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10 episodes with swinging london
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3 episodes with swinging london
3 episodes with swinging london
2 episodes with swinging london
2 episodes with swinging london
3 episodes with swinging london
2 episodes with swinging london
durée : 01:58:29 - Swinging London - par : Thierry Jousse, Laurent Valero - Envie d'un petit voyage dans le Swinging London des Sixties ? C'est l'occasion avec un programme varié, entre musiques de films, pop, variétés internationales et jazz, qui nous fait entrer de plain-pied dans l'ambiance musicale de la capitale britannique en son âge d'or. Vous aimez ce podcast ? Pour écouter tous les autres épisodes sans limite, rendez-vous sur Radio France.
C'est un 14 octobre 2005 que nous avons appris qu'un nouvel acteur incarnerait désormais James Bond dans la franchise entrée dans sa cinquième décennie de succès. Des succès divers et bien sûr, des incarnations variées.Le petit nouveau dénommé Daniel Craig sera le sixième acteur officiel entre guillemets, et franchement, sur le coup, on n'aurait pas misé un penny sur l'énorme phénomène qu'il allait devenir. Car oui, vous le savez, les temps avaient vraiment changé en ce début de XXI° siècle. Des temps qui ne convenaient plus très bien au matricule 007, à cet univers des prestigieux services secrets britanniques. La grande puissance de l'empire était désormais loin, plus encore que le Swinging London ; le bloc des méchants de l'est également (on ne doutait de rien) ; et que dire de Spectre, l'internationale du crime, rejoint par la réalité des cartels latino-américains. Et pourtant, le reboot moderne et le charisme de Daniel Craig vont accomplir le miracle de ressusciter le personnage. L'interminable attente pour connaître son successeur après son départ volontaire en sera la preuve. C'est vrai que pour le même prix, en 2005, ç'aurait très bien pu être le contraire : mauvais résultats au box office, désaffection du public par manque d'intérêt et méchante concurrence d'un tas d'autres franchises spectaculaires. Alors, que s'est-il passé ?Au début du siècle, on avait fini par faire le tour des romans et nouvelles écrits par Ian Fleming, disparu en 1964 à l'âge de 56 ans. Mais la saga continuait à faire recette, gentiment, on dira. Ca rapportait toujours plusieurs fois la mise de départ malgré une relance avec l'acteur Timothy Dalton remplacé rapidement par Pierce Brosnan. Alors au lieu de tourner un nouveau avec ce dernier, les producteurs prennent le risque de lever l'option avec Brosnan pour choisir un nouveau comédien. La raison ? Revenir aux débuts, Casino Royale, le seul roman qu'ils n'avaient pas encore adapté car le seul sur lequel ils n'avaient pas achetés les droits à l'époque. Et donc, il faut un Bond plus jeune. La vérité est surtout que le projet remonte au milieu des années 90 où, après Pulp Fiction, Quentin Tarantino leur avait proposé d'adapter Casino Royale, avec Pierce Brosnan. Ils avaient dit non, car ils venaient de lancer la production de Goldeneye, qui fut par ailleurs un gros succès. Tarantino était revenu deux fois à la charge, et la seconde, en 2003, avait été la bonne. Mais ce serait sans lui. Sans doute parce que Tarantino est trop … trop ! Si vous voyez ce que je veux dire.Alors qui pour remplacer l'Irlandais Pierce Brosnan ? Il a la cote avec le public et il a balancé son éviction à la presse alors que le successeur n'était pas encore choisi. Ça la fout mal. Mais bon, il y a eu pire : la longue mésentente et le départ de Sean Connery, une histoire qui a duré une paire d'années. Alors d'où sort ce Daniel Craig, bien anglais, celui-là, comme le héros des romans. Mais différent, très différent de ses prédécesseurs, un gars qui va sortir la licence de tuer de la légèreté de traitement de l'industrie hollywoodienne.
London's Blitz club in 1980 had a huge impact on the way the decade looked and sounded, the launchpad for Boy George, Spandau Ballet, a new age of electro-pop and many writers, designers and photographers. The author and broadcaster Robert Elms was one of its cornerstones, “a place for people who'd outgrown the 20th Century”. We talk here about his book ‘Blitz: the Club That Created the ‘80s' with all of this on the dancefloor … … the Blitz Club rules, “unspoken until Steve Strange spoke them”. And the door policy: “Look at yourself, darling. Would YOU let yourself in?” … first nights “with a Space Cossack shirt and asymmetric wedge” and the origin of the term New Romantic … the rise of the “home-made Macaronis” (dictionary definition: “over-dressed popinjays of dubious sexuality”) … Bowie's Starman, Roxy, soul, disco, Weimar, Max Ernst, Otto Dix, Edith Piaf, Swinging London, Andy Warhol and other keys strands of Blitz DNA … its anti-rock stance and impact on the mid-‘80s American charts … the news-friendly night Mick Jagger was barred entry … “I was spat at by an old lady at a bus stop for wearing eyeliner and a kilt” … when Island offered Spandau a deal after just three numbers … the role of the Face, Smash Hits and the new full-colour media … the author's “dilettante” passage through skinhead, suedehead, soul boy and punk … and the night Bowie appeared, “like Jesus walking into your local church and sitting in a pew”. Order ‘Blitz: The Club That Created the 80s' here:https://uk.bookshop.org/p/books/blitz-the-club-that-created-the-eighties-robert-elms/e672041a84e0cde9?ean=9780571394180&next=t&next=tFind out more about how to help us to keep the conversation going: https://www.patreon.com/wordinyourear Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.
London's Blitz club in 1980 had a huge impact on the way the decade looked and sounded, the launchpad for Boy George, Spandau Ballet, a new age of electro-pop and many writers, designers and photographers. The author and broadcaster Robert Elms was one of its cornerstones, “a place for people who'd outgrown the 20th Century”. We talk here about his book ‘Blitz: the Club That Created the ‘80s' with all of this on the dancefloor … … the Blitz Club rules, “unspoken until Steve Strange spoke them”. And the door policy: “Look at yourself, darling. Would YOU let yourself in?” … first nights “with a Space Cossack shirt and asymmetric wedge” and the origin of the term New Romantic … the rise of the “home-made Macaronis” (dictionary definition: “over-dressed popinjays of dubious sexuality”) … Bowie's Starman, Roxy, soul, disco, Weimar, Max Ernst, Otto Dix, Edith Piaf, Swinging London, Andy Warhol and other keys strands of Blitz DNA … its anti-rock stance and impact on the mid-‘80s American charts … the news-friendly night Mick Jagger was barred entry … “I was spat at by an old lady at a bus stop for wearing eyeliner and a kilt” … when Island offered Spandau a deal after just three numbers … the role of the Face, Smash Hits and the new full-colour media … the author's “dilettante” passage through skinhead, suedehead, soul boy and punk … and the night Bowie appeared, “like Jesus walking into your local church and sitting in a pew”. Order ‘Blitz: The Club That Created the 80s' here:https://uk.bookshop.org/p/books/blitz-the-club-that-created-the-eighties-robert-elms/e672041a84e0cde9?ean=9780571394180&next=t&next=tFind out more about how to help us to keep the conversation going: https://www.patreon.com/wordinyourear Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.
London's Blitz club in 1980 had a huge impact on the way the decade looked and sounded, the launchpad for Boy George, Spandau Ballet, a new age of electro-pop and many writers, designers and photographers. The author and broadcaster Robert Elms was one of its cornerstones, “a place for people who'd outgrown the 20th Century”. We talk here about his book ‘Blitz: the Club That Created the ‘80s' with all of this on the dancefloor … … the Blitz Club rules, “unspoken until Steve Strange spoke them”. And the door policy: “Look at yourself, darling. Would YOU let yourself in?” … first nights “with a Space Cossack shirt and asymmetric wedge” and the origin of the term New Romantic … the rise of the “home-made Macaronis” (dictionary definition: “over-dressed popinjays of dubious sexuality”) … Bowie's Starman, Roxy, soul, disco, Weimar, Max Ernst, Otto Dix, Edith Piaf, Swinging London, Andy Warhol and other keys strands of Blitz DNA … its anti-rock stance and impact on the mid-‘80s American charts … the news-friendly night Mick Jagger was barred entry … “I was spat at by an old lady at a bus stop for wearing eyeliner and a kilt” … when Island offered Spandau a deal after just three numbers … the role of the Face, Smash Hits and the new full-colour media … the author's “dilettante” passage through skinhead, suedehead, soul boy and punk … and the night Bowie appeared, “like Jesus walking into your local church and sitting in a pew”. Order ‘Blitz: The Club That Created the 80s' here:https://uk.bookshop.org/p/books/blitz-the-club-that-created-the-eighties-robert-elms/e672041a84e0cde9?ean=9780571394180&next=t&next=tFind out more about how to help us to keep the conversation going: https://www.patreon.com/wordinyourear Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.
The Establishment strikes back in this second installment of the Rolling Stones time in Swinging London. UK pop star Donovan is busted, a precursor to the Stones Redlands bust. Mick Jagger is in jail looking at hard time. The tabloids and the coppers are in league to bring down the disruptive Rolling Stones while the myth of Keith Richards is born. To view the full list of contributors, see the show notes at www.disgracelandpod.com. This episode was originally published on June 30, 2020. To listen to Disgraceland ad free and get access to weekly bonus content and more, become a Disgraceland All Access member at disgracelandpod.com/membership. Sign up for our newsletter and get the inside dirt on events, merch and other awesomeness - GET THE NEWSLETTER Follow Jake and DISGRACELAND: Instagram YouTube X (formerly Twitter) Facebook Fan Group TikTok To learn more about listener data and our privacy practices visit: https://www.audacyinc.com/privacy-policy Learn more about your ad choices. Visit https://podcastchoices.com/adchoices
London was swinging. Keith Richards was in jail. The Kray Twins were menacing about. Brian Jones was on too much LSD. Aristocrats were tripping over themselves to hang out with the Rolling Stones. England was smitten. The London Establishment was freaking out and the Stones' manager wanted to know one thing: Would you let your daughter marry a Rolling Stone? To view the full list of contributors, see the show notes at www.disgracelandpod.com. This episode was originally published on June 23, 2020. To listen to Disgraceland ad free and get access to weekly bonus content and more, become a Disgraceland All Access member at disgracelandpod.com/membership. Sign up for our newsletter and get the inside dirt on events, merch and other awesomeness - GET THE NEWSLETTER Follow Jake and DISGRACELAND: Instagram YouTube X (formerly Twitter) Facebook Fan Group TikTok To learn more about listener data and our privacy practices visit: https://www.audacyinc.com/privacy-policy Learn more about your ad choices. Visit https://podcastchoices.com/adchoices
pWotD Episode 3029: Terence Stamp Welcome to popular Wiki of the Day, spotlighting Wikipedia's most visited pages, giving you a peek into what the world is curious about today.With 573,971 views on Sunday, 17 August 2025 our article of the day is Terence Stamp.Terence Henry Stamp (22 July 1938 – 17 August 2025) was an English actor. Known for his sophisticated villain roles, he received various accolades including a Golden Globe Award, a Cannes Film Festival Award, and a Silver Bear as well as nominations for an Academy Award and two BAFTA Awards. He was named by Empire as one of the 100 Sexiest Film Stars of All Time in 1995.After training at the Webber Douglas Academy of Dramatic Art in London, Stamp started his acting career in 1960 in the Wolf Mankowitz production of This Year Next Year at the West End's Vaudeville Theatre. He was called the "master of the brooding silence" by The Guardian. His performance in the title role of Billy Budd, his film debut, earned him an Academy Award nomination for Best Supporting Actor and a BAFTA nomination for Best Newcomer. Associated with the Swinging London scene of the 1960s – during which time he was in high-profile relationships with actress Julie Christie and supermodel Jean Shrimpton – Stamp was among the subjects photographed by David Bailey for a set titled Box of Pin-Ups. He starred opposite Christie in Far from the Madding Crowd (1967) and also had a leading role in Ken Loach's drama Poor Cow (1967) and in Pier Paolo Pasolini’s Teorema (1968).Stamp gained wider fame for his role as archvillain General Zod in Superman (1978) and Superman II (1980). For his leading role in The Adventures of Priscilla, Queen of the Desert (1994) he earned BAFTA Award and Golden Globe Award nominations. He then starred in The Limey (1999), earning an Independent Spirit Award nomination. His other films included Wall Street (1987), Young Guns (1988), Star Wars: Episode I – The Phantom Menace (1999), The Haunted Mansion (2003), Elektra (2005), Wanted (2008), Get Smart (2008), Yes Man (2008), Valkyrie (2008), Big Eyes (2014) and Last Night in Soho (2021).This recording reflects the Wikipedia text as of 02:14 UTC on Monday, 18 August 2025.For the full current version of the article, see Terence Stamp on Wikipedia.This podcast uses content from Wikipedia under the Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike License.Visit our archives at wikioftheday.com and subscribe to stay updated on new episodes.Follow us on Mastodon at @wikioftheday@masto.ai.Also check out Curmudgeon's Corner, a current events podcast.Until next time, I'm neural Joey.
Ronnie Schneider : "Out of Our Heads" From Sam Cooke, the Beatles, Rolling Stones US Tours, AltamontRolling Stones Insider Shares Memories and Rare Artifacts in New BookBack in the mid 1960s, overnight, a street-smart east coast kid went from being a college student to tour manager/moneyman and confidante to the Rolling Stones. The band didn't eat, drink, or even play unless Ronnie Schneider did his job, and this trusting relationship led to a wild adventure that would soon include the Beatles, Swinging London, and producing the mythical '69 Stones tour that culminated in the infamous show at Altamont. In his new book, Schneider gives readers an all access pass into the most intimate spaces, from hotels and boardrooms to private planes and backstage debauchery, crunching deals, babysitting the band, tasting wine, woman and dope – this is a front row seat to rock's last great era; jam-packed with rare artifacts and all the paperwork to back it up.Become a supporter of this podcast: https://www.spreaker.com/podcast/the-opperman-report--1198501/support.
