Podcast appearances and mentions of Terry Riley

Featuring a brand new jam from a new duo of superstars, Rachel Eckroth and John Hadfield; another single from Seattle baddass Brittany Davis; a stunning tribute to the late legend that is Ron Miles from bassist Greg Garrison; fresh beats from harpist-of-the-decade Brandee Younger; a brand new joint from NYC downtown fixtures Fred Hersch, Drew Gress, and Joey Baron; a reissue of an avantgarde classic pairing John Cale and Terry Riley; and the one and only Keith Jarrett.

durée : 00:15:08 - Requiem for Adam : Terry Riley - Kronos Quartet - Plus de vingt ans après leur première rencontre, lors d'une résidence au Mills College d'Oakland en 1978, le Kronos Quartet et Terry Riley continuent de partager ce qui est devenu une longue et fructueuse collaboration.

durée : 00:15:08 - Requiem for Adam : Terry Riley - Kronos Quartet - Plus de vingt ans après leur première rencontre, lors d'une résidence au Mills College d'Oakland en 1978, le Kronos Quartet et Terry Riley continuent de partager ce qui est devenu une longue et fructueuse collaboration.

durée : 00:15:08 - Requiem for Adam : Terry Riley - Kronos Quartet - Plus de vingt ans après leur première rencontre, lors d'une résidence au Mills College d'Oakland en 1978, le Kronos Quartet et Terry Riley continuent de partager ce qui est devenu une longue et fructueuse collaboration.

A classically trained guitarist who studied composition at The New School for Jazz and Contemporary Music, Manhattan native Ben Greenberg is a prolific record producer, engineer, songwriter, and performer who coheres conservatory training with a deep history across many different genres of underground music.Known as a founding member of respected industrial/metal group Uniform and a former member of The Men, Zs, and many more, Greenberg has been described by Ben Ratliff of the New York Times as “a good musician [...] and boss of his own one-man guitar project, Hubble.” Ben's rich and varied performance history ranges from over two decades touring with bands to performing for legendary composers like Glenn Branca and Terry Riley.In the year 2000 Greenberg began assisting Grammy-award winning engineer Mike Marciano at Systems Two Recording in Ditmas Park, Brooklyn. It was here that he learned the fundamentals of recording on 2” tape alongside early Pro Tools systems. He would go on to build his own recording studio in Brooklyn (Python Patrol) and work out of world-class studios all around the globe (Electrical Audio, The Magic Shop, Strange Weather, The Pool, Sonic Ranch). Greenberg's studio credits include Danny Elfman, Depeche Mode, Drab Majesty, Wicca Phase Springs Eternal, Junglepussy, Show Me The Body, Drew McDowall, Black Marble, and Christeene, among many others. His process attends to the essence of the artist's vision and exacts a cultivated philosophy of sound upon them. The result is something between organic and synthetic: A magic that locks in the music's emotional resonance with the listener.Since the 2010s, Greenberg has produced and mixed award-winning scores for film and television. He is the principal engineer to the scores of composer Brian McComber (ex-Dirty Projectors), including the A24 productions It Comes At Night and Krisha, as well as Kingdom of Silence (Showtime), 16 Shots (Showtime), Little Woods (Neon), Mickey and The Bear (Utopia), and Fair Play (Netflix), among others. Greenberg was Randall Dunn's mix assistant for the Jóhann Jóhannsson score to Panos Cosmatos' 2018 film, Mandy (SpectreVision), and Dunn's co-engineer for the 2022 score to Julio Torres' Problemista (A24). Greenberg has also mixed Ella Van Der Woude's scores for Something You Said Last Night (Elevation Pictures) and Silver Haze (EMU Films), and in 2024 he won a Cinema Audio Society award for Outstanding Achievement in Sound Mixing - Documentary, for his stereo and surround mixes of JD Samson's score for Sam Green's 32 Sounds (DofMP).IN THIS EPISODE YOU'LL LEARN:Starting music production at a young ageFinding jobs in the music industryDealing with parents who might not understand your passionsWorking on metal, jazz, and everything in betweenSwitching your workflow for different genresUnderstanding what to listen for with compressionHow to approach a new mixWhy volume and panning are your most important toolsDetermining when plugins are worth purchasing Working with Danny ElfmanPurposely doing lessTo learn more about Ben Greenberg, visit: https://circularruin.com/Ben-GreenbergLooking for 1-on-1 feedback and training to help you create pro-quality mixes?Check out my coaching program Amplitude and apply to join:https://masteryourmix.com/amplitude/ Want additional help with your music productions?For tips on how to improve your mixes, visit: https://masteryourmix.com/ Download your FREE copy of the Ultimate Mixing Blueprint:

Episode 173 Chapter 32, Other Analog Synthesizers. Works Recommended from my book, Electronic and Experimental Music  Welcome to the Archive of Electronic Music. This is Thom Holmes. This podcast is produced as a companion to my book, Electronic and Experimental Music, published by Routledge. Each of these episodes corresponds to a chapter in the text and an associated list of recommended works, also called Listen in the text. They provide listening examples of vintage electronic works featured in the text. The works themselves can be enjoyed without the book and I hope that they stand as a chronological survey of important works in the history of electronic music. Be sure to tune-in to other episodes of the podcast where we explore a wide range of electronic music in many styles and genres, all drawn from my archive of vintage recordings. There is a complete playlist for this episode on the website for the podcast. Let's get started with the listening guide to Chapter 32, Other Analog Synthesizers from my book Electronic and Experimental music.   Playlist: OTHER EARLY SYNTHESIZER RECORDINGS (PRE-MIDI AND NOT MOOG)   Time Track Time Start Introduction –Thom Holmes 01:36 00:00 1.     Raymond Scott, “Space Mystery” (1963). Used Scott's Electronium, a custom-made analog synthesizer/sequencer. 05:08 01:42 2.     Pauline Oliveros, “Alien Bog” (1967). Used a prototype Buchla 100 modular synthesizer at Mills College. 33:13 06:53 3.     John Eaton, “Soliloquy For Syn-Ket” (1973) from Electro-Vibrations (The Music Of John Eaton). Used the Synket, an Italian-made modular synthesizer of which only six were ever made. 06:38 40:06 4.     John Keating, “Earthshine” (1975) from Space Experience 2. Featured the ARP 2600 and Pro- Soloist. 04:09 46:46 5.     Patrick Gleeson, “Saturn, The Bringer Of Old Age” (1976) from Beyond The Sun: An Electronic Portrait Of Holst's The Planets. Used Eµ Systems Polyphonic synthesizer. 09:31 51:02 6.     Jean Michel Jarre, “Oxygene, Part IV” (1976) from Oxygene. Used the ARP Odyssey, EMS Synthi AKS, EMS Synthi VCS3, and RMI Harmonic Synthesizer and Keyboard Computer. 03:07 01:00:34 7.     Bennie Maupin, “Crystals” (1978) from Moonscapes. Featured the E-mu Modular Synthesizer programmed by Patrick Gleeson, who owned Different Fur Studios in the San Francisco area and owned E-mu synthesizers (see previous track for an example of the E-mu Systems Polyphonic synthesizer). Here, we have a different treatment of the same instrument by jazz woodwind player Maupin, who played Soprano Saxophone, Tenor Saxophone, Bass Clarinet, Flute, Marimba, Glockenspiel, E-mu Synthesizer, and Computone Synthesizer Winddriver on this album. I picked this track because this is most stripped-down arrangement featuring only Maupin playing the E-mu synthesizer and other instruments. 01:18 01:03:44 8.     Pere Ubu, “On the Surface” (1978) from Dub Housing. Allen Ravenstein used the EML Electrocomp 101 modular synthesizer as a member of this band. 02:37 01:05:02 9.     Sylvester, “You Make Me Feel (Mighty Real)” (1978) from Step II. One of the few albums to feature EML (Electronic Music Laboratories) Modular Synthesizer plus String synthesizer, Electro-comp 101 synthesizer and 200 expander unit, Oberheim DS-2 Sequencer, Effects, Pat Cowley; organ, Electric piano, Clavinet, Michael C. Finden; Percussion, David Frazier; Producer, Lead Vocals, Piano, Sylvester. EML was a Connecticut-based synth maker that was around from about 1970 to 1984. They were best-known for their Electro-comp modular synths. The 101 was a duophonic semi-modular 44-note synth and the model 200 was an expander unit that added ring modulation, spring reverb, and high and low filters to the setup. It was interesting to hear this Moroder-like pulsating synth sound coming from something other than a Moog. 06:34 01:07:40 10.   Isao Tomita, “The Sea Named Solaris” (1978) from Kosmos. Used the Roland System 700, Roland Strings RS- 202, Roland Revo 30, in addition to Moog Modular III, Moog System 55, and Polymoog synthesizers. 12:28 01:14:11 11.   Moebius, “Song For Lya” (1979) from Moebius. Serge, Oberheim, and Minimoog synthesizers, vocals, Bryce Robbley; Serge, Oberheim synthesizers, Doug Lynner; Violin, John Stubbs. Listen closely to tune-out the parts by the Odyssey and Minimoog and you will experience a lovely bed laid down by the Serge. Moebius had three members, one a violinist, heard in this tune blending with the Serge. Although the group used a Sennheiser vocoder on another track, the vocal distortion on this track may have actually been the voice processed with the Serge. 03:15 01:26:42 12.   Pascal Languirand, “O Nos Omnes” (1980) from De Harmonia Universalia. Features the Farfisa Synthorchestra, the famous Italian's company entry into the string synthesizer fray. The Syntorchestra was split into two keyboard sections, strings (polyphonic), and mono synth voices. It was a hybrid organ and synthesizer and used much by Klaus Schulze and other German electronic musicians for the short time that it was available from 1975 to 1978. Nine slider controls were positioned next to a 3-octave keyboard and provided some “chaotic” control episodes for this much beloved and rare keyboard. 07:15 01:29:56 13.   Henry Kucharzyk, “Play Dot Sam” (1981) from Walk The Line - Three New Works By Henry Kucharzyk. This work is performed at the Samson Box at the Center for Computer Research in Music and Acoustics (CCRMA), Stanford University, Palo Alto, California. This track is an escapee from the 1970s but nonetheless fills a void in that period when commercial synthesizers were moving to digital technology and were quite expensive. The Samson Box was a computer-based digital synthesizer created in 1977 by Peter Samson, who worked at the university. “Samson” was formally known as the “Systems Concepts Digital Synthesizer. It was a one-off special-purpose dedicated audio computer designed for use by student composers at Center for Computer Research in Musical and Acoustics (CCRMA) at Stanford University. 03:05 01:37:08 14.   Terry Riley, “The Ethereal Time Shadow” (1981-82) from Music from Mills. Used two Prophet V synthesizers, tuned to just intonation and employing sequencing. 08:51 01:40:12   Additional opening, closing, and other incidental music by Thom Holmes. My Books/eBooks: Electronic and Experimental Music, sixth edition, Routledge 2020. Also, Sound Art: Concepts and Practices, first edition, Routledge 2022. See my companion blog that I write for the Bob Moog Foundation. For a transcript, please see my blog, Noise and Notations. Original music by Thom Holmes can be found on iTunes and Bandcamp.  

Elijah Nisenboim is founder of Effiji Breathwork. He has been helping people with suffering and trauma for 33 years. He is the author of three books including 2024's The Trauma Code: Unlocking the Hidden Map to Your Life's True Purpose. To accompany his breathwork, he has composed and recorded 25 volumes of music. On his many journeys to China, Elijah has learned Sacred Taoist energy practice and Internal Martial Arts which he incorporates in his healing methods for Trauma Release. Not only does he help people release trauma, but he helps them understand and use trauma as a valuable tool for fulfilling one's life purpose.Effiji Breath – Healing Breathwork

Esta semana, en la última sesión de Rebelión Sónica de la temporada 2024, los invitamos a escuchar música del box set recopilatorio “Roedelius 90”, que celebra las nueve décadas del legendario músico alemán y figura esencial de la electrónica contemporánea, Hans-Joachim Roedelius. Lanzado por el sello Groenland Records el 25 de octubre, la caja incluye música previamente desconocida del fundador de bandas de la trascendencia de Cluster y Harmonia. La disquera explica que la mayor parte de la música incluida en “90”, que suma tres horas de música en 50 tracks, proviene de grabaciones de dos pistas de Revox realizadas entre 1968 y 1980. Agrega que las cintas de Revox, fueron creadas con su delay Echolette y su órgano Farfisa, el mismo equipo utilizado por Roedelius para grabar sus queridos discos “Selbstportrait” -serie de álbumes del músico- y gran parte de sus seminales trabajos con Dieter Moebius y Michael Rother en Harmonia. De este modo, el box “documenta los procesos y sonidos que continúan inspirando a generaciones de amantes de la música y aventureros sonoros”. “90” no pretende ser una retrospectiva completa de la obra de un artista notable. Se desconoce la cronología exacta de estas piezas, así como quién pudo haber cooperado con Roedelius en ellas. Pero el trasfondo histórico de esta música es ciertamente convincente: no parece una hipérbole afirmar que estos ciclos hipnóticos en cascada rivalizan con los mejores contemporáneos como Terry Riley, que trabajó a medio mundo de distancia en sus propias y sencillas obras maestras. “Por el momento, una celebración será suficiente: un retrato de una vida extraordinaria a los 90 años, contada a través de una música hermosa, personal y original”, remata Gröenland. Al final del programa, destacamos a la banda de Roedelius con Dieter Moebius, Cluster, con música de su influyente álbum de 1976, “Sowiesoso”. Rebelión Sónica sale al aire por radio Rockaxis los jueves a las 10 y 22 horas, con la conducción de Héctor Aravena.

