What Does “Kafkaesque” Really Mean? A Short Animated Video Explains

We derive adjec­tives from great writ­ers’ names meant to encap­su­late entire philoso­phies or modes of expres­sion. We have the Home­r­ic, the Shake­speare­an, the Joycean, etc. Two such adjec­tives that seem to apply most to our con­tem­po­rary con­di­tion sad­ly express much dark­er, more cramped visions than these: “Orwellian” and “Kafkaesque.” These adjec­tives also—suggests writer Noah Tavlin—name two of the most mis­un­der­stood of autho­r­i­al visions. In a TED­Ed video last year, Tavlin attempt­ed to clear up con­fu­sion about the “Orwellian,” a term that’s tossed around by pun­dits like a polit­i­cal Fris­bee.

Tavlin returns in the video above to explain the mean­ing of “Kafkaesque,” a less-abused descrip­tor but one we still may not ful­ly appre­ci­ate. He begins with a brief sum­ma­ry of Kafka’s nov­el The Tri­al, in which “K, the pro­tag­o­nist, is arrest­ed out of nowhere and made to go through a bewil­der­ing process where nei­ther the cause of his arrest nor the nature of the judi­cial pro­ceed­ings are made clear to him.” The sce­nario is “con­sid­ered so char­ac­ter­is­tic of Kafka’s work” that schol­ars use the term “Kafkaesque” to describe it. Kafkaesque has become evoca­tive of all “unnec­es­sar­i­ly com­pli­cat­ed and frus­trat­ing expe­ri­ences, like being forced to nav­i­gate labyrinths of bureau­cra­cy.”

But the word is much rich­er than such casu­al usage as describ­ing a trip to the DMV.

Tavlin ref­er­ences Kafka’s short sto­ry “Posei­den,” in which the god of the sea can nei­ther explore nor enjoy his realm because he is buried under moun­tains of paper­work. In truth, he is “a pris­on­er of his own ego,” unwill­ing to del­e­gate because he sees his under­lings as unwor­thy of the task. This sto­ry, Tavlin argues, “con­tains all of the ele­ments that make for a tru­ly Kafkaesque sce­nario.”

It’s not the absur­di­ty of bureau­cra­cy alone, but the irony of the character’s cir­cu­lar rea­son­ing in reac­tion to it, that is emblem­at­ic of Kafka’s writ­ing. His tragi­com­ic sto­ries act as a form of mythol­o­gy for the mod­ern indus­tri­al age, employ­ing dream log­ic to explore the rela­tion­ships between sys­tems of arbi­trary pow­er and the indi­vid­u­als caught up in them.

Tavlin refers to The Meta­mor­pho­sis and “A Hunger Artist” as fur­ther exam­ples of how Kafka’s char­ac­ters over­com­pli­cate their own lives through their fanat­i­cal, sin­gu­lar devo­tion to absurd con­di­tions.

But as Tavlin admits lat­er in the video, the bewil­der­ing mech­a­nisms of pow­er in sto­ries such as The Tri­al also “point to some­thing much more sinister”—the idea that arcane bureau­cra­cies become self-per­pet­u­at­ing and oper­ate inde­pen­dent­ly of the peo­ple sup­pos­ed­ly in pow­er, who are them­selves reduced to func­tionar­ies of mys­te­ri­ous, unac­count­able forces. Tavlin quotes Han­nah Arendt, who stud­ied the total­i­tar­i­an night­mares Kaf­ka pre­scient­ly fore­saw, and wrote of “tyran­ny with­out a tyrant.” More recent­ly, philoso­pher Manuel De Lan­da has the­o­rized increas­ing­ly com­plex, imper­son­al sys­tems oper­at­ing with lit­tle need for human inter­ven­tion. His War in the Age of Intel­li­gent Machines, for exam­ple, imag­ines mod­ern war­fare as the evolv­ing oper­a­tions of more-or-less self-orga­niz­ing weapons sys­tems. The­o­rists fre­quent­ly observe that the speed of tech­no­log­i­cal advance­ment now pro­ceeds at such a dizzy­ing­ly expo­nen­tial rate that it will soon sur­pass our abil­i­ty to con­trol or under­stand it at all. Per­haps, as Tesla’s Elon Musk sug­gests, we our­selves are no more than oper­a­tions in a com­plex sys­tem, sim­u­lat­ed beings inside a com­put­er pro­gram.

But sce­nar­ios like De Landa’s and Musk’s are also not the Kafkaesque, for these the­o­rists of mod­ern tech­noc­ra­cy lack a key fea­ture of Kafka’s vision—his dark, tragi­com­ic, absur­dist sense of humor, which per­me­ates even his bleak­est visions. On the one hand, Tavlin says, we “rely on increas­ing­ly con­vo­lut­ed sys­tems of admin­is­tra­tion” and find our­selves judged and ruled over “by peo­ple we can’t see accord­ing to rules we don’t know”—a sit­u­a­tion bound to pro­voke pro­found anx­i­ety and psy­cho­log­i­cal dis­tress. On the oth­er hand, Kafka’s atten­tion to the absurd, “reflects our short­com­ings back at our­selves,” remind­ing us that “the world we live in is one we cre­at­ed.” I’m not so sure, as Tavlin con­cludes, that Kaf­ka believed we have the “pow­er to change for the bet­ter” the over­com­pli­cat­ed sys­tems we bare­ly under­stand. Kafka’s com­ic vision, I think, ulti­mate­ly par­takes in what Miguel de Una­muno called “the trag­ic sense of life.” But he does not ful­ly deny his char­ac­ters all free­dom of choice, even if they fre­quent­ly have no idea what it is they’re choos­ing between or why.

Note: You can down­load essen­tial works by Franz Kaf­ka as free audio­books if you sign up for a 30-Day Free Tri­al with Audi­ble. You get two free audio­books with each tri­al. Find more infor­ma­tion on that pro­gram here.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

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

Franz Kaf­ka: An Ani­mat­ed Intro­duc­tion to His Lit­er­ary Genius

Franz Kafka’s Kafkaesque Love Let­ters

Four Franz Kaf­ka Ani­ma­tions: Enjoy Cre­ative Ani­mat­ed Shorts from Poland, Japan, Rus­sia & Cana­da

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

A Wonderful Archive of Historic Transit Maps: Expressive Art Meets Precise Graphic Design

transit 1

Any­one who loves cities almost cer­tain­ly loves tran­sit maps: for well over a cen­tu­ry, they’ve not only played an essen­tial role in the nav­i­ga­tion of urban spaces but devel­oped into their very own dis­tinc­tive form at the inter­sec­tion of util­i­ty and aes­thet­ics. The finest exam­ples simul­ta­ne­ous­ly pos­sess the clar­i­ty and infor­ma­tion-rich­ness of the best graph­ic design and hold out promis­es of excite­ment and moder­ni­ty that require a true artis­tic sen­si­bil­i­ty to prop­er­ly express. None of this is lost on Cameron Booth, the Aus­tralian graph­ic design­er liv­ing in Port­land, Ore­gon who runs the site Tran­sit Maps.