Teenage Intimacies offers a new account of the ‘sexual revolution' in mid-twentieth century England. Rather than focusing on ‘Swinging London', the book reveals the transformations in social life that took place in school playgrounds, local cinemas, and suburban bedrooms. Based on over 300 personal testimonies, Teenage Intimacies traces the everyday experiences of teenage girls, illuminating how romance, sex and intimacy shaped their young lives. The book shows how sex became embedded in ideas about ‘growing up' and explores how heterosexuality influenced young women's social lives and vice versa. It offers new explanations of why sexual mores shifted in this period, revealing the pivotal role that young women played in changing sexual values, cultures and practices in the 1950s, 1960s and 1970s. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices
Teenage Intimacies offers a new account of the ‘sexual revolution' in mid-twentieth century England. Rather than focusing on ‘Swinging London', the book reveals the transformations in social life that took place in school playgrounds, local cinemas, and suburban bedrooms. Based on over 300 personal testimonies, Teenage Intimacies traces the everyday experiences of teenage girls, illuminating how romance, sex and intimacy shaped their young lives. The book shows how sex became embedded in ideas about ‘growing up' and explores how heterosexuality influenced young women's social lives and vice versa. It offers new explanations of why sexual mores shifted in this period, revealing the pivotal role that young women played in changing sexual values, cultures and practices in the 1950s, 1960s and 1970s. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Support our show by becoming a premium member! https://newbooksnetwork.supportingcast.fm/new-books-network
Teenage Intimacies offers a new account of the ‘sexual revolution' in mid-twentieth century England. Rather than focusing on ‘Swinging London', the book reveals the transformations in social life that took place in school playgrounds, local cinemas, and suburban bedrooms. Based on over 300 personal testimonies, Teenage Intimacies traces the everyday experiences of teenage girls, illuminating how romance, sex and intimacy shaped their young lives. The book shows how sex became embedded in ideas about ‘growing up' and explores how heterosexuality influenced young women's social lives and vice versa. It offers new explanations of why sexual mores shifted in this period, revealing the pivotal role that young women played in changing sexual values, cultures and practices in the 1950s, 1960s and 1970s. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Support our show by becoming a premium member! https://newbooksnetwork.supportingcast.fm/gender-studies
Teenage Intimacies offers a new account of the ‘sexual revolution' in mid-twentieth century England. Rather than focusing on ‘Swinging London', the book reveals the transformations in social life that took place in school playgrounds, local cinemas, and suburban bedrooms. Based on over 300 personal testimonies, Teenage Intimacies traces the everyday experiences of teenage girls, illuminating how romance, sex and intimacy shaped their young lives. The book shows how sex became embedded in ideas about ‘growing up' and explores how heterosexuality influenced young women's social lives and vice versa. It offers new explanations of why sexual mores shifted in this period, revealing the pivotal role that young women played in changing sexual values, cultures and practices in the 1950s, 1960s and 1970s. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Support our show by becoming a premium member! https://newbooksnetwork.supportingcast.fm/sociology
Teenage Intimacies offers a new account of the ‘sexual revolution' in mid-twentieth century England. Rather than focusing on ‘Swinging London', the book reveals the transformations in social life that took place in school playgrounds, local cinemas, and suburban bedrooms. Based on over 300 personal testimonies, Teenage Intimacies traces the everyday experiences of teenage girls, illuminating how romance, sex and intimacy shaped their young lives. The book shows how sex became embedded in ideas about ‘growing up' and explores how heterosexuality influenced young women's social lives and vice versa. It offers new explanations of why sexual mores shifted in this period, revealing the pivotal role that young women played in changing sexual values, cultures and practices in the 1950s, 1960s and 1970s. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Support our show by becoming a premium member! https://newbooksnetwork.supportingcast.fm/european-studies
Teenage Intimacies offers a new account of the ‘sexual revolution' in mid-twentieth century England. Rather than focusing on ‘Swinging London', the book reveals the transformations in social life that took place in school playgrounds, local cinemas, and suburban bedrooms. Based on over 300 personal testimonies, Teenage Intimacies traces the everyday experiences of teenage girls, illuminating how romance, sex and intimacy shaped their young lives. The book shows how sex became embedded in ideas about ‘growing up' and explores how heterosexuality influenced young women's social lives and vice versa. It offers new explanations of why sexual mores shifted in this period, revealing the pivotal role that young women played in changing sexual values, cultures and practices in the 1950s, 1960s and 1970s. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices
Teenage Intimacies offers a new account of the ‘sexual revolution' in mid-twentieth century England. Rather than focusing on ‘Swinging London', the book reveals the transformations in social life that took place in school playgrounds, local cinemas, and suburban bedrooms. Based on over 300 personal testimonies, Teenage Intimacies traces the everyday experiences of teenage girls, illuminating how romance, sex and intimacy shaped their young lives. The book shows how sex became embedded in ideas about ‘growing up' and explores how heterosexuality influenced young women's social lives and vice versa. It offers new explanations of why sexual mores shifted in this period, revealing the pivotal role that young women played in changing sexual values, cultures and practices in the 1950s, 1960s and 1970s. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Support our show by becoming a premium member! https://newbooksnetwork.supportingcast.fm/british-studies
In this episode of Explaining History, we dive into the fascinating world of David Bowie's 1960s—a decade of shifting cultural currents, personal reinvention, and the search for identity that would shape one of the most iconic artists of the 20th century.Drawing on Neil Stephenson's insightful book David Bowie, we explore how the social upheavals of the 60s—from Swinging London and Mod culture to the countercultural movements and sexual liberation—created a crucible in which Bowie experimented with music, fashion, and persona.We'll discuss:Bowie's early forays into pop, soul, and psychedelia—and why they initially struggled to find commercial success.How the cultural chaos of the 60s fed his hunger for reinvention and laid the groundwork for Ziggy Stardust.The tensions between working-class roots and art-school aspirations that defined his early career.How Bowie's fascination with identity, performance, and ambiguity reflected broader changes in British society during the era.*****STOP PRESS*****I only ever talk about history on this podcast but I also have another life, yes, that of aspirant fantasy author and if that's your thing you can get a copy of my debut novel The Blood of Tharta, right here:Help the podcast to continue bringing you history each weekIf you enjoy the Explaining History podcast and its many years of content and would like to help the show continue, please consider supporting it in the following ways:If you want to go ad-free, you can take out a membership hereOrYou can support the podcast via Patreon hereOr you can just say some nice things about it here Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.
Prima una capatina a Carnaby Street (tempio della "Swinging London" anni '60), poi un salto a Camden Town in compagnia dei punk '70. Nel mezzo: una passeggiata a Hoxton Street col britpop nelle cuffie, una serata nella movida notturna '80s del West End, e tanto altro.Insomma, nel nuovo episodio ho provato a fare un viaggio virtuale attraverso le epoche della Londra musicale... Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/swing_out_faber/Spotify: https://spoti.fi/2yxp5xCApple: https://apple.co/2WAUcjKSpreaker: https://www.spreaker.com/show/suono-ma-nessuno-apreGrafica di Daris Nardini: https://instagram.com/thedarside?igshid=YmMyMTA2M2Y=
La police anglaise les surnomme les "Playboy Murders", les meurtres du club Playboy. Tout simplement parce que la première victime était une des Bunnies, une des serveuses, qui officiait dans les années 70 dans ce club londonien. En quatre ans, trois femmes et une adolescente sont assassinées dans la capitale britannique. Quatre meurtres qui défrayent alors la chronique criminelle, font les gros titres des tabloïds tant les attaques sont brutales et cruelles. Elles rappellent presque celles de Jack L'Eventreur, un siècle plus tôt. Aucun témoin et peu d'indices. Si ce n'est une connotation sexuelle qui ne fait guère de doute. Retrouvez tous les jours en podcast le décryptage d'un faits divers, d'un crime ou d'une énigme judiciaire par Jean-Alphonse Richard, entouré de spécialistes, et de témoins d'affaires criminelles.Distribué par Audiomeans. Visitez audiomeans.fr/politique-de-confidentialite pour plus d'informations.
Ce 9 octobre 1966 au soir, nous allons assister à un de ces moments qui ont compté énormément dans la légende de notre pop culture mais dont bien évidemment aucun des acteurs n'a alors conscience. En effet, Marianne Faithfull, 19 ans mais déjà un mariage raté, un enfant et quelques disques à son actif, est venue à Bristol voir jouer les Rolling Stones. Mais que fait-elle là, en coulisses, alors qu'elle s'approche de Mick Jagger en plein cours de danse avec Tina Turner qui le traite de nul en le rabrouant. Marianne se demande pourquoi elle s'est tapée la route jusque-là, Jagger n'est pas son type. Deux ans plus tôt, quand le manager et producteur des Stones l'a découverte et lui a proposé une chanson signée Jagger-Richards, le contact avec Mick avait été peu probant lors de leur unique rencontre. Elle se revoit monter dans le taxi en sortant du studio et Mick lui proposer de s'asseoir sur ses genoux. Elle a 17 ans, une éducation aristocratique héritée de sa mère, c'est hors de question. Et Mick de ne rien trouver de mieux que de renverser exprès du champagne sur sa robe. Heureusement que Marianne ignore que son producteur l'a convaincu d'écrire une chanson pour elle avec ces mots : Tu vas voir mon vieux, c'est un ange avec une grosse paire de nichons.Il est vrai que les Stones ne sont pas réputés pour leur poésie. C'est une sacrée bande de gamins attardés arrivés de nulle part dans un monde qui leur offre tout au milieu de cette décennie de dingues. Ah il y a bien Keith Richard, le taiseux, pour plaire à Marianne. Il lui plaît vachement, en fait. Bref, après le concert, tout le monde rentre à l'hôtel, Marianne assiste au bazar de toute la bande dans la chambre de Mick. Ça s'agite beaucoup au début puis ça se calme. Brian Jones et sa copine Anita Pallenberg finissent par partir, suivis par Keith qui en fait se meurt d'amour pour Anita, c'est foutu pour Marianne. Quatre du mat, il ne reste plus dans la chambre que Mick, évidemment, Marianne et une danseuse-choriste de Ike et Tina Turner qui se verrait bien finir la nuit avec Mick Jagger. Mais au bout d'un moment, comprenant qu'elle est de trop, elle s'en va, elle aussi. Alors quand Mick se met à la regarder avec les yeux du Grosminet qui va dévorer Titi, Marianne lui propose d'aller faire un tour dans le parc de l'hôtel. Il est joli, non ? Et puis, Bristol, c'est beau, la nuit. Marianne a capté dans les discussions que Mick allait rompre avec Chrissie, son officielle, car il avait l'actrice Julie Christie dans le viseur. Julie Christie, c'est Lara, l'amour de Omar Sharif dans Le docteur Jivago, l'immense succès du moment aux six Oscars. Non, Marianne ne fera pas office de biscuit cette nuit, pas question. Mais voilà, au fil de la conversation, celui qu'elle prenait pour un sale gamin, la charme en répondant à ses questions sur la légende du Roi Arthur, pilier de la littérature anglo-saxonne. Et tel Lancelot pour sa Guenièvre, de retour dans la chambre, Mick se montre prévenant en mettant ses petites chaussures percées par la rosée, à sécher sur le radiateur. On est loin de la brutalité des Stones, là. Mick va appeler Marianne et lui rendre visite de plus en plus régulièrement dans son appartement londonien. Pas de Julie Christie, Mick et Marianne vont devenir le couple emblématique du Swinging London. On ne parlera pas de la fin, on va en rester à “ils furent heureux”, c'est mieux non ?
Send us a textA dreadful story about how three young men in their 20s, fashionable Mods found themselves crossing a line and ruining their lives, killing others with a series of bad decisions in the Swinging London of 1968.
Mathieu Alterman nous plonge dans la vie fascinante de Marianne Faithfull, icône du Swinging London. De la gloire aux abysses, entre rock, drogues et anorexie, elle renaît avec Broken English en 1979. Amie des Rolling Stones, muse de Gainsbourg, actrice inoubliable, elle a su transformer ses épreuves en une voix unique, mêlant force et fragilité. Un hommage vibrant à une artiste libre, dont l'empreinte marque encore la pop culture.Notre équipe a utilisé un outil d'Intelligence artificielle via les technologies d'Audiomeans© pour accompagner la création de ce contenu écrit.
Mathieu Alterman nous plonge dans la vie fascinante de Marianne Faithfull, icône du Swinging London. De la gloire aux abysses, entre rock, drogues et anorexie, elle renaît avec Broken English en 1979. Amie des Rolling Stones, muse de Gainsbourg, actrice inoubliable, elle a su transformer ses épreuves en une voix unique, mêlant force et fragilité. Un hommage vibrant à une artiste libre, dont l'empreinte marque encore la pop culture.Notre équipe a utilisé un outil d'Intelligence artificielle via les technologies d'Audiomeans© pour accompagner la création de ce contenu écrit.