Episode 160 Chapter 21, The San Francisco Tape Music Center. Works Recommended from my book, Electronic and Experimental Music  Welcome to the Archive of Electronic Music. This is Thom Holmes. This podcast is produced as a companion to my book, Electronic and Experimental Music, published by Routledge. Each of these episodes corresponds to a chapter in the text and an associated list of recommended works, also called Listen in the text. They provide listening examples of vintage electronic works featured in the text. The works themselves can be enjoyed without the book and I hope that they stand as a chronological survey of important works in the history of electronic music. Be sure to tune-in to other episodes of the podcast where we explore a wide range of electronic music in many styles and genres, all drawn from my archive of vintage recordings. There is a complete playlist for this episode on the website for the podcast. Let's get started with the listening guide to Chapter 21, The San Francisco Tape Music Center from my book Electronic and Experimental music.   Playlist: THE SAN FRANCISCO TAPE MUSIC CENTER   Time Track Time Start Introduction –Thom Holmes 01:30 00:00 1.     Terry Riley, “Mescalin-Mix” (1960-62). Early tape collage and one of Riley's first works for tape. 14:23 01:38 2.     Terry Riley, “Concerto For Two Pianos and Five Tape Recorders” )1961).  Piano, LaMonte Young; piano and tape assemblage, Terry Riley. Recorded live. 1961 Riley-Terry_ConcertoForTwoPianos-b.wav 04:36 15:56 3.     Pauline Oliveros, “Apple Box Double” (performance 2008). This piece was composed for various configurations of apple crates that were touched and scraped with various objects while being amplified. The original dates from about 2006. This performance by Seth Cluett and Oliveros took place in 2008. 12:45 20:30 4.     Steve Reich, “Melodica” (1966). Tape piece and the last of Reich's works before moving onto instrumental composition in his minimalist style. 10:42 33:16 5.     Morton Subotnick, “Laminations” (1966). For orchestra and electronic sounds, on tape. By this point, Subotnick was working with an early model of a synthesizer built for the San Francisco Tape Music Center by Donald Buchla. This synthesizer material was also used for the opening of Silver Apples of the Moon the following year. 10:29 44:08 6.     Morton Subotnick, “Prelude No.4 for piano and electronic tape (1966). Another Subotnick work for instruments and tape with synthesized electronic sounds. 06:58 54:36 7.     Pauline Oliveros, “Alien Bog” (1967). Utilizing the original Buchla Box 100 series created for the Tape Music Center by Don Buchla and a tape delay system. 33:17 01:01:30 8.     Morton Subotnick, “Silver Apples of the Moon” (1967). Subotnick, recently departed from San Francisco and taking up shop at New York University, brought synthesizers constructed for him by Don Buchla when he was at the San Francisco Tape Music Center. This electronic composition represented a high point for the use of synthesizers at that time and was recorded on commission from Nonesuch Records. 32:01 01:35:00   Additional opening, closing, and other incidental music by Thom Holmes. My Books/eBooks: Electronic and Experimental Music, sixth edition, Routledge 2020. Also, Sound Art: Concepts and Practices, first edition, Routledge 2022. See my companion blog that I write for the Bob Moog Foundation. For a transcript, please see my blog, Noise and Notations. Original music by Thom Holmes can be found on iTunes and Bandcamp.

In a new podcast, Tell Me About Your Bike host Wesley Cheney explores the world of Minimalist Music through Terry Riley's 1964 masterpiece, "In C."Support the show

Join host Wesley Cheney for an exploration of Terry Riley's Minimalist musical masterpiece, "In C." Tell Me About "In C" debuts now on all major podcasting platforms.Support the show

Episode 146 Chapter 08, Tape Composition and Sound Editing. Works Recommended from my book, Electronic and Experimental Music  Welcome to the Archive of Electronic Music. This is Thom Holmes. This podcast is produced as a companion to my book, Electronic and Experimental Music, published by Routledge. Each of these episodes corresponds to a chapter in the text and an associated list of recommended works, also called Listen in the text. They provide listening examples of vintage electronic works featured in the text. The works themselves can be enjoyed without the book and I hope that they stand as a chronological survey of important works in the history of electronic music. Be sure to tune-in to other episodes of the podcast where we explore a wide range of electronic music in many styles and genres, all drawn from my archive of vintage recordings. There is a complete playlist for this episode on the website for the podcast. Let's get started with the listening guide to Chapter 08, Tape Composition and Sound Editing from my book Electronic and Experimental music.   Playlist: Classic Tape Composition Techniques   Time Track Time Start Introduction –Thom Holmes 01:30 00:00 1 Pierre Schaeffer, “Cinq études de bruits: Étude violette (1948). Early application of backwards sounds using a turntable 03:19 01:34 2 Pierre Henry, “Le Microphone bien tempéré” (1950– 52). Used reverberation. 24:48 04:50 3 Otto Luening, “Invention in Twelve Tones” (1952). Used tape echo. 03:47 29:37 4 Morton Feldman, “Intersection” (1953). Used leader tape as a composition tool to add patches of silence. 03:30 33:18 5 György Ligeti, “Glissandi” (1957). Extensive use of tape speed variation and backwards sounds. 07:45 33:44 6 Henri Pousseur, “Scambi” (1957– 58). Explored white noise, filtering, and reverberation. 06:34 44:20 7 Herbert Brün, “Anepigraphe” (1958). Tape music with voices edited into the mix, produced in the WDR studio in Cologne. 07:46 50:56 8 Terry Riley, “Music for the Gift” part 1 (1963). One of the first uses of tape delay with multiple tape recorders. 05:45 58:42 9 Pauline Oliveros, “Beautiful Soop” (1967). Used multiple tape echo signals. 27:46 01:04:24 10 Violet Archer, “Episodes” (1973). Using two Putney synthesizers, a bank of 10 oscillators, mixer, reverb, ring modulation, and filtering.  08:46 01:32:10   Additional opening, closing, and other incidental music by Thom Holmes. My Books/eBooks: Electronic and Experimental Music, sixth edition, Routledge 2020. Also, Sound Art: Concepts and Practices, first edition, Routledge 2022. See my companion blog that I write for the Bob Moog Foundation. For a transcript, please see my blog, Noise and Notations. Original music by Thom Holmes can be found on iTunes and Bandcamp.

Uno de los grandes pioneros del minimalismo, escucha a Bach y se forma en el jazz antes del descubrir el gamelán y la música africana. Experto en la exploración del ritmo y la métrica a través de una instrumentación mínima, se sirve de la cinta magnética para convertir el loop en recurso narrativo._____Has escuchadoDifferent Trains. 2. Europe: During the War (1988). Kronos Quartet. Elektra Nonesuch (1989)Drumming. Part I (1971). Steve Reich and Musicians. Elektra Nonesuch (1987)Four Organs (1970). Bang on a Can. Elektra Nonesuch (2000)Music for 18 Musicians (1976). Steve Reich and Musicians. Elektra Nonesuch (1978)Proverb (1995). Theatre of Voices; The Steve Reich Ensemble. Nonesuch (1996)_____Selección bibliográficaBODON-CLAIR, Jérôme, Le langage de Steve Reich. L'exemple de “Music for 18 musicians” (1976). Harmattan, 2008COHN, Richard, “Transpositional Combination of Beat-Class Sets in Steve Reich's Phase-Shifting Music”. Perspectives of New Music, vol. 30, n.º 2 (1992), pp. 146-177*CUMMING, Naomi, “The Horrors of Identification: Reich's Different Trains”. Perspectives of New Music, vol. 35, n.º 1 (1997), pp. 129-152*FOX, Christopher, “Steve Reich's Different Trains”. Tempo, n.º 172 (1990), pp. 2-8*GOPINATH, Sumanth y Pwyll ap Siôn (eds.), Rethinking Reich. Oxford University Press, 2019HARTENBERGER, Russell, Performance Practice in the Music of Steve Reich. Cambridge University Press, 2016*HOEK, D. J., Steve Reich: A Bio-Bibliography. Greenwood, 2001JOHNSON, Timothy A., “Minimalism: Aesthetic, Style, or Technique?”. The Musical Quarterly, vol. 78, n.º 4 (1994), pp. 742-773*NYMAN, Michael, “Steve Reich”. The Musical Times, vol. 112, n.º 1537 (1971), pp. 229-231*PASTRE, Guillaume, Un art de la cohérence: “Different trains”, Steve Reich. L'Harmattan, 2018POTTER, Keith, Four Musical Minimalists: La Monte Young, Terry Riley, Steve Reich, Philip Glass. Cambridge University Press, 2002*REICH, Steve, Writings on Music 1965-2000. Editado por Paul Hillier. Oxford University Press, 2002*—, Conversations. Hanover Square Press, 2022ROEDER, John, “Beat-Class Modulation in Steve Reich's Music”. Music Theory Spectrum, vol. 25, n.º 2 (2003), pp. 275-304*SCHWARZ, David, “Listening Subjects: Semiotics, Psychoanalysis, and the Music of John Adams and Steve Reich”. Perspectives of New Music, vol. 31, n.º 2 (1993), pp. 24-56*SCHWARZ, K. Robert, “Steve Reich: Music as a Gradual Process: Part I”. Perspectives of New Music, vol. 19, n.º 1-2 (1980), pp. 373-392*—, “Steve Reich: Music as a Gradual Process Part II”. Perspectives of New Music, vol. 20, n.º 1-2 (1981), pp. 225-286*   *Documento disponible para su consulta en la Sala de Nuevas Músicas de la Biblioteca y Centro de Apoyo a la Investigación de la Fundación Juan March

Ho ho ho, fuckers. Join Statto and David (and Daniel for a brief cameo recorded before he was detained by the authorities after someone actually listened to the 2022 Christmas Special and found out what he said about the Queen) to hoover up another line of festive cheer. This year we once again field the questions of our most deranged fans, review the best and worst of 2024 in the usual paltry detail, and Statto turns in his most shocking performance yet in the annual quiz. After that, we take another trip east to watch wrestlers from Japan and the Philippines fight for a Singaporean title in China, and decide once and for all who the ten defining wrestlers of the 1990s are (spoiler alert: there will be no Stone Cold or Goldberg, but there will be multiple wrestlers with negative star matches from the Observer to their name). Merry Christmas to our wonderful audience, and let's hope 2025 is less fucked. 0:00:00 – Intro 0:02:29 – Q&A 1:24:27 – Year in Review 2:05:51 – NJPW Christmas Quiz 2:30:27 – Terry Riley's Personal Collection Vol.7 – Yuki Kamifuku (c) vs. Crystal (SPW Queen of Asia Championship) (MKW, 14 September 2024) 2:46:13 – The Baby Boy Bono-chan Awards, 1990-1999

El compositor de Berna (Idaho) es reconocido como el primer compositor minimalista y uno de los máximos exponentes de la vanguardia estadounidense, aparte de la música drone. Adepto a las performances, que conoce tras su paso por Fluxus, llega a componer obras con solo una nota._____Has escuchado31 VII 69 10:26 - 10:49 PM (A Section of Map of 49's Dream the Two Systems of Eleven Sets of Galactic Intervals Ornamental Lightyears Tracery). La Monte Young y Marian Zazeela, gongs frotados. Edition X (1969)The Melodic Version (1984) of The Second Dream of The High​-​Tension Line Stepdown Transformer 90 XII 9 c. 9​:​35 - 10​:​52 PM NYC. Rich Clymer, Pamela Fleming, James O'Connor, James Donato, Ben Neill, Gary Trosclair, Richard Kelley, Stephen Burns, trompetas. Gramavision (1991)The Well-Tuned Piano “87 V 10 6:43:00 PM - 87 V 11 01:07:45 AM NYC”. La Monte Young, piano. Just Dreams (2018)_____Selección bibliográficaCARDEW, Cornelius, “One Sound: La Monte Young”. The Musical Times, vol. 107, n.º 1485 (1966), pp. 959-960*DONGUY, Jacques, La Monte Young: Inside of Sounds. Éditions Aedam Musicae, 2016DUCKWORTH, William y Richard Fleming (eds.), Sound and Light: La Monte Young and Marian Zazeela. Bucknell University Press, 2012GANN, Kyle, “La Monte Young's The Well-Tuned Piano”. Perspectives of New Music, vol. 31, n.º 1 (1993), pp. 134-162*GHOSN, Joseph, La Monte Young: une biographie suivie d'une discographie sélective sur le minimalisme. Le Mot et le Reste, 2010*GRIMSHAW, Jeremy Neal, Draw a Straight Line and Follow It: The Music and Mysticism of La Monte Young. Oxford University Press, 2012POTTER, Keith, Four Musical Minimalists: La Monte Young, Terry Riley, Steve Reich, Philip Glass. Cambridge University Press, 2002*SOLARES, Juan María, “El trío serial de La Monte Young”. Doce Notas Preliminares: Revista de Música y Arte, n.º 17 (2006), pp. 112-142*YOUNG, La Monte, “Lecture 1960”. The Tulane Drama Review, vol. 10, n.º 2 (1965), pp. 73-83YOUNG, La Monte y Marian Zazeela, Selected Writings. Heiner Friedrich, 1969 *Documento disponible para su consulta en la Sala de Nuevas Músicas de la Biblioteca y Centro de Apoyo a la Investigación de la Fundación Juan March