Transit 2

“A well designed tran­sit map con­veys a lot of infor­ma­tion in a very small space,” writes Booth on the site’s About page. “In an instant, we learn how to get from ‘A’ to ‘B’, sim­ply by fol­low­ing some coloured lines. The very best maps become sym­bols of their city, admired and loved by all.” None have become quite so sym­bol­ic as the map of the Lon­don Under­ground, the old­est sub­way sys­tem in the world, and Tran­sit Maps’ posts filed under the Lon­don Under­ground tag, such as the 1929 cut­away dia­gram of its Pic­cadil­ly Cir­cus sta­tion by Ital­ian archi­tect and urban design­er Ren­zo Picas­so just above pro­vide plen­ty of good read­ing — and even bet­ter view­ing — for its many enthu­si­asts.

Transit 3

Among Amer­i­can cities, no sub­way sys­tem has a more respect­ed map than Wash­ing­ton, DC’s, the work of graph­ic design­er Lance Wyman, for whom it has remained a work in progress: he over­saw a redesign just five years ago, almost forty years after the sys­tem went into ser­vice and his orig­i­nal map made its debut. Here we have one of Wyman’s orig­i­nal work­ing sketch­es for the map straight from his note­book. “Inter­est­ing­ly, it looks like Wyman was exper­i­ment­ing with tex­tur­al treat­ments for the route lines at this time,” adds Booth, “an idea I’m ever so glad he aban­doned, because it would have looked so busy and hideous.”

Transit 4

Hav­ing seen many more tran­sit maps than most, and even hav­ing designed some of his own (includ­ing a rework­ing of the DC Metro map), Booth does­n’t hes­i­tate to point out both the virtues and the flaws of the ones he posts. He even grades them on a star rat­ing sys­tem (with, of course, cir­cu­lar Lon­don Under­ground logos sub­sti­tut­ing for actu­al stars), col­lect­ing the very best under the five-star tag. One such pas­sage with fly­ing col­ors, the 1950s York­shire coast train map at the top of the post, has Booth exclaim­ing that “they don’t make ‘em like this any more. The 1908 bird’s-eye view of Chica­go, source of the leg­end above, scores its own five stars by “minute atten­tion to detail,” down to the inclu­sion of “smoke curls from fac­to­ry chim­neys” and “almost every tree in the city’s parks.”

Transit 5

Few cities have attract­ed as much atten­tion from map­mak­ers as New York, pos­si­bly due to all its won­ders — or at least those are what IBM graph­ic design­er Nils Hansell empha­sizes in his mid-1950s map “Won­ders of New York” which, despite not look­ing far past Man­hat­tan, does include tran­sit and much else besides: Booth men­tions its depic­tion of “300-odd num­bered points of inter­est” as well as “the last ves­tiges of New York’s once-exten­sive ele­vat­ed rail­way lines.” You need quite a high-def­i­n­i­tion scan to real­ly appre­ci­ate all this, and Booth found one in the David Rum­sey Map Col­lec­tion, which we’ve pre­vi­ous­ly fea­tured here on Open Cul­ture.

Transit 6

Scroll through the pages and pages of Tran­sit Maps’ his­tor­i­cal tag, and you’ll find a wealth of fas­ci­nat­ing show­pieces of the tran­sit map­per’s art, not just from the Lon­dons and New Yorks of the world, but also from times and places like Berlin in 1931Madi­son, Wis­con­sin in 1975, and Booth’s own old home­town of Syd­ney in 1950 and new home­town of Port­land in 1978. The archive even includes tran­sit maps from unusu­al places, such as a delight­ful one print­ed on the back of a Japan­ese match­box in the 1920s, and maps for tran­sit sys­tems nev­er com­plet­ed, such as the one for the Bagh­dad Metro from the ear­ly 1980s just above. Iraq’s cap­i­tal may still await a full-ser­vice sub­way sys­tem — and much else besides — but at least its map earns top marks.

tokyo subway

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Down­load 67,000 His­toric Maps (in High Res­o­lu­tion) from the Won­der­ful David Rum­sey Map Col­lec­tion

Design­er Mas­si­mo Vignel­li Revis­its and Defends His Icon­ic 1972 New York City Sub­way Map

Vin­tage Video: A New York City Sub­way Train Trav­els From 14th St. to 42nd Street (1905)

Vladimir Nabokov Cre­ates a Hand-Drawn Map of James Joyce’s Ulysses

Based in Seoul, Col­in Mar­shall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, and style. He’s at work on a book about Los Ange­les, A Los Ange­les Primer, the video series The City in Cin­e­ma, the crowd­fund­ed jour­nal­ism project Where Is the City of the Future?, and the Los Ange­les Review of Books’ Korea Blog. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall or on Face­book.

Brexit 101: The UK’s Stunning Vote Explained in 4 Minutes

The Brex­it votes have been count­ed. The Brits have decid­ed to leave the Euro­pean Union. And the finan­cial mar­kets are tak­ing it hard. Right now, futures on the Lon­don stock exchange are down 8%. The pound is down 9.8 per­cent, more than dou­ble its pre­vi­ous record decline of 4.1 per­cent. We’re liv­ing in inter­est­ing times.

No doubt, some of you are sud­den­ly won­der­ing, what exact­ly is Brex­it? And what’s at stake? Up top, you can watch a four-minute primer cre­at­ed by The Wall Street Jour­nal. Bloomberg has its own two-minute ver­sion here (or view below). The Toron­to Star breaks down Brex­it in 13 points. And The Guardian went so far as to cre­ate a guide just for Amer­i­cans. (For any­one who wants to dis­sect the pro­pa­gan­da for leav­ing Brex­it, you can watch the fea­ture-length doc­u­men­tary film, Brex­it: The Moviereleased last month.) Please feel free to add oth­er primers in the com­ments below.

For Amer­i­cans read­ing this, I’d point out that Brex­it and Trump share some impor­tant things in com­mon: they’re both about putting up walls, plac­ing blame on immi­grants and minori­ties; exploit­ing the resent­ments of the eco­nom­i­cal­ly dis­ad­van­taged; dis­miss­ing experts and estab­lish­ment fig­ures; and risk­ing upend­ing a frag­ile world order. How Eng­land looks on June 24th is per­haps a small pre­view of how Amer­i­ca might look on Novem­ber 9th. Only there will be tril­lions more at stake.