Une collision qui a fait 67 morts, et dont la presse américaine cherche à déterminer les causes. « La tour de contrôle de l'aéroport national était en sous-effectif avant la collision mortelle », assure, d'entrée de jeu, le Washington Post, qui se base sur un « rapport gouvernemental ». Selon ce rapport, « deux personnes remplissaient les tâches de quatre personnes, à l'intérieur de la tour de contrôle, au moment de la collision ». Le rapport précise que mardi soir « le poste de contrôleur d'hélicoptère avait été combiné avec celui de contrôleur local » et que « les effectifs de la tour de contrôle n'étaient pas normaux à cette heure de la journée », avec un trafic aérien aussi important au-dessus de Washington. Si l'on en croit le Wall Street Journal, « le contrôle aérien aux États-Unis est depuis longtemps soumis à des contraintes de personnel. Plusieurs accidents ont été évités de justesse, au sol ou dans les airs », ajoute le Wall Street Journal, qui pointe « la vague d'embauches post-pandémie, ayant entraîné un afflux de pilotes novices, ce qui a suscité des inquiétudes au sein des compagnies aériennes ».Accident et diversitéDe son côté, Donald Trump a livré une version toute personnelle des causes de l'accident. Le New York Times, notamment, se fait l'écho des propos du président américain. « Alors que les plongeurs de la Marine continuaient de rechercher des corps dans le Potomac, le président a fait des déclarations inédites, assimilant la diversité à l'incompétence ». « Nous ne savons pas ce qui a conduit à ce crash », a déclaré Trump, « mais nous avons des opinions très tranchées ». Et « pendant les 30 minutes qui ont suivi », poursuit le New York Times, il a accusé l'Administration fédérale de l'aviation, d'avoir « favorisé la diversité, et d'avoir abaissé les normes pour les contrôleurs aériens ». Il a également affirmé : « nous voulons les contrôleurs aériens les plus intelligents, les plus vifs, mentalement supérieurs. Et c'est ce que nous allons avoir ». Interrogé par un journaliste « qui lui demandait comment il avait pu conclure que la diversité dans le recrutement à l'origine du crash », Donald Trump a répondu : « parce que j'ai du bon sens et malheureusement beaucoup de gens n'en ont pas ». Également interrogé sur la politique d'Obama en matière de sécurité aérienne, le président américain a d'ailleurs estimé que « l'incompétence a peut-être joué un rôle ».Une vie de poèmeDans la presse également ce matin, la disparition de Marianne Faithfull… « Icône singulière de la pop britannique, Marianne Faithfull est décédée à l'âge de 78 ans », titre le Guardian, qui note que « la chanteuse et actrice a surmonté sa dépendance à la drogue, pour collaborer avec tout le monde, les Rolling Stones, Metallica ou encore Jean-Luc Godard ». Le quotidien britannique cite notamment la réaction attristée de l‘un de ses anciens amants, Mike Jagger, qui s'exprime ainsi : « Marianne Faithfull a fait partie de ma vie si longtemps », « c'était une merveilleuse amie, une grande chanteuse et une grande actrice. On ne l'oubliera pas ». Marianne Faithfull qui n'avait pas sa langue dans sa poche lorsqu'elle évoquait sa dépendance à la cocaïne et à l'héroïne. « Etre un homme toxicomane est toujours valorisant et glamour. Une femme dans cette situation devient une salope et une mauvaise mère », disait-elle. Le Times remarque de son côté, que Marianne Faithfull était devenue « un modèle féministe pour une génération de féministes engagées qui voyaient en elle « une pionnière fièrement provocante ». Enfin, de ce côté-ci de la Manche, Libération titre joliment : « Mort de Marianne Faithfull, une vie de poème » . « Figure légendaire du "Swinging London" », « la chanteuse britannique liée aux Rolling Stones, aura marqué le théâtre, le cinéma et la musique de sa patte singulière ».
PENDENTE: Rubrica su Cinema, letteratura, fumetto ed esperienze culturali
Benvenuti in un lungo, estenuante e sorprendente cinema realizzato da un artista sognatore e spesso segnato dalla sfortuna ma che non si è mai arreso. Stavolta è il turno di Francis Ford Coppola. Ispirandosi alla Swinging London e ai film di Richard Lester, Coppola dirige il grottesco e simpatico "Buttati Bernardo!" con lo specifico intento di demolire l'innocenza degli anni '60.
Mike Batt still wrestles with the emotional legacy of the Wombles, the act that simultaneously made him and cast a shadow over the rest of his career, not least his early days as a songwriter at Liberty Records, discussed here, hired after he'd answered the same ad as Elton John and Bernie Taupin, a time when A&R men wore kipper ties and had Picassos on their wall. He forged a path through psychedelia and into TV and films, taking huge financial risks with musicals, orchestral works and big-selling acts like Katie Melua, his Art Garfunkel hit ‘Bright Eyes' eventually promoting him from the Haves to the Have-Yachts. Life, he says, has been “like running through traffic”. His memoir is just out, ‘The Closest Thing to Crazy: My Life of Musical Adventures'. All sorts discussed here including ... … his brief satin-jacketed tenure in Hapshash & the Coloured Coat. … parallels between record producers and traffic cops. … Happy Jack and songs about outsiders. … being in Savile Row when the Beatles played the Apple roof. … life as “a square” during psychedelia. … a snatch of abandoned teenage composition ‘The Man With The Purple Hand'. … John D. Laudermilk and the magic of writing credits. … how Bright Eyes “got me into the Officers' Mess of Songwriters”. … his publishers insisting there was a Womble on the book jacket. … “circumcising” the world in a seven-crew yacht. ... and feeling simultaneously smug and guilty when driving a Roller. Order ‘The Closest Thing To Crazy: My Life of Musical Adventures' here:https://www.amazon.co.uk/Closest-Thing-Crazy-Musical-Adventures/dp/1785120840Find out mroe about how to help us to keep the conversation going: https://www.patreon.com/wordinyourear Get bonus content on Patreon Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.
Mike Batt still wrestles with the emotional legacy of the Wombles, the act that simultaneously made him and cast a shadow over the rest of his career, not least his early days as a songwriter at Liberty Records, discussed here, hired after he'd answered the same ad as Elton John and Bernie Taupin, a time when A&R men wore kipper ties and had Picassos on their wall. He forged a path through psychedelia and into TV and films, taking huge financial risks with musicals, orchestral works and big-selling acts like Katie Melua, his Art Garfunkel hit ‘Bright Eyes' eventually promoting him from the Haves to the Have-Yachts. Life, he says, has been “like running through traffic”. His memoir is just out, ‘The Closest Thing to Crazy: My Life of Musical Adventures'. All sorts discussed here including ... … his brief satin-jacketed tenure in Hapshash & the Coloured Coat. … parallels between record producers and traffic cops. … Happy Jack and songs about outsiders. … being in Savile Row when the Beatles played the Apple roof. … life as “a square” during psychedelia. … a snatch of abandoned teenage composition ‘The Man With The Purple Hand'. … John D. Laudermilk and the magic of writing credits. … how Bright Eyes “got me into the Officers' Mess of Songwriters”. … his publishers insisting there was a Womble on the book jacket. … “circumcising” the world in a seven-crew yacht. ... and feeling simultaneously smug and guilty when driving a Roller. Order ‘The Closest Thing To Crazy: My Life of Musical Adventures' here:https://www.amazon.co.uk/Closest-Thing-Crazy-Musical-Adventures/dp/1785120840Find out mroe about how to help us to keep the conversation going: https://www.patreon.com/wordinyourear Get bonus content on Patreon Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.
Mike Batt still wrestles with the emotional legacy of the Wombles, the act that simultaneously made him and cast a shadow over the rest of his career, not least his early days as a songwriter at Liberty Records, discussed here, hired after he'd answered the same ad as Elton John and Bernie Taupin, a time when A&R men wore kipper ties and had Picassos on their wall. He forged a path through psychedelia and into TV and films, taking huge financial risks with musicals, orchestral works and big-selling acts like Katie Melua, his Art Garfunkel hit ‘Bright Eyes' eventually promoting him from the Haves to the Have-Yachts. Life, he says, has been “like running through traffic”. His memoir is just out, ‘The Closest Thing to Crazy: My Life of Musical Adventures'. All sorts discussed here including ... … his brief satin-jacketed tenure in Hapshash & the Coloured Coat. … parallels between record producers and traffic cops. … Happy Jack and songs about outsiders. … being in Savile Row when the Beatles played the Apple roof. … life as “a square” during psychedelia. … a snatch of abandoned teenage composition ‘The Man With The Purple Hand'. … John D. Laudermilk and the magic of writing credits. … how Bright Eyes “got me into the Officers' Mess of Songwriters”. … his publishers insisting there was a Womble on the book jacket. … “circumcising” the world in a seven-crew yacht. ... and feeling simultaneously smug and guilty when driving a Roller. Order ‘The Closest Thing To Crazy: My Life of Musical Adventures' here:https://www.amazon.co.uk/Closest-Thing-Crazy-Musical-Adventures/dp/1785120840Find out mroe about how to help us to keep the conversation going: https://www.patreon.com/wordinyourear Get bonus content on Patreon Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.
In this episode, Jen and Mares take a moment to reflect on their journey as podcasters, and take a look back at episodes in their catalogue that both examine and celebrate London over time during the hottest months of the year. For both new listeners and veterans of the community alike, there's something for everyone this summer in the city. We will highlight:virtual walking tours of past episodes, featuring the East end as sung in “Oranges & Lemons” and a “choose your own adventure” style romp through time and place in Londonthe challenges of summers past, particularly during the plague and blight of the summer of 1858joy expressed through summertime pomp and celebration, with a focus on jubilees of the past as well as the legacy of Pride in the citythe vibrancy, innovation, and wonder of the Swinging London summers of the 1960sholiday journeys outside the city, from medieval pilgrimages to Butlin's Holiday CampsThis episode has it all: bougie soirées, fish mongers, epidemics, sewer systems, Victorian plant manias, Mary Quant, Mr Teezy Weezy, Gay's the Word bookstore, Billy Butlin and more! These are just some of the people and places that have triggered our curiosity and given us hope as we've explored their place and relevance within London history. We couldn't be happier or more humbled that YOU, the YLT community, have joined us on this ride for the last three years. Cheers to you, and cheers to summer!For your convenience, links to each episode discussed and its show notes are pulled together in our SHOW NOTES.
Holly's not sure if she she may have photographed a murder with Blow Up (1966), a movie set in "mod," Swinging London, about an easily distracted photographer trying to find something to stimulate him out of his boredom. Listen as we give legit film criticism the old college try as we surround ourselves with a gaggle of "far out" and "groovy" models and work to if a murder was committed and why, or if it matters at all, on week's arthouse edition of our show! Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.
Malika Browne talks to former art critic Ian Dunlop about the landmark art show for Swinging London at the Tate, in 1964 for which the museum's Duveen Galleries were turned into a claustrophobic labyrinth of new art from America and Europe, putting London firmly on the art map.Further reading:The Shock of the New: Seven Historic Exhibitions of Modern Art by Ian Dunlop, 1972 This is an Ictus Media production, edited by Leo HornakLondon's New Scene: Art and Culture in the 1960s by Professor Lisa Tickner, Yale University Press in 2020.Watching: Pop Goes the Easel by Ken Russell, 1962Blow Up by Michelangelo Antonioni, 1966 Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.
Ian Cooper and Rebecca McCallum join Mike to discuss one of Alfred Hitchcock's later works and his final British film, Frenzy (1972). The film stars Jon Finch as Richard Blaney and Barry Foster as Robert Rusk. They're a couple of blokes in a Swinging London that is plagued by a murderer of women, the Necktie Murderer.Become a supporter of this podcast: https://www.spreaker.com/podcast/the-projection-booth-podcast--5513239/support.
Ian Cooper and Rebecca McCallum join Mike to discuss one of Alfred Hitchcock's later works and his final British film, Frenzy (1972). The film stars Jon Finch as Richard Blaney and Barry Foster as Robert Rusk. They're a couple of blokes in a Swinging London that is plagued by a murderer of women, the Necktie Murderer.Become a supporter of this podcast: https://www.spreaker.com/podcast/the-projection-booth-podcast--5513239/support.
Diventa un supporter di questo podcast: https://www.spreaker.com/podcast/il-posto-delle-parole--1487855/support.Pier Paolo Vettori"L'imperatore delle nuvole"Neri Pozzawww.neripozza.it«Mi chiamo Franco Zomer, ho cinquantadue anni e lavoro al Muro da quando ero ragazzo. Anche mio padre era un guardiano. All'inizio, nessuno credeva che lo avrebbero costruito davvero. Invece è stato più semplice del previsto».Dopo il 2026. Vista da lontano sembra una costruzione da fiaba: una lunga linea fortificata di un bianco abbacinante che attraversa quattro Stati nordafricani. Oltre, una striscia di terra desertificata chimicamente; oltre ancora, il Mediterraneo. Benvenuti al Muro, invalicabile barriera per i dannati della Terra che tentano di oltrepassarla ma anche meta turistica alternativa per i ricchi del mondo: la soluzione radicale al problema dell'immigrazione clandestina. Franco Zomer è una guardia muraria, come lo era suo padre; di giorno, dopo aver finto di vagliare i loro documenti, rimanda indietro i migranti che cercano di varcare il confine. Dopo il tramonto, arrivano i clandestini – che un documento non ce l'hanno proprio – la cui sorte spesso si decide in modo violento. Il lavoro delle guardie murarie è una brutale messinscena ritualizzata, le direttive vigenti sono implacabili: nessuno deve passare. Chi si lascia sfuggire un migrante, finisce nella Stanza delle Punizioni. Per resistere alla legge della crudeltà, al Muro tutti fanno uso di anfetamine e stimolanti, fino a quando la malavita locale inonda il mercato con una nuova sostanza, la Moby Dick. L'effetto è straordinario: si può rivivere un momento del passato in cui cambiare le decisioni sbagliate o fatali, modificare il destino. L'illusione di realtà è perfetta, la dipendenza potentissima e immediata. La Moby Dick dilaga incontrollata come un'epidemia, tra i disperati come tra gli aguzzini. Annichilito dalla sofferenza cui assiste ogni giorno e che spesso infligge di persona, anche Franco Zomer vorrebbe riavvolgere la sua vita fino a quel fatidico giorno di un tempo ancora felice. Un tempo in cui, con un dito, poteva spostare le nuvole in cielo e tutto era ancora possibile. Solo così potrà immaginare il futuro, un futuro con il volto di Penelope, la donna che vede ogni volta che chiude gli occhi.Pierpaolo Vettori (Venaria Reale, 1967) è stato finalista per due edizioni al Premio Calvino e ha esordito con La notte dei bambini cometa (Antigone, 2011), seguito pochi mesi dopo da Le sorelle Soffici (Elliot, 2012). Dopo La vita incerta delle ombre (Elliot, 2014), nel 2018 esce per Bompiani Lanterna per illusionisti. Laureato in lettere con una tesi sulla Swinging London, vive e lavora a Torino. Con questo romanzo ha vinto il Premio Neri Pozza 2021.IL POSTO DELLE PAROLEascoltare fa pensarewww.ilpostodelleparole.it
Antikvitetshandlaren Christopher Gibbs arbetade lika hårt som han partajade och kände allt och alla inte minst Rolling Stones vars hem han inredde. Lyssna på alla avsnitt i Sveriges Radio Play. Christopher Gibbs var en ung och elegant klädd man med bakgrund i den brittiska överklassen. Men yrket antikhandlare var emellertid inte något självklart val för en knappt 20-årig kille, inte ens från ”the upper crust”. Och det var verkligen inget som självklart förknippades med den då framväxande nya och unga kulturen bestående av en mix av musik, mode och droger.Men innefolket i Swinging London, som medlemmarna i Rolling Stones, behövde möbler och mattor till sina hem och Christopher Gibbs blev en nyckelfigur som inte bara bistod med goda råd och inredningsdetaljer. Kombinationen av hans goda kontakter i societeten med ett stort intresse för tidens mode och musiker bidrog till att han på sina middagar skapade ett unikt korskulturellt kontaktnät av människor som var nyfikna på varandra.Christopher Gibbs hade ett helt eget öga för hur ett hem kunde inredas. Det handlade inte främst om pengar. Det handlade snarare om vad som den japanska inredargurun Marie Kondo långt senare skulle komma att förespråka – vad ger dig glädje?Själv citerade han ofta den brittiske konstnären och formgivaren William Morris som sade: ”Ta inte in något i ditt hem som inte är användbart, eller som du inte anser är vackert” Och i Christopher Gibbs fall var det antikviteter, mattor, textiler och lampor från Marocko – och gamla föremål i allmänhet. ”Jag har aldrig sett en snyggt designad tv”, som han sade.I veckans program pratar vi med Magnus Bexhed, expert i Antikrundan på SVT och VD på Uppsala auktionskammare, om antikbranschens många solskenshistorier. Det vill säga när en ägare till ett dyrbart föremål själv inte har förstått vilken dyrgrip de sitter på. Vi åker också hem till designjournalisten Katarina Matsson för att prata om känslostyrd inredning och varför hon så ofta möblerar om i sitt hem när hon känner sig stressad. Och så får vi höra historien om vad det egentligen var som hände när priset på gamla svenska kaffekoppar för några år sedan sköt i höjden – i Kina.Veckans gäst är Nicholas Wennö, filmredaktör på Dagens Nyheter.