Bajo el contexto inicial de las artes plásticas se produce de modo natural la traslación, o mejor la ampliación, al arte de la música. Como en otras artes, también en la creación musical se impone esa idea del ‘menos es más'. Aquí, más que de un estilo hablamos de una filosofía._____Has escuchadoThe Descending Moonshine Dervishes (1975) / Terry Riley. Kuckuck (1992)The Electric Harpsichord (1976) / Catherine Christer Hennix. Die Schachtel (2010)Music for 18 Musicians. Section IIIA (1976) / Steve Reich. Ensemble Links; Rémi Durupt, director. Kairos (2020)Strumming for harpsichord (1977) / Charlemagne Palestine. San Francisco Conservatory of Music. Sub Rosa (2010) Trio for strings (1958-2015) / La Monte Young. The Theatre of Eternal Music (Charles Curtis, violonchelo; Reynard Rott, violonchelo; Erik Carlson, violín y viola; Christopher Otto, violín y viola). Dia Art Foundation (2021)_____Selección bibliográficaBERNARD, Jonathan W., “Minimalism, Postminimalism, and the Resurgence of Tonality in Recent American Music”. American Music, vol. 21, n.º 1 (2003), pp. 112-133*BOON, Marcus, “Catherine Christer Hennix, the Practice of Music and Modal Ontology”. En: Practical Aesthetics. Editado por Bernd Herzogenrath. Bloomsbury, 2021BOUTWELL, Brett, “Terry Jennings, the Lost Minimalist”. American Music, vol. 32, n.º 1 (2014), pp. 82-107*CARL, Robert, Terry Riley's In C. Oxford University Press, 2009COLE, Ross, “‘Sound Effects (O.K., Music)': Steve Reich and the Visual Arts in New York City, 1966-1968”. Twentieth-Century Music, vol. 11, n.º 2 (2014), pp. 217-244*CURESES, Marta, “Literatura y ciencia en la composición minimalista: hacia una teoría del azar controlado”. Actio nova: revista de teoría de la literatura y literatura comparada, n.º 3 (2019), pp. 424-455*EATON, Rebecca M. Doran, “Marking Minimalism: Minimal Music as a Sign of Machines and Mathematics in Multimedia”. Music and the Moving Image, vol. 7, n.º 1 (2014), pp. 3-23*ÉTIENNE, Yvan (ed.), Phill Niblock: Working Title. Les Presses du Réel Edition, 2012FINK, Robert, “(Post-)minimalism 1979-2000: The Search for a New Mainstream”. En: The Cambridge Companion to Twentieth-Century Music. Editado por Mervyn Cooke. Cambridge University Press, 2008*GANN, Kyle, “Reconstructing November”. American Music, vol. 28, n.º 4 (2010), pp. 481-491*GANN, Kyle y Keith Potter (eds.), The Ashgate Research Companion to Minimalist and Postminimalist Music. Routledge, 2013IGES, José, “Grupos minimalistas españoles: música contemporánea”. Ritmo, vol. 53, n.º 532 (1983), pp. 35-37*JEAN-FRANCOIS, Isaac, “Julius Eastman: The Sonority of Blackness Otherwise”. Current Musicology, vol. 106 (2020), pp. 9-35*JOSEPH, Branden W., Beyond the Dream Syndicate: Tony Conrad and the Arts after Cage. Zone, 2008*KOTZ, Liz, Words to Be Looked At: Language in 1960s Art. MIT Press, 2007LEVAUX, Christophe, We Have Always Been Minimalist: The Construction and Triumph of a Musical Style. University of California Press, 2020*LEVINE PACKER, Renée y Mary Jane Leach (eds.), Gay Guerrilla: Julius Eastman and His Music. University of Rochester Press, 2015MAY, Thomas (ed.), The John Adams Reader: Essential Writings on an American Composer. Amadeus, 2006MERTENS, Wim, American Minimal Music: La Monte Young, Terry Riley, Steve Reich, Philip Glass. Khan & Averill, 1983MOWERY, Janice, “Meredith Monk: Between the Cracks”. Perspectives of New Music, vol. 51, n.º 2 (2013), pp. 79-100*NACENTA, Lluís, “Minimalismes”. Catalunya música: revista musical catalana, n.º 311 (2010), pp. 12-13NICKELSON, Patrick, “Transcription, Recording, and Authority in ‘Classic' Minimalism”. Twentieth Century Music, vol. 14, n.º 3 (2018), pp. 361-289*POTTER, Keith, Four Musical Minimalists: La Monte Young, Terry Riley, Steve Reich, Philip Glass. Cambridge University Press, 2000*SCHWARZ, K. Robert, Minimalists. Phaidon, 1996STRICKLAND, Edward, Minimalism: Origins. Indiana University Press, 1991*TARUSKIN, Richard, “A Harmonious Avant-Garde? - Minimalism: Young, Riley, Reich, Glass; Their European Emulators”. En: Music in the Late Twentieth Century. Oxford University Press, 2009*TOOP, David, Océano de sonido: palabras en el éter, música ambient y mundos imaginarios. Traducción de Tadeo Lima. Caja Negra, 2016*WLODARSKI, Amy Lynn, “The Testimonial Aesthetics of Different Trains”. Journal of the American Musicology Society, vol. 63, n.º 1 (2010), pp. 99-142* *Documento disponible para su consulta en la Sala de Nuevas Músicas de la Biblioteca y Centro de Apoyo a la Investigación de la Fundación Juan March

Il viaggio degli Young Gods continua. Dopo l'immersione elettronica e sperimentale nella musica di Terry Riley, i Giovani Dei stanno tornando al vigore delle loro radici, con un nuovo album che vedrà la luce nel 2025. È una necessità fisiologica, una rimpatriata di cui abbiamo avuto un assaggio lo scorso settembre a Label Suisse, quando sul palco della Place Des Pionnières, gli Young Gods hanno aperto con una manciata di brani del disco che verrà.A Losanna, ho avuto il piacere di ri-incontrare un Franz Treichler in splendida forma, prima del concerto. Era la penultima data del 2024, la sera successiva avrebbero chiuso in Francia con l'ultima presentazione live di “Play Terry Riley in C”, un disco che, come racconta Treichler in questa generosa intervista, ha aperto nuove prospettive.

01. Erik Satie - Musique d'ameublement, Tenture de cabinet préfectoral (passage) 02. John Cage - Imaginary Landscapes No.1 (passage) 03. Giovanni Battista Pergolesi - Stabat Mater, P. 77 - I. Stabat Mater dolorosa 04. Suzanne Ciani - Paris 1971 (passage) 05. Sarah Davachi - The Crier's Choir 06. Laurie Anderson - Flying at Night 07. Dictaphone - Opening Night 08. Forest Swords - Ljoss 09. Ben Bertrand - Delayed monologue 10. Loscil - Blue 11. George Gurdjieff & Thomas de Hartmann - The Journey (passage) 12. Kali Malone - Sacrificial Code (passage) 13. Jóhann Jóhannsson - Odi et Amo 14. William Basinski - Cascade (passage) 15. Christine Ott - Disaster 16. Daniel Schmidt - Faint Impressions (passage) 17. Charlemagne Palestine - Strumming for Bösendorfer piano (passage) 18. Jeroen van Veen - Minimal Prelude No.18 19. Jonathan Fitoussi - Continent Blanc (passage) 20. Terry Riley & Don Cherry – Köln, Germany, February 1975 (passage) 21. Arvo Pärt - Für Alina 22. Laurie Spiegel - Drums (passage) 23. Steve Reich - Music for 18 Musicians, Pulses (passage) 24. Hélène Vogelsinger - New Horizon 25. Brian Eno - Reflection (passage)