If you would like to sign up for Open Culture’s free email newslet­ter, please find it here. It’s a great way to see our new posts, all bun­dled in one email, each day.

If you would like to sup­port the mis­sion of Open Cul­ture, con­sid­er mak­ing a dona­tion to our site. It’s hard to rely 100% on ads, and your con­tri­bu­tions will help us con­tin­ue pro­vid­ing the best free cul­tur­al and edu­ca­tion­al mate­ri­als to learn­ers every­where. You can con­tribute through Pay­Pal, Patre­on, and Ven­mo (@openculture). Thanks!

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1930s Fashion Designers Predict How People Would Dress in the Year 2000

From 1930 to 1941, Pathetone Week­ly ran film clips that high­light­ed ‘the nov­el, the amus­ing and the strange.’ At some point dur­ing the 1930s (the exact date isn’t clear), Pathetone asked Amer­i­can design­ers to look rough­ly 70 years into the future and haz­ard a guess about how women might dress in Year 2000. Appar­ent­ly, fash­ion design­ers don’t make great futur­ists, and the designs fell rather wide of the mark — unless you want to count Lady Gaga’s wardrobe, in which case they didn’t do a half bad job. Or, for that mat­ter, the male con­nect­ed 24/7 to his phone and sundry gad­gets…

If you would like to sign up for Open Culture’s free email newslet­ter, please find it here. It’s a great way to see our new posts, all bun­dled in one email, each day.

If you would like to sup­port the mis­sion of Open Cul­ture, con­sid­er mak­ing a dona­tion to our site. It’s hard to rely 100% on ads, and your con­tri­bu­tions will help us con­tin­ue pro­vid­ing the best free cul­tur­al and edu­ca­tion­al mate­ri­als to learn­ers every­where. You can con­tribute through Pay­Pal, Patre­on, and Ven­mo (@openculture). Thanks!

Relat­ed Con­tent:

How French Artists in 1899 Envi­sioned Life in the Year 2000: Draw­ing the Future

Isaac Asimov’s 1964 Pre­dic­tions About What the World Will Look 50 Years Lat­er — in 2014

Arthur C. Clarke Pre­dicts the Future in 1964 … And Kind of Nails It

In 1900, Ladies’ Home Jour­nal Pub­lish­es 28 Pre­dic­tions for the Year 2000

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Johnny Rotten Becomes a DJ and Plays Songs from His Record Collection, 1977

lydon radio

Image via Wiki­me­dia Com­mons

One of the ini­tial impres­sions of the British punks–and one that impre­sario Mal­colm McLaren tried to cultivate–was that they were dan­ger­ous, unschooled yobs cre­at­ing rock music from pri­mor­dial mate­ri­als. That’s why McLaren was unhap­py about John Lydon aka John­ny Rotten’s appear­ance on Cap­i­tal Radio’s Tom­my Vance Show in the mid­dle of the sum­mer of punk, 1977.

“Anar­chy in the U.K.” and “God Save the Queen” had already been released as sin­gles. The Pis­tols had made their infa­mous appear­ance on Bill Grundy’s chat show, where goad­ed into doing some­thing out­ra­geous, they swore a bit and the British press melt­ed down in parox­ysms of pan­ic. They had been dropped by both EMI and A&M, and had fin­ished record­ing the bulk of Nev­er Mind the Bol­locks the month before. The band was in lim­bo.

DJ Tom­my Vance was six­teen years old­er than Lydon, but Cap­i­tal Radio was an inde­pen­dent sta­tion and offered an alter­na­tive to the BBC, which only a few months ear­li­er banned out­right “God Save the Queen” from the air­waves and refused to award it a num­ber one sin­gle spot, even though the sin­gle had earned it, sales­wise.

Lydon was asked to bring in records from his own col­lec­tion and talk about them, and, in doing so, demon­strat­ed that he was­n’t a thug, but an eclec­tic young music fan with broad tastes. He liked a lot of reg­gae (Peter Tosh, Mak­ka Bees, Dr. Ali­man­ta­do) and dub, and says he grew up with it. It also explains the dub heavy out­ings he’d soon do with Pub­lic Image Ltd. And he choos­es tracks by singer-song­writ­ers like Tim Buck­ley, Kevin Coyne, and Neil Young; John Cale, Lou Reed, and Nico; and art rock like Can, a band intro­duced to him by Sid Vicious.

He’s still abrupt, insult­ing and dis­mis­sive when he needs to be. He calls David Bowie a “real bad drag queen,” doesn’t think much of the Rolling Stones or most ‘60s bands (“ter­ri­ble scratch­ing sound” he says), and says most of his con­tem­po­rary punk bands are “stag­nant” and pre­dictable. But it wouldn’t be John­ny Rot­ten any oth­er way, would it?

When asked about his record col­lec­tion, Lydon says it’s quite big:

I ain’t got a record play­er at the moment, so I have to pass them around, because music’s for lis­ten­ing to, not to store away in a bloody cup­board. Yeah, I love my music.

You can lis­ten to the broad­cast here:

And here’s the full track list­ing:

Tim Buck­ley – Sweet Sur­ren­der
The Cre­ation – Life Is Just Begin­ning
David Bowie – Rebel Rebel
Unknown Irish Folk Music / Jig
Augus­tus Pablo – King Tub­by Meets The Rock­ers Uptown
Gary Glit­ter – Doing Alright With The Boys
Fred Locks – Walls
Vivian Jack­son and the Prophets – Fire in a Kingston
Cul­ture – I’m Not Ashamed
Dr Ali­man­ta­do & The Rebels – Born For A Pur­pose
Bob­by Byrd – Back From The Dead
Neil Young – Rev­o­lu­tion Blues
Lou Reed – Men Of Good For­tune
Kevin Coyne – East­bourne Ladies
Peter Ham­mill – The Insti­tute Of Men­tal Health, Burn­ing
Peter Ham­mill – Nobody’s Busi­ness
Mak­ka Bees – Nation Fid­dler / Fire!
Cap­tain Beef­heart – The Blimp
Nico – Jan­i­tor Of Luna­cy
Ken Boothe – Is It Because I’m Black
John Cale – Legs Lar­ry At Tele­vi­sion Cen­tre
Third Ear Band – Fleance
Can – Hal­leluh­wah
Peter Tosh – Legalise It

via That Eric Alper/WFMU

Relat­ed con­tent:

John Lydon & Pub­lic Image Ltd. Sow Chaos on Amer­i­can Band­stand: The Show’s Best and Worst Moment (1980)

The Sex Pis­tols’ 1976 Man­ches­ter “Gig That Changed the World,” and the Day the Punk Era Began

Nev­er Mind the Bol­locks, Here’s … John Lydon in a But­ter Com­mer­cial?