2:36:27 – Frank in New Jersey, plus the Other Side. Topics include: Views on future and past, The Peddlers – Suite London (1972), Famepushers, Swinging London, El Mundo Del Automático, American Road, Early Times Instant Pussycat Mix, Coriander Communiqué, Duran Duran – New Moon On Monday, “International Cryptozoology Museum”, Strange New Worlds, Gen V, Loki, video […]
2:36:27 – Frank in New Jersey, plus the Other Side. Topics include: Views on future and past, The Peddlers – Suite London (1972), Famepushers, Swinging London, El Mundo Del Automático, American Road, Early Times Instant Pussycat Mix, Coriander Communiqué, Duran Duran – New Moon On Monday, “International Cryptozoology Museum”, Strange New Worlds, Gen V, Loki, video game […]
Rolling Stones Insider Shares Memories and Rare Artifacts in New Book Back in the mid 1960s, overnight, a street-smart east coast kid went from being a college student to tour manager/moneyman and confidante to the Rolling Stones. The band didn't eat, drink, or even play unless Ronnie Schneider did his job, and this trusting relationship led to a wild adventure that would soon include the Beatles, Swinging London, and producing the mythical '69 Stones tour that culminated in the infamous show at Altamont. In his new book, Schneider gives readers an all access pass into the most intimate spaces, from hotels and boardrooms to private planes and backstage debauchery, crunching deals, babysitting the band, tasting wine, woman and dope – this is a front row seat to rock's last great era; jam-packed with rare artifacts and all the paperwork to back it up.3 years ago #and, #beatles, #ed, #heads:, #me, #of, #opperman, #our, #out, #report, #rolling, #spreaker, #stones, #theOppermnan Report seriously needs your support during this seasonal low in radio broadcasting.You can join Pareon at https://www.patreon.com/oppermanreportOr Paypal a dobnation to Oppermareport@gmail.comDonate button with other options at oppermanreport.com Buy the book https://amzn.to/48aI2CnThis show is part of the Spreaker Prime Network, if you are interested in advertising on this podcast, contact us at https://www.spreaker.com/show/1198501/advertisement
En 1995 se editaron discos de Radiohead, de Pulp, de Blur, de Massive Attack, de los Chemical Brothers, The PJ Harvey o de Elastica. La música británica se engalanó con su mejores ropas y el fenómeno del britpop llevó a su culmen. Aquel año en las islas británicas la música sonaba en cualquier esquina, en cada ciudad presumían de sus bandas locales y los festivales se peleaban por contratar primero a sus estrellas. Aquel año el foco acabó fijado en Manchester. El 2 de octubre Oasis publicó Whats the Story (Morning Glory).La edición del segundo disco de la banda de los hermanos Gallagher marcó el punto álgido del aquel movimiento cultural creado por las revistas musicales y multiplicado por la prensa sensacionalista y generalista. Todos compraron la rivalidad entre Blur y Oasis, todos entendieron que lo que estaba pasando a mediados de los años noventa era comparable a aquel Swinging London de los años sesenta e Inglaterra se preparó para una nueva British Invasion que no fue del impacto de la que comandaron Beatles y compañía, pero que transmitió una sensación parecida. Un año después debutaron las Spice Girls en Inglaterra y los Back Street Boys en EEUU y el rock perdió fuerza en las listas de éxito, pero todo lo que sucedió en aquellos maravillosos noventas tuvo un impacto enorme en la música de los años posteriores.El viaje de los hermanos Gallagher fue tremendamente agitado, pero para este disco todo encajó. El primer álbum de la banda contenía temas que llevaban años cociéndose a fuego lento, pero tras gastar todas las balas en ese debut, el grupo llegó al estudio con la necesidad de demostrar que nada de aquello había sido casualidad. Sin darle muchas vueltas, sin sentir la presión, Oasis firmó un disco redondo grabado casi del tirón. "Creo que todo el proceso duró 12 días de trabajo lo que es acojonante, lo hicimos del tirón y eso que llegamos al estudio con la mitad de las canciones sin terminar. Eso es algo que solo logras cuando eres joven porque no le das vueltas a las cosas", contaba la banda en un documental.Esta semana comenzamos nueva temporada en Sofá Sonoro y lo hacemos recordando junto a Arancha Moreno la historia de uno de los discos más recordados y exitosos de los años noventa.
En 1995 se editaron discos de Radiohead, de Pulp, de Blur, de Massive Attack, de los Chemical Brothers, The PJ Harvey o de Elastica. La música británica se engalanó con su mejores ropas y el fenómeno del britpop llevó a su culmen. Aquel año en las islas británicas la música sonaba en cualquier esquina, en cada ciudad presumían de sus bandas locales y los festivales se peleaban por contratar primero a sus estrellas. Aquel año el foco acabó fijado en Manchester. El 2 de octubre Oasis publicó Whats the Story (Morning Glory).La edición del segundo disco de la banda de los hermanos Gallagher marcó el punto álgido del aquel movimiento cultural creado por las revistas musicales y multiplicado por la prensa sensacionalista y generalista. Todos compraron la rivalidad entre Blur y Oasis, todos entendieron que lo que estaba pasando a mediados de los años noventa era comparable a aquel Swinging London de los años sesenta e Inglaterra se preparó para una nueva British Invasion que no fue del impacto de la que comandaron Beatles y compañía, pero que transmitió una sensación parecida. Un año después debutaron las Spice Girls en Inglaterra y los Back Street Boys en EEUU y el rock perdió fuerza en las listas de éxito, pero todo lo que sucedió en aquellos maravillosos noventas tuvo un impacto enorme en la música de los años posteriores.El viaje de los hermanos Gallagher fue tremendamente agitado, pero para este disco todo encajó. El primer álbum de la banda contenía temas que llevaban años cociéndose a fuego lento, pero tras gastar todas las balas en ese debut, el grupo llegó al estudio con la necesidad de demostrar que nada de aquello había sido casualidad. Sin darle muchas vueltas, sin sentir la presión, Oasis firmó un disco redondo grabado casi del tirón. "Creo que todo el proceso duró 12 días de trabajo lo que es acojonante, lo hicimos del tirón y eso que llegamos al estudio con la mitad de las canciones sin terminar. Eso es algo que solo logras cuando eres joven porque no le das vueltas a las cosas", contaba la banda en un documental.Esta semana comenzamos nueva temporada en Sofá Sonoro y lo hacemos recordando junto a Arancha Moreno la historia de uno de los discos más recordados y exitosos de los años noventa.
In a swirling world dominated by miniskirts, feather boas, posh photographers, youth culture, Jimi Hendrix and the Beatles, London has been transformed, and avant-garde “boutiques” have taken over areas left empty in the wake of the demise of local manufacturing. Join Tom and Dominic in the second part of our series on Sixties Fashion, as they explore the birth of the miniskirt, Sergeant Pepper's, hippies, the legacy of the 60s, and much more - all you need is love! *The Rest Is History Live Tour 2023*: Tom and Dominic are back on tour this autumn! See them live in London, New Zealand, and Australia! Buy your tickets here: restishistorypod.com Twitter: @TheRestHistory @holland_tom @dcsandbrook Producer: Theo Young-Smith Executive Producers: Jack Davenport + Tony Pastor Learn more about your ad choices. Visit podcastchoices.com/adchoices
We are delighted to welcome Pattie Boyd to The Style That Binds Us podcast. Pattie is a Sixties style icon and model who inspired love songs such as “Something,” “Layla,” “Wonderful Tonight” and more. She was at the heart of Swinging London and Rock and Roll as she balanced life between being a highly in-demand model and her marriage to George Harrison and later Eric Clapton. We thoroughly enjoyed reading her 2 books: “Wonderful Tonight: George Harrison, Eric Clapton, and Me” and “Pattie Boyd: My Life in Pictures” and can't wait to hear all about Pattie's career, what she's up to now and more. --- Send in a voice message: https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/delia-folk8/message Support this podcast: https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/delia-folk8/support
With the single “I Only Want to Be with You” (1963), Springfield went solo and made her way into the heart of “Swinging London.” Part cartoon, part unresolvable desire, part bruised despair, she peered through heavy mascara and a stack of peroxided hair while singing with breathy sensuality. Bringing a fragile uncertainty to her cover versions of songs by Burt Bacharach and Hal David that had been hits in the United States for Dionne Warwick, Springfield had a string of British hits. The commercial high point of her career, though, was the ballad “You Don't Have to Say You Love Me” (1966), which topped the British singles chart and reached number four in the United States.In the late 1960s Springfield began to take herself seriously as a soul diva. In 1965 she hosted a television special that promoted Motown artists, including the Supremes and Martha and the Vandellas, to British audiences, and she often performed American rhythm-and-blues songs in her own subsequent TV appearances. She signed with Atlantic Records in 1968 and cut her Dusty in Memphis (1969) album in the famed American Sound Studios with producers Jerry Wexler and Arif Mardin. The album brought her critical acclaim and an international hit with “Son of a Preacher Man.”Springfield continued to record into the 1970s, but her career was derailed by poor management and struggles with drugs and alcohol. By the middle of the decade, she was working as a session singer in Los Angeles. Repeated comeback attempts failed until she teamed up with the Pet Shop Boys on the single “What Have I Done to Deserve This?” (1987); after it became a hit, the duo wrote and produced other songs for her that were included on her album Reputation (1990). By the 1990s Springfield had become a camp icon. After she resettled in England, she battled cancer and in 1998 received the OBE (Officer of the Order of the British Empire). She was posthumously inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in 1999.
Pat “PP” Arnold was hired as an Ikette by Ike & Tina's Revue in 1965 and set off a 2,000 mile tour of America, coming to London a year later to support the Rolling Stones. Offered a record deal by Andrew Oldham, she lived in England for many years becoming “the First Lady Of Immediate” with a wide circle of friends and collaborators including the Small Faces, Cat Stevens, Hendrix, Rod Stewart, Nick Drake and the Bee Gees, all recorded in her memoir 'Soul Survivor'. Here she looks back at:- … the rigours of the Ike & Tina tours where she was once fined $50 for crying onstage. … the contrast between “the Chiltin' Circuit and the Albert Hall. ... supporting the Stones in '66 and her romance with Mick Jagger “who wanted to walk and talk like a black man”. She taught him how to do the Pony and the Mashed Potato. … the success of The First Cut Is The Deepest. … her unique American take on the Swinging London of the mid-‘60s and quaint English expressions like “taking the piss”, and how an “unsophisticated” girl from the Watts district of Los Angeles saw the bohemian world (eg Chelsea restaurants where you got three sets of cutlery). … her time with “my brothers” the Small Faces who were “a lot more ghetto than the Stones”. … and a mention of recent collaborations with Paul Weller and Ocean Colour Scene. Order Soul Survivor here …https://www.amazon.co.uk/Soul-Survivor-Autobiography-P-P-Arnold/dp/1788705785Subscribe to Word In Your Ear on Patreon for early - and ad-free! - access to all of our content: https://www.patreon.com/wordinyourear Get bonus content on Patreon Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.
Pat “PP” Arnold was hired as an Ikette by Ike & Tina's Revue in 1965 and set off a 2,000 mile tour of America, coming to London a year later to support the Rolling Stones. Offered a record deal by Andrew Oldham, she lived in England for many years becoming “the First Lady Of Immediate” with a wide circle of friends and collaborators including the Small Faces, Cat Stevens, Hendrix, Rod Stewart, Nick Drake and the Bee Gees, all recorded in her memoir 'Soul Survivor'. Here she looks back at:- … the rigours of the Ike & Tina tours where she was once fined $50 for crying onstage. … the contrast between “the Chiltin' Circuit and the Albert Hall. ... supporting the Stones in '66 and her romance with Mick Jagger “who wanted to walk and talk like a black man”. She taught him how to do the Pony and the Mashed Potato. … the success of The First Cut Is The Deepest. … her unique American take on the Swinging London of the mid-‘60s and quaint English expressions like “taking the piss”, and how an “unsophisticated” girl from the Watts district of Los Angeles saw the bohemian world (eg Chelsea restaurants where you got three sets of cutlery). … her time with “my brothers” the Small Faces who were “a lot more ghetto than the Stones”. … and a mention of recent collaborations with Paul Weller and Ocean Colour Scene. Order Soul Survivor here …https://www.amazon.co.uk/Soul-Survivor-Autobiography-P-P-Arnold/dp/1788705785Subscribe to Word In Your Ear on Patreon for early - and ad-free! - access to all of our content: https://www.patreon.com/wordinyourear Get bonus content on Patreon Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.