Candyman and Cultural Contradictions: Grateful Dead's Egypt AdventureIn this episode of the Deadhead Cannabis Show, host Larry Mishkin highlights two key topics: a favorite Grateful Dead show and his recent experiences at Goose concerts. First, Larry talks about an iconic Grateful Dead concert that took place on September 16, 1978, at the Sun et Lumiere Theater in Giza, Egypt, near the pyramids and the Sphinx. This event is special not just for its unique location but also for featuring collaborations with Egyptian musician Hamza El Din, who joined the Dead for a jam session. The Egypt shows are remembered for their blend of American rock and ancient Egyptian culture, marking a historic moment in music history.Larry also reflects on the song "Candyman" by the Grateful Dead, exploring its themes of melancholy and contradiction within the counterculture of the 1960s. He discusses how the song portrays a sympathetic yet flawed character, and how it resonates with the complex dynamics of that era, blending elements of peace, revolution, and criminality.Switching gears, Larry shares his recent experiences attending two Goose concerts in Chicago. He highlights Goose's cover of Bob Seger's "Hollywood Nights" and talks about the band's growing popularity. Larry attended the concerts with family and friends and praises the outdoor venue in Chicago, noting its impressive atmosphere and the city's skyline as a backdrop. He fondly recalls his connections to Bob Seger's music from his youth and marvels at how younger bands like Goose continue to bring classic rock into their performances.   Grateful DeadSeptember 16, 1978  (46 years ago)Son Et Lumiere Theater (aka Sphinx Theatre)Giza, EgyptGrateful Dead Live at Sphinx Theatre on 1978-09-16 : Free Borrow & Streaming : Internet Archive Giza (/ˈɡiːzə/; sometimes spelled Gizah, Gizeh, Geeza, Jiza; Arabic: الجيزة, romanized: al-Jīzah, pronounced [ald͡ʒiːzah], Egyptian Arabic: الجيزةel-Gīza[elˈgiːzæ])[3] is the third-largest city in Egypt by area after Cairo and Alexandria; and fourth-largest city in Africa by population after Kinshasa, Lagos, and Cairo. It is the capital of Giza Governorate with a total population of 4,872,448 in the 2017 census.[4] It is located on the west bank of the Nile opposite central Cairo, and is a part of the Greater Cairo metropolis. Giza lies less than 30 km (18.64 mi) north of Memphis (Men-nefer, today the village of Mit Rahina), which was the capital city of the unified Egyptian state during the reign of pharaoh Narmer, roughly 3100 BC. Giza is most famous as the location of the Giza Plateau, the site of some of the most impressive ancient monuments in the world, including a complex of ancient Egyptian royal mortuary and sacred structures, among which are the Great Sphinx, the Great Pyramid of Giza, and a number of other large pyramids and temples. Giza has always been a focal point in Egypt's history due to its location close to Memphis, the ancient pharaonic capital of the Old Kingdom. Son et lumière (French pronunciation: [sɔ̃n e lymjɛʁ] (French, lit. "sound and light")), or a sound and light show, is a form of nighttime entertainment that is usually presented in an outdoor venue of historic significance.[1] Special lighting effects are projected onto the façade of a building or ruin and synchronized with recorded or live narration and music to dramatize the history of the place.[1] The invention of the concept is credited to Paul Robert-Houdin, who was the curator of the Château de Chambord in France, which hosted the world's first son et lumière in 1952.[1] Another was established in the early 1960s at the site of the Great Pyramid of Giza in Egypt. One of the Seven Wonders of the Ancient World and a star attraction in Egypt, the pyramids of Giza offer a completely different experience at night, when lasers, lights, and visual projections bring their history to life. Here's how to visit the pyramids after dark. The sound and light show at Giza takes place every night for 55 minutes by the Great Sphinx of king Kephren, it is a laser show with history narration of your own language.  Kyle FitzgeraldThe National Standing under a total lunar eclipse at the foot of ancient power by the Great Pyramid, the Grateful Dead were concluding the final show of their three-night run at the Sound and Light Theatre in Giza in 1978.His hair in pigtails, guitarist Jerry Garcia wove the outro of the percussive Nubian composition Olin Arageed into an extended opening of Fire on the Mountain. “There were Bedouins out on the desert dancing … It was amazing, it really was amazing,” Garcia said in a 1979 radio interview. The September 14-16 shows in Giza were the ultimate experiment for the American band – the first to play at the pyramids – known for pushing music beyond the realms of imagination. And just as the Grateful Dead were playing in the centre of ancient Egypt, a landmark peace treaty was being brokered in the US that would reshape geopolitics in the Middle East. For as the Grateful Dead arrived in Egypt as cultural ambassadors, on the other side of the world US president Jimmy Carter had gathered his Egyptian counterpart Anwar Sadat and Israeli prime minister Menachem Begin to broker the Camp David Accords that led to an Egyptian-Israeli peace settlement. “No show that they have ever done has the international significance of their three performances in Egypt,” said Richard Loren, the Grateful Dead's manager from 1974-1981. “When we left the stage on the last show, everybody was high on acid, and the first news that came on: They signed the Camp David agreement. Sadat, Begin and Carter signed the agreement in Camp David. This happened during those three days.” Loren, who produced the shows, credited his friendship with Jefferson Airplane vocalist Marty Balin, who had a keen interest in Egypt, for developing his own fascination with the country. “The lead singer for Jefferson Airplane is the seed that resulted in the Grateful Dead playing in Egypt,” he said. Loren recalled riding a camel around the pyramid site during a three-week visit in 1975. To his right were the pyramids. In front of him, the Sphinx. “And I look down and I see a stage, and a light bulb went off in my head immediately. The Grateful Dead ought to play in Egypt,” he said. Loren, associate Alan Trist and Grateful Dead bass player Phil Lesh formed a scouting committee that would be responsible for liaising with American and Egyptian officials, Secret Service members and Egyptian first lady Jehan Sadat to allow the Grateful Dead to play in front of the pyramids. After the mission to the proposed site, meetings in Washington and Egypt, discussions with government officials and a party for the consulate, the band still needed to convince officials the purpose of the show was to make music – not money. And so the Dead paid their own expenses and offered to donate all the proceeds.Half would be donated to the Faith and Hope Society – the Sadats' favourite charity – and the other to Egypt's Department of Antiquities. “It was a sales pitch by the three of us – Alan, Richard and Phil,” Loren said. A telegram was sent on March 21, 1978, confirming the Grateful Dead would perform two open-air shows at the Sound and Light in front of the Great Pyramid and Sphinx. They would go on to play three shows. Describing the planning, bassist Phil Lesh said, "It sort of became my project because I was one of the first people in the band who was on the trip of playing at places of power. You know, power that's been preserved from the ancient world. The pyramids are like the obvious number one choice because no matter what anyone thinks they might be, there is definitely some kind of mojo about the pyramids."[11]Rather than ship all of the required sound reinforcement equipment from the United States, the PA and a 24-track, mobile studio recording truck were borrowed from the Who, in the UK. The Dead crew set up their gear at the open-air theater on the east side of the Great Sphinx, for three nights of concerts. The final two, September 15 & 16, 1978, are excerpted for the album. The band referred to their stage set-up as "The Gizah Sound and Light Theater". The final night's performance coincided with a total lunar eclipse. Drummer Bill Kreutzmann played with a cast, having broken his wrist while horseback riding. The King's Chamber of the nearby Great Pyramid of Giza was rigged with a speaker and microphone in a failed attempt to live-mix acoustical echo.[12] Lesh recalled that through the shows he observed "an increasing number of shadowy figures gathering just at the edge of the illuminated area surrounding the stage and audience – not locals, as they all seem to be wearing the same garment, a dark, hooded robe. These, it turns out, are the Bedouin, the nomadic horsemen of the desert: drawn in by the music and lights... each night they have remained to dance and sway rhythmically for the duration of the show."[13] Kreutzmann recalls "Egypt instantly became the biggest, baddest, and most legendary field trip that we took during our entire thirty years as a band... It was priceless and perfect and, at half a million dollars, a bargain in the end. Albeit, a very expensive bargain."[14] The concerts weren't expected to be profitable (proceeds were donated to the Department of Antiquities and a charity chosen by Jehan Sadat). Costs were to be offset by the production of a triple-live album; however, performances did not turn out as proficient as planned, musically, and technical problems plagued the recordings.[10] The results were shelved as the band focused instead on a new studio album, Shakedown Street.   INTRO:                     Candyman                                    Track #3                                    2:54 – 4:50 From Songfacts:  the American Beauty album is infused with sadness. Jerry Garcia's mother was still seriously injured and her still fate uncertain following an automotive accident, while Phil Lesh was still grieving his father's passing. The melancholic aura comes through in "Candyman" as much as any other song on the album.The effect of the melodic sadness on the song's context is interesting, to say the least. It makes everything about the candyman character in the song seem sympathetic, when the lyrics suggest that he is anything but. Dead lyricist Robert Hunter said he certainly didn't resonate with the character's penchant for violence (more on that below).The Random House Historical Dictionary of American Slang defines the term "candyman" primarily as a drug dealer and secondarily as a man who is lucky in general and lucky with women in particular. The latter version seems to fit better with the song, as the character announces his arrival to all the women in town and tells them they ought to open their windows (presumably to let him in). While there's no evidence to suggest that Hunter was getting at anything too deep with the song, "Candyman" does provide an interesting perspective on the contradictions of the 1960s counterculture. Mixed in with all the peaceniks and flowers were hard-drug pushers, violent revolutionaries, and common criminals. By 1970, this stew had long since become so mixed-up that its attendant parts could no longer be cleanly extracted from each other. The fact that American Beauty came out in the midst of the Manson Family "hippie cult killings" trial says just about all that needs to be said about the complicated reality that had arisen out of the 1960s counterculture.Beyond all that, though, the outlaw song that romanticizes criminality is a long-held and cherished tradition in American music. With American Beauty, Jerry Garcia wanted the Dead to do something like "California country western," where they focused more on the singing than on the instrumentation.  So the sang Hunter's lyrics: Good mornin', Mr. BensonI see you're doin' wellIf I had me a shotgunI'd blow you straight to HellThis is an oddly violent line for a song by the Grateful Dead, who sought to embody the '60s peace-and-love ethos about as sincerely and stubbornly as any act to come out of the era. It always got a raucous applause from the audience, too, which seems equally incongruous with the Deadhead culture.Hunter was bothered by the cheers. In an interview published in Goin' Down the Road by Blair Jackson (p. 119), he brings this phenomenon up when asked if any of his songs has been widely misinterpreted. He mentions that he had first witnessed an audience's enthusiastic response to violence while watching the 1975 dystopian film Rollerball and "couldn't believe" the cheers.Hunter tells Jackson that he hopes fans know that the perspective in "Candyman" is from a character and not from himself. He stresses the same separation between himself and the womanizer in "Jack Straw." As far as the Mr. Benson in "Candyman," David Dodd in the Annotated Grateful Dead Lyrics makes a great case for that being Sheriff Benson from Leadbelly's "Midnight Special" (who may very well have been based on a real sheriff). If true, this might place "Candyman" in Houston, Texas (though Hunter might not have had anything so specific in mind). Almost always a first set song.  Often featured in acoustic sets, back in the day. This version features this awesome Garcia solo that we were listing to.  Maybe he was inspired by the pyramids or whatever magical spirits might have come out from within to see this American band the Grateful Dead.  Hopefully, it made those spirits grateful themselves. Played:  273First:  April 3, 1970 at Armory Fieldhouse, Cincinnati, OH, USALast:  June 30, 1995 at Three Rivers Stadium, Pittsburgh, PA, USA  SHOW No. 1:         Hamza El Din                                    Track #10                                    7:30 – 9:00 Hamza El Din (Arabicحمزة علاء الدين) (July 10, 1929 – May 22, 2006) was an Egyptian Nubian composer, oudplayer, tar player, and vocalist. He was born in southern Egypt and was an internationally known musician of his native region Nubia, situated on both sides of the Egypt–Sudan border. After musical studies in Cairo, he lived and studied in Italy, Japan and the United States. El Din collaborated with a wide variety of musical performers, including Sandy Bull, the Kronos Quartet and the Grateful Dead. His performances attracted the attention of the Grateful Dead, Joan Baez, and Bob Dylan in the 1960s, which led to a recording contract and to his eventual emigration to the United States. In 1963, El Din shared an apartment in the San Francisco Bay Area with folk musician Sandy Bull. Following his appearance at the Newport Folk Festival in 1964, he recorded two albums for Vanguard Records, released 1964–65. His 1971 recording Escalay: The Water Wheel, published by Nonesuch Records and produced by Mickey Hart, has been recognized as one of the first world music recordings to gain wide release in the West, and was claimed as an influence by some American minimalist composers, such as Steve Reich and Terry Riley, as well as by Grateful Dead percussionist Mickey Hart.[1] He also performed with the Grateful Dead, most famously during their Egypt concerts of 1978. During these three shows, Hamza El Din, performed as a guest and played his composition "Ollin Arageed" He was backed by the students of his Abu Simbel school and accompanied by the Grateful Dead.  After Egypt, hamza el din played with the dead in the U.S. On October 21st, back in 1978, the Grateful Dead were in the midst of wrapping up a fiery five-night run at San Francisco's Winterland Ballroom. This string of shows was particularly special for the band, as they marked the first shows played by the Dead following their now-legendary performances near the Great Pyramid of Giza in Egypt a month prior. n an effort to bring their experiences in Northern Africa home with them to share with their fans, the Dead's '78 Winterland run saw sit-ins by Egyptian percussionist, singer, and oud player Hamza El Din. On October 21st, El Din opened the show solo, offering his divine percussion before the Grateful Dead slowly emerged to join him for an ecstatic rendition of “Ollin Arageed”, a number based off a Nubian wedding tune, before embarking on a soaring half-acoustic, half-electric jam, that we will get to on the other side of Music News: MUSIC NEWS: Lead in music:                  Goose — "Hollywood Nights" (Bob Seger) — Fiddler's Green — 6/8/24 (youtube.com)                  0:00 – 1:10             Goose covering Bob Seeger and the Silver Bullet Band's Hollywood Nights, this version from earlier this year but Goose did play it Friday night in Chicago at the Salt Shed's Festival stage outside along the Chicago river with the Skyline in the background. Very impressive. "Hollywood Nights" is a song written and recorded by American rock artist Bob Seger. It was released in 1978 as the second single from his album, Stranger in Town. Seger said "The chorus just came into my head; I was driving around in the Hollywood Hills, and I started singing 'Hollywood nights/Hollywood hills/Above all the lights/Hollywood nights.' I went back to my rented house, and there was a Time with Cheryl Tiegs on the cover...I said 'Let's write a song about a guy from the Midwest who runs into someone like this and gets caught up in the whole bizarro thing.'" [1] Seger also said that "Hollywood Nights" was the closest he has had to a song coming to him in a dream, similar to how Keith Richards described the riff to "(I Can't Get No) Satisfaction" coming to him in a dream. Robert Clark Seger (/ˈsiːɡər/SEE-gər; born May 6, 1945) is a retired American singer, songwriter, and musician. As a locally successful Detroit-area artist, he performed and recorded with the groups Bob Seger and the Last Heard and the Bob Seger System throughout the 1960s, In 1973, he put together the Silver Bullet Band, with a group of Detroit-area musicians, with whom he became most successful on the national level with the album Live Bullet (1976), recorded live with the Silver Bullet Band in 1975 at Cobo Hall in Detroit, Michigan. In 1976, he achieved a national breakout with the studio album Night Moves. On his studio albums, he also worked extensively with the Alabama-based Muscle Shoals Rhythm Section, which appeared on several of Seger's best-selling singles and albums. A roots rock musician with a classic raspy, powerful voice, Seger is known for his songs concerning love, women, and blue-collar themes, and is one of the best-known artists of the heartland rock genre. He has recorded many hits, including "Night Moves", "Turn the Page", "Mainstreet", "Still the Same", "Hollywood Nights", "Against the Wind", "You'll Accomp'ny Me", "Shame on the Moon", "Roll Me Away", "Like a Rock", and "Shakedown", the last of which was written for the 1987 film Beverly Hills Cop II and topped the Billboard Hot 100 chart. He also co-wrote the Eagles' number-one hit "Heartache Tonight", and his recording of "Old Time Rock and Roll" was named one of the Songs of the Century in 2001. Which leads us to: Goose plays three nights in Chicago: Wednesday, Thursday and Friday night at the Salt Shed.  I caught the Thursday and Friday show.  Went with my wife on Thursday and hung out with good friends John and Marnie, her brothers Rick and Joel, Stephan and others.  Friday with my son Daniel and good buddy Kevin who got us rock star parking and even more impressively killer seats dead center at the bottom of the grandstands in the back of the floor, a few feet off the floor and dead center so we could see everything, hear everything and have a place to sit and rest for a few minutes when needed. I have to say, I've now seen Goose five times and enjoy them more and more.  Great musical jams, great light show, lots of good energy from the band and the fans.  Rick Mitoratando is a first class guitartist and singer, Peter Anspach on keyboard and guitar and vocals, Jeff Arevalo, percussionist, Trevor Weekz on bass and newcomer, Cotter Ellis on drums, replacing original drummer, Ben Askind. Began playing in 2014 in Wilton Connecticut so this is their 10 year and they are just getting stronger.  They really love what they do and its shows in their live performances. Great set lists in Chicago: Thursday night they were joined on stage by Julian Lage, a jazz composer and guitarist for the last two songs of the first set, A Western Sun and Turned Clouds. If you have not yet seen Goose you need to see Goose.  Soon.  Jane's Addiction Concert Ends Abruptly After Perry Farrell Punches Dave Navarro Onstage 3.     Jane's Addiction Offer ‘Heartfelt Apology' for Fight, Cancel Sunday's Show Phish announce 3 night run in Albany Oct. 25 – 27 to benefit Divided Sky Foundation A residential program for people recovering from drug and alcohol abuse. The Divided Sky Foundation, a 46-bed nonprofit recovery center spearheaded by Phish frontman Trey Anastasio, will be an abstinence-based, nonmedical residence, one of the first ofits kind in Vermont. The Divided Sky Foundation is a charitable nonprofit founded by Anastasio; it purchased the Ludlow location to create a substance-use disorder treatment center back in 2021.  Anastasio, Phish's lead guitarist and vocalist, has dealt publicly with his own drug and alcohol use and later sobriety, a journey that brought him under the supervision of drug court in Washington County, New York, in the mid-2000s. There, he met Gulde, who worked in the court system at the time, and the two have stayed friends since.  Together, Gulde and Anastasio used their personal experiences with treatment facilities to implement a vision for the Ludlow space, she said.   Very cool organization, deserves everyone's support.  Trey turned it around which is why he is now 5 years older than Jerry was when he died in 1995 and Trey and Phish are just getting stronger and stronger. SHOW No. 2:         Ollin Arageed                                    Track #11                                    13:10 – 14:42 Musical composition written by Hamza El-Din.  He and members of the Abu Simbel School of Luxor choir opened the shows with his composition Olin Arageed on nights one and two, and opened set two of night three with the song as well.  Joined on stage by the band.  Fun, different and a shout out to the locals. The Dead played it a few more times with Hamza and then retired it for good.  SHOW No. 3:         Fire On The Mountain                                    Track #12                                    13:00 – end                                     INTO                                     Iko Iko                                    Track #13                                    0:00 – 1:37 This transition is one of my all time Dead favorites.  Out of a stand alone Fire (no Scarlet lead in) into a sublime and spacey Iko Iko.  Another perfect combination for the pyramids, sphinx and full lunar eclipse.A great reason to listen to this show and these two tunes. MJ NEWS: MJ Lead in Song            Still Blazin by Wiz Khalifa:  Still Blazin (feat. Alborosie) (youtube.com)                                                                        0:00 – 0:45 We talked all about Wiz Khalifa on last week's episode after I saw him headline the Miracle in Mundelein a week ago.  But did not have a chance to feature any of his tunes last week.  This one is a natural for our show. This song is from Kush & Orange Juice (stylized as Kush and OJ) is the eighth mixtape by American rapper Wiz Khalifa. It was released on April 14, 2010, by Taylor Gang Records and Rostrum Records. Kush & Orange Juice gained notoriety after its official release by making it the number-one trending topic on both Google and Twitter.[1] On the same day, a link to the mixtape was posted for download on Wiz's Twitter.[2] The hashtag#kushandorangejuice became the number-six trending topic on the microblogging service after its release and remained on the top trending items on Twitter for three days.[  1.                   Nixon Admitted Marijuana Is ‘Not Particularly Dangerous' In Newly Discovered Recording2.                  Marijuana Use By Older Americans Has Nearly Doubled In The Last Three Years, AARP-Backed Study Shows3.                  Medical Marijuana Helps People With Arthritis And Other Rheumatic Conditions Reduce Use Of Opioids And Other Medications, Study Shows4.                  U.S. Marijuana Consumers Have Spent More Than $4.1 Billion On Pre-Rolled Joints In The Past Year And A Half, Industry Report Finds   SHOW No. 4:         Sunrise                                    Track #162:08 – 3:37             Grateful dead song written, music and lyrics by Donna Jean Godchaux.  Released on Terrapin Station album, July 27, 1977             There are two accounts of the origins of this song, both of which may be true. One is that it is about Rolling Thunder, the Indian Shaman, conducting a ceremony (which certainly fits with many of the lyrics). The other is that it was written by Donna in memory of Rex Jackson, one of the Grateful Dead's crew (after whom the Rex Foundation is named). The song is about a Native American medicine man named Rolling Thunder, who spent a lot of time with the Dead."'Sunrise' is about sunrise services we attended and what Rolling Thunder would do," Godchaux said on the Songfacts Podcast. "It's very literal actually. Rolling Thunder would conduct a sunrise service, so that's how that came about."Donna Jean Godchaux wrote this song on piano after Jerry Garcia asked her to write a song for the Terrapin Station album. She said it just flowed out of her - music and lyrics - and was one of the easiest songs she ever wrote.The drumming at the end of the song was played by a real medicine man. "We cut it in Los Angeles, and he came and brought the medicine drum, so what you hear on the end is the real deal," Godchaux told Songfacts. "It was like a sanctuary in that studio when he was playing that. It was very heavy." It was played regularly by the Grateful Dead in 1977 and 1978 (Donna left the band in early 1979).This version is the last time the band ever played it. Played:  30 timesFirst:  May 1, 1977 at The Palladium, New York, NY, USALast:  September 16, 1978 at the Pyramids, Giza Egypt                                   OUTRO:                   Shakedown Street                                    Track #17                                    3:07 – 4:35                                   Title track from Shakedown Street album November 8, 1978 One of Jerry's best numbers.  A great tune that can open a show, open the second set, occasionally played as an encore, but not here.  It is dropped into the middle of the second set as the lead in to Drums.  This is only the second time the song is played by the band. Played:  164 timesFirst:  August 31, 1978 at Red Rocks Amphitheatre, Morrison, CO, USALast:  July 9, 1995 at Soldier Field, Chicago, IL – opened the second set, the final set of music ever performed by the band.  Shout outs:             Karen Shmerling's birthday                       This week my beautiful granddaughter, Ruby, is coming to town to visit.  Can't wait to see her and her parents.  .Produced by PodConx Deadhead Cannabis Show - https://podconx.com/podcasts/deadhead-cannabis-showLarry Mishkin - https://podconx.com/guests/larry-mishkinRob Hunt - https://podconx.com/guests/rob-huntJay Blakesberg - https://podconx.com/guests/jay-blakesbergSound Designed by Jamie Humiston - https://www.linkedin.com/in/jamie-humiston-91718b1b3/Recorded on Squadcast