Ted Mills is a free­lance writer on the arts who cur­rent­ly hosts the FunkZone Pod­cast. You can also fol­low him on Twit­ter at @tedmills, read his oth­er arts writ­ing at tedmills.com and/or watch his films here.

Hear a 64-Hour Playlist of Sherlock Holmes Stories, With Performances by Sir John Gielgud, Sir Ralph Richardson & Many More

sherlock playlist

Image via Wiki­me­dia Com­mons

When I first read all of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s Sher­lock Holmes sto­ries, hav­ing found them col­lect­ed in full (not, of course, includ­ing last year’s “lost” sto­ry) in two old vol­umes at an antique store, I under­stood imme­di­ate­ly why they’d so quick­ly become so pop­u­lar with their first read­er­ship in the late 19th and ear­ly 20th cen­turies. Or rather, I should say that I felt it–that per­fect align­ment of form and sub­stance that only comes along in pop­u­lar art every few decades.

Whether that hap­pened as a result of Doyle’s crafts­man­ship or his luck I don’t know, but it turns out that the adven­tures of his con­sult­ing detec­tive play as well on the speak­ers as they do on the page, though in quite a dif­fer­ent way. You can expe­ri­ence that dif­fer­ence for your­self, and expe­ri­ence it exten­sive­ly, with Spo­ti­fy’s 64-hour, 163-track playlist of Sher­lock Holmes sto­ries per­formed aloud. (If you don’t have Spo­ti­fy’s free soft­ware, down­load it here.)

The very first voice it presents is Doyle’s own, speak­ing briefly on Holmes and spir­i­tu­al­ism, which gives us time to set­tle in for a five-part ren­di­tion of the very first in the Holmes canon (and thanks to “more female inter­est than is usu­al,” one of Doyle’s per­son­al favorites), “A Scan­dal in Bohemia.” It comes per­formed by Sir John Giel­gud and Sir Ralph Richard­son, two of the most respect­ed actors in 20th-cen­tu­ry British the­ater. We’ve pre­vi­ous­ly fea­tured their por­tray­als, Giel­gud’s of Holmes and Richard­son’s of Wat­son (and we can hard­ly neglect to men­tion the one and only Orson Welles’, of Mori­ar­ty), on the New Adven­tures of Sher­lock Holmes radio dra­ma.

But this playlist pro­vides a wealth of oth­er voic­es from var­i­ous eras inter­pret­ing Doyle’s most beloved works as well, a vari­ety that cer­tain­ly suits its pro­tag­o­nist, the most-por­trayed lit­er­ary char­ac­ter of all time — which means that, unlike the col­lect­ed print canon of Sher­lock Holmes adven­tures (that “lost” sto­ry and its mys­te­ri­ous author­ship aside), the col­lect­ed audio adven­tures of Sher­lock Holmes will only grow longer and longer, so those who want to lis­ten to them all had best get on the case with­out delay.

You can find this playlist added to our col­lec­tion, 1,000 Free Audio Books: Down­load Great Books for Free.

Also find Sher­lock Holmes sto­ries in our oth­er col­lec­tion, 800 Free eBooks for iPad, Kin­dle & Oth­er Devices.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Hear the Vin­tage Sher­lock Holmes Radio Dra­ma, Star­ring John Giel­gud, Orson Welles & Ralph Richard­son

Watch the First Sher­lock Holmes Movie (1900), the Arrival of the Most Pop­u­lar Char­ac­ter in Cin­e­ma

Read the Lost Sher­lock Holmes Sto­ry That Was Just Dis­cov­ered in an Attic in Scot­land

Down­load the Com­plete Sher­lock Holmes, Arthur Conan Doyle’s Mas­ter­piece

Arthur Conan Doyle Names His 19 Favorite Sher­lock Holmes Sto­ries

Arthur Conan Doyle Dis­cuss­es Sher­lock Holmes and Psy­chics in a Rare Filmed Inter­view (1927)

Based in Seoul, Col­in Mar­shall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, and style. He’s at work on a book about Los Ange­les, A Los Ange­les Primer, the video series The City in Cin­e­ma, the crowd­fund­ed jour­nal­ism project Where Is the City of the Future?, and the Los Ange­les Review of Books’ Korea Blog. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall or on Face­book.

Hear the Only Castrato Ever Recorded Sing “Ave Maria” and Other Classics (1904)

Every human cul­ture has prac­ticed some form of rit­u­al muti­la­tion, from the mild mar­ring of a Spring Break tat­too to the dis­fig­ure­ment of foot-bind­ing. On the more extreme end of the scale, we have the ear­ly mod­ern Euro­pean prac­tice of cas­trat­ing young boys to inhib­it growth of their vocal cords and thy­roid glands dur­ing puber­ty. Such singers, known as cas­trati, became “high-sopra­nos, mez­zos, and altos, stri­dent voic­es and sweet ones, loud and mel­low voic­es,” writes Martha Feld­man in her book The Cas­tra­to.

The pur­pose of muti­lat­ing these singers ini­tial­ly had to do with a ban on women in church choirs. Cas­trati took their place, and were in very high demand. “Oppor­tu­ni­ties for cas­trati were stag­ger­ing,” writes i09, “and many fam­i­lies were fac­ing star­va­tion” in 16th cen­tu­ry Italy, where the prac­tice began. Despite a church pro­hi­bi­tion on unnec­es­sary ampu­ta­tion, par­ents and sur­geons con­spired to ille­gal­ly cas­trate boys cho­sen to ful­fill the role, and the prac­tice con­tin­ued into the 19th cen­tu­ry.

Sev­er­al cas­trati achieved last­ing pop­u­lar fame. “The best cas­trati were super­stars,” remarks Sarah Bard­well of the Han­del House Muse­um, “adored by female fans.” Oth­ers, io9 points out, “were low-rent singers who spent their time doing small gigs in small towns, and oth­ers spun their singing careers into posi­tions as min­is­ters at roy­al courts.” One of the more glam­orous fates await­ed one of the last of the cas­trati, Alessan­dro Moreschi, who may have been cas­trat­ed to rem­e­dy an inguinal her­nia or may have been inten­tion­al­ly muti­lat­ed to become a cas­tra­to.

