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Hear the Nazi’s Bizzaro Propaganda Jazz Band, “Charlie and His Orchestra” (1940–1943)

As you might expect from a vicious polit­i­cal move­ment front­ed by a frus­trat­ed illus­tra­tor, the Nazi par­ty had a com­pli­cat­ed­ly dis­dain­ful yet aspi­ra­tional — and need­less to say, unceas­ing­ly fas­ci­nat­ing — rela­tion­ship with art. We pre­vi­ous­ly fea­tured their philis­tine grudge against mod­ernism that led to the “Degen­er­ate Art Exhi­bi­tion” of 1937, their mega-bud­get pro­pa­gan­da film on the Titan­ic dis­as­ter that turned into a dis­as­ter itself, and their con­trol-freak list of rules for dance orches­tras. The Nazis, as you might expect, did­n’t much care for jazz, or at least saw some polit­i­cal cap­i­tal in open­ly denounc­ing it. Yet it seems they also saw some in embrac­ing it, turn­ing the quin­tes­sen­tial­ly free art form toward, as always, their own pro­pa­gan­dis­tic pur­pos­es. What if they could come up with their own pop­u­lar jazz band and, using long-dis­tance short- and medi­um-wave broad­cast sig­nals, turn the Allies’ own music against them? Enter, in 1940, Char­lie and His Orches­tra. Anoth­er Joseph Goebbels cre­ation.

“The idea behind the Nazis’ Char­lie cam­paign,” writes the Wall Street Jour­nal’s Will Fried­wald, “was that they could under­mine Allied morale through musi­cal pro­pa­gan­da, with a spe­cial­ly devised orches­tra broad­cast­ing mes­sages in Eng­lish to British and Amer­i­can troops.” The groups’ fea­tured singer, “Char­lie” him­self (real name: Karl Schwedler), would sing not just “irre­sistible” jazz stan­dards but ver­sions with anti-British, ‑Amer­i­can, and ‑Semit­ic lyrics. You can hear much of their cat­a­log in the clips here, includ­ing what Fried­wald cites as their “weird­est record­ings”: “Irv­ing Berlin’s ‘Slum­ming on Park Avenue,’ in which Schwedler, por­tray­ing a British pilot with a mock-Eng­lish accent, sings ‘Let’s go bomb­ing!’ ” and “So You Left Me for the Leader of a Swing Band” refash­ioned as “So You Left Me for the Leader of the Sovi­ets.” Ulti­mate­ly, not only did the out­side world prove to have bet­ter taste than the Nazis, their own fight­ers did too: “Not only did the Char­lie project fail to con­vert any Allies to the oth­er side, but even Ger­many’s own troops could­n’t bring them­selves to take Nazi swing seri­ous­ly.” It don’t mean a thing if it ain’t got that swing, I sup­pose — and Char­lie and his Orches­tra def­i­nite­ly did­n’t have it. More audio sam­ples can be heard over at WFMU.

via WSJ

Relat­ed Con­tent:

The Nazis’ 10 Con­trol-Freak Rules for Jazz Per­form­ers: A Strange List from World War II

The Nazi’s Philis­tine Grudge Against Abstract Art and The “Degen­er­ate Art Exhi­bi­tion” of 1937

Titan­ic: The Nazis Cre­ate a Mega-Bud­get Pro­pa­gan­da Film About the Ill-Fat­ed Ship … and Then Banned It (1943)

Col­in Mar­shall hosts and pro­duces Note­book on Cities and Cul­ture and writes essays on cities, lan­guage, Asia, and men’s style. He’s at work on a book about Los Ange­les, A Los Ange­les Primer. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall or on Face­book.

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The Chemistry Behind the Smell of Old Books: Explained with a Free Infographic

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What gives old books that ever-so-dis­tinc­tive smell? Andy Brun­ning, a chem­istry teacher in the UK, gives us all a quick primer with this info­graph­ic post­ed on his web site, Com­pound Inter­est. The visu­al comes accom­pa­nied by this tex­tu­al expla­na­tion. Writes Brun­ning:

Gen­er­al­ly, it is the chem­i­cal break­down of com­pounds with­in paper that leads to the pro­duc­tion of ‘old book smell’. Paper con­tains, amongst oth­er chem­i­cals, cel­lu­lose, and small­er amounts of lignin – much less in more mod­ern books than in books from more than one hun­dred years ago. Both of these orig­i­nate from the trees the paper is made from; fin­er papers will con­tain much less lignin than, for exam­ple, newsprint. In trees, lignin helps bind cel­lu­lose fibres togeth­er, keep­ing the wood stiff; it’s also respon­si­ble for old paper’s yel­low­ing with age, as oxi­da­tion reac­tions cause it to break down into acids, which then help break down cel­lu­lose.