Proclive al minimalismo repetitivo y la orquesta sinfónica, el norteamericano experimenta con todo tipo de escenarios, desde la ópera y el cine hasta a la poesía. Estudioso de la matemática, la filosofía y la espiritualidad oriental, ha llegado a un público masivo con sus creaciones._____Has escuchadoConcerto for Violin and Orchestra (1987). David Nebel, violín; London Symphony Orchestra; Kristjan Järvi, director. Sony (2020)Cuarteto n.º 3 “Mishima” (1985). Cuarteto Quiroga, cuarteto de cuerda. Grabación sonora realizada en directo en la sala de conciertos de la Fundación Juan March, el 23 de noviembre de 2022Étude for Solo Piano, No. 2 (1995). Anthony Romaniuk, piano. Grabación sonora realizada en directo en la sala de conciertos de la Fundación Juan March, el 3 de mayo de 2023Glassworks. Opening (1981). Víkingur Ólafsson, piano. Deutsche Grammophon (2017)_____Selección bibliográficaEVANS, Tristian, Shared Meanings in the Film Music of Philip Glass: Music, Multimedia and Postminimalism. Ashgate, 2015FANET, Sylvain, Philip Glass: Accords et désaccords. Le Mot et le Reste, 2022FRANDSEN, Paul John, “Philip Glass's Akhnaten”. The Musical Quarterly, vol. 77, n.º 2 (1993), pp. 241-267*GLASS, Philip et al., Music by Philip Glass. Harper & Row, 1987—, Palabras sin música: memorias. Malpaso Ediciones, 2017GLASS, Philip y John Howell, “Interview: Satyagraha and Contemporary Opera”. Performing Arts Journal, vol. 6, n.º 1 (1981), pp. 68-83*GRIMSHAW, Jeremy, “High, ‘Low,' and Plastic Arts: Philip Glass and the Symphony in the Age of Postproduction”. The Musical Quarterly, vol. 86, n.º 3 (2002), pp. 472-507*HASKINS, Rob et al., “Philip Glass and Michael Riesman: Two Interviews”. The Musical Quarterly, vol. 86, n.º 3 (2002), pp. 508-529*KOSTELANETZ, Richard (ed.), Writings of Glass. Essays, Interviews, Criticism. University of California Press, 1999NICKLESON, Patrick, The Names of Minimalism: Authorship, Art Music, and Historiography in Dispute. University of Michigan Press, 2023POTTER, Keith, Four Musical Minimalists: La Monte Young, Terry Riley, Steve Reich, Philip Glass. Cambridge University Press, 2000*RICHARDSON, John, Singing Archaeology: Philip Glass's Akhnaten. University Press of New England, 1999SWED, Mark, “Philip Glass's Operas”. The Musical Times, vol. 129, n.º 1749 (1988), pp. 577-579WATERS, Robert (Robert Francis), The Stage Works of Philip Glass. Cambridge University Press, 2022 *Documento disponible para su consulta en la Sala de Nuevas Músicas de la Biblioteca y Centro de Apoyo a la Investigación de la Fundación Juan March

This episode uses Minimalism (and specifically Terry Riley's In C) to examine the issues of temporality and repetition in music.

After an airstrike killed 12 children in Israel-controlled territory at the weekend, retaliation in Lebanon seems inevitable. The end result could be a war on multiple fronts. British prisons are in crisis, so what should the new Labour government do (10:07)? And for the past 50 years, the Kronos quartet in America has brought together musical traditions to redefine classical music (22:48).Additional music copyright Nonesuch Records, Black Angels I. Departure & II. Absence by George Crumb, Blood Oath by Philip Glass, Sunrise of the Planetary Dream Collector by Terry Riley, Purple Haze by Jimi Hendrix, Tilliboyo by Foday Musa Suso, Nihavent Sirto, Flugufrelsarinn by Sigur Rós, Branching Patterns by Inti Figgis-Vizueta, Mishima/Closing by Philip GlassListen to what matters most, from global politics and business to science and technology—Subscribe to Economist Podcasts+For more information about how to access Economist Podcasts+, please visit our FAQs page or watch our video explaining how to link your account. Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

After an airstrike killed 12 children in Israel-controlled territory at the weekend, retaliation in Lebanon seems inevitable. The end result could be a war on multiple fronts. British prisons are in crisis, so what should the new Labour government do (10:07)? And for the past 50 years, the Kronos quartet in America has brought together musical traditions to redefine classical music (22:48).Additional music copyright Nonesuch Records, Black Angels I. Departure & II. Absence by George Crumb, Blood Oath by Philip Glass, Sunrise of the Planetary Dream Collector by Terry Riley, Purple Haze by Jimi Hendrix, Tilliboyo by Foday Musa Suso, Nihavent Sirto, Flugufrelsarinn by Sigur Rós, Branching Patterns by Inti Figgis-Vizueta, Mishima/Closing by Philip GlassListen to what matters most, from global politics and business to science and technology—Subscribe to Economist Podcasts+For more information about how to access Economist Podcasts+, please visit our FAQs page or watch our video explaining how to link your account.

Join Dr. Stephanie J. Wong on the "Color of Success Podcast" as she hosts Charlton Lee, the founding violist of the Del Sol Quartet. With over three decades of reshaping the contemporary string quartet landscape, Charlton has premiered works by notable composers at prestigious venues worldwide. In this episode, he dives into the transformative Angel Island project and the powerful union of music and language in expressing cultural history and healing. This episode explores not just Charlton's artistic journey but also the broader narrative of Asian-American resilience and identity. Guest Bio: Charlton Lee, founding violist of the Del Sol Quartet, has been a pivotal figure in the evolution of the contemporary string quartet for over thirty years. His work includes premiering hundreds of new compositions across global stages and leading significant commissions from composers like Terry Riley and Huang Ruo. Beyond performance, Charlton's dedication extends to education, influencing aspiring musicians through diverse initiatives from school programs to rural residencies. With degrees in Applied Mathematics, Physics, and Music, his unique insights have enriched both the scientific and musical communities, highlighted by his publications in Physics Review Letters and Strings Magazine, and a TEDx talk on just intonation. Show Notes: Host: Dr. Stephanie J. Wong Topics Covered: The origins and impacts of the Angel Island project. The synergy between music, language, and cultural expressions. Historical and modern contexts of Asian-American discrimination. The role of art in healing and community engagement. The upcoming "Songs of the Diaspora" project, showcasing diverse immigrant stories through music and poetry. Resources: Charlton's TEDx talk on just intonation: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DmV-mIxmpvQ Del Sol Quartet's website for music samples and project updates: https://www.delsolquartet.com/ Listen to the Sounds Current Podcast for more insights into the Angel Island project: https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/sounds-current/id1744176966 Book Mentioned: "Cancel the Filter: Realities of a Psychologist, Podcaster, and Working Mother of Color" by Dr. Stephanie J. Wong, available on Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/dp/1960299239?ref_=cm_sw_r_cp_ud_dp_3VH87AO6WEDGWPNR6N7R Website: https://www.colorofsuccesspodcast.com/ Subscribe on Platforms: Available on Spotify, Apple Podcasts, and more. Follow on Social Media: @color_of_success on Instagram

Episode 128 Terry Riley—Part 2, Solo Organ and Synthesizer Works Playlist                                                                                                                                                                                                                       Time Track Time Start Introduction –Thom Holmes 05:28 00:00 Terry Riley, “The Last Camel in Paris” from The Last Camel In Paris (2008 Elision Fields). Composed and performed on a Yamaha YC-45D combo organ custom-tuned to just intonation and outfitted with a digital delay system, Terry Riley. Concert recorded by Radio France for a France Culture program by Daniel Caux broadcast May 13, 1979, in the Atelier de Création Radiophonique series. The delay circuit was created by Chester Wood, Riley road technician. It fed stereo signals to the digital delay. The YC-45D was modified so that it had separate mono outputs for each of its two keyboards, resulting in 4-channel live performances comprising two live channels and two delayed. Riley improvised these concerts around given themes and patterns. Wood created the delay, which they called “the shadow,” out of “an ancient computer he had procured from Don Buchla and this tour was the maiden voyage to try it out,” (Riley). Previously, the analog delay Riley used on works such as the Dervishes (see previous episode) created a fixed-length delay based on the physical head gap of the tape recorders used, which consisted only of two delays of 7.5 inches per secod and 3.75 inches per second, the speeds available on his Revox tape machine. The digital delay allowed Riley to fine tune the pause before a sound would repeat, finding tape delays that worked well with the tempos he was using in his compositions. This concert came after the release of Shri Camel album on CBS, a widely known release. I thought hearing these live variations on that work would be of interest. 50:58 05:34 Terry Riley, “Eastern Man” from Songs For The Ten Voices Of The Two Prophets (1983 Kuckuck). Composed, Voice, two Prophet 5 synthesizers by Terry Riley. Recorded in concert on May 10, 1982, at Amerika-Haus in Munich. Recorded digitally on Sony PCM-100 and PCM-1610 equipment. 11:19 56:39 Terry Riley, “Aleph Part 1” from Aleph (2012 Tzadik). Composed, Korg Triton Studio 88 synthesizer, Recorded, Liner Notes, and Produced by Terry Riley. Recorded in 2008, Aleph was originally created for the Aleph-Bet sound project organized by John Zorn for the Contemporary Jewish Museum in San Francisco. 45:46 01:07:56   Opening background music: Terry Riley, “Anthem of the Trinity” from Shri Camel (1980 CBS). Produced, Composed, Performed in real-time on a modified dual-manual, Yamaha YC-45-D Electronic Organ with just intonation and digital delay, by Terry Riley.   Opening and closing sequences voiced by Anne Benkovitz. Additional opening, closing, and other incidental music by Thom Holmes. My Books/eBooks: Electronic and Experimental Music, sixth edition, Routledge 2020. Also, Sound Art: Concepts and Practices, first edition, Routledge 2022. See my companion blog that I write for the Bob Moog Foundation. For a transcript, please see my blog, Noise and Notations. Original music by Thom Holmes can be found in iTunes and on Bandcamp.    

Episode 127 Terry Riley—Analog Organ Works Playlist                                                                                                                                                                                                                       Time Track Time Start Introduction –Thom Holmes 08:08 00:00 1.     Terry Riley, “Journey From The Death Of A Friend” and “Happy Ending” from Happy Ending (1972 Warner Brothers Records). Music composed for the film "Les Yeux Fermes," a film by Joel Santoni. made at the "Strawberry Studio" Château d'Hérouville-France. This is a studio recording. “Journey From The Death Of A Friend” was recorded in real time with the tape delay system timed for a shorter delay, expressly for the Yamaha YC-45D combo organ. The track called “Happy Ending” features Terry on saxophone and uses a longer delay sequence than the organ piece, plus electric piano and organ. Recorded March-April 72. 36:53 08:10 2.     Terry Riley, “Performance Two,” sides 3 and 4, from Persian Surgery Dervishes (1972 Shanti). Composer, performer, Yamaha YC-45D combo organ, Tape Feedback, Terry Riley. Riley plays a modified Yamaha electric organ tuned in just intonation and using a tape delay system. Performance Two performed May 24, 1972,  Théâtre de la Musique, Paris. 47:46 45:01 3.     Terry Riley, “Parts 1 and 2,” sides 1 and 2, from Descending Moonshine Dervishes (1982 Kuckuck). Composer, performer, Yamaha YC-45D combo organ, Tape Feedback, Terry Riley. Riley plays a modified Yamaha electric organ tuned in just intonation and using a tape delay system. Recorded in concert November 29, 1975, at Metamusik Festival in Berlin. 52:00 01:32:54   Opening background music: Terry Riley, “A Rainbow In Curved Air” from A Rainbow In Curved Air (1968 Columbia). Electric Organ, Electric Harpsichord, Rocksichord, Dumbec, Tambourine, Terry Riley.   Opening and closing sequences voiced by Anne Benkovitz. Additional opening, closing, and other incidental music by Thom Holmes. My Books/eBooks: Electronic and Experimental Music, sixth edition, Routledge 2020. Also, Sound Art: Concepts and Practices, first edition, Routledge 2022. See my companion blog that I write for the Bob Moog Foundation. For a transcript, please see my blog, Noise and Notations. Original music by Thom Holmes can be found in iTunes and on Bandcamp.  