This week, John Glatt has a shocking story of sex, drugs, and a bloody murder by a rich American playboy that sent shock waves through Swinging London in the late 1960s. Then, because it's summer, it's time for summer reading. Who better to chat with on that subject than one of our favorite guests, Jim Kelly, the Books Editor here at Air Mail. Jim will tell us about a book he's loving this week, and a few others. All this and more make this a show you won't want to miss.See Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.
Damon Kruskowski, author of Ways of Hearing and The New Analog, previously member of Galaxie 500 and currently a member of Damon & Naomi interviews Rose Simpson about her book Muse, Odalisque, Handmaiden. Rose is an English former musician. Between 1968 and 1971, she was a member of the Incredible String Band, with whom she sang and played bass guitar, violin, and percussion. Between 1967 and 1971 Rose Simpson lived with the Incredible String Band (Mike Heron, Robin Williamson and Licorice McKechnie), morphing from English student to West Coast hippie and, finally, bassist in leathers. The band's image adorned psychedelic posters and its music was the theme song for an alternative lifestyle. Rose and partner Mike Heron believed in, and lived, a naive vision of utopia in Scotland. But they were also a band on tour, enjoying the thrills of that life. They were at the center of “Swinging London” and at the Chelsea Hotel with Andy Warhol's superstars. They shared stages with rock idols and played at Woodstock in 1969. Rose and fellow ISB member Licorice were hippie pin-ups, while Heron and Robin Williamson the seers and prophets of a new world. Through a haze of incense and marijuana, they played out their Arcadian dreams on stages brilliant with the colors of clothes, light-shows, rugs, cushions, and exotic instruments. Like most utopias, the ISB's imploded. Never seeing herself as a professional musician, Rose retained an outsider's detachment even while living the life of a hippie chick. Her memoir gives a voice to those flower-wreathed girls whose photographs have become symbols of the psychedelic sixties. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Support our show by becoming a premium member! https://newbooksnetwork.supportingcast.fm/new-books-network
“The idea of ‘chasing the panther' is that the panther serves as this metaphor for art, and so it's something that you chase after even thought it is in some ways very, very dangerous, and I think Carolyn would say that is one hundred percent the story of her life, chasing art.” That's writer and filmmaker Gregory Collins explaining the title to his very first collaboration, Chasing the Panther: Adventures & Misadventures of a Cinematic Life, written with the noted independent film producer Carolyn Pfeiffer, who as a young woman found herself swept up in the roiling waters of the French New Wave and Italian film scenes of the '60s and '70s. Together, Gregory and Carolyn have written a vibrant coming-of-age memoir telling the origin story of one of the film industry's first female executives—a woman once dubbed a Hollywood “mini-mogul” by The Wall Street Journal. As the head of Alive Films and Island Alive, Carolyn produced a number of influential films, including “Stop Making Sense,” “Koyaanisqatsi”, “Kiss of the Spider Woman,” “Trouble in Mind,” “Far North,” and “The Whales of August.” An accomplished screenwriter and producer in his own right, Gregory's films have premiered at the Malawi International Film Festival, and at the Sarasota and Seattle film festivals. He has taught producing and screenwriting at Penn State University and has served as the director of development of Burnt Orange Productions, at the University of Texas at Austin. Join us at the front end of this episode, as Carolyn and Gregory discuss how they worked together, and share some wild stories about Carolyn's experience on the frontlines of French New Wave cinema, Fellini's Rome, and Swinging London—and then stay with us after the break, as we visit with Gregory and examine the ways he has shifted his focus as a writer from the screen to the page. Learn more about our guests: Carolyn Pfeiffer, LinkedIn Carolyn Pfeiffer, Twitter Gregory Collins, website Gregory Collins, Twitter Please support the sponsors who support our show. Daniel Paisner's Balloon Dog Film Movement Plus (PODCAST) | 30% discount Libro.fm (ASTOLDTO) | 2 audiobooks for the price of 1 when you start your membership Film Freaks Forever! podcast, hosted by Mark Jordan Legan and Phoef Sutton A Mighty Blaze podcast
Episode 164 of A History of Rock Music in Five Hundred Songs looks at "White Light/White Heat" and the career of the Velvet Underground. This is a long one, lasting three hours and twenty minutes. Click the full post to read liner notes, links to more information, and a transcript of the episode. Patreon backers also have a twenty-three minute bonus episode available, on "Why Don't You Smile Now?" by the Downliners Sect. Tilt Araiza has assisted invaluably by doing a first-pass edit, and will hopefully be doing so from now on. Check out Tilt's irregular podcasts at http://www.podnose.com/jaffa-cakes-for-proust and http://sitcomclub.com/ Errata I say the Velvet Underground didn't play New York for the rest of the sixties after 1966. They played at least one gig there in 1967, but did generally avoid the city. Also, I refer to Cale and Conrad as the other surviving members of the Theater of Eternal Music. Sadly Conrad died in 2016. Resources No Mixcloud this week, as there are too many songs by the Velvet Underground, and some of the avant-garde pieces excerpted run to six hours or more. I used a lot of resources for this one. Up-Tight: The Velvet Underground Story by Victor Bockris and Gerard Malanga is the best book on the group as a group. I also used Joe Harvard's 33 1/3 book on The Velvet Underground and Nico. Bockris also wrote one of the two biographies of Reed I referred to, Transformer. The other was Lou Reed by Anthony DeCurtis. Information on Cale mostly came from Sedition and Alchemy by Tim Mitchell. Information on Nico came from Nico: The Life and Lies of an Icon by Richard Witts. I used Draw a Straight Line and Follow it by Jeremy Grimshaw as my main source for La Monte Young, The Roaring Silence by David Revill for John Cage, and Warhol: A Life as Art by Blake Gopnik for Warhol. I also referred to the Criterion Collection Blu-Ray of the 2021 documentary The Velvet Underground. The definitive collection of the Velvet Underground's music is the sadly out-of-print box set Peel Slowly and See, which contains the four albums the group made with Reed in full, plus demos, outtakes, and live recordings. Note that the digital version of the album as sold by Amazon for some reason doesn't include the last disc -- if you want the full box set you have to buy a physical copy. All four studio albums have also been released and rereleased many times over in different configurations with different numbers of CDs at different price points -- I have used the "45th Anniversary Super-Deluxe" versions for this episode, but for most people the standard CD versions will be fine. Sadly there are no good shorter compilation overviews of the group -- they tend to emphasise either the group's "pop" mode or its "avant-garde" mode to the exclusion of the other. Patreon This podcast is brought to you by the generosity of my backers on Patreon. Why not join them? Transcript Before I begin this episode, there are a few things to say. This introductory section is going to be longer than normal because, as you will hear, this episode is also going to be longer than normal. Firstly, I try to warn people about potentially upsetting material in these episodes. But this is the first episode for 1968, and as you will see there is a *profound* increase in the amount of upsetting and disturbing material covered as we go through 1968 and 1969. The story is going to be in a much darker place for the next twenty or thirty episodes. And this episode is no exception. As always, I try to deal with everything as sensitively as possible, but you should be aware that the list of warnings for this one is so long I am very likely to have missed some. Among the topics touched on in this episode are mental illness, drug addiction, gun violence, racism, societal and medical homophobia, medical mistreatment of mental illness, domestic abuse, rape, and more. If you find discussion of any of those subjects upsetting, you might want to read the transcript. Also, I use the term "queer" freely in this episode. In the past I have received some pushback for this, because of a belief among some that "queer" is a slur. The following explanation will seem redundant to many of my listeners, but as with many of the things I discuss in the podcast I am dealing with multiple different audiences with different levels of awareness and understanding of issues, so I'd like to beg those people's indulgence a moment. The term "queer" has certainly been used as a slur in the past, but so have terms like "lesbian", "gay", "homosexual" and others. In all those cases, the term has gone from a term used as a self-identifier, to a slur, to a reclaimed slur, and back again many times. The reason for using that word, specifically, here is because the vast majority of people in this story have sexualities or genders that don't match the societal norms of their times, but used labels for themselves that have shifted in meaning over the years. There are at least two men in the story, for example, who are now dead and referred to themselves as "homosexual", but were in multiple long-term sexually-active relationships with women. Would those men now refer to themselves as "bisexual" or "pansexual" -- terms not in widespread use at the time -- or would they, in the relatively more tolerant society we live in now, only have been in same-gender relationships? We can't know. But in our current context using the word "homosexual" for those men would lead to incorrect assumptions about their behaviour. The labels people use change over time, and the definitions of them blur and shift. I have discussed this issue with many, many, friends who fall under the queer umbrella, and while not all of them are comfortable with "queer" as a personal label because of how it's been used against them in the past, there is near-unanimity from them that it's the correct word to use in this situation. Anyway, now that that rather lengthy set of disclaimers is over, let's get into the story proper, as we look at "White Light, White Heat" by the Velvet Underground: [Excerpt: The Velvet Underground, "White Light, White Heat"] And that look will start with... a disclaimer about length. This episode is going to be a long one. Not as long as episode one hundred and fifty, but almost certainly the longest episode I'll do this year, by some way. And there's a reason for that. One of the questions I've been asked repeatedly over the years about the podcast is why almost all the acts I've covered have been extremely commercially successful ones. "Where are the underground bands? The alternative bands? The little niche acts?" The answer to that is simple. Until the mid-sixties, the idea of an underground or alternative band made no sense at all in rock, pop, rock and roll, R&B, or soul. The idea would have been completely counterintuitive to the vast majority of the people we've discussed in the podcast. Those musics were commercial musics, made by people who wanted to make money and to get the largest audiences possible. That doesn't mean that they had no artistic merit, or that there was no artistic intent behind them, but the artists making that music were *commercial* artists. They knew if they wanted to make another record, they had to sell enough copies of the last record for the record company to make another, and that if they wanted to keep eating, they had to draw enough of an audience to their gigs for promoters to keep booking them. There was no space in this worldview for what we might think of as cult success. If your record only sold a thousand copies, then you had failed in your goal, even if the thousand people who bought your record really loved it. Even less commercially successful artists we've covered to this point, like the Mothers of Invention or Love, were *trying* for commercial success, even if they made the decision not to compromise as much as others do. This started to change a tiny bit in the mid-sixties as the influence of jazz and folk in the US, and the British blues scene, started to be felt in rock music. But this influence, at first, was a one-way thing -- people who had been in the folk and jazz worlds deciding to modify their music to be more commercial. And that was followed by already massively commercial musicians, like the Beatles, taking on some of those influences and bringing their audience with them. But that started to change around the time that "rock" started to differentiate itself from "rock and roll" and "pop", in mid 1967. So in this episode and the next, we're going to look at two bands who in different ways provided a model for how to be an alternative band. Both of them still *wanted* commercial success, but neither achieved it, at least not at first and not in the conventional way. And both, when they started out, went by the name The Warlocks. But we have to take a rather circuitous route to get to this week's band, because we're now properly introducing a strand of music that has been there in the background for a while -- avant-garde art music. So before we go any further, let's have a listen to a thirty-second clip of the most famous piece of avant-garde music ever, and I'll be performing it myself: [Excerpt, Andrew Hickey "4'33 (Cage)"] Obviously that won't give the full effect, you have to listen to the whole piece to get that. That is of course a section of "4'33" by John Cage, a piece of music that is often incorrectly described as being four minutes and thirty three seconds of silence. As I've mentioned before, though, in the episode on "Papa's Got a Brand New Bag", it isn't that at all. The whole point of the piece is that there is no such thing as silence, and it's intended to make the listener appreciate all the normal ambient sounds as music, every bit as much as any piece by Bach or Beethoven. John Cage, the composer of "4'33", is possibly the single most influential avant-garde artist of the mid twentieth century, so as we're properly introducing the ideas of avant-garde music into the story here, we need to talk about him a little. Cage was, from an early age, torn between three great vocations, all of which in some fashion would shape his work for decades to come. One of these was architecture, and for a time he intended to become an architect. Another was the religious ministry, and he very seriously considered becoming a minister as a young man, and religion -- though not the religious faith of his youth -- was to be a massive factor in his work as he grew older. He started studying music from an early age, though he never had any facility as a performer -- though he did, when he discovered the work of Grieg, think that might change. He later said “For a while I played nothing else. I even imagined devoting my life to the performance of his works alone, for they did not seem to me to be too difficult, and I loved them.” [Excerpt: Grieg piano concerto in A minor] But he soon realised that he didn't have some of the basic skills that would be required to be a performer -- he never actually thought of himself as very musical -- and so he decided to move into composition, and he later talked about putting his musical limits to good use in being more inventive. From his very first pieces, Cage was trying to expand the definition of what a performance of a piece of music actually was. One of his friends, Harry Hay, who took part in the first documented performance of a piece by Cage, described how Cage's father, an inventor, had "devised a fluorescent light source over which Sample" -- Don Sample, Cage's boyfriend at the time -- "laid a piece of vellum painted with designs in oils. The blankets I was wearing were white, and a sort of lampshade shone coloured patterns onto me. It looked very good. The thing got so hot the designs began to run, but that only made it better.” Apparently the audience for this light show -- one that predated the light shows used by rock bands by a good thirty years -- were not impressed, though that may be more because the Santa Monica Women's Club in the early 1930s was not the vanguard of the avant-garde. Or maybe it was. Certainly the housewives of Santa Monica seemed more willing than one might expect to sign up for another of Cage's ideas. In 1933 he went door to door asking women if they would be interested in signing up to a lecture course from him on modern art and music. He told them that if they signed up for $2.50, he would give them ten lectures, and somewhere between twenty and forty of them signed up, even though, as he said later, “I explained to the housewives that I didn't know anything about either subject but that I was enthusiastic about both of them. I promised to learn faithfully enough about each subject so as to be able to give a talk an hour long each week.” And he did just that, going to the library every day and spending all week preparing an hour-long talk for them. History does not relate whether he ended these lectures by telling the housewives to tell just one friend about them. He said later “I came out of these lectures, with a devotion to the painting of Mondrian, on the one hand, and the music of Schoenberg on the other.” [Excerpt: Schoenberg, "Ode to Napoleon Buonaparte"] Schoenberg was one of the two most widely-respected composers in the world at that point, the other being Stravinsky, but the two had very different attitudes to composition. Schoenberg's great innovation was the creation and popularisation of the twelve-tone technique, and I should probably explain that a little before I go any further. Most Western music is based on an eight-note scale -- do, re, mi, fa, so, la, ti, do -- with the eighth note being an octave up from the first. So in the key of C major that would be C, D, E, F, G, A, B, C: [demonstrates] And when you hear notes from that scale, if your ears are accustomed to basically any Western music written before about 1920, or any Western popular music written since then, you expect the melody to lead back to C, and you know to expect that because it only uses those notes -- there are differing intervals between them, some having a tone between them and some having a semitone, and you recognise the pattern. But of course there are other notes between the notes of that scale. There are actually an infinite number of these, but in conventional Western music we only look at a few more -- C# (or D flat), D# (or E flat), F# (or G flat), G# (or A flat) and A# (or B flat). If you add in all those notes you get this: [demonstrates] There's no clear beginning or end, no do for it to come back to. And Schoenberg's great innovation, which he was only starting to promote widely around this time, was to insist that all twelve notes should be equal -- his melodies would use all twelve of the notes the exact same number of times, and so if he used say a B flat, he would have to use all eleven other notes before he used B flat again in the piece. This was a radical new idea, but Schoenberg had only started advancing it after first winning great acclaim for earlier pieces, like his "Three Pieces for Piano", a work which wasn't properly twelve-tone, but did try to do without the idea of having any one note be more important than any other: [Excerpt: Schoenberg, "Three Pieces for Piano"] At this point, that work had only been performed in the US by one performer, Richard Buhlig, and hadn't been released as a recording yet. Cage was so eager to hear it that he'd found Buhlig's phone number and called him, asking him to play the piece, but Buhlig put the phone down on him. Now he was doing these lectures, though, he had to do one on Schoenberg, and he wasn't a competent enough pianist to play Schoenberg's pieces himself, and there were still no recordings of them. Cage hitch-hiked from Santa Monica to LA, where Buhlig lived, to try to get him to come and visit his class and play some of Schoenberg's pieces for them. Buhlig wasn't in, and Cage hung around in his garden hoping for him to come back -- he pulled the leaves off a bough from one of Buhlig's trees, going "He'll come back, he won't come back, he'll come back..." and the leaves said he'd be back. Buhlig arrived back at midnight, and quite understandably told the strange twenty-one-year-old who'd spent twelve hours in his garden pulling the leaves off his trees that no, he would not come to Santa Monica and give a free performance. But he did agree that if Cage brought some of his own compositions he'd give them a look over. Buhlig started giving Cage some proper lessons in composition, although he stressed that he was a performer, not a composer. Around this time Cage wrote his Sonata for Clarinet: [Excerpt: John Cage, "Sonata For Clarinet"] Buhlig suggested that Cage send that to Henry Cowell, the composer we heard about in the episode on "Good Vibrations" who was friends with Lev Termen and who created music by playing the strings inside a piano: [Excerpt: Henry Cowell, "Aeolian Harp and Sinister Resonance"] Cowell offered to take Cage on as an assistant, in return for which Cowell would teach him for a semester, as would Adolph Weiss, a pupil of Schoenberg's. But the goal, which Cowell suggested, was always to have Cage study with Schoenberg himself. Schoenberg at first refused, saying that Cage couldn't afford his price, but eventually took Cage on as a student having been assured that he would devote his entire life to music -- a promise Cage kept. Cage started writing pieces for percussion, something that had been very rare up to that point -- only a handful of composers, most notably Edgard Varese, had written pieces for percussion alone, but Cage was: [Excerpt: John Cage, "Trio"] This is often portrayed as a break from the ideals of his teacher Schoenberg, but in fact there's a clear continuity there, once you see what Cage was taking from Schoenberg. Schoenberg's work is, in some senses, about equality, about all notes being equal. Or to put it another way, it's about fairness. About erasing arbitrary distinctions. What Cage was doing was erasing the arbitrary distinction between the more and less prominent instruments. Why should there be pieces for solo violin or string quartet, but not for multiple percussion players? That said, Schoenberg was not exactly the most encouraging of teachers. When Cage invited Schoenberg to go to a concert of Cage's percussion work, Schoenberg told him he was busy that night. When Cage offered to arrange another concert for a date Schoenberg wasn't busy, the reply came "No, I will not be free at any time". Despite this, Cage later said “Schoenberg was a magnificent teacher, who always gave the impression that he was putting us in touch with musical principles,” and said "I literally worshipped him" -- a strong statement from someone who took religious matters as seriously as Cage. Cage was so devoted to Schoenberg's music that when a concert of music by Stravinsky was promoted as "music of the world's greatest living composer", Cage stormed into the promoter's office angrily, confronting the promoter and making it very clear that such things should not be said in the city where Schoenberg lived. Schoenberg clearly didn't think much of Cage's attempts at composition, thinking -- correctly -- that Cage had no ear for harmony. And his reportedly aggressive and confrontational teaching style didn't sit well with Cage -- though it seems very similar to a lot of the teaching techniques of the Zen masters he would later go on to respect. The two eventually parted ways, although Cage always spoke highly of Schoenberg. Schoenberg later gave Cage a compliment of sorts, when asked if any of his students had gone on to do anything interesting. At first he replied that none had, but then he mentioned Cage and said “Of course he's not a composer, but an inventor—of genius.” Cage was at this point very worried if there was any point to being a composer at all. He said later “I'd read Cowell's New Musical Resources and . . . The Theory of Rhythm. I had also read Chavez's Towards a New Music. Both works gave me the feeling that everything that was possible in music had already happened. So I thought I could never compose socially important music. Only if I could invent something new, then would I be useful to society. But that seemed unlikely then.” [Excerpt: John Cage, "Totem Ancestor"] Part of the solution came when he was asked to compose music for an abstract animation by the filmmaker Oskar Fischinger, and also to work as Fischinger's assistant when making the film. He was fascinated by the stop-motion process, and by the results of the film, which he described as "a beautiful film in which these squares, triangles and circles and other things moved and changed colour.” But more than that he was overwhelmed by a comment by Fischinger, who told him “Everything in the world has its own spirit, and this spirit becomes audible by setting it into vibration.” Cage later said “That set me on fire. He started me on a path of exploration of the world around me which has never stopped—of hitting and stretching and scraping and rubbing everything.” Cage now took his ideas further. His compositions for percussion had been about, if you like, giving the underdog a chance -- percussion was always in the background, why should it not be in the spotlight? Now he realised that there were other things getting excluded in conventional music -- the sounds that we characterise as noise. Why should composers work to exclude those sounds, but work to *include* other sounds? Surely that was... well, a little unfair? Eventually this would lead to pieces like his 1952 piece "Water Music", later expanded and retitled "Water Walk", which can be heard here in his 1959 appearance on the TV show "I've Got a Secret". It's a piece for, amongst other things, a flowerpot full of flowers, a bathtub, a watering can, a pipe, a duck call, a blender full of ice cubes, and five unplugged radios: [Excerpt: John Cage "Water Walk"] As he was now avoiding pitch and harmony as organising principles for his music, he turned to time. But note -- not to rhythm. He said “There's none of this boom, boom, boom, business in my music . . . a measure is taken as a strict measure of time—not a one two three four—which I fill with various sounds.” He came up with a system he referred to as “micro-macrocosmic rhythmic structure,” what we would now call fractals, though that word hadn't yet been invented, where the structure of the whole piece was reflected in the smallest part of it. For a time he started moving away from the term music, preferring to refer to the "art of noise" or to "organised sound" -- though he later received a telegram from Edgard Varese, one of his musical heroes and one of the few other people writing works purely for percussion, asking him not to use that phrase, which Varese used for his own work. After meeting with Varese and his wife, he later became convinced that it was Varese's wife who had initiated the telegram, as she explained to Cage's wife "we didn't want your husband's work confused with my husband's work, any more than you'd want some . . . any artist's work confused with that of a cartoonist.” While there is a humour to Cage's work, I don't really hear much qualitative difference between a Cage piece like the one we just heard and a Varese piece like Ionisation: [Excerpt: Edgard Varese, "Ionisation"] But it was in 1952, the year of "Water Music" that John Cage made his two biggest impacts on the cultural world, though the full force of those impacts wasn't felt for some years. To understand Cage's 1952 work, you first have to understand that he had become heavily influenced by Zen, which at that time was very little known in the Western world. Indeed he had studied with Daisetsu Suzuki, who is credited with introducing Zen to the West, and said later “I didn't study music with just anybody; I studied with Schoenberg, I didn't study Zen with just anybody; I studied with Suzuki. I've always gone, insofar as I could, to the president of the company.” Cage's whole worldview was profoundly affected by Zen, but he was also naturally sympathetic to it, and his work after learning about Zen is mostly a continuation of trends we can already see. In particular, he became convinced that the point of music isn't to communicate anything between two people, rather its point is merely to be experienced. I'm far from an expert on Buddhism, but one way of thinking about its central lessons is that one should experience things as they are, experiencing the thing itself rather than one's thoughts or preconceptions about it. And so at Black Mountain college came Theatre Piece Number 1: [Excerpt: Edith Piaf, "La Vie En Rose" ] In this piece, Cage had set the audience on all sides, so they'd be facing each other. He stood on a stepladder, as colleagues danced in and around the audience, another colleague played the piano, two more took turns to stand on another stepladder to recite poetry, different films and slides were projected, seemingly at random, onto the walls, and the painter Robert Rauschenberg played scratchy Edith Piaf records on a wind-up gramophone. The audience were included in the performance, and it was meant to be experienced as a gestalt, as a whole, to be what we would now call an immersive experience. One of Cage's students around this time was the artist Allan Kaprow, and he would be inspired by Theatre Piece Number 1 to put on several similar events in the late fifties. Those events he called "happenings", because the point of them was that you were meant to experience an event as it was happening rather than bring preconceptions of form and structure to them. Those happenings were the inspiration for events like The 14 Hour Technicolor Dream, and the term "happening" became such an integral part of the counterculture that by 1967 there were comedy films being released about them, including one just called The Happening with a title track by the Supremes that made number one: [Excerpt: The Supremes, "The Happening"] Theatre Piece Number 1 was retrospectively considered the first happening, and as such its influence is incalculable. But one part I didn't mention about Theatre Piece Number 1 is that as well as Rauschenberg playing Edith Piaf's records, he also displayed some of his paintings. These paintings were totally white -- at a glance, they looked like blank canvases, but as one inspected them more clearly, it became apparent that Rauschenberg had painted them with white paint, with visible brushstrokes. These paintings, along with a visit to an anechoic chamber in which Cage discovered that even in total silence one can still hear one's own blood and nervous system, so will never experience total silence, were the final key to something Cage had been working towards -- if music had minimised percussion, and excluded noise, how much more had it excluded silence? As Cage said in 1958 “Curiously enough, the twelve-tone system has no zero in it.” And so came 4'33, the piece that we heard an excerpt of near the start of this episode. That piece was the something new he'd been looking for that could be useful to society. It took the sounds the audience could already hear, and without changing them even slightly gave them a new context and made the audience hear them as they were. Simply by saying "this is music", it caused the ambient noise to be perceived as music. This idea, of recontextualising existing material, was one that had already been done in the art world -- Marcel Duchamp, in 1917, had exhibited a urinal as a sculpture titled "Fountain" -- but even Duchamp had talked about his work as "everyday objects raised to the dignity of a work of art by the artist's act of choice". The artist was *raising* the object to art. What Cage was saying was "the object is already art". This was all massively influential to a young painter who had seen Cage give lectures many times, and while at art school had with friends prepared a piano in the same way Cage did for his own experimental compositions, dampening the strings with different objects. [Excerpt: Dana Gillespie, "Andy Warhol (live)"] Duchamp and Rauschenberg were both big influences on Andy Warhol, but he would say in the early sixties "John Cage is really so responsible for so much that's going on," and would for the rest of his life cite Cage as one of the two or three prime influences of his career. Warhol is a difficult figure to discuss, because his work is very intellectual but he was not very articulate -- which is one reason I've led up to him by discussing Cage in such detail, because Cage was always eager to talk at great length about the theoretical basis of his work, while Warhol would say very few words about anything at all. Probably the person who knew him best was his business partner and collaborator Paul Morrissey, and Morrissey's descriptions of Warhol have shaped my own view of his life, but it's very worth noting that Morrissey is an extremely right-wing moralist who wishes to see a Catholic theocracy imposed to do away with the scourges of sexual immorality, drug use, hedonism, and liberalism, so his view of Warhol, a queer drug using progressive whose worldview seems to have been totally opposed to Morrissey's in every way, might be a little distorted. Warhol came from an impoverished background, and so, as many people who grew up poor do, he was, throughout his life, very eager to make money. He studied art at university, and got decent but not exceptional grades -- he was a competent draughtsman, but not a great one, and most importantly as far as success in the art world goes he didn't have what is known as his own "line" -- with most successful artists, you can look at a handful of lines they've drawn and see something of their own personality in it. You couldn't with Warhol. His drawings looked like mediocre imitations of other people's work. Perfectly competent, but nothing that stood out. So Warhol came up with a technique to make his drawings stand out -- blotting. He would do a normal drawing, then go over it with a lot of wet ink. He'd lower a piece of paper on to the wet drawing, and the new paper would soak up the ink, and that second piece of paper would become the finished work. The lines would be fractured and smeared, broken in places where the ink didn't get picked up, and thick in others where it had pooled. With this mechanical process, Warhol had managed to create an individual style, and he became an extremely successful commercial artist. In the early 1950s photography was still seen as a somewhat low-class way of advertising things. If you wanted