How­ev­er he came by it, Moreschi’s voice so impressed a Roman choir­mas­ter that he appoint­ed the singer first sopra­no of the Papal basil­i­ca of St. John Lat­er­an in 1873 at age 15. Soon after, Moreschi, his fame spread­ing wide­ly, joined the Sis­tine Chapel Choir and took on sev­er­al admin­is­tra­tive duties. By this time, it’s said that Moreschi was so pop­u­lar that audi­ences would call out “Evi­va il coltel­lo” (“Long live the knife!”) dur­ing his per­for­mances. While still with the Sis­tine Choir and near the end of his career, Moreschi began to make record­ings for the Gramo­phone & Type­writer Com­pa­ny of London—the only known record­ings of a cas­tra­to.

Between 1902 and 1904, Moreschi record­ed 17 tracks, and you can hear them all here. At the top of the post, hear a restored ver­sion of “Ave Maria,” fur­ther down, a ren­di­tion of Euge­nio Terziani’s “Hos­tias et Pre­ces,” and here, the com­plete record­ings of Alessan­dro Moreschi, in their noisy orig­i­nal state. Nicholas Clap­ton, cura­tor of a 2006 cas­trati exhib­it at the Han­del House Muse­um in Lon­don, describes Moreschi’s voice as “Pavarot­ti on heli­um” and his­tor­i­can David Starkey tells of the “full hor­ror” of the pro­ce­dure, but also adds, “it’s hor­ri­bly like the child star of today, forced into this arti­fi­cial­i­ty, forced… to deliv­er that ineluctable, strange, desir­able thing of star qual­i­ty.”

Sad­ly, like many of today’s har­ried child singers and actors, few cas­trati actu­al­ly achieved star­dom. But those few who did, like Moreschi, “had a tremen­dous emo­tion­al impact on the audi­ences of the day,” Bard­well tells us. Moreschi’s record­ings, made while he was in his mid-for­ties, sound alien to us not only because of the strange­ness of cas­trati singing but because of the high­ly melo­dra­mat­ic style pop­u­lar at the time. His singing may not be rep­re­sen­ta­tive of some of the most renowned cas­trati in his­to­ry, like the 18th cen­tu­ry sen­sa­tion Farinel­li, but it is—barring a resur­gence of the pret­ty bar­bar­ic practice—probably the clos­est we’ll come to hear­ing the infa­mous cas­trati voice.

via His­to­ry Buff

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Rare Video Cap­tures 29-Year-Old Luciano Pavarot­ti in One of His Ear­li­est Record­ed Per­for­mances (1964)

Watch Clas­sic Per­for­mances from Maria Callas’ Won­drous and Trag­i­cal­ly-Short Opera Career

What Beat­box­ing and Opera Singing Look Like Inside an MRI Machine

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

Van Gogh’s “Starry Night” and “Self Portrait” Painted on Dark Water, Using a Traditional Turkish Art Form

And now for some­thing a lit­tle whim­si­cal and fun.

Above, watch artist Garip Ay use a tra­di­tion­al Turk­ish art form, known as Ebru art, or mar­bling, to paint Van Gogh’s ‘Star­ry Night’ and ‘Self-Por­trait’ on water. Mar­bling, Ay told ABC News, is “the prac­tice of apply­ing paint to the sur­face of thick­ened water and cre­at­ing pat­terns and images by manip­u­lat­ing the paint.” “The water, in addi­tion to being thick­ened by car­rageenan pow­der, was col­ored black for this project.” Give the video four short min­utes, and you can watch Ay’s project unfold. Find many more mar­bling videos on the artist’s web­site.

If you would like to sign up for Open Culture’s free email newslet­ter, please find it here. It’s a great way to see our new posts, all bun­dled in one email, each day.

If you would like to sup­port the mis­sion of Open Cul­ture, con­sid­er mak­ing a dona­tion to our site. It’s hard to rely 100% on ads, and your con­tri­bu­tions will help us con­tin­ue pro­vid­ing the best free cul­tur­al and edu­ca­tion­al mate­ri­als to learn­ers every­where. You can con­tribute through Pay­Pal, Patre­on, and Ven­mo (@openculture). Thanks!

via ABC News/The Kids Should See This

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Down­load Hun­dreds of Van Gogh Paint­ings, Sketch­es & Let­ters in High Res­o­lu­tion

Van Gogh’s 1888 Paint­ing, “The Night Cafe,” Ani­mat­ed with Ocu­lus Vir­tu­al Real­i­ty Soft­ware

The Unex­pect­ed Math Behind Van Gogh’s “Star­ry Night”

Artist Turns a Crop Field Into a Van Gogh Paint­ing, Seen Only From Air­planes

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Hear the Great Mixtapes Richard Linklater Created to Psych Up the Actors in Dazed and Confused and Everybody Wants Some!!


Richard Linklater’s films have become increas­ing­ly sophis­ti­cat­ed as the 90s indie break­out writer-direc­tor has grown into his auteur­hood. From the loose ston­er vérité of Slack­ers (watch it online) to the loose but heady ani­ma­tion of Wak­ing Life to the painstak­ing­ly metic­u­lous “mod­el of cin­e­mat­ic real­ism” of Boy­hood, Lin­klater has a unique­ly Amer­i­can vision and the unde­ni­able tal­ent to real­ize it in full.

But most­ly when I think of Lin­klater, I think—excuse my language—of cock rock.

I think of Dazed and Con­fused’s super senior Wood­er­son, lean­ing against a mus­cle car, drawl­ing “alright, alright, alright,” and crank­ing Aero­smith. I think of wild-eyed Jack Black in School of Rock, strap­ping a Gib­son Fly­ing V on an uptight, sweater-vest­ed youth and teach­ing him Black Sabbath’s “Iron Man” riff. And now, I think of a gang of short shorts-wear­ing col­lege base­ball dudes in the “cam­pus bro­manceEvery­body Wants Some!!, singing along (above) to Sug­ar Hill Gang’s “Rapper’s Delight”…. wait…

So, okay, it ain’t all cock rock. But Linklater’s films are often so dude-cen­tric, and so informed by pop­u­lar music of cer­tain eras, that he titled two of his most per­son­al—Dazed and Con­fused and its recent “spir­i­tu­al sequel”—after anthems from the two most arche­typ­i­cal­ly cock rock bands, Led Zep­pelin and Van Halen.

Where Dazed and Con­fused’s high school milieu more or less stayed anchored in 70s hard rock, Every­body Wants Some!!—like its com­par­a­tive­ly adven­tur­ous col­lege jocks—takes sev­er­al musi­cal detours from beer-and-babes 80s clichés. The film’s sound­track, for exam­ple, includes “deep cuts” from Bri­an Eno, obscure local Texas punk rock band The Big Boys, and L.A.-based 80s New Wave/R&B band The Bus­boys.