‘Old book smell’ is derived from this chem­i­cal degra­da­tion. Mod­ern, high qual­i­ty papers will under­go chem­i­cal pro­cess­ing to remove lignin, but break­down of cel­lu­lose in the paper can still occur (albeit at a much slow­er rate) due to the pres­ence of acids in the sur­round­ings. These reac­tions, referred to gen­er­al­ly as ‘acid hydrol­y­sis’, pro­duce a wide range of volatile organ­ic com­pounds, many of which are like­ly to con­tribute to the smell of old books. A select­ed num­ber of com­pounds have had their con­tri­bu­tions pin­point­ed: ben­zalde­hyde adds an almond-like scent; vanillin adds a vanil­la-like scent; eth­yl ben­zene and toluene impart sweet odours; and 2‑ethyl hexa­nol has a ‘slight­ly flo­ral’ con­tri­bu­tion. Oth­er alde­hy­des and alco­hols pro­duced by these reac­tions have low odour thresh­olds and also con­tribute.

The Aro­ma of Books info­graph­ic can be viewed in a larg­er for­mat here. And because it has been released under a Cre­ative Com­mons license, it can be down­loaded for free. For anoth­er expla­na­tion of this phe­nom­e­non — this one in video — see this pre­vi­ous post in our archive:  The Birth and Decline of a Book: Two Videos for Bib­lio­philes

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 IFLScience

Relat­ed Con­tent:

A Secret Book­store in a New York City Apart­ment: The Last of a Dying Breed

Old Books Bound in Human Skin Found in Har­vard Libraries (and Else­where in Boston)

Spike Jonze Presents a Stop Motion Film for Book Lovers

Wear­able Books: In Medieval Times, They Took Old Man­u­scripts & Turned Them into Clothes

13-Year-Old Char­lotte Bron­të & Her Broth­er Wrote Tee­ny Tiny Adven­ture Books, Mea­sur­ing 1 x 2 Inch­es

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A Secret Bookstore in a New York City Apartment: The Last of a Dying Breed

Even in our era of dig­i­tal media — and even as a cre­ator of dig­i­tal media myself — I can’t help but eval­u­ate each new city I vis­it, or the state of each old city I vis­it, in part by the qual­i­ty and quan­ti­ty of its book­stores. Toron­to, where I’ve spent the past week or so, does sur­pris­ing­ly well on this count, though I hear from long­time locals that recent cir­cum­stances have forced a few beloved spots to shut down, relo­cate or down­size. A sim­i­lar fate may loom over New York City’s Brazen­head Books, the by-appoint­ment-only under­ground Upper East Side book­store we fea­tured back in 2011. New York still does pret­ty well in terms of book­stores, of course, but here we have a rare spec­i­men in any city: a book­store run almost in secret, a place where, accord­ing to Fodor’s, you’ll find three rooms of an apart­ment “crammed floor to ceil­ing with books, both new and used, includ­ing some rare titles,” where, “on Sat­ur­day nights, the city’s intel­lec­tu­als can be found sip­ping whiskey and dis­cussing clas­sic and con­tem­po­rary lit­er­a­ture.”

If that sounds like an evening to you, you might want to pay a vis­it soon­er than lat­er. Accord­ing to the web­site DNAIn­fo, Brazen­head­’s own­er, Michael Sei­den­berg, wrote on his Face­book page this sum­mer,  “Brazen­head Books turns its last page on Octo­ber 31st.” “Lost our lease…lots of things must go.” If you can’t make it to New York before then, at least have a look at the video tour of Brazen­head at the top of the post.

As the book­selling indus­try has shift­ed over the past few decades, those omnipresent, large, order­ly, util­i­tar­i­an chain spaces meant for cus­tomers in search of a spe­cif­ic title — remem­ber those? — have giv­en way to small­er, more idio­syn­crat­ic book­stores, each of which pro­vides a dif­fer­ent set of tex­tu­al and social expe­ri­ences. Far at the lat­ter end of the spec­trum, we have Brazen­head, a one-man cen­ter of lit­er­ary cul­ture that you’ve got to know about just to enter. Hope­ful­ly it will sur­vive, in some form, beyond Octo­ber. But no mat­ter what, the short video just above reminds us that what holds true about your favorite book­store — whichev­er book­store you call your favorite — holds espe­cial­ly for this one: you won’t find anoth­er place like it.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Remem­ber­ing George Whit­man, Own­er of Famed Book­store, Shake­speare & Com­pa­ny

World’s Most Inter­est­ing Book­stores

Col­in Mar­shall hosts and pro­duces Note­book on Cities and Cul­ture and writes essays on cities, lan­guage, Asia, and men’s style. He’s at work on a book about Los Ange­les, A Los Ange­les Primer. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall or on Face­book.