On this week's Talkhouse Podcast we're diving deep into a chat inspired by two tribute albums to an incredibly influential musician, Sun Ra. Joining us are Meshell Ndegeocello and David Harrington. And oh man, do I have my work cut out for me in trying to introduce these incredible people and their careers—I won't even scratch the surface. Meshell Ndegeocello's biggest foray into the public consciousness, strangely enough, came on a duet with John Mellencamp in the mid-'90s, but that's not at all indicative of her wide-ranging career, which also includes everything from go-go music to neo-soul to jazz to rapping on a Madonna song. These days, the Grammys had to create an entirely new category for what she does: She just won the first-ever Grammy award for Alternative Jazz for last year's The Omnichord Real Book. It's no surprise given her musical serachings that Ndegeocello is also deeply inspired by Sun Ra, the legendary out-there jazz composer and performer who traveled through time and space until leaving our planet in 1993. His legacy lives on, though, and Ndegeocello recently released Red Hot & Ra: The Magic City, which features new compositions, old sounds, and a fresh look not just at Ra's work but his musical spirit. It's hard to explain, but check out “Bedlam Blues” from The Magic City right here. Today's other guest is David Harrington, founding member of Kronos Quartet, which has been expanding the music world for 50 years. I'd be a fool to try and sum up everything they've done and everyone with whom they've performed over the years, but do yourself a favor and Google them if you're not familiar. I'll just say that Kronos has pushed the envelope from just about every conceivable angle and expanded the scope and understanding of classical music, pop music, experimental music and much more. They've done film scores that you've definitely heard and deep dives into fringe classical compositions that you almost certainly haven't. So it's no wonder that they, too, like Ndegeocello, have found the wonder and mystery in Sun Ra's music, and that they've put together their own tribute in the Red Hot and Ra series. Theirs is called Outer Spaceways Incorporated: Kronos Quartet and Friends Meet Sun Ra. The friends on their volume of the series include Laurie Anderson, Marshall Allen, Laraaji, Moor Mother, Terry Riley, and more. Check out “Outer Spaceways Incorporated,” which features Georgia Anne Muldrow, right here. I should mention too that both of these albums are being released by the Red Hot organization, which has been raising money and awareness for good causes—initially AIDS research, and now that and more—since 1989. The Red Hot and Ra series is just the latest in a long line of albums that push musical boundaries while also serving humanity, so kudos to them—and to former Talkhouse host Elia Einhorn, who's been working with the Red Hot folks on these Sun Ra tributes. In this great conversation, Harrington and Ndegeocello talk, naturally, about Sun Ra, and they get granular with it, touching on MLK's "I Have A Dream" speech and its relationship to this music. They also chat about bringing more women into composition—a Kronos mandate since the beginning—as well as how finding Sun Ra changed Ndegeocello's musical path completely. Harrington also shares a great story about rehearsing with Ornette Coleman. Bonus! Enjoy. Thanks for listening to the Talkhouse Podcast, and thanks to Meshell Ndegeocello and David Harrington for chatting. If you liked what you heard, please follow Talkhouse on your favorite podcasting platform, and check out all the great stuff at Talkhouse.com. This episode was produced by Myron Kaplan, and the Talkhouse theme is composed and performed by the Range. See you next time! This episode is brought to you by DistroKid. DistroKid makes music distribution fun and easy. To learn more and get 30% off your first year's membership, visit: distrokid.com/vip/talkhouse

An extended musical journey into Irish-American composer, Terry Riley's radical masterpiece, In C, guided by members of the Irish supergroup behind the first Trad version of his pioneering work of Minimalist magic. Featuring Zoë Conway, Donal Lunny, Máirtín O'Connor, Paddy Glackin, Mick O'Brien, Louise Mulcahy, and Michelle Mulcahy.

Brad E. Rose is a musician, podcaster, music writer, label owner, graphic designer, and dad, and we talk about his motivations beneath and for all of that. Content warning: COVID, parenthood, legacy, the undertow, extremely metal Capsula Mundi alternative, Terry Riley's A Rainbow in Curved Air.If you believe in This Is Your Afterlife and want fun bonus episodes, become a patron for $5 or $15/month at patreon.com/davemaher. Listen to Brad's excellent podcast, Songs of Our Lives!Read his music writing at Foxy Digitalis, and follow @foxy.digitalis on Instagram.His label is The Jewel Garden, and you can learn more about his expansive body of work at bradroseprojects.com.The album Brad released with his daughter, Anna L.H. Rose, is called Blanket, and you can hear it here.And if you'd like to support him financially, here is Brad's Patreon.Donate to the Chicago Abortion Fund via my page to provide life-saving healthcare to folks who need abortions.Follow this show on IG: @thisisyourafterlife, and get more info at thisisyourafterlife.com. Have thoughts on the show? Email thisisyourafterlifepodcast@gmail.com.Follow me @thisisdavemaher on Instagram and Twitter.All music by This Is Your Afterlife house band Lake Mary.Check out my other podcast, Genre Reveal Party!, where I analyze TV and movies with my friend, writer and cultural critic Madeline Lane-McKinley.

We update our tally of the year's best contenders with the effervescent Bombay Bicycle Club, Residente's epic and profound "313," cellist Maya Beiser's take on Terry Riley's "In C" and more.Alt.Latino's Anamaria Sayre and NPR Music's Tom Huizenga join host Robin HiltonFeatured Artists And Songs:1. Bombay Bicycle Club: "Willow (feat. Lucy Rose)," from 'Fantasies'2. Ela Taubert: "Como Paso" (single)3. Jlin: "Sodalite (feat. Kronos Quartet)," from 'Akoma'4. Maya Hawke: "Missing Out," from 'Chaos Angel'5. Residente: "313" from 'LAS LETRAS YA NO IMPORTAN'6. Maya Beiser: "In C," from 'Maya Beiser x Terry Riley: In C'Questions, comments, feedback? Email us: allsongs@npr.orgListen to the show sponsorship-free and support public radio with NPR Music +.Learn more about sponsor message choices: podcastchoices.com/adchoicesNPR Privacy Policy

durée : 01:00:01 - En pistes, contemporains ! du dimanche 03 mars 2024 - par : Emilie Munera - De l'amusement, de l'énergie, ce soir avec le disque du jour consacré à Oyvind Torvund. Également au programme de la cornemuse avec in C de Terry Riley. Expérience auditive garantie ! - réalisé par : Fanny Constans

durée : 00:25:05 - Terry Riley, In C - par : Anne-Charlotte Rémond - En 1964, Terry Riley compose une oeuvre-phare du tout jeune courant minimaliste américain : In C, à la fois expérimentation et pied de nez à l'intelligentsia post-sérielle alors populaire en Europe. - réalisé par : Philippe Petit

Galya Bisengalieva, Robert Ames, Actress and Claire M Singer discuss how instruments can affect composition, collaboration, and the relationship between music and its visual identity.Born into a musical family in Almaty, Kazakhstan, Kazakh-British musician Galya Bisengalieva won a music scholarship to study music in London, where she now lives. A classically trained violinist, composer and electronic musician, she released her debut solo EP in 2018, and debut album Aralkum in 2020. Her collaborators include Steve Reich, Laurie Spiegel, Sigur Rós, the National, Terry Riley and Thom Yorke, and she currently leads the London Contemporary Orchestra. She recently released her second album, Polygon.British conductor, composer, arranger and violist Robert Ames is the co-founder and artistic director of the London Contemporary Orchestra. His collaborators include Frank Ocean, Imogen Heap, Belle and Sebastian, Vivienne Westwood, DJ Shadow, Anna Meredith, Radiohead and Foals. His debut album, Change Ringing, came out in 2021.Innovative British electronic musician Actress released his debut single in 2004, and his debut album, Hazyville, followed in 2008. He recently released his seventh studio album, LXXXVIII, which he regards as the culmination of his career to date. Claire M Singer is a composer and performer of acoustic and electronic music, film and installations, known for her experimental approach to the organ. Her work draws inspiration from the dramatic landscape of her native Scotland. She released her debut album in 2016, and recently put out her fourth album, Saor.

He's a poet, art critic, curator, translator, cultural theorist -- and someone who helps make sense of our world. Ranjit Hoskote joins Amit Varma in episode 363 of The Seen and the Unseen to talk about his life, his times and his work. (FOR FULL LINKED SHOW NOTES, GO TO SEENUNSEEN.IN.) Also check out: 1. Ranjit Hoskote on Twitter, Instagram and Amazon. 2. Jonahwhale -- Ranjit Hoskote. 3. Hunchprose -- Ranjit Hoskote. 4. I, Lalla: The Poems of Lal Dĕd -- Translated by Ranjit Hoskote. 5. Poet's nightmare -- Ranjit Hoskote. 6. State of enrichment -- Ranjit Hoskote. 7. Nissim Ezekiel, AK Ramanujan, Arun Kolatkar, Keki Daruwalla, Dom Moraes, Dilip Chitre, Gieve Patel, Vilas Sarang, Arvind Krishna Mehrotra, Agha Shahid Ali, Mani Rao, Mustansir Dalvi, Jerry Pinto, Sampurna Chattarji, Vivek Narayanan and Arundhathi Subramaniam. 8. Ted Hughes, Geoffrey Hill, Seamus Heaney, Sharon Olds, Louise Glück, Jorie Graham and Rita Dove. 9. The Life and Times of Shanta Gokhale — Episode 311 of The Seen and the Unseen. 10. The Life and Times of Jerry Pinto — Episode 314 of The Seen and the Unseen. 11. कुँवर नारायण, केदारनाथ सिंह, अशोक वाजपेयी and नागार्जुन. 12. Ravi Shankar, Ali Akbar Khan, Bismillah Khan, Igor Straviksky, Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky, Steve Reich and Terry Riley. 13. Palgrave's Golden Treasury: From Shakespeare to the Present. 14. The Rime of the Ancient Mariner -- Samuel Taylor Coleridge. 15. Sara Rai Inhales Literature — Episode 255 of The Seen and the Unseen. 16. The Art of Translation — Episode 168 of The Seen and the Unseen (w Arunava Sinha). 17. Arun Khopkar, Mani Kaul and Clement Greenberg. 18. Stalker -- Andrei Tarkovsky. 19. The Sacrifice -- Andrei Tarkovsky. 20. Ivan's Childhood -- Andrei Tarkovsky. 21. The Color of Pomegranates -- Sergei Parajanov. 22. Ranjit Hoskote's tribute on Instagram to Gieve Patel. 23. Father Returning Home -- Dilip Chitre. 24. Jejuri -- Arun Kolatkar. 25. Modern Poetry in Translation -- Magazine and publisher founded by Ted Hughes and Daniel Weissbort. 26. On Exactitude in Science — Jorge Luis Borges. 27. How Music Works — David Byrne. 28. CBGB. 29. New York -- Lou Reed. 30. How This Nobel Has Redefined Literature — Amit Varma on Dylan winning the Nobel Prize. 31. The Fire and the Rain -- Girish Karnad. 32. Vanraj Bhatia on Wikipedia and IMDb. 33. Amit Varma's tweet thread on Jonahwhale. 34. Magic Fruit: A Poetic Trip -- Vaishnav Vyas. 35. Glenn Gould on Spotify. 36. Danish Husain and the Multiverse of Culture -- Episode 359 of The Seen and the Unseen. 37. Steven Fowler. 38. Serious Noticing -- James Wood. 39. How Fiction Works -- James Wood. 40. The Spirit of Indian Painting -- BN Goswamy. 41. Conversations -- BN Goswamy. 42. BN Goswamy on Wikipedia and Amazon. 43. BN Goswamy (1933-2023): Sage and Sensitivity -- Ranjit Hoskote. 44. Joseph Fasano's thread on his writing exercises. 45. Narayan Surve on Wikipedia and Amazon. 46. Steven Van Zandt: Springsteen, the death of rock and Van Morrison on Covid — Richard Purden. 47. 1000 True Fans — Kevin Kelly. 48. 1000 True Fans? Try 100 — Li Jin. 49. Future Shock -- Alvin Toffler. 50. The Third Wave -- Alvin Toffler. 51. The Long Tail -- Chris Anderson. 52. Ranjit Hoskote's resignation letter from the panel of Documenta. 53. Liquid Modernity -- Zygmunt Bauman. 54. Rahul Matthan Seeks the Protocol -- Episode 360 of The Seen and the Unseen. 55. Panopticon. 56. Tron -- Steven Lisberger. 57. Gita Press and the Making of Hindu India — Akshaya Mukul. 58. The Gita Press and Hindu Nationalism — Episode 139 of The Seen and the Unseen (w Akshaya Mukul). 59. Ramchandra Gandhi on Wikipedia and Amazon. 60. Majma-ul-Bahrain (also known as Samudra Sangam Grantha) -- Dara Shikoh. 61. Early Indians — Tony Joseph. 62. Tony Joseph's episode on The Seen and the Unseen. 63. Who We Are and How We Got Here — David Reich. 64. पुराण स्थल. 65. The Indianness of Indian Food — Episode 95 of The Seen and the Unseen (w Vikram Doctor). 66. The Refreshing Audacity of Vinay Singhal — Episode 291 of The Seen and the Unseen. 67. The Speaking Tree: A Study of Indian Culture and Society -- Richard Lannoy. 68. Clifford Geertz, John Berger and Arthur C Danto. 69. The Ascent of Man (book) (series) -- Jacob Bronowski. 70. Civilization (book) (series) -- Kenneth Clark. 71. Cosmos (book) (series) -- Carl Sagan. 72. Richard Dawkins, Steven Pinker, Stephen Jay Gould and Oliver Sacks. 73. Raag Darbari (Hindi) (English) — Shrilal Shukla.. 74. Raag Darbari on Storytel. 75. Krishnamurti's Notebook -- J Krishnamurty. 76. Shame -- Salman Rushdie. 77. Marcovaldo -- Italo Calvino. 78. Metropolis -- Fritz Lang. 79. Mahanagar -- Satyajit Ray. 80. A Momentary Lapse of Reason -- Pink Floyd. 81. Learning to Fly -- Pink Floyd, 82. Collected poems -- Mark Strand. Amit Varma and Ajay Shah have launched a new video podcast. Check out Everything is Everything on YouTube. Check out Amit's online course, The Art of Clear Writing. And subscribe to The India Uncut Newsletter. It's free! Episode art: ‘Dancing in Chains' by Simahina.