It’s true, then, that the songs choic­es on Every­body Wants Some!!, which you can hear almost in their entire­ly (sans a few) above, are fair­ly diverse, genre-wise, com­pared to the cock-rock-heavy list of songs from Dazed and Con­fused (fur­ther up). And when it comes to Linklater’s musi­cal inspi­ra­tions for both films, we see that dif­fer­ence as well.

linklater mixtape dazed

As the Cri­te­ri­on Col­lec­tion blog doc­u­ments—bring­ing us the 1992 let­ter above (read it here) from Lin­klater to his cast—the direc­tor put togeth­er “a thought­ful series of mix­tapes to get his cast into the mind-set” of Dazed and Con­fused. And Cri­te­ri­on put togeth­er the Spo­ti­fy playlist below of the songs Lin­klater gave his actors. As you’ll see, it’s most­ly balls-to-the-wall hard rock, with some oblig­a­tory 70s dis­co and a few cuts from Lou Reed, David Bowie, and Elton John. In his accom­pa­ny­ing let­ter, Lin­klater admits “a few of the songs are a lit­tle cheezy,” but also notes “there are a few places for iron­ic usage.” For the most part, he says, “this music… is like the movie itself—straightforward, hon­est and fun.”

When it came time to begin shoot­ing Every­body Wants Some!! (get the offi­cial sound­track here), Lin­klater again used the same method to get his cast in the mood, cir­cu­lat­ing the songs in the playlist below (though prob­a­bly not on cas­settes). Here we get a much more diverse, com­pre­hen­sive musi­cal sum­ma­ry of the decade in ques­tion, with Michael Jack­son sit­ting next to Elvis Costel­lo, Pat Benatar and Dire Straits next to Pink Floyd, Sis­ter Sledge, Queen, and Cha­ka Khan.

It’s an inter­est­ing tran­si­tion that may—musically—signal the move from teenage fan­dom to the more curi­ous, adven­tur­ous lis­ten­ing habits of ear­ly adult­hood. Col­lege, after all, is not only where young Amer­i­cans of the mod­ern era dis­cov­er new sex­u­al and chem­i­cal plea­sures, but also where they acquire new musi­cal tastes. And in the 80s espe­cial­ly, the bound­aries of pop music expand­ed.

“That’s just how it felt to me to be a young per­son at that time. It was cool to be into every­thing,” Lin­klater com­ment­ed to Cor­nelia Rowe at Yahoo: “There was a lot of new­ness in the era. You didn’t real­ly appre­ci­ate it at the time – it’s like, there are all these new bands! There’s this new wave, punk, par­ty, R&B – there’s a thing called rap music from New York!”

The ath­lete bros in Linklater’s lat­est, very male-ori­ent­ed piece of cin­e­mat­ic nos­tal­gia “at once embody and upend the stereo­type of the shal­low, sex­u­al­ly enti­tled jock,” writes A.O. Scott in his review. Roam­ing far afield of their com­fort zones, they “have a good time wher­ev­er they are.” That’s pret­ty much guar­an­teed, I think, with the fine­ly-curat­ed 80s gems in these playlists as their sound­track.

via the Cri­te­ri­on Col­lec­tion

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Watch Free Online: Richard Linklater’s Slack­er, the Clas­sic Gen‑X Indie Film

Scenes from Wak­ing Life, Richard Linklater’s Philo­soph­i­cal, Fea­ture-Length Ani­mat­ed Film (2001)

A Playlist of 172 Songs from Wes Ander­son Sound­tracks: From Bot­tle Rock­et to The Grand Budapest Hotel

Scenes from Wak­ing Life, Richard Linklater’s Philo­soph­i­cal, Fea­ture-Length Ani­mat­ed Film (2001)

Watch Heavy Met­al Park­ing Lot, the Cult Clas­sic Film That Ranks as One of the “Great Rock Doc­u­men­taries” of All Time

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

Surrealist Filmmaker Jan Švankmajer Is About to Make His Final Feature Film, and You Can Help Produce It

No film­mak­er com­bines live action with stop-motion quite like Jan Švankma­jer, and cer­tain­ly no film­mak­er has used that com­bi­na­tion to such imag­i­na­tive and trou­bling ends. An avowed sur­re­al­ist who got his start in ani­ma­tion more than half a cen­tu­ry ago in his home­land of the for­mer Czecho­slo­va­kia, he’s con­tin­ued to craft his dis­tinc­tive cin­e­mat­ic expe­ri­ences how­ev­er and when­ev­er pos­si­ble through the decades. His fil­mog­ra­phy now includes such endur­ing trips as Dimen­sions of Dia­logue (see below), which no less a vision­ary than Ter­ry Gilliam calls one of the best ani­mat­ed films of all time; Alice, his dark inter­pre­ta­tion of Alice’s Adven­tures in Won­der­land; and Lit­tle Otik, a mod­ern­iza­tion of a folk­tale about a tree stump that turns into a mon­strous baby.

But as well as he brings the bizarre to vivid life on screen, he’s always had high­er ambi­tions than that. “Švankma­jer is capa­ble of cre­at­ing dark yet play­ful worlds that dis­sect the very core of our soci­ety,” says the Indiegogo page now rais­ing the funds for his lat­est — and last — fea­ture film, Insects. “The civ­i­liza­tion we live in has lit­tle inter­est in authen­tic artis­tic cre­ation,” laments the film­mak­er. “What it needs is well-work­ing adver­tise­ment, the icono­graph­ic con­tem­po­rary art, push­ing peo­ple towards more and more mass con­sump­tion. It gets increas­ing­ly dif­fi­cult to fund inde­pen­dent art that scru­ti­nizes the very core of our soci­ety. Who would delib­er­ate­ly sup­port their own crit­ics?”

Now, in this age of crowd­fund­ing, you can sup­port one of its most enter­tain­ing crit­ics alive your­self. Insects has already suc­ceed­ed in rais­ing the first phase of its bud­get, but still has a way to go before it can assure its esteemed cre­ator and his col­lab­o­ra­tors full artis­tic free­dom (Švankma­jer is look­ing to raise $400,000 in total), so if you’d like to chip in, you can make your­self eli­gi­ble for such rewards as the first oppor­tu­ni­ty to down­load the film, its Blu-Ray edi­tion with an accom­pa­ny­ing art book, or even — if you’ve got $15,000 to put toward the cause — “a din­ner with Jan Švankma­jer at his man­sion in Czech Repub­lic and a com­ment­ed vis­it to his Kun­stk­abi­net.” Even now, work on Insects, its Indiegogo page assures us, is under­way, with Švankma­jer “very busy vis­it­ing ento­mo­log­i­cal auc­tions, buy­ing var­i­ous kinds of bugs, doing rehearsal shots with them and so on.”