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The Eyes of Hitchcock: A Mesmerizing Video Essay on the Expressive Power of Eyes in Hitchcock’s Films

Kog­o­na­da has made a career of pro­duc­ing ele­gant­ly con­ceived video essays that dis­sect the styl­is­tic eccen­tric­i­ties of cinema’s great­est for­mal­ists. In one video, he neat­ly illus­trat­ed Wes Anderson’s love of sym­met­ri­cal com­po­si­tions. In anoth­er, he observed how fre­quent­ly Japan­ese mas­ter Yasu­jiro Ozu, a direc­tor with more styl­is­tic quirks than just about any­one else, pop­u­lat­ed his movies with shots of cor­ri­dors and door­ways. And, in per­haps his best, Kog­o­na­da shows just how often Stan­ley Kubrick relies on one-point per­spec­tive. Kogonada’s lat­est video, called The Eyes of Hitch­cock, explores how the direc­tor used facial expres­sions to con­vey sus­pense and fear. You can watch it above.

Alfred Hitch­cock once said, “There is no ter­ror in the bang, only in the antic­i­pa­tion of it.” This is a guy who direct­ed the great­est slash­er scene in movie his­to­ry – the show­er scene in Psy­cho — but famous­ly nev­er showed Nor­man Bates’s knife actu­al­ly stab­bing his vic­tim, Mar­i­on Crane. The hor­ror of the scene was con­veyed through actress Janet Leigh’s shocked expres­sion. Though direc­tors have always under­stood the pow­er of the face, Hitch­cock con­sis­tent­ly used facial expres­sions to car­ry a movie’s sus­pense. A person’s face relates pri­mal emo­tions much more effi­cient­ly than shots just of knives, guns or explo­sions. (Michael Bay, take note.)

For this video, Kog­o­na­da strings togeth­er expres­sions from Hitchcock’s vast oeu­vre, from Jim­my Stewart’s wild-eyed baby blues wak­ing up from a night­mare in Ver­ti­go, to Ingrid Bergman’s tear­ful, anx­ious look in Noto­ri­ous, to Nor­man Bates’s bat shit crazy death stare in Psy­cho. Hitch tend­ed to frame these moments in extreme close up with the eyes right in the mid­dle of the frame. Kog­o­na­da rolls back and forth on a cou­ple frames of these moments, giv­ing the video an oth­er­world­ly shim­mer, timed per­fect­ly with the music. It’s com­plete­ly mes­mer­iz­ing.

If you have a han­ker­ing to watch com­plete movies by the mas­ter, check out Open Culture’s list of 23 Hitch­cock Films. You can watch them right now, online, for free.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Alfred Hitchcock’s Sev­en-Minute Edit­ing Mas­ter Class

Lis­ten to François Truffaut’s Big, 12-Hour Inter­view with Alfred Hitch­cock (1962)

The Per­fect Sym­me­try of Wes Anderson’s Movies

Sig­na­ture Shots from the Films of Stan­ley Kubrick: One-Point Per­spec­tive

Jonathan Crow is a Los Ange­les-based writer and film­mak­er whose work has appeared in Yahoo!, The Hol­ly­wood Reporter, and oth­er pub­li­ca­tions. You can fol­low him at @jonccrow. And check out his blog Veep­to­pus, fea­tur­ing one new draw­ing of a vice pres­i­dent with an octo­pus on his head dai­ly.  The Veep­to­pus store is here.

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Sylvia Plath Reads Her Poetry: 23 Poems from the Last 6 Years of Her Life

In March of last year, Toron­to col­lec­tor Greg Gaten­by auc­tioned off “some 1,700 LPs, 45s, and 10-inch discs”-worth of record­ed lit­er­ary his­to­ry, con­tain­ing read­ings by such canon­i­cal fig­ures as “Auden and Atwood, Camus and Capote, Eliot, Faulkn­er, Kipling, Shaw and Yeats,” and the record­ings fea­tured here from Sylvia Plath. Gatenby’s entire col­lec­tion went on sale for a buy-it-now price of $85,000 (I assume it’s sold by now), and while we might have pre­ferred that he donat­ed these arti­facts to libraries, there may have been no need. Most of them are already, or we hope soon will be, dig­i­tized and free online. Sylvia Plath read­ing her poet­ry (now out of print) was orig­i­nal­ly released on vinyl and cas­sette in 1977 by pro­lif­ic spo­ken word record label Caed­mon, but of course the read­ings they doc­u­ment all took place over fif­teen years ear­li­er, some at least as ear­ly as 1959, the year before the pub­li­ca­tion of her first book, The Colos­sus and Oth­er Poems.