Here is Tom Welsh, Craig's old friend and a music aficionado. Tom was the Director of Performing Arts at the Cleveland Museum of Art, was the Managing Director of Big Ears in 2023, and is the manager of legendary composer Terry Riley. EnJOY! See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

It's Christmas time, there's no need to be afraid. At Christmas time, we let in the most demented wrestling audio of 2023. The PPP boys are here to bring you a solid hit of black tar festive cheer, as we answer your fan questions, look back on the last twelve months, pay tribute to one of the greats, once again lay bare our complete lack of contemporary puro knowledge in our Christmas quiz, see what Jolly Old Terry Riley has in his sack for us this year, and embark upon the mammoth task of trying to pick a defining wrestler for every year of the 21st century to date. Find out what happened when a bagpipe-bothering war criminal walked into Big Vince Baker's workplace, remember the general existence of Dan "I've seen some things" Moloney, and discover the answer to the question, "Just how racist *is* WWE nowadays?" Merry Christmas, one and all. 0:00:00 – Intro 0:05:56 – Q&A 1:25:15 – Year in Review 2:09:53 – Antonio Inoki: A Tribute 2:20:11 – Christmas Puro Quiz 2:42:15 – Terry Riley's Personal Collection Vol.6 – Xia Li vs. Karen Q (WWE, 19 September 2018) 2:58:38 – The Baby Boy Bono-chan Awards, 2000-2023

On this episode of the Foxy Digitalis Podcast, my brain is completely and utterly fried and I am just counting down the seconds until things go a little quiet after next week (I thought about literally just counting backwards from however many seconds there are between when I'm writing this and next Friday at 5 PM, but spared y'all). This week's pick is three heavyweights creating incredible soundscapes unlike anything I've ever heard. Plus a couple lovely bits I've been listening to from Mexico and Argentina. One more week!Album of the Week: Thollem / Terry Riley / Nels Cline “The Light is Real”This Week's Links:Mentira Mentira “Cielos Irreconocibles”Cecilia Quinteros “Narel”Foxy Digitalis is an online music resource and organization promoting music in the margins with the idea that sound is for everyone. Originally founded in 1996 by Brad Rose, it has existed in multiple formats for nearly 30 years. Currently, it is an online music magazine, podcast network, and events producer based in Tulsa, Oklahoma.Send a voicemailFollow Foxy Digitalis:WebsitePatreonInstagramTwitterBlueskyMastodonThe Jewel Garden

Weird symphony, no crazy vibrato, Terry Riley on the discman. The violist and composer discusses three important albums.Jessica's picks:Beethoven - André Cluytens, Berlin Philharmonic Orchestra – Symphony No. 9John Cage, Arditti String Quartet – String Quartet In Four PartsTerry Riley – You're NogoodJessica's new album Clamor is out now via Out Of Your Head Records. Her website is here.Donate to Crucial Listening on Ko-fi: https://ko-fi.com/cruciallistening

Nous accueillons ce soir Bertrand Burgalat, musicien, producteur, compositeur, arrangeur et fondateur de Tricatel, la maison de disque entièrement consacrée aux artistes inclassables (Chassol, Jef Barbara, April March…), aux projets hors norme (Jonathan Coe, Michel Houellebecq…) et à des compositeurs comme André Popp et David Whitaker.Ce dernier est accompagné de Jean-Pierre Müller, graphiste, peintre et sérigraphie belge et auteur de l'exposition 7x7, s'étant déroulée au Summerhall à Edimbourg en 2012.Tous deux présenteront le disque de l'exposition 7x7, contenant des inédits de légendes tels que Archie Schepp, Robert Wyatt, Terry Riley ou encore Mulatu Astatke.TRACKLISTZoot Woman - It's Automatic Troye Sivan - SillyEnchantée Julia ft. Lossapardo - Sois Pas PresséANGILINAZULI (Lazuli & Angie) - Bébé Le disque de 19h22 (envoyez votre proposition, un morceau aux couleurs Nova Club, à @davidblot sur Instagram!) :Kings of Tomorrow - Finally (ft. Julie McKnight)Robert Wyatt - Red Alhambra Archie Schepp - Blues In Orange CHIC - Everybody DanceNile Rodgers - Harlem Nights (Indigo)The High Lamas - ApricotsKassin - Quando Você Esta Sambando Kassin - Azul Mulatu Astatke - Zellesenya Terry Riley - Sahasrara Hébergé par Acast. Visitez acast.com/privacy pour plus d'informations.

According to Britannica, a musical composition is the art of conceiving and creating music. I love to sing, and I very much enjoy listening to music. That part I get, but to compose music, to pick out the notes, the instruments… I'm completely at a loss. Fortunately, we have three women composers with us today who will explain what it means to be a female composer in today's music world.For this BCR program, we spoke with Svjetlana Bukvich, best known for her blending of classical music, media and electronic music. Sarajevo-born and NYC-based -- Svjetlana is widely regarded as an innovative, dynamic, multimedia American composers. Her music has been heard at The Kennedy Center, the Tribeca Film Festival, Brooklyn's Bargemusic, Rose Studio at Lincoln Center – and many other venues.Beth Anderson Harold is a composer of new romantic music, text-sound works, and music theatre events. Her early work was considered post-Cagian and non-academic. Beth studied with John Cage, Terry Riley, Robert Ashley and Larry Austin at Mills College and U.C. Davis. You can catch her beautiful compositions at New World Records and many other places on the web.Gramophone described Debra Kaye as “an eclectic unfolding of creativity.” Debra has won 6 Global Music Awards and received grants from Mannes College, Meet the Composer, and Edward T. Cone Foundation; and commissions from the Howland Chamber Music Circle and Portland Youth Philharmonic; Ms Kay's works have premiered at Carnegie Hall's Weill Recital Hall, in collaboration with the Lincoln Trio and Daedalus Quartet. Rebecca McKean Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

Today, the Spotlight shines On Kerry O'Brien and William Robin, co-authors of the book On Minimalism: Documenting a Musical Movement from University of California Press.Philip Glass, Steve Reich, Terry Riley and LaMonte Young are stereotypically described as the “Big Four” of minimalism in music. While On Minimalism does nothing to undermine or belittle their pioneering and important contributions to the form, the authors widen the aperture to show a broader scope to the music, from its beginnings in the psychedelic counterculture through its present-day influences on ambient jazz, doom metal, and electronic music. The book encompasses figures as diverse as Yoko Ono and Brian Eno, John and Alice Coltrane, Pauline Oliveros and Julius Eastman, as well as many other well-and-little-known names and subgenres. There is also a much due focus on the contributions of women, people of color, and LGBTQ+ musicians. I loved this book and I think listeners to this podcast will as well.Enjoy Kerry O'Brian and William Robin, on minimalism.------------------Dig DeeperGrab a copy of On Minimalism from UC Press, Bookshop, Powell's, Amazon, or Barnes & NobleFollow Kerry O'Brien on Instagram, Facebook, or Twitter (X)Follow William Robin on Instagram or Twitter (X)On Minimalism: a Spotify Playlist ------------------I would like to give one of our listeners my copy of On Minimalism. If you would like it, go to spotlightonpodcast.com and once you're on the home page, go to the newsletter sign up form. To be considered, give us your first name and email address. Current newsletter subscribers will be entered automatically. Enter by Noon Pacific Time on November 8. We will select a recipient at random that afternoon and contact them for shipping details. ------------------• Did you enjoy this episode? Please share it with a friend! You can also rate Spotlight On ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ and leave a review on Apple Podcasts.• Subscribe! Be the first to check out each new episode of Spotlight On in your podcast app of choice.• Looking for more? Visit spotlightonpodcast.com for bonus content, web-only interviews + features, and the Spotlight On email newsletter. Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

Today, the Spotlight shines On Kerry O'Brien and William Robin, co-authors of the book On Minimalism: Documenting a Musical Movement from University of California Press.Philip Glass, Steve Reich, Terry Riley and LaMonte Young are stereotypically described as the “Big Four” of minimalism in music. While On Minimalism does nothing to undermine or belittle their pioneering and important contributions to the form, the authors widen the aperture to show a broader scope to the music, from its beginnings in the psychedelic counterculture through its present-day influences on ambient jazz, doom metal, and electronic music. The book encompasses figures as diverse as Yoko Ono and Brian Eno, John and Alice Coltrane, Pauline Oliveros and Julius Eastman, as well as many other well-and-little-known names and subgenres. There is also a much due focus on the contributions of women, people of color, and LGBTQ+ musicians. I loved this book and I think listeners to this podcast will as well.Enjoy Kerry O'Brian and William Robin, on minimalism.------------------Dig DeeperGrab a copy of On Minimalism from UC Press, Bookshop, Powell's, Amazon, or Barnes & NobleFollow Kerry O'Brien on Instagram, Facebook, or Twitter (X)Follow William Robin on Instagram or Twitter (X)On Minimalism: a Spotify Playlist ------------------I would like to give one of our listeners my copy of On Minimalism. If you would like it, go to spotlightonpodcast.com and once you're on the home page, go to the newsletter sign up form. To be considered, give us your first name and email address. Current newsletter subscribers will be entered automatically. Enter by Noon Pacific Time on November 8. We will select a recipient at random that afternoon and contact them for shipping details. ------------------• Did you enjoy this episode? Please share it with a friend! You can also rate Spotlight On ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ and leave a review on Apple Podcasts.• Subscribe! Be the first to check out each new episode of Spotlight On in your podcast app of choice.• Looking for more? Visit spotlightonpodcast.com for bonus content, web-only interviews + features, and the Spotlight On email newsletter. Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

A supersession in Dundalk, as trad supergroup led by Zoë Conway, Dónal Lunny and friends take on Terry Riley's Minimalist touchstone, In C

Exploring the myriad ways that classical music is being created today, Perspectives features four new works written for – and with – Third Coast Percussion by Danny Elfman, Philip Glass, Jlin, and Flutronix. Third Coast Percussion tours the program this season to the Windgate Center for the Performing Arts at the University of Central Arkansas (Sept. 21); Heindl Center for the Performing Arts at Northwest Mississippi Community College (Oct. 2); UCLA's Center for the Art of Performance (Apr. 5); Montalvo Arts Center (Apr. 10); and Friends of Chamber Music Troy (Apr. 25). The Friends of Chamber Music Troy residency will also include an outdoor community performance of Terry Riley's In C.Between Breaths Track ListMISSY MAZZOLI – Millennium Canticles (15:19)   1. Part 1: Famous Disaster Psalm (2:00)   2. Part 2: The Doubter's Litany (2:33)   3. Part 3: Bloodied Bells (6:12)   4. Part 4: Choir of the Holy Locusts (2:47) 5 Part 5: Survival Psalm (1:47)THIRD COAST PERCUSSION – In Practice (17:06)   6. Part I (9:00)   7. Part II (8:06)8. TYONDAI BRAXTON – Sunny X (11:15)9. AYANNA WOODS – Triple Point (5:11)10. GEMMA PEACOCKE – Death Wish (9:43)Total Time: 58:58Help support our show by purchasing this album  at:Downloads (classicalmusicdiscoveries.store) Classical Music Discoveries is sponsored by Uber and Apple Classical. @CMDHedgecock#ClassicalMusicDiscoveries #KeepClassicalMusicAlive#CMDGrandOperaCompanyofVenice #CMDParisPhilharmonicinOrléans#CMDGermanOperaCompanyofBerlin#CMDGrandOperaCompanyofBarcelonaSpain#ClassicalMusicLivesOn#Uber#AppleClassical Please consider supporting our show, thank you!Donate (classicalmusicdiscoveries.store) staff@classicalmusicdiscoveries.comThis album is broadcasted with the permission of Katy Salomon representing Primo Artists.