to sell to a rich audience, you needed to use drawings or paintings. By 1955 Warhol was making about twelve thousand dollars a year -- somewhere close to a hundred and thirty thousand a year in today's money -- drawing shoes for advertisements. He also had a sideline in doing record covers for people like Count Basie: [Excerpt: Count Basie, "Seventh Avenue Express"] For most of the 1950s he also tried to put on shows of his more serious artistic work -- often with homoerotic themes -- but to little success. The dominant art style of the time was the abstract expressionism of people like Jackson Pollock, whose art was visceral, emotional, and macho. The term "action paintings" which was coined for the work of people like Pollock, sums it up. This was manly art for manly men having manly emotions and expressing them loudly. It was very male and very straight, and even the gay artists who were prominent at the time tended to be very conformist and look down on anything they considered flamboyant or effeminate. Warhol was a rather effeminate, very reserved man, who strongly disliked showing his emotions, and whose tastes ran firmly to the camp. Camp as an aesthetic of finding joy in the flamboyant or trashy, as opposed to merely a descriptive term for men who behaved in a way considered effeminate, was only just starting to be codified at this time -- it wouldn't really become a fully-formed recognisable thing until Susan Sontag's essay "Notes on Camp" in 1964 -- but of course just because something hasn't been recognised doesn't mean it doesn't exist, and Warhol's aesthetic was always very camp, and in the 1950s in the US that was frowned upon even in gay culture, where the mainstream opinion was that the best way to acceptance was through assimilation. Abstract expressionism was all about expressing the self, and that was something Warhol never wanted to do -- in fact he made some pronouncements at times which suggested he didn't think of himself as *having* a self in the conventional sense. The combination of not wanting to express himself and of wanting to work more efficiently as a commercial artist led to some interesting results. For example, he was commissioned in 1957 to do a cover for an album by Moondog, the blind street musician whose name Alan Freed had once stolen: [Excerpt: Moondog, "Gloving It"] For that cover, Warhol got his mother, Julia Warhola, to just write out the liner notes for the album in her rather ornamental cursive script, and that became the front cover, leading to an award for graphic design going that year to "Andy Warhol's mother". (Incidentally, my copy of the current CD issue of that album, complete with Julia Warhola's cover, is put out by Pickwick Records...) But towards the end of the fifties, the work for commercial artists started to dry up. If you wanted to advertise shoes, now, you just took a photo of the shoes rather than get Andy Warhol to draw a picture of them. The money started to disappear, and Warhol started to panic. If there was no room for him in graphic design any more, he had to make his living in the fine arts, which he'd been totally unsuccessful in. But luckily for Warhol, there was a new movement that was starting to form -- Pop Art. Pop Art started in England, and had originally been intended, at least in part, as a critique of American consumerist capitalism. Pieces like "Just what is it that makes today's homes so different, so appealing?" by Richard Hamilton (who went on to design the Beatles' White Album cover) are collages of found images, almost all from American sources, recontextualised and juxtaposed in interesting ways, so a bodybuilder poses in a room that's taken from an advert in Ladies' Home Journal, while on the wall, instead of a painting, hangs a blown-up cover of a Jack Kirby romance comic. Pop Art changed slightly when it got taken up in America, and there it became something rather different, something closer to Duchamp, taking those found images and displaying them as art with no juxtaposition. Where Richard Hamilton created collage art which *showed* a comic cover by Jack Kirby as a painting in the background, Roy Lichtenstein would take a panel of comic art by Kirby, or Russ Heath or Irv Novick or a dozen other comic artists, and redraw it at the size of a normal painting. So Warhol took Cage's idea that the object is already art, and brought that into painting, starting by doing paintings of Campbell's soup cans, in which he tried as far as possible to make the cans look exactly like actual soup cans. The paintings were controversial, inciting fury in some and laughter in others and causing almost everyone to question whether they were art. Warhol would embrace an aesthetic in which things considered unimportant or trash or pop culture detritus were the greatest art of all. For example pretty much every profile of him written in the mid sixties talks about him obsessively playing "Sally Go Round the Roses", a girl-group single by the one-hit wonders the Jaynettes: [Excerpt: The Jaynettes, "Sally Go Round the Roses"] After his paintings of Campbell's soup cans, and some rather controversial but less commercially successful paintings of photographs of horrors and catastrophes taken from newspapers, Warhol abandoned painting in the conventional sense altogether, instead creating brightly coloured screen prints -- a form of stencilling -- based on photographs of celebrities like Elvis Presley, Elizabeth Taylor and, most famously, Marilyn Monroe. That way he could produce images which could be mass-produced, without his active involvement, and which supposedly had none of his personality in them, though of course his personality pervades the work anyway. He put on exhibitions of wooden boxes, silk-screen printed to look exactly like shipping cartons of Brillo pads. Images we see everywhere -- in newspapers, in supermarkets -- were art. And Warhol even briefly formed a band. The Druds were a garage band formed to play at a show at the Washington Gallery of Modern Art, the opening night of an exhibition that featured a silkscreen by Warhol of 210 identical bottles of Coca-Cola, as well as paintings by Rauschenberg and others. That opening night featured a happening by Claes Oldenburg, and a performance by Cage -- Cage gave a live lecture while three recordings of his own voice also played. The Druds were also meant to perform, but they fell apart after only a few rehearsals. Some recordings apparently exist, but they don't seem to circulate, but they'd be fascinating to hear as almost the entire band were non-musician artists like Warhol, Jasper Johns, and the sculptor Walter de Maria. Warhol said of the group “It didn't go too well, but if we had just stayed on it it would have been great.” On the other hand, the one actual musician in the group said “It was kind of ridiculous, so I quit after the second rehearsal". That musician was La Monte Young: [Excerpt: La Monte Young, "The Well-Tuned Piano"] That's an excerpt from what is generally considered Young's masterwork, "The Well-Tuned Piano". It's six and a half hours long. If Warhol is a difficult figure to write about, Young is almost impossible. He's a musician with a career stretching sixty years, who is arguably the most influential musician from the classical tradition in that time period. He's generally considered the father of minimalism, and he's also been called by Brian Eno "the daddy of us all" -- without Young you simply *do not* get art rock at all. Without Young there is no Velvet Underground, no David Bowie, no Eno, no New York punk scene, no Yoko Ono. Anywhere that the fine arts or conceptual art have intersected with popular music in the last fifty or more years has been influenced in one way or another by Young's work. BUT... he only rarely publishes his scores. He very, very rarely allows recordings of his work to be released -- there are four recordings on his bandcamp, plus a handful of recordings of his older, published, pieces, and very little else. He doesn't allow his music to be performed live without his supervision. There *are* bootleg recordings of his music, but even those are not easily obtainable -- Young is vigorous in enforcing his copyrights and issues takedown notices against anywhere that hosts them. So other than that handful of legitimately available recordings -- plus a recording by Young's Theater of Eternal Music, the legality of which is still disputed, and an off-air recording of a 1971 radio programme I've managed to track down, the only way to experience Young's music unless you're willing to travel to one of his rare live performances or installations is second-hand, by reading about it. Except that the one book that deals solely with Young and his music is not only a dense and difficult book to read, it's also one that Young vehemently disagreed with and considered extremely inaccurate, to the point he refused to allow permissions to quote his work in the book. Young did apparently prepare a list of corrections for the book, but he wouldn't tell the author what they were without payment. So please assume that anything I say about Young is wrong, but also accept that the short section of this episode about Young has required more work to *try* to get it right than pretty much anything else this year. Young's musical career actually started out in a relatively straightforward manner. He didn't grow up in the most loving of homes -- he's talked about his father beating him as a child because he had been told that young La Monte was clever -- but his father did buy him a saxophone and teach him the rudiments of the instrument, and as a child he was most influenced by the music of the big band saxophone player Jimmy Dorsey: [Excerpt: Jimmy Dorsey, “It's the Dreamer in Me”] The family, who were Mormon farmers, relocated several times in Young's childhood, from Idaho first to California and then to Utah, but everywhere they went La Monte seemed to find musical inspiration, whether from an uncle who had been part of the Kansas City jazz scene, a classmate who was a musical prodigy who had played with Perez Prado in his early teens, or a teacher who took the class to see a performance of Bartok's Concerto for Orchestra: [Excerpt: Bartok, "Concerto for Orchestra"] After leaving high school, Young went to Los Angeles City College to study music under Leonard Stein, who had been Schoenberg's assistant when Schoenberg had taught at UCLA, and there he became part of the thriving jazz scene based around Central Avenue, studying and performing with musicians like Ornette Coleman, Don Cherry, and Eric Dolphy -- Young once beat Dolphy in an audition for a place in the City College dance band, and the two would apparently substitute for each other on their regular gigs when one couldn't make it. During this time, Young's musical tastes became much more adventurous. He was a particular fan of the work of John Coltrane, and also got inspired by City of Glass, an album by Stan Kenton that attempted to combine jazz and modern classical music: [Excerpt: Stan Kenton's Innovations Orchestra, "City of Glass: The Structures"] His other major musical discovery in the mid-fifties was one we've talked about on several previous occasions -- the album Music of India, Morning and Evening Ragas by Ali Akhbar Khan: [Excerpt: Ali Akhbar Khan, "Rag Sindhi Bhairavi"] Young's music at this point was becoming increasingly modal, and equally influenced by the blues and Indian music. But he was also becoming interested in serialism. Serialism is an extension and generalisation of twelve-tone music, inspired by mathematical set theory. In serialism, you choose a set of musical elements -- in twelve-tone music that's the twelve notes in the twelve-tone scale, but it can also be a set of tonal relations, a chord, or any other set of elements. You then define all the possible ways you can permute those elements, a defined set of operations you can perform on them -- so you could play a scale forwards, play it backwards, play all the notes in the scale simultaneously, and so on. You then go through all the possible permutations, exactly once, and that's your piece of music. Young was particularly influenced by the works of Anton Webern, one of the earliest serialists: [Excerpt: Anton Webern, "Cantata number 1 for Soprano, Mixed Chorus, and Orchestra"] That piece we just heard, Webern's "Cantata number 1", was the subject of some of the earliest theoretical discussion of serialism, and in particular led to some discussion of the next step on from serialism. If serialism was all about going through every single permutation of a set, what if you *didn't* permute every element? There was a lot of discussion in the late fifties in music-theoretical circles about the idea of invariance. Normally in music, the interesting thing is what gets changed. To use a very simple example, you might change a melody from a major key to a minor one to make it sound sadder. What theorists at this point were starting to discuss is what happens if you leave something the same, but change the surrounding context, so the thing you *don't* vary sounds different because of the changed context. And going further, what if you don't change the context at all, and merely *imply* a changed context? These ideas were some of those which inspired Young's first major work, his Trio For Strings from 1958, a complex, palindromic, serial piece which is now credited as the first work of minimalism, because the notes in it change so infrequently: [Excerpt: La Monte Young, "Trio for Strings"] Though I should point out that Young never considers his works truly finished, and constantly rewrites them, and what we just heard is an excerpt from the only recording of the trio ever officially released, which is of the 2015 version. So I can't state for certain how close what we just heard is to the piece he wrote in 1958, except that it sounds very like the written descriptions of it I've read. After writing the Trio For Strings, Young moved to Germany to study with the modernist composer Karlheinz Stockhausen. While studying with Stockhausen, he became interested in the work of John Cage, and started up a correspondence with Cage. On his return to New York he studied with Cage and started writing pieces inspired by Cage, of which the most musical is probably Composition 1960 #7: [Excerpt: La Monte Young, "Composition 1960 #7"] The score for that piece is a stave on which is drawn a treble clef, the notes B and F#, and the words "To be held for a long Time". Other of his compositions from 1960 -- which are among the few of his compositions which have been published -- include composition 1960 #10 ("To Bob Morris"), the score for which is just the instruction "Draw a straight line and follow it.", and Piano Piece for David Tudor #1, the score for which reads "Bring a bale of hay and a bucket of water onto the stage for the piano to eat and drink. The performer may then feed the piano or leave it to eat by itself. If the former, the piece is over after the piano has been fed. If the latter, it is over after the piano eats or decides not to". Most of these compositions were performed as part of a loose New York art collective called Fluxus, all of whom were influenced by Cage and the Dadaists. This collective, led by George Maciunas, sometimes involved Cage himself, but also involved people like Henry Flynt, the inventor of conceptual art, who later became a campaigner against art itself, and who also much to Young's bemusement abandoned abstract music in the mid-sixties to form a garage band with Walter de Maria (who had played drums with the Druds): [Excerpt: Henry Flynt and the Insurrections, "I Don't Wanna"] Much of Young's work was performed at Fluxus concerts given in a New York loft belonging to another member of the collective, Yoko Ono, who co-curated the concerts with Young. One of Ono's mid-sixties pieces, her "Four Pieces for Orchestra" is dedicated to Young, and consists of such instructions as "Count all the stars of that night by heart. The piece ends when all the orchestra members finish counting the stars, or when it dawns. This can be done with windows instead of stars." But while these conceptual ideas remained a huge part of Young's thinking, he soon became interested in two other ideas. The first was the idea of just intonation -- tuning instruments and voices to perfect harmonics, rather than using the subtly-off tuning that is used in Western music. I'm sure I've explained that before in a previous episode, but to put it simply when you're tuning an instrument with fixed pitches like a piano, you have a choice -- you can either tune it so that the notes in one key are perfectly in tune with each other, but then when you change key things go very out of tune, or you can choose to make *everything* a tiny bit, almost unnoticeably, out of tune, but equally so. For the last several hundred years, musicians as a community have chosen the latter course, which was among other things promoted by Bach's Well-Tempered Clavier, a collection of compositions which shows how the different keys work together: [Excerpt: Bach (Glenn Gould), "The Well-Tempered Clavier, Book II: Fugue in F-sharp minor, BWV 883"] Young, by contrast, has his own esoteric tuning system, which he uses in his own work The Well-Tuned Piano: [Excerpt: La Monte Young, "The Well-Tuned Piano"] The other idea that Young took on was from Indian music, the idea of the drone. One of the four recordings of Young's music that is available from his Bandcamp, a 1982 recording titled The