Many of the poems here appeared in The Colos­sus, the only col­lec­tion of poems Plath pub­lished in her life­time. Some, like “Novem­ber Graveyard”—first pub­lished in Made­moi­selle in 1958—were col­lect­ed late, in the Ted Hugh­es-edit­ed Col­lect­ed Poems in 1981, and the rest appeared in Ariel and oth­er posthu­mous col­lec­tions. Odd­ly, the title poem of her first book doesn’t appear, nor will you hear any of the poems that made Plath an infa­mous lit­er­ary fig­ure: no “Ariel,” no “Dad­dy,” no “Lady Lazarus,” though you can hear her read those poems else­where. Many of these poems are more lush, less vis­cer­al and per­son­al, though no less rich with arrest­ing and some­times dis­turb­ing imagery. Sev­er­al of these read­ings took place in Feb­ru­ary 1959 at Harvard’s Wood­ber­ry Poet­ry Room. The album’s offi­cial descrip­tion tells us these are “selec­tions from the last 6 years of her life,” and also include “read­ings for the BBC before she wrote her con­tro­ver­sial nov­el, The Bell Jar.”

Before Caed­mon col­lect­ed these less­er-known poems record­ed read­ings of “Dad­dy” and “Lady Lazarus” had already been released on the com­pi­la­tion record The Poet Speaks in 1965. Lis­ten­ing to Plath read these poems may prompt you to pull out your own edi­tions to read them for your­self, whether again or for the first time. To see a full list­ing of the poems Plath reads above, scroll to the bot­tom of this bib­li­og­ra­phy page on sylviaplath.info.

Find more great poet­ry read­ings in our audio col­lec­tion — 1,000 Free Audio Books: Down­load Great Books for Free.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Hear Sylvia Plath Read Fif­teen Poems From Her Final Col­lec­tion, Ariel, in 1962 Record­ing

For Sylvia Plath’s 81st Birth­day, Hear Her Read ‘A Birth­day Present’

Sylvia Plath Reads “Dad­dy”

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

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Christopher Walken Reads Where The Wild Things Are

Per­haps you saw Spike Jonze and Dave Egger’s twee, sun­lit, aching­ly earnest adap­ta­tion of the Mau­rice Sendak clas­sic Where the Wild Things Are. Per­haps you found it irre­sistibly charm­ing. Per­haps, how­ev­er, you missed the sharp edges of Sendak’s lean adven­ture, its under­cur­rent of fer­al vio­lence, its flir­ta­tions with mat­ri­cide and can­ni­bal­ism. Well who bet­ter to con­vey such fright­en­ing under­tones than mas­ter of casu­al men­ace Christo­pher Walken?

Just above, hear him read Wild Things like you’ve nev­er heard it before. Walken’s inter­po­lat­ed com­men­tary on the illus­tra­tions draws our atten­tion to a few fea­tures we prob­a­bly missed in our sev­er­al hun­dred read­ings of the book, such as the pos­si­ble sui­cide of Max’s ted­dy bear and a poten­tial swarm of giant insects in his trans­formed bed­room. After you hear Walken’s take, Max’s harm­less sup­per­time day­dream might give you night­mares.

Walken has long enjoyed enter­tain­ing the kid­dies with his creepy inter­pre­ta­tions of children’s sto­ries. Just above see him read the Three Lit­tle Pigs in 1993 on the British com­e­dy series Sat­ur­day Zoo. Once again, he adds his own explana­to­ry com­ments. He’s a lit­tle more Bil­ly Crys­tal than Cap­tain Koons this time, and if his deliv­ery doesn’t make you LOL, his day-glo sweater and wick­er throne won’t fail to. Host Jonathan Ross liked the read­ing so much he invit­ed Walken to read again in 2009 on his BBC show Fri­day Night with Jonathan Ross. This one’s for the old­er kids—a dead­pan ren­di­tion of Lada Gaga’s “Pok­er Face,” below. Can’t get enough of Walken’s read­ings? Don’t miss Kevin Pollack’s spot-on par­o­dy of the actor Mick­ey Rourke once called a “strange being from anoth­er place.”

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:

Edgar Allan Poe’s “The Raven,” Read by Christo­pher Walken, Vin­cent Price, and Christo­pher Lee

Hor­ror Leg­end Christo­pher Lee Presents a Heavy Met­al Ver­sion of The Lit­tle Drum­mer Boy

Lou Reed Rewrites Edgar Allan Poe’s “The Raven.” See Read­ings by Reed and Willem Dafoe

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

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How Edward Hopper “Storyboarded” His Iconic Painting Nighthawks

Nighthawks1

Edward Hop­per’s Nighthawks (1942) does­n’t just evoke a cer­tain stripe of mid-cen­tu­ry, after-hours, big-city Amer­i­can lone­li­ness; it has more or less come to stand for the feel­ing itself. But as with most images that passed so ful­ly into the realm of icon­hood, we all too eas­i­ly for­get that the paint­ing did­n’t sim­ply emerge com­plete, ready to embed itself in the zeit­geist. Robin Cem­balest at ART­news has a post on how Edward Hop­per “sto­ry­board­ed” Nighthawks, find­ing and sketch­ing out mod­els for those three melan­cholic cus­tomers (one of whom you can see in an ear­ly ren­der­ing above), that whole­some young atten­dant in white, and the all-night din­er (which you can see come togeth­er in chalk on paper below) in which they find refuge.

