explore Courses on Justice, American Government, Literature, Religion, CompSci & More

Image by Riz­ka, via Wiki­me­dia Com­mons

In South Korea, where I live, there may be no brand as respect­ed as Habodeu. Chil­dren dream of it; adults seem­ing­ly do any­thing to play up their own con­nec­tions to it, how­ev­er ten­u­ous those con­nec­tions may be. But what is Habodeu? An elec­tron­ics com­pa­ny? A line of cloth­ing? Some kind of lux­u­ry car? Not at all: it is, in fact, the Kore­an pro­nun­ci­a­tion of Har­vard, the Amer­i­can uni­ver­si­ty. Prac­ti­cal­ly every­one around the world is aware of Har­vard’s pres­tige, but rel­a­tive­ly few know that you can take many of its cours­es online with­out pay­ing tuition, or even apply­ing. In fact, you can find a list of more than 130 such cours­es right here, all avail­able to take right now.

Those look­ing to start build­ing a base of tech­ni­cal skill might con­sid­er Intro­duc­tion to Com­put­er Sci­ence or Intro­duc­tion to Pro­gram­ming (of which there’s even a ver­sion for lawyers). Once you’ve got a han­dle on cod­ing, you could move on to oth­er cours­es in data sci­ence or machine learn­ing and arti­fi­cial intel­li­gence.

If your sci­en­tif­ic inter­ests lie else­where, Har­vard also has such online offer­ings as Fun­da­men­tals of Neu­ro­science, The Ein­stein Rev­o­lu­tion, and Sci­ence & Cook­ing for both physics and chem­istry. If you’d pre­fer to shore up your knowl­edge of reli­gion, there are also cours­es on Chris­tian­i­ty, Judaism, Bud­dhism, Hin­duism, Islam, and Sikhism through their scrip­tures.

Faith in art can also be sat­is­fied through, to name just a few exam­ples, Mas­ter­pieces of World Lit­er­a­ture (with spe­cial­ized cours­es in mas­ter­pieces mod­ern and ancient); the life and work of Shake­speare and such spe­cif­ic plays as Ham­let, The Mer­chant of Venice, and Oth­el­lo; pieces of music includ­ing Beethoven’s 9th Sym­pho­ny and Stravinsky’s Rite of Spring; and cours­es on Japan­ese books and Chi­nese human­i­ties. But then, since we hap­pen to live in what the Chi­nese call “inter­est­ing times,” per­haps you feel a more urgent need to take cours­es on Amer­i­can gov­ern­ment and its con­sti­tu­tion­al foun­da­tions, civic engage­ment, the mod­ern media envi­ron­ment, and resilient lead­er­ship. You can even take the block­buster course on jus­tice from the polit­i­cal philoso­pher Michael Sandel: a huge celebri­ty here in Korea, inci­den­tal­ly, even by Habodeu stan­dards. Find the com­plete list of free online cours­es here. Also see our list, 1,700 Free Online Cours­es from Top Uni­ver­si­ties.

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

Emi­ly Dickinson’s Herbar­i­um: A Beau­ti­ful Dig­i­tal Edi­tion of the Poet’s Pressed Plants & Flow­ers Is Now Online

Down­load The Har­vard Clas­sics as Free eBooks: A “Portable Uni­ver­si­ty” Cre­at­ed in 1909

An Ani­mat­ed Michael Sandel Explains How Mer­i­toc­ra­cy Degrades Our Democ­ra­cy

Har­vard Puts Online a Huge Col­lec­tion of Bauhaus Art Objects

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 Bob Dylan Kept Reinventing His Songwriting Process, Breathing New Life Into His Music

On his 84th birth­day this past Sat­ur­day, Bob Dylan played a show. That was in keep­ing with not only his still-seri­ous tour­ing sched­ule, but also his appar­ent­ly irre­press­ible instinct to work: on music, on writ­ing, on paint­ing, on sculp­ture. Even his occa­sion­al tweet­ing draws an appre­cia­tive audi­ence every time. The Bob Dylan of 2025 is not, of course, the Bob Dylan of 1965, but then, the Bob Dylan of 1965 was­n’t the Bob Dylan of 1964. This con­stant artis­tic change is just what his fans appre­ci­ate, not that they don’t still put on his ear­ly stuff with reg­u­lar­i­ty.

In the ear­li­est of that ear­ly stuff, as music YouTu­ber David Hart­ley explains in the new video above, Dylan “wrote songs by rein­vent­ing tra­di­tion.” Using noth­ing but his voice, gui­tar, and har­mon­i­ca, the young Dylan “imi­tat­ed some of the most well-known folk melodies,” plac­ing him­self in that long Amer­i­can tra­di­tion of bor­row­ing and rein­ter­pre­ta­tion. But as dra­ma­tized in the recent film A Com­plete Unknown, he soon “went elec­tric,” and with the change in instru­men­ta­tion came a change in song­writ­ing method: “He would just come up with end­less pages of lyrics, some­thing he once called ‘the long piece of vom­it.’ ”

The advice to “puke it out now and clean it up lat­er” has long been giv­en, in var­i­ous forms, to aspir­ing artists every­where. One aspect worth high­light­ing about the way Dylan did it was that, despite writ­ing pop­u­lar songs, he drew a great deal of inspi­ra­tion from more tra­di­tion­al lit­er­a­ture, to the point that his notes hard­ly appear to con­tain any­thing resem­bling vers­es or cho­rus­es at all. Only in the stu­dio, with a band behind him, could Dylan give these ideas their final musi­cal shape — or rather, their final shape on that par­tic­u­lar album, often to be mod­i­fied end­less­ly, and some­times rad­i­cal­ly, over decades of live per­for­mances to come.

Hart­ley tells of more dra­mat­ic changes to Dylan’s music and his process of cre­at­ing. The motor­cy­cle crash, the Base­ment Tapes, the open E tun­ing, Blood on the Tracks: all of these now lie half a cen­tu­ry or more in the past. To go over all the ways Dylan has approached music since then would require more hours than all but the most rabid enthu­si­asts (though there are many) would watch. The video does include a 60 Min­utes clip from 2004 in which Dylan says that “those ear­ly songs were almost mag­i­cal­ly writ­ten,” and that he would­n’t be able to cre­ate them any­more. But then, nor could the Dylan of High­way 61 Revis­it­ed have record­ed Time Out of Mind, and nor, for that mat­ter, could the Dylan of Time Out of Mind have record­ed any of Dylan’s albums from this decade — or those that could, quite pos­si­bly, be still to come.

Relat­ed con­tent:

A Mas­sive 55-Hour Chrono­log­i­cal Playlist of Bob Dylan Songs: Stream 763 Tracks

How Bob Dylan Cre­at­ed a Musi­cal & Lit­er­ary World All His Own: Four Video Essays

Watch Bob Dylan Make His Debut at the New­port Folk Fes­ti­val in Col­orized 1963 Footage

Hear Bob Dylan’s New­ly Released Nobel Lec­ture: A Med­i­ta­tion on Music, Lit­er­a­ture & Lyrics

Com­pare the “It Ain’t Me Babe” Scene from A Com­plete Unknown to the Real Bob Dylan & Joan Baez Per­for­mance at the New­port Folk Fes­ti­val

Bob Dylan Explains Why Music Has Been Get­ting Worse

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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