Tamburas of Pandit Pran Nath, consists of one hour, thirteen minutes, and fifty-eight seconds of this: [Excerpt: La Monte Young, "The Tamburas of Pandit Pran Nath"] Yes, I have listened to the whole piece. No, nothing else happens. The minimalist composer Terry Riley describes the recording as "a singularly rare contribution that far outshines any other attempts to capture this instrument in recorded media". In 1962, Young started writing pieces based on what he called the "dream chord", a chord consisting of a root, fourth, sharpened fourth, and fifth: [dream chord] That chord had already appeared in his Trio for Strings, but now it would become the focus of much of his work, in pieces like his 1962 piece The Second Dream of the High-Tension Line Stepdown Transformer, heard here in a 1982 revision: [Excerpt: La Monte Young, "The Second Dream of the High-Tension Line Stepdown Transformer"] That was part of a series of works titled The Four Dreams of China, and Young began to plan an installation work titled Dream House, which would eventually be created, and which currently exists in Tribeca, New York, where it's been in continuous "performance" for thirty years -- and which consists of thirty-two different pure sine wave tones all played continuously, plus purple lighting by Young's wife Marian Zazeela. But as an initial step towards creating this, Young formed a collective called Theatre of Eternal Music, which some of the members -- though never Young himself -- always claim also went by the alternative name The Dream Syndicate. According to John Cale, a member of the group, that name came about because the group tuned their instruments to the 60hz hum of the fridge in Young's apartment, which Cale called "the key of Western civilisation". According to Cale, that meant the fundamental of the chords they played was 10hz, the frequency of alpha waves when dreaming -- hence the name. The group initially consisted of Young, Zazeela, the photographer Billy Name, and percussionist Angus MacLise, but by this recording in 1964 the lineup was Young, Zazeela, MacLise, Tony Conrad and John Cale: [Excerpt: "Cale, Conrad, Maclise, Young, Zazeela - The Dream Syndicate 2 IV 64-4"] That recording, like any others that have leaked by the 1960s version of the Theatre of Eternal Music or Dream Syndicate, is of disputed legality, because Young and Zazeela claim to this day that what the group performed were La Monte Young's compositions, while the other two surviving members, Cale and Conrad, claim that their performances were improvisational collaborations and should be equally credited to all the members, and so there have been lawsuits and countersuits any time anyone has released the recordings. John Cale, the youngest member of the group, was also the only one who wasn't American. He'd been born in Wales in 1942, and had had the kind of childhood that, in retrospect, seems guaranteed to lead to eccentricity. He was the product of a mixed-language marriage -- his father, William, was an English speaker while his mother, Margaret, spoke Welsh, but the couple had moved in on their marriage with Margaret's mother, who insisted that only Welsh could be spoken in her house. William didn't speak Welsh, and while he eventually picked up the basics from spending all his life surrounded by Welsh-speakers, he refused on principle to capitulate to his mother-in-law, and so remained silent in the house. John, meanwhile, grew up a monolingual Welsh speaker, and didn't start to learn English until he went to school when he was seven, and so couldn't speak to his father until then even though they lived together. Young John was extremely unwell for most of his childhood, both physically -- he had bronchial problems for which he had to take a cough mixture that was largely opium to help him sleep at night -- and mentally. He was hospitalised when he was sixteen with what was at first thought to be meningitis, but turned out to be a psychosomatic condition, the result of what he has described as a nervous breakdown. That breakdown is probably connected to the fact that during his teenage years he was sexually assaulted by two adults in positions of authority -- a vicar and a music teacher -- and felt unable to talk to anyone about this. He was, though, a child prodigy and was playing viola with the National Youth Orchestra of Wales from the age of thirteen, and listening to music by Schoenberg, Webern, and Stravinsky. He was so talented a multi-instrumentalist that at school he was the only person other than one of the music teachers and the headmaster who was allowed to use the piano -- which led to a prank on his very last day at school. The headmaster would, on the last day, hit a low G on the piano to cue the assembly to stand up, and Cale had placed a comb on the string, muting it and stopping the note from sounding -- in much the same way that his near-namesake John Cage was "preparing" pianos for his own compositions in the USA. Cale went on to Goldsmith's College to study music and composition, under Humphrey Searle, one of Britain's greatest proponents of serialism who had himself studied under Webern. Cale's main instrument was the viola, but he insisted on also playing pieces written for the violin, because they required more technical skill. For his final exam he chose to play Hindemith's notoriously difficult Viola Sonata: [Excerpt: Hindemith Viola Sonata] While at Goldsmith's, Cale became friendly with Cornelius Cardew, a composer and cellist who had studied with Stockhausen and at the time was a great admirer of and advocate for the works of Cage and Young (though by the mid-seventies Cardew rejected their work as counter-revolutionary bourgeois imperialism). Through Cardew, Cale started to correspond with Cage, and with George Maciunas and other members of Fluxus. In July 1963, just after he'd finished his studies at Goldsmith's, Cale presented a festival there consisting of an afternoon and an evening show. These shows included the first British performances of several works including Cardew's Autumn '60 for Orchestra -- a piece in which the musicians were given blank staves on which to write whatever part they wanted to play, but a separate set of instructions in *how* to play the parts they'd written. Another piece Cale presented in its British premiere at that show was Cage's "Concerto for Piano and Orchestra": [Excerpt: John Cage, "Concerto for Piano and Orchestra"] In the evening show, they performed Two Pieces For String Quartet by George Brecht (in which the musicians polish their instruments with dusters, making scraping sounds as they clean them), and two new pieces by Cale, one of which involved a plant being put on the stage, and then the performer, Robin Page, screaming from the balcony at the plant that it would die, then running down, through the audience, and onto the stage, screaming abuse and threats at the plant. The final piece in the show was a performance by Cale (the first one in Britain) of La Monte Young's "X For Henry Flynt". For this piece, Cale put his hands together and then smashed both his arms onto the keyboard as hard as he could, over and over. After five minutes some of the audience stormed the stage and tried to drag the piano away from him. Cale followed the piano on his knees, continuing to bang the keys, and eventually the audience gave up in defeat and Cale the performer won. After this Cale moved to the USA, to further study composition, this time with Iannis Xenakis, the modernist composer who had also taught Mickey Baker orchestration after Baker left Mickey and Sylvia, and who composed such works as "Orient Occident": [Excerpt: Iannis Xenakis, "Orient Occident"] Cale had been recommended to Xenakis as a student by Aaron Copland, who thought the young man was probably a genius. But Cale's musical ambitions were rather too great for Tanglewood, Massachusetts -- he discovered that the institute had eighty-eight pianos, the same number as there are keys on a piano keyboard, and thought it would be great if for a piece he could take all eighty-eight pianos, put them all on different boats, sail the boats out onto a lake, and have eighty-eight different musicians each play one note on each piano, while the boats sank with the pianos on board. For some reason, Cale wasn't allowed to perform this composition, and instead had to make do with one where he pulled an axe out of a single piano and slammed it down on a table. Hardly the same, I'm sure you'll agree. From Tanglewood, Cale moved on to New York, where he soon became part of the artistic circles surrounding John Cage and La Monte Young. It was at this time that he joined Young's Theatre of Eternal Music, and also took part in a performance with Cage that would get Cale his first television exposure: [Excerpt: John Cale playing Erik Satie's "Vexations" on "I've Got a Secret"] That's Cale playing through "Vexations", a piece by Erik Satie that wasn't published until after Satie's death, and that remained in obscurity until Cage popularised -- if that's the word -- the piece. The piece, which Cage had found while studying Satie's notes, seems to be written as an exercise and has the inscription (in French) "In order to play the motif 840 times in succession, it would be advisable to prepare oneself beforehand, and in the deepest silence, by serious immobilities." Cage interpreted that, possibly correctly, as an instruction that the piece should be played eight hundred and forty times straight through, and so he put together a performance of the piece, the first one ever, by a group he called the Pocket Theatre Piano Relay Team, which included Cage himself, Cale, Joshua Rifkin, and several other notable musical figures, who took it in turns playing the piece. For that performance, which ended up lasting eighteen hours, there was an entry fee of five dollars, and there was a time-clock in the lobby. Audience members punched in and punched out, and got a refund of five cents for every twenty minutes they'd spent listening to the music. Supposedly, at the end, one audience member yelled "Encore!" A week later, Cale appeared on "I've Got a Secret", a popular game-show in which celebrities tried to guess people's secrets (and which is where that performance of Cage's "Water Walk" we heard earlier comes from): [Excerpt: John Cale on I've Got a Secret] For a while, Cale lived with a friend of La Monte Young's, Terry Jennings, before moving in to a flat with Tony Conrad, one of the other members of the Theatre of Eternal Music. Angus MacLise lived in another flat in the same building. As there was not much money to be made in avant-garde music, Cale also worked in a bookshop -- a job Cage had found him -- and had a sideline in dealing drugs. But rents were so cheap at this time that Cale and Conrad only had to work part-time, and could spend much of their time working on the music they were making with Young. Both were string players -- Conrad violin, Cale viola -- and they soon modified their instruments. Conrad merely attached pickups to his so it could be amplified, but Cale went much further. He filed down the viola's bridge so he could play three strings at once, and he replaced the normal viola strings with thicker, heavier, guitar and mandolin strings. This created a sound so loud that it sounded like a distorted electric guitar -- though in late 1963 and early 1964 there were very few people who even knew what a distorted guitar sounded like. Cale and Conrad were also starting to become interested in rock and roll music, to which neither of them had previously paid much attention, because John Cage's music had taught them to listen for music in sounds they previously dismissed. In particular, Cale became fascinated with the harmonies of the Everly Brothers, hearing in them the same just intonation that Young advocated for: [Excerpt: The Everly Brothers, "All I Have to Do is Dream"] And it was with this newfound interest in rock and roll that Cale and Conrad suddenly found themselves members of a manufactured pop band. The two men had been invited to a party on the Lower East Side, and there they'd been introduced to Terry Phillips of Pickwick Records. Phillips had seen their long hair and asked if they were musicians, so they'd answered "yes". He asked if they were in a band, and they said yes. He asked if that band had a drummer, and again they said yes. By this point they realised that he had assumed they were rock guitarists, rather than experimental avant-garde string players, but they decided to play along and see where this was going. Phillips told them that if they brought along their drummer to Pickwick's studios the next day, he had a job for them. The two of them went along with Walter de Maria, who did play the drums a little in between his conceptual art work, and there they were played a record: [Excerpt: The Primitives, "The Ostrich"] It was explained to them that Pickwick made knock-off records -- soundalikes of big hits, and their own records in the style of those hits, all played by a bunch of session musicians and put out under different band names. This one, by "the Primitives", they thought had a shot at being an actual hit, even though it was a dance-craze song about a dance where one partner lays on the floor and the other stamps on their head. But if it was going to be a hit, they needed an actual band to go out and perform it, backing the singer. How would Cale, Conrad, and de Maria like to be three quarters of the Primitives? It sounded fun, but of course they weren't actually guitarists. But as it turned out, that wasn't going to be a problem. They were told that the guitars on the track had all been tuned to one note -- not even to an open chord, like we talked about Steve Cropper doing last episode, but all the strings to one note. Cale and Conrad were astonished -- that was exactly the kind of thing they'd been doing in their drone experiments with La Monte Young. Who was this person who was independently inventing the most advanced ideas in experimental music but applying them to pop songs? And that was how they met Lou Reed: [Excerpt: The Primitives, "The Ostrich"] Where Cale and Conrad were avant-gardeists who had only just started paying attention to rock and roll music, rock and roll was in Lou Reed's blood, but there were a few striking similarities between him and Cale, even though at a glance their backgrounds could not have seemed more different. Reed had been brought up in a comfortably middle-class home in Long Island, but despised the suburban conformity that surrounded him from a very early age, and by his teens was starting to rebel against it very strongly. According to one classmate “Lou was always more advanced than the rest of us. The drinking age was eighteen back then, so we all started drinking at around sixteen. We were drinking quarts of beer, but Lou was smoking joints. He didn't do that in front of many people, but I knew he was doing it. While we were looking at girls in Playboy, Lou was reading Story of O. He was reading the Marquis de Sade, stuff that I wouldn't even have thought about or known how to find.” But one way in which Reed was a typical teenager of the period was his love for rock and roll, especially doo-wop. He'd got himself a guitar, but only had one lesson -- according to the story he would tell on numerous occasions, he turned up with a copy of "Blue Suede Shoes" and told the teacher he only wanted to know how to play the chords for that, and he'd work out the rest himself. Reed and two schoolfriends, Alan Walters and Phil Harris, put together a doo-wop trio they called The Shades, because they wore sunglasses, and a neighbour introduced them to Bob Shad, who had been an A&R man for Mercury Records and was starting his own new label. He renamed them the Jades and took them into the studio with some of the best New York session players, and at fourteen years old Lou Reed was writing songs and singing them backed by Mickey Baker and King Curtis: [Excerpt: The Jades, "Leave Her For Me"] Sadly the Jades' single was a flop -- the closest it came to success was being played on Murray the K's radio show, but on a day when Murray the K was off ill and someone else was filling in for him, much to Reed's disappointment. Phil Harris, the lead singer of the group, got to record some solo sessions after that, but the Jades split up and it would be several years before Reed made any more records. Partly this was because of Reed's mental health, and here's where things get disputed and rather messy. What we know is that in his late teens, just after he'd gone off to New
Prince Philip was born, er, a prince — and then, of course, went on to marry a queen — but he had a challenging childhood. A central figure in his adolescence was his mother's brother, an aristocrat named George Mountbatten, who provided Philip with a stable family life (for a time). But George sadly died young, when Philip was only 17, and as a result the uncle's story is a mere footnote in royal biographies. But even those tiny mentions usually include a unique detail about Unky G. He was a collector. He collected model trains. And — oh yeah! — he spent millions in today's money amassing one of the world's largest collections of erotic imagery. And this is where we pick up today, retracing Philip's footsteps to his uncle's family home, and establishing why one of the 20th century's biggest British political scandals forced the Mountbattens to divest themselves of the 'curious collection.'
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