Nighthawks2

These “19 stud­ies for Nighthawks,” writes Cem­balest, “reveal how Hop­per chore­o­graphed his voyeuris­tic scene of the night­time con­ver­gence of the man, a cou­ple, and a serv­er in the eerie Deco din­er, refin­ing every nuance of the coun­ter­top, the fig­ures, the archi­tec­ture, and the effects of the flu­o­res­cent light­ing.”

In each sketch, more pieces have fall­en into place: a din­er assumes their posi­tion, the light finds its angle, the per­spec­tive shifts to that of an out­sider on the dark­ened street. Cem­balest quotes Whit­ney cura­tor Carter Fos­ter describ­ing the final prod­uct as a “mar­velous demon­stra­tion of both extreme speci­fici­ty and near abstract com­po­si­tion­al sum­ma­tion on the same sur­face beguil­ing­ly [which] reflects how empir­i­cal obser­va­tion and imag­i­na­tion coex­ist­ed in Hopper’s head.”

Nighthawks3

Despite how many ele­ments of the real world Hop­per stud­ied to cre­ate Nighthawks, it ulti­mate­ly depicts no real place. The painter him­self posed for the male fig­ures, and his wife mod­eled for the female. As for the locale, seen in the final draw­ing just above, Cem­balest notes that “after years of research and schol­ar­ship, experts have deter­mined that Nighthawks was not inspired by one spe­cif­ic din­er. Rather, it was a com­pos­ite of wedge-shaped inter­sec­tions around Green­wich Avenue. Its curv­ing prow seems part­ly inspired by the Flat­iron Build­ing.” In a way, it almost seemed too real­is­ti­cal­ly New York to actu­al­ly exist in New York. Hop­per paint­ed a dis­til­la­tion of a sense of Amer­i­can place, and like many Amer­i­can places, I’ve nev­er quite known whether I’d love to drop in at the Nighthawks din­er (though I’d have to find a front door first), or whether I should count myself lucky that life has­n’t rel­e­gat­ed me to it. You can learn more about the fas­ci­nat­ing sto­ry­board­ing of Nighthawks at Art News and see many more sketch­es. Speak­ing of the sketch­es, they come cour­tesy of The Whit­ney Muse­um of Amer­i­can Art.

Nighthawks4

via ART­News

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Painters Paint­ing: The Defin­i­tive Doc­u­men­tary Por­trait of the New York Art World (1940–1970)

Jack­son Pol­lock 51: Short Film Cap­tures the Painter Cre­at­ing Abstract Expres­sion­ist Art

William S. Bur­roughs Shows You How to Make “Shot­gun Art”

Col­in Mar­shall hosts and pro­duces Note­book on Cities and Cul­ture and writes essays on cities, lan­guage, Asia, and men’s style. He’s at work on a book about Los Ange­les, A Los Ange­les Primer. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall or on Face­book.

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Watch George Harrison’s Final Interview and Performance (1997)

Before John Fugel­sang was a well-known polit­i­cal com­men­ta­tor reg­u­lar­ly opin­ing at Huff­in­g­ton Post, MSNBC, and CNN, he caught a big break as a host on VH1 in the 90s, where he was, in his own words, “their de fac­to clas­sic rock guy.” Inter­view­ing the illus­tri­ous likes of Paul McCart­ney, Pete Town­shend, Eric Clap­ton, Rob­bie Robert­son, and Willie Nel­son, Fugel­sang had the chance to host “the most incred­i­ble all-star con­certs that nobody would watch.” At least one of those con­certs became tremen­dous­ly sig­nif­i­cant in hindsight—on July 24, 1997, George Har­ri­son came by the stu­dio, talked at length about the Bea­t­les, his own music, and spir­i­tu­al­i­ty, giv­ing what would turn out to be his very last pub­lic inter­view and per­for­mance. Watch it above in a re-broad­cast. That same year, Har­ri­son was diag­nosed with throat can­cer. He died in 2001.