If you’d like to learn more about the dra­ma that they’ll ulti­mate­ly act out, watch the pro­mo video at the top of the post. In it, Švankma­jer describes it as set in a pub, after hours, where an ama­teur the­ater group has gath­ered to rehearse The Insect Play by the Čapek broth­ers. But “as the rehearsal pro­gress­es, the char­ac­ters of the play are born and die with no regard to time,” and the actors “expe­ri­ence fright­en­ing trans­for­ma­tions.” Švankma­jer, who has planned not a direct adap­ta­tion of The Insect Play but a more com­plex work that draws inspi­ra­tion both from it and The Meta­mor­pho­sis by his oth­er well-known coun­try­man Franz Kaf­ka, puts the appeal of this sto­ry where “bugs behave as human beings, and peo­ple behave as insects” sim­ply: “The Čapek broth­ers’ play is very mis­an­throp­ic. I’ve always liked that.”

Relat­ed Con­tent:

The Mas­cot, Pio­neer­ing Stop Ani­ma­tion Film, by Wla­dys­law Starewicz

Dimen­sions of Dia­logue by Jan Svankma­jer (1982)

The Best Ani­mat­ed Films of All Time, Accord­ing to Ter­ry Gilliam

4,000+ Free Movies Online: Great Clas­sics, Indies, Noir, West­erns, Doc­u­men­taries & More

Based in Seoul, Col­in Mar­shall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, and style. He’s at work on a book about Los Ange­les, A Los Ange­les Primer, the video series The City in Cin­e­ma, the crowd­fund­ed jour­nal­ism project Where Is the City of the Future?, and the Los Ange­les Review of Books’ Korea Blog. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall or on Face­book.

Meet Four Women Who Pioneered Electronic Music: Daphne Oram, Laurie Spiegel, Éliane Radigue & Pauline Oliveros

My small city is still com­ing down from the ela­tion of last month’s Moogfest, a three-day extrav­a­gan­za of per­for­mances, work­shops, sem­i­nars, films, and oth­er activ­i­ties relat­ing to music made by the syn­the­siz­ers designed and influ­enced by Robert Moog.

This year’s fes­tiv­i­ties includ­ed sev­er­al per­for­mances from New Wave star Gary Numan; appear­ances by leg­ends like Devo’s Mark Moth­ers­baugh, Parliament-Funkadelic’s Bernie Wor­rell, Negativland’s Chris Grigg, and Can’s Mal­colm Moony; and trib­utes to recent­ly deceased Japan­ese synth mas­ter Isao Tomi­ta and British prog rock super­star Kei­th Emer­son…. And yes, many excel­lent younger female artists per­formed and gave work­shops and talks, but as a new­com­er to the scene, you’d be for­giv­en for think­ing that ear­li­er gen­er­a­tions of elec­tron­ic musi­cians were almost exclu­sive­ly male.

And that impres­sion would be entire­ly off the mark, even if it has been rein­forced again and again in ret­ro­spec­tives, doc­u­men­taries, and pop­u­lar his­to­ries. But per­spec­tives are shift­ing, and we’ve tried to high­light some of the alter­nate his­to­ries of elec­tron­ic music that doc­u­ment female artists’ indis­pens­able con­tri­bu­tions to the field.

Recent doc­u­men­taries about influ­en­tial BBC Radio com­pos­er and musi­cian Delia Der­byshire, for exam­ple, have rein­tro­duced her work to a new gen­er­a­tion. A wider appre­ci­a­tion came in the form of KPFA’s “Crack O’ Dawn” pro­gram broad­cast­ing sev­en hours of music by over two dozen impor­tant women com­posers and musi­cians from 1938–2014.

On the live cir­cuit, “’all-female bills,’” writes Jen­nifer Lucy Allan at The Guardian, “have gained trac­tion to address the stark gen­der imbal­ance in dance and elec­tron­ic music book­ings.” But “they can feel tokenist, where gen­der comes before tal­ent… not so at London’s South­bank Cen­tre next week­end: its Deep Min­i­mal­ism fes­ti­val presents com­po­si­tions by some of elec­tron­ic music’s ear­ly fron­trun­ners, going as far back as the 1950s. They just so hap­pen to be almost exclu­sive­ly female.”

One ear­ly fron­trun­ner, Daphne Oram, was a con­tem­po­rary and col­league of Delia Der­byshire. Oram, writes Allan, “noo­dled with mod­u­lar machines at the BBC Radio­phon­ic Work­shop in its ear­ly days, before the stu­dio cre­at­ed the sem­i­nal Doc­tor Who theme” (large­ly Derbyshire’s doing). That descrip­tion does­n’t do her jus­tice. Oram was in fact a co-founder of the huge­ly influ­en­tial Radio­phon­ic Work­shop, and her work deserves, and has begun to receive, the kind of crit­i­cal re-eval­u­a­tion that Der­byshire has attained recent­ly.

The Wire mag­a­zine cen­tered Oram’s work in a 2012 dis­cus­sion, “Attack of the Radio­phon­ic Women: How Syn­the­siz­ers Cracked Music’s Glass Ceil­ing.” They fea­ture much more info on Oram on their site, includ­ing a “Daphne Oram Por­tal” with links to arti­cles about her sophis­ti­cat­ed work. At the top of the post, you can hear the sub­tle drones, ring­ing, and echoes of Oram’s “Pulse Perse­phone,” and just above, lis­ten to a 2008, 40-minute radio doc­u­men­tary on her work called “Wee Have Also Sound-Hous­es,” made in cel­e­bra­tion of the Radio­phon­ic Workshop’s 50th anniver­sary.

Oram has been laud­ed by the BBC as “the unsung pio­neer of tech­no” and there is cur­rent­ly a Kick­starter cam­paign to repub­lish her book, An Indi­vid­ual Note: Of Music, Sound and Elec­tron­ics, and to “write Daphne Oram back into music his­to­ry.” Oram’s book explains her phi­los­o­phy of sound, which she called “Oram­ics.” Like many an ear­ly elec­tron­ic musi­cal pio­neer, she not only cre­at­ed orig­i­nal sound designs but designed orig­i­nal equip­ment to make them—in her case, an “opti­cal syn­the­siz­er” called the Oram­ics Machine (read about it here). Just above, see a clip from Atlantis Anew, a film about the Oram­ics Machine.