Har­ri­son appeared with his old friend Ravi Shankar—he had just pro­duced Shankar’s Chants of India—and had only planned to stop by, Fugel­sang says, and “give us a lit­tle 10-minute sound byte.” Instead they talked for twice that long and Har­ri­son played, among oth­er things, his clas­sic “All Things Must Pass” from his 1970 solo record of the same name (above). The inter­view was, of course, a high point for the show’s host, who did every­thing he could to keep Har­ri­son talk­ing, con­nect­ing with him over their shared inter­est in reli­gious faith. For Har­ri­son, there was no sep­a­rat­ing music and spir­i­tu­al­i­ty. Reflect­ing on Shankar’s album, he says

And that’s real­ly why for me this record’s impor­tant, because it’s anoth­er lit­tle key to open up the with­in. For each indi­vid­ual to be able to sit and turn off, um…“turn off your mind relax and float down­stream” and lis­ten to some­thing that has its root in a tran­scen­den­tal, because real­ly even all the words of these songs, they car­ry with it a very sub­tle spir­i­tu­al vibra­tion. And it goes beyond intel­lect real­ly. So if you let your­self be free to let that have an effect on you, it can have an effect, a pos­i­tive effect.

Har­ri­son and Fugel­sang also dis­cussed the 1970 Con­cert for Bangladesh, which was part­ly set in motion by Shankar. In a life that includ­ed play­ing in the most famous band in the world then sus­tain­ing one of the most pro­duc­tive and suc­cess­ful solo careers in rock, 1970 was a water­shed year for Har­ri­son. The Bangladesh ben­e­fit marked the live debut of many of Har­rison’s first solo com­po­si­tions; and for a great many George Har­ri­son fans, the Phil Spec­tor-pro­duced All Things Must Pass is the purest expres­sion of the soft-spo­ken musician’s genius.

I only speak for myself in point­ing to the haunt­ing, hyp­not­ic “The Bal­lad of Sir Frankie Crisp” (above) as the most beau­ti­ful and mys­te­ri­ous song on that album. Last night—it being George Har­ri­son week on Conan O’Brien—Harrison’s son Dhani came on the show to play that song and “Let It Down,” also from All Things Must Pass. His appear­ance fol­lows Paul Simon’s Tues­day night ren­di­tion of “Here Comes the Sun” and Beck’s cov­er of Harrison’s “Wah Wah” on Mon­day. These per­for­mances mark the release of a new Har­ri­son box set, which has also occa­sioned a Sep­tem­ber 28th all-star trib­ute con­cert at L.A.’s Fon­da The­ater. Learn more about that event and oth­er Har­ri­son trib­utes and hap­pen­ings at Con­se­quence of Sound.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

George Har­ri­son Explains Why Every­one Should Play the Ukulele, With Words and Music

Phil Spector’s Gen­tle Pro­duc­tion Notes to George Har­ri­son Dur­ing the Record­ing of All Things Must Pass

Ravi Shankar Gives George Har­ri­son a Sitar Les­son … and Oth­er Vin­tage Footage

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

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Read 14 Great Banned & Censored Novels Free Online: For Banned Books Week 2014

BannedBooksWeek-website-image

We well know of the most famous cas­es of banned books: James Joyce’s Ulysses, Hen­ry Miller’s Trop­ic of Can­cer, Allen Ginsberg’s Howl. In fact, a full 46 of Mod­ern Library’s “100 Best Nov­els” have been sup­pressed or chal­lenged in some way. The Amer­i­can Library Asso­ci­a­tion main­tains a page that details the charges against each one. Harp­er Lee’s To Kill a Mock­ing­bird saw a chal­lenge in the Ver­non Verona Sher­ill, New York school dis­trict in 1980 as a “filthy, trashy nov­el” and in 1996, Lin­dale, Texas banned it from the advanced place­ment Eng­lish read­ing list because it “con­flict­ed with the val­ues of the com­mu­ni­ty.” Steinbeck’s Grapes of Wrath has a lengthy rap sheet, includ­ing total ban­ning in Ire­land (1953), Mor­ris, Man­i­to­ba (1982), and all high school class­es in Kanawha, Iowa (1980). The list of cen­sored undis­put­ed classics—every one of which sure­ly has its own piece of giant store art in Barnes & Nobles nationwide—goes on.

In many ways this is typ­i­cal. “The banned books lists you’ll find in many libraries and book­stores,” writes John Mark Ockerbloom at Everybody’s Libraries, “doesn’t [sic] focus much on the polit­i­cal samiz­dat, secu­ri­ty exposés, or por­tray­als of Mohammed that are the objects of forcible sup­pres­sion today. Instead, they’re often full of clas­sics and pop­u­lar titles sold wide­ly in book­stores and online—or dom­i­nat­ed by books writ­ten for young read­ers, or assigned for school read­ing.” Are these lists—and the banned books cel­e­bra­tions that occa­sion them—just “shame­less pro­pa­gan­da” as con­ser­v­a­tive Thomas Sow­ell alleges? “Is it wrong to call these books banned?” asks Ockerbloom in his essay “Why Banned Books Week Mat­ters.” Of course he answers in the neg­a­tive; “not if you take read­ers seri­ous­ly. An unread book, after all, has as lit­tle impact as an unpub­lished book.” Books that don’t pass muster with admin­is­tra­tors, school boards, library asso­ci­a­tions, and leg­is­la­tors of all kinds, argues Ockerbloom, can be as inac­ces­si­ble to young read­ers as those that get destroyed or ful­ly sup­pressed in parts of the world with­out legal pro­vi­sions for free speech.

This sit­u­a­tion is in great part reme­di­at­ed by the free avail­abil­i­ty of texts on the inter­net, whether those cur­rent­ly under a ban or those that—even if they line the shelves in brick and mor­tar stores and Ama­zon warehouses—still meet with fre­quent chal­lenges from com­mu­ni­ty orga­ni­za­tions eager to con­trol what their cit­i­zens read. Today, in hon­or of this year’s Banned Books Week, we bring you free online texts of 14 banned books that appear on the Mod­ern Library’s top 100 nov­els list. Next to each title, see some of the rea­sons these books were chal­lenged, banned, or, in many cas­es, burned.

  • The Great Gats­by, by F. Scott Fitzger­ald (Read Online)

This sta­ple of high school Eng­lish class­es every­where seems to most­ly get a pass. It did, how­ev­er, see a 1987 chal­lenge at the Bap­tist Col­lege in Charleston, SC for “lan­guage and sex­u­al ref­er­ences.”

Seized and burned by postal offi­cials in New York when it arrived state­side in 1922, Joyce’s mas­ter­work gen­er­al­ly goes unread these days because of its leg­endary dif­fi­cul­ty, but for ten years, until Judge John Woolsey’s deci­sion in its favor in 1932, the nov­el was only avail­able in the U.S. as a boot­leg. Ulysses was also burned—and banned—in Ire­land, Cana­da, and Eng­land.

Orwell’s total­i­tar­i­an night­mare often seems like one of the very few things lib­er­als and con­ser­v­a­tives can agree on—no one wants to live in the future he imag­ines. Nonethe­less, the nov­el was chal­lenged in Jack­son Coun­ty, Flori­da in 1981 for its sup­pos­ed­ly “pro-com­mu­nist” mes­sage, in addi­tion to its “explic­it sex­u­al mat­ter.”

Again the tar­get of right-wing ire, Orwell’s work was chal­lenged in Wis­con­sin in 1963 by the John Birch Soci­ety, who object­ed to the words “mass­es will revolt.” A 1968 New Sur­vey found that the nov­el reg­u­lar­ly appeared on school lists of “prob­lem books.” The rea­son most often cit­ed: “Orwell was a com­mu­nist.”

  • Slaugh­ter­house Five, by Kurt Von­negut (Audio)

Vonnegut’s clas­sic has been chal­lenged by par­ents and school boards since 1973, when it was burned in Drake, North Dako­ta. Most recent­ly, it’s been removed from a sopho­more read­ing list at the Coven­try, RI high school in 2000; chal­lenged by an orga­ni­za­tion called LOVE (Liv­ing­stone Orga­ni­za­tion for Val­ues in Edu­ca­tion) in How­ell, MI in 2007; and chal­lenged, but retained, along with eight oth­er books, in Arling­ton Heights, IL in 2006. In that case, a school board mem­ber, “elect­ed amid promis­es to bring her Chris­t­ian beliefs into all board deci­sion-mak­ing, raised the con­tro­ver­sy based on excerpts from the books she’d found on the inter­net.” Hear Von­negut him­self read the nov­el here.

London’s most pop­u­lar nov­el hasn’t seen any offi­cial sup­pres­sion in the U.S., but it was banned in Italy and Yugoslavia in 1929. The book was burned in Nazi bon­fires in 1933; some­thing of a his­tor­i­cal irony giv­en London’s own racist pol­i­tics.

The Nazis also burned Sinclair’s nov­el because of the author’s social­ist views. In 1959, East Ger­many banned the book as “inim­i­cal to com­mu­nism.”

  • Lady Chatterley’s Lover, by D.H. Lawrence (Read Online)

Lawrence court­ed con­tro­ver­sy every­where. Chat­ter­ly was banned by U.S. cus­toms in 1929 and has since been banned in Ire­land (1932), Poland (1932), Aus­tralia (1959), Japan (1959), India (1959), Cana­da (1960) and, most recent­ly, Chi­na in 1987 because it “will cor­rupt the minds of young peo­ple and is also against the Chi­nese tra­di­tion.”

This true crime clas­sic was banned, then rein­stat­ed, at Savan­nah, Georgia’s Wind­sor For­est High School in 2000 after a par­ent “com­plained about sex, vio­lence, and pro­fan­i­ty.”

Lawrence endured a great deal of per­se­cu­tion in his life­time for his work, which was wide­ly con­sid­ered porno­graph­ic. Thir­ty years after his death, in 1961, a group in Okla­homa City call­ing itself Moth­ers Unite for Decen­cy “hired a trail­er, dubbed it ‘smut­mo­bile,’ and dis­played books deemed objec­tion­able,” includ­ing Sons and Lovers.