Anoth­er pio­neer­ing com­pos­er, Lau­rie Spiegel, is also an engi­neer and soft­ware design­er with a long resume that includes work­ing with syn­the­siz­er design­ers (and Moog com­peti­tors) Buch­la and Elec­tron­ic Music Lab­o­ra­to­ries. See her above in 1977 play­ing the Alles Machine, a very ear­ly dig­i­tal syn­the­siz­er she worked on with Hal Alles at Bell Labs. Spiegel worked for Bell Labs for sev­er­al years, cre­at­ing one of the first com­put­er draw­ing pro­grams in the mid-70s, and she is wide­ly known as the design­er of Music Mouse, a MIDI pro­gram cre­at­ed for Apple in 1985.

Spiegel, writes Allan, “pro­grammed synths before com­put­er-based con­trollers were a twin­kle in the tech­no DJ’s eye.” If her list of accom­plish­ments as an engi­neer seems impres­sive, her con­tri­bu­tions as a com­pos­er and musi­cian cer­tain­ly are as well. In 1977, her real­iza­tion of Johannes Kepler’s 17th cen­tu­ry com­po­si­tion “Har­mon­ices Mun­di” (“Har­mo­ny of the Worlds,” above) was cho­sen as the first musi­cal record­ing on the Voy­ager probe’s “Gold­en Record,” a cul­tur­al time cap­sule sent into space for ears of extrater­res­tri­als (“assum­ing they have ears,” writes Pitch­fork in a glow­ing pro­file of Spiegel).

Spiegel has com­posed sound­tracks for tele­vi­sion shows and films, includ­ing a 1980 PBS adap­ta­tion of Ursu­la K. LeGuin’s The Lathe of Heav­en. That same year, she released her acclaimed first album The Expand­ing Uni­verse, now a recent­ly re-released clas­sic. (Hear the album’s 28-minute title track here.)

And though it isn’t includ­ed in the offi­cial chart-top­ping sound­track album, Spiegel’s 1972 com­po­si­tion “Sed­i­ment,” just above, appears in the first Hunger Games score, a “left-field” devel­op­ment that Spiegel views very pos­i­tive­ly. “There are quite a few films and TV shows late­ly that have strong female pro­tag­o­nists who aren’t just co-stars to a male hero,” she told Wired, “We have yet to get to the point where we see a lot of female com­posers appear­ing in sound­track cred­its, but maybe that will change.”

Per­haps it already is, very, very slow­ly. The work of French com­pos­er and one­time Spiegel col­lab­o­ra­tor Éliane Radigue was among the two dozen elec­tron­ic, orches­tral, and avant-garde pieces on the sound­track for Ale­jan­dro Innaritu’s The Revenant, for exam­ple. Radigue began her career study­ing musique con­crete with exper­i­men­tal pio­neers Pierre Scha­ef­fer and Pierre Hen­ry in the 50s. She began mak­ing synth-based music in 1970 on a Buch­la syn­the­siz­er while she shared a stu­dio with Spiegel. “In the begin­ning,” says Radigue above in a doc­u­men­tary about her life and career, “there was a cer­tain music that I wished to make. It was this par­tic­u­lar music and no oth­er.” That music—slow, dron­ing, immersive—became reli­gious in nature when she con­vert­ed to Tibetan Bud­dhism.

Radigue’s Bud­dhist-inspired piece “Jet­sun Mila” (Hear Part One above, Part Two here)—excerpt­ed in The Revenant—is “deeply med­i­ta­tive,” writes Oth­er Music’s Michael Klaus­man, in its “explo­ration of inaudi­ble sub­har­mon­ics and over­tones,” which have a “way of phys­i­cal­ly chang­ing the land­scape of the room her music inhab­its.”

Radigue is a fanat­i­cal­ly patient com­pos­er, “an impor­tant, intrigu­ing fig­ure with­in the Euro­pean musi­cal avant-garde,” as Elec­tron­ic Beats describes her in a 2012 inter­view; her “work is defined by its painstak­ing cre­ation and sin­gu­lar method­ol­o­gy.” From 1970 to 2004, when she tran­si­tioned to writ­ing acoustic music, Radigue’s work was “cre­at­ed exclu­sive­ly on the unwieldy but bril­liant ARP 2500 mod­u­lar synth,” a machine inspired by Wendy Car­los’ use of Moog’s syn­the­siz­ers on her Switched on Bach album.

The three women pro­filed above rep­re­sent a small sam­pling of too-often-over­looked elec­tron­ic com­posers, musi­cians, engi­neers, and the­o­rists whose work deserves wider appre­ci­a­tion, not because it’s made by women, but because it’s inno­v­a­tive, tech­ni­cal­ly bril­liant, and beau­ti­ful music made by peo­ple who hap­pen to be women.

And yet, it’s like­ly the case that the work of Oram, Spiegel, and Radigue flies so far under the radar because so many his­to­ries of elec­tron­ic music focus almost exclu­sive­ly on men. One salient exam­ple is the exclu­sion of Pauline Oliv­eros from many of those his­to­ries. “A con­stant pres­ence” at the upcom­ing Deep Min­i­mal­ism fes­ti­val, Oliv­eros was “at the van­guard of elec­tron­ics, work­ing with tape machines,” writes Tom Ser­vice, and she “col­lab­o­rat­ed with Ter­ry Riley… and Mor­ton Subton­ick,” as well as Steve Reich, all very well-known exper­i­men­tal com­posers.

She also hap­pened to be a “friend, col­league, and per­former of John Cage and his music.” Oliv­eros’ phi­los­o­phy of “Deep Lis­ten­ing” had a pro­found influ­ence on Cage and many oth­ers, but her name rarely comes up in dis­cus­sions of exper­i­men­tal, impro­visato­ry min­i­mal­ist music. (Cul­tur­al the­o­rist Tra­cy McMullen has her own the­o­ry about Oliv­eros’ obscu­ri­ty rel­a­tive to Cage.) You can see Oliv­eros describe her phi­los­o­phy in the TED talk fur­ther up, lis­ten to her ear­ly, 1965 com­po­si­tion “Mnemon­ics III” just above, and learn much more about her fas­ci­nat­ing life and work in Ser­vice’s Guardian pro­file.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Two Doc­u­men­taries Intro­duce Delia Der­byshire, the Pio­neer in Elec­tron­ic Music

Hear Sev­en Hours of Women Mak­ing Elec­tron­ic Music (1938- 2014)

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

The His­to­ry of Elec­tron­ic Music, 1800–2015: Free Web Project Cat­a­logues the Theremin, Fairlight & Oth­er Instru­ments That Rev­o­lu­tion­ized Music

The Mas­ter­mind of Devo, Mark Moth­ers­baugh, Shows Off His Syn­the­siz­er Col­lec­tion

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


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