  • Naked Lunch, by William S. Bur­roughs (Audio)

If any­one belongs on a list of obscene authors, it’s Bur­roughs, which is only one rea­son of the many rea­sons he deserves to be read. In 1965, the Boston Supe­ri­or Court banned Bur­roughs’ nov­el. The State Supreme Court reversed that deci­sion the fol­low­ing year. Lis­ten to Bur­roughs read the nov­el here.

Poor Lawrence could not catch a break. In one of many such acts against his work, the sen­si­tive writer’s fifth nov­el was declared obscene in 1922 by the rather unimag­i­na­tive­ly named New York Soci­ety for the Sup­pres­sion of Vice.

  • An Amer­i­can Tragedy, by Theodore Dreis­er (Read Online)

Amer­i­can literature’s fore­most mas­ter of melo­dra­ma, Dreiser’s nov­el was banned in Boston in 1927 and burned by the Nazi bon­fires because it “deals with low love affairs.”

You can learn much more about the many books that have been banned, sup­pressed, or cen­sored at the Uni­ver­si­ty of Pennsylvania’s “Banned Books Online” page, and learn more about the many events and resources avail­able for Banned Books Week at the Amer­i­can Library Association’s web­site.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

74 Free Banned Books (for Banned Books Week)

Allen Gins­berg Reads His Famous­ly Cen­sored Beat Poem, Howl (1959)

North Car­oli­na Coun­ty Cel­e­brates Banned Book Week By Ban­ning Ralph Ellison’s Invis­i­ble Man … Then Revers­ing It

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

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Watch Miles Davis, Grace Jones, Adam Ant & Devo in 1980s Ads for Honda Scooters

Begin­ning scoot­er rid­ers can find a ver­i­ta­ble biker’s break­fast of point­ers on the Inter­net. One could cob­ble them togeth­er to make a con­tem­po­rary own­ers man­u­al, cov­er­ing such cru­cial top­ics as brak­ing, throt­tling, steer­ing, and stay­ing upright. But some­times one craves some­thing a bit more elu­sive, a bit more spir­i­tu­al. Is there a youtube equiv­a­lent of Zen and the Art of Motor­cy­cle Main­te­nance?

Not real­ly, but there are these ear­ly 80s ads for Hon­da scoot­ers, fea­tur­ing some of the era’s most icon­o­clas­tic acts.

They put Adam Ant’s dash­ing post-punk appeal to the test by con­fin­ing him in close quar­ters with Grace Jones. Grace, above, dom­i­nat­ed, with all the con­fi­dence and ease of a tiger caged up with a pea­cock.

The prize? Can’t speak for Adam, but Grace got to film anoth­er spot. Her co-stars this time were a grid of infants, whose moth­ers must’ve been relieved that the alien diva queen nev­er actu­al­ly inter­act­ed with them. Can you imag­ine if Hug­gies had shared Hon­da’s adven­tur­ous adver­tis­ing sen­si­bil­i­ties?

Jazz great musi­cian Miles Davis did­n’t have to do much to lend an air of cool to that scoot­er. Even the card­board box­es scat­tered in the back­ground of his garage ben­e­fit from his pres­ence. The Prince of Dark­ness’ rep­u­ta­tion was nev­er an 80’s-spe­cif­ic phe­nom­e­non, but he looks the part, kit­ted out like the Road War­rior. 

Synth-pop super­stars Devo urged begin­ning rid­ers to adopt their extreme­ly uncon­ven­tion­al brand of con­for­mi­ty, sug­gest­ing that the band’s uni­form of cov­er­alls and, uh, shoes was the per­fect thing to wear while rid­ing that Hon­da. Those who want­ed to hang on to some sem­blance of indi­vid­u­al­i­ty could do so via scoot­er col­or.

Iron­ic though it may have been, their will­ing­ness to be seen sport­ing, nay, pro­mot­ing hel­mets makes Devo’s ad my per­son­al favorite.

To see Lou Reed’s con­tri­bu­tion to Hon­da’s series of ads, see our pre­vi­ous post: Sell­ing Cool: Lou Reed’s Clas­sic Hon­da Scoot­er Com­mer­cial, 1984

Relat­ed Con­tent:

David Lynch’s Per­fume Ads Based on the Works of Hem­ing­way, F. Scott Fitzger­ald & D.H. Lawrence

Watch Lau­rence Olivi­er, Liv Ull­mann and Christo­pher Plummer’s Clas­sic Polaroid Ads

Klaus Nomi’s Ad for Jäger­meis­ter (Cir­ca 1980)

Ayun Hal­l­i­day is an author, home­school­er, and Chief Pri­ma­tol­o­gist of the East Vil­lage Inky zine. Fol­low her @AyunHalliday

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