Lee Robinson and Will Hagle collab to connect two collaboration albums: John Cale/Terry Riley 'Church of Anthrax' to Lil Wayne/Birdman 'Like Father, Like Son' with six songs of separation, Kevin Bacon style. They listen to and talk about a lot of music. Weaving webs through musical history.Don't forget to subscribe, bonnie raitt and review!email us: connectingtheclassics@gmail.comtweet at us: @ctcpod

durée : 01:34:59 - Les Nuits de France Culture - par : Albane Penaranda - En 2005, dans "Surpris par la nuit" la danseuse Anna Halprin, aventurière de la danse post-moderne, se raconte. Dès les années 1950 à San Francisco, dans le sillon de la danse libre, elle sonde la continuité entre la danse et les gestes du quotidien créant un nouvel espace de liberté chorégraphique. En 2005, dans ce numéro de Surpris par la nuit, Anna Halprin revient sur sa longue histoire de danseuse et de chorégraphe. Née en 1920, elle s'applique à casser les codes convenus de la danse, participant à la conception de formes nouvelles. La danse contemporaine a toujours fait partie de sa vie, elle la conçoit dès les origines comme un moyen d'expression, proche de la vision de son ami Merce Cunningham : "La danse a toujours fait partie de ma vie. Être présent à un moment donné, en pleine et pure conscience. Être constamment stimulée par les musiciens, les acteurs et les peintres, c'était une période formidable, durant laquelle de nombreuses cloisons ont été abattues." Anna Halprin intègre des gestes simples et quotidiens à ses chorégraphies Mais là où Cunningham favorise le hasard tout en conservant l'esthétique du ballet, Anna Halprin préfère l'idée de gestes quotidiens, simples et intégrés à la chorégraphie. Elle reprendra donc à son compte des actions effectuées tous les jours sans y prendre garde : se vêtir, se dévêtir, manger... C'est bien le réel dans son plus simple appareil qui l'intéresse pour imaginer des mouvements dansés. Puisque ce qui constitue la vie courante, dans tout ce qu'elle peut représenter de répétitif et d'anodin, est déjà bien assez riche pour son inspiration, sans qu'elle ne ressente le besoin d'y ajouter des gestes factices. Elle souligne : "L'académisme n'est pas chose aisée pour moi." Anna Halprin, qui a passé sa vie à réinventer sa pratique, a aussi contribué au développement de la danse-thérapie pour accompagner les malades. Elle s'en est allée, à l'âge de 100 ans, le 24 mai 2021. Par Jacqueline Caux Réalisation : Anna Szmuc Surpris par la nuit, avec : Anna Halprin, La Monte Young et Terry Riley -1ère diffusion : 30/03/2005 Edition web : Documentation de Radio France

Episode 165 of A History of Rock Music in Five Hundred Songs looks at “Dark Stat” and the career of the Grateful Dead. This is a long one, even longer than the previous episode, but don't worry, that won't be the norm. There's a reason these two were much longer than average. Click the full post to read liner notes, links to more information, and a transcript of the episode. Patreon backers also have a twenty-minute bonus episode available, on "Codine" by the Charlatans. Errata I mispronounce Brent Mydland's name as Myland a couple of times, and in the introduction I say "Touch of Grey" came out in 1988 -- I later, correctly, say 1987. (I seem to have had a real problem with dates in the intro -- I also originally talked about "Blue Suede Shoes" being in 1954 before fixing it in the edit to be 1956) Resources No Mixcloud this week, as there are too many songs by the Grateful Dead, and Grayfolded runs to two hours. I referred to a lot of books for this episode, partly because almost everything about the Grateful Dead is written from a fannish perspective that already assumes background knowledge, rather than to provide that background knowledge. Of the various books I used, Dennis McNally's biography of the band and This Is All a Dream We Dreamed: An Oral History of the Grateful Dead by Blair Jackson and David Gans are probably most useful for the casually interested. Other books on the Dead I used included McNally's Jerry on Jerry, a collection of interviews with Garcia; Deal, Bill Kreutzmann's autobiography; The Grateful Dead FAQ by Tony Sclafani; So Many Roads by David Browne; Deadology by Howard F. Weiner; Fare Thee Well by Joel Selvin and Pamela Turley; and Skeleton Key: A Dictionary for Deadheads by David Shenk and Steve Silberman. Tom Wolfe's The Electric Kool-Aid Acid Test is the classic account of the Pranksters, though not always reliable. I reference Slaughterhouse Five a lot. As well as the novel itself, which everyone should read, I also read this rather excellent graphic novel adaptation, and The Writer's Crusade, a book about the writing of the novel. I also reference Ted Sturgeon's More Than Human. For background on the scene around Astounding Science Fiction which included Sturgeon, John W. Campbell, L. Ron Hubbard, and many other science fiction writers, I recommend Alec Nevala-Lee's Astounding. 1,000 True Fans can be read online, as can the essay on the Californian ideology, and John Perry Barlow's "Declaration of the Independence of Cyberspace". The best collection of Grateful Dead material is the box set The Golden Road, which contains all the albums released in Pigpen's lifetime along with a lot of bonus material, but which appears currently out of print. Live/Dead contains both the live version of "Dark Star" which made it well known and, as a CD bonus track, the original single version. And archive.org has more live recordings of the group than you can possibly ever listen to. Grayfolded can be bought from John Oswald's Bandcamp Patreon This podcast is brought to you by the generosity of my backers on Patreon. Why not join them? Transcript [Excerpt: Tuning from "Grayfolded", under the warnings Before we begin -- as we're tuning up, as it were, I should mention that this episode contains discussions of alcoholism, drug addiction, racism, nonconsensual drugging of other people, and deaths from drug abuse, suicide, and car accidents. As always, I try to deal with these subjects as carefully as possible, but if you find any of those things upsetting you may wish to read the transcript rather than listen to this episode, or skip it altogether. Also, I should note that the members of the Grateful Dead were much freer with their use of swearing in interviews than any other band we've covered so far, and that makes using quotes from them rather more difficult than with other bands, given the limitations of the rules imposed to stop the podcast being marked as adult. If I quote anything with a word I can't use here, I'll give a brief pause in the audio, and in the transcript I'll have the word in square brackets. [tuning ends] All this happened, more or less. In 1910, T. S. Eliot started work on "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock", which at the time was deemed barely poetry, with one reviewer imagining Eliot saying "I'll just put down the first thing that comes into my head, and call it 'The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock.'" It is now considered one of the great classics of modernist literature. In 1969, Kurt Vonnegut wrote "Slaughterhouse-Five, or, The Children's Crusade: A Duty-Dance with Death", a book in which the protagonist, Billy Pilgrim, comes unstuck in time, and starts living a nonlinear life, hopping around between times reliving his experiences in the Second World War, and future experiences up to 1976 after being kidnapped by beings from the planet Tralfamadore. Or perhaps he has flashbacks and hallucinations after having a breakdown from PTSD. It is now considered one of the great classics of modernist literature or of science fiction, depending on how you look at it. In 1953, Theodore Sturgeon wrote More Than Human. It is now considered one of the great classics of science fiction. In 1950, L. Ron Hubbard wrote Dianetics: The Modern Science of Mental Health. It is now considered either a bad piece of science fiction or one of the great revelatory works of religious history, depending on how you look at it. In 1994, 1995, and 1996 the composer John Oswald released, first as two individual CDs and then as a double-CD, an album called Grayfolded, which the composer says in the liner notes he thinks of as existing in Tralfamadorian time. The Tralfamadorians in Vonnegut's novels don't see time as a linear thing with a beginning and end, but as a continuum that they can move between at will. When someone dies, they just think that at this particular point in time they're not doing so good, but at other points in time they're fine, so why focus on the bad time? In the book, when told of someone dying, the Tralfamadorians just say "so it goes". In between the first CD's release and the release of the double-CD version, Jerry Garcia died. From August 1942 through August 1995, Jerry Garcia was alive. So it goes. Shall we go, you and I? [Excerpt: The Grateful Dead, "Dark Star (Omni 3/30/94)"] "One principle has become clear. Since motives are so frequently found in combination, it is essential that the complex types be analyzed and arranged, with an eye kept single nevertheless to the master-theme under discussion. Collectors, both primary and subsidiary, have done such valiant service that the treasures at our command are amply sufficient for such studies, so extensive, indeed, that the task of going through them thoroughly has become too great for the unassisted student. It cannot be too strongly urged that a single theme in its various types and compounds must be made predominant in any useful comparative study. This is true when the sources and analogues of any literary work are treated; it is even truer when the bare motive is discussed. The Grateful Dead furnishes an apt illustration of the necessity of such handling. It appears in a variety of different combinations, almost never alone. Indeed, it is so widespread a tale, and its combinations are so various, that there is the utmost difficulty in determining just what may properly be regarded the original kernel of it, the simple theme to which other motives were joined. Various opinions, as we shall see, have been held with reference to this matter, most of them justified perhaps by the materials in the hands of the scholars holding them, but none quite adequate in view of later evidence." That's a quote from The Grateful Dead: The History of a Folk Story, by Gordon Hall Gerould, published in 1908. Kurt Vonnegut's novel Slaughterhouse-Five opens with a chapter about the process of writing the novel itself, and how difficult it was. He says "I would hate to tell you what this lousy little book cost me in money and anxiety and time. When I got home from the Second World War twenty-three years ago, I thought it would be easy for me to write about the destruction of Dresden, since all I would have to do would be to report what I had seen. And I thought, too, that it would be a masterpiece or at least make me a lot of money, since the subject was so big." This is an episode several of my listeners have been looking forward to, but it's one I've been dreading writing, because this is an episode -- I think the only one in the series -- where the format of the podcast simply *will not* work. Were the Grateful Dead not such an important band, I would skip this episode altogether, but they're a band that simply can't be ignored, and that's a real problem here. Because my intent, always, with this podcast, is to present the recordings of the artists in question, put them in context, and explain why they were important, what their music meant to its listeners. To put, as far as is possible, the positive case for why the music mattered *in the context of its time*. Not why it matters now, or why it matters to me, but why it matters *in its historical context*. Whether I like the music or not isn't the point. Whether it stands up now isn't the point. I play the music, explain what it was they were doing, why they were doing it, what people saw in it. If I do my job well, you come away listening to "Blue Suede Shoes" the way people heard it in 1956, or "Good Vibrations" the way people heard it in 1966, and understanding why people were so impressed by those records. That is simply *not possible* for the Grateful Dead. I can present a case for them as musicians, and hope to do so. I can explain the appeal as best I understand it, and talk about things I like in their music, and things I've noticed. But what I can't do is present their recordings the way they were received in the sixties and explain why they were popular. Because every other act I have covered or will cover in this podcast has been a *recording* act, and their success was based on records. They may also have been exceptional live performers, but James Brown or Ike and Tina Turner are remembered for great *records*, like "Papa's Got a Brand New Bag" or "River Deep, Mountain High". Their great moments were captured on vinyl, to be listened back to, and susceptible of analysis. That is not the case for the Grateful Dead, and what is worse *they explicitly said, publicly, on multiple occasions* that it is not possible for me to understand their art, and thus that it is not possible for me to explain it. The Grateful Dead did make studio records, some of them very good. But they always said, consistently, over a thirty year period, that their records didn't capture what they did, and that the only way -- the *only* way, they were very clear about this -- that one could actually understand and appreciate their music, was to see them live, and furthermore to see them live while on psychedelic drugs. [Excerpt: Grateful Dead crowd noise] I never saw the Grateful Dead live -- their last UK performance was a couple of years before I went to my first ever gig -- and I have never taken a psychedelic substance. So by the Grateful Dead's own criteria, it is literally impossible for me to understand or explain their music the way that it should be understood or explained. In a way I'm in a similar position to the one I was in with La Monte Young in the last episode, whose music it's mostly impossible to experience without being in his presence. This is one reason of several why I placed these two episodes back to back. Of course, there is a difference between Young and the Grateful Dead. The Grateful Dead allowed -- even encouraged -- the recording of their live performances. There are literally thousands of concert recordings in circulation, many of them of professional quality. I have listened to many of those, and I can hear what they were doing. I can tell you what *I* think is interesting about their music, and about their musicianship. And I think I can build up a good case for why they were important, and why they're interesting, and why those recordings are worth listening to. And I can certainly explain the cultural phenomenon that was the Grateful Dead. But just know that while I may have found *a* point, *an* explanation for why the Grateful Dead were important, by the band's own lights and those of their fans, no matter how good a job I do in this episode, I *cannot* get it right. And that is, in itself, enough of a reason for this episode to exist, and for me to try, even harder than I normally do, to get it right *anyway*. Because no matter how well I do my job this episode will stand as an example of why this series is called "*A* History", not *the* history. Because parts of the past are ephemeral. There are things about which it's true to say "You had to be there". I cannot know what it was like to have been an American the day Kennedy was shot, I cannot know what it was like to be alive when a man walked on the Moon. Those are things nobody my age or younger can ever experience. And since August the ninth, 1995, the experience of hearing the Grateful Dead's music the way they wanted it heard has been in that category. And that is by design. Jerry Garcia once said "if you work really hard as an artist, you may be able to build something they can't tear down, you know, after you're gone... What I want to do is I want it here. I want it now, in this lifetime. I want what I enjoy to last as long as I do and not last any longer. You know, I don't want something that ends up being as much a nuisance as it is a work of art, you know?" And there's another difficulty. There are only two points in time where it makes sense to do a podcast episode on the Grateful Dead -- late 1967 and early 1968, when the San Francisco scene they were part of was at its most culturally relevant, and 1988 when they had their only top ten hit and gained their largest audience. I can't realistically leave them out of the story until 1988, so it has to be 1968. But the songs they are most remembered for are those they wrote between 1970 and 1972, and those songs are influenced by artists and events we haven't yet covered in the podcast, who will be getting their own episodes in the future. I can't explain those things in this episode, because they need whole episodes of their own. I can't not explain them without leaving out important context for the Grateful Dead. So the best I can do is treat the story I'm telling as if it were in Tralfamadorian time. All of it's happening all at once, and some of it is happening in different episodes that haven't been recorded yet. The podcast as a whole travels linearly from 1938 through to 1999, but this episode is happening in 1968 and 1972 and 1988 and 1995 and other times, all at once. Sometimes I'll talk about things as if you're already familiar with them, but they haven't happened yet in the story. Feel free to come unstuck in time and revisit this time after episode 167, and 172, and 176, and 192, and experience it again. So this has to be an experimental episode. It may well be an experiment that you think fails. If so, the next episode is likely to be far more to your taste, and much shorter than this or the last episode, two episodes that between them have to create a scaffolding on which will hang much of the rest of this podcast's narrative. I've finished my Grateful Dead script now. The next one I write is going to be fun: [Excerpt: Grateful Dead, "Dark Star"] Infrastructure means everything. How we get from place to place, how we transport goods, information, and ourselves, makes a big difference in how society is structured, and in the music we hear. For many centuries, the prime means of long-distance transport was by water -- sailing ships on the ocean, canal boats and steamboats for inland navigation -- and so folk songs talked about the ship as both means of escape, means of making a living, and in some senses as a trap. You'd go out to sea for adventure, or to escape your problems, but you'd find that the sea itself brought its own problems. Because of this we have a long, long tradition of sea shanties which are known throughout the world: [Excerpt: A. L. Lloyd, "Off to Sea Once More"] But in the nineteenth century, the railway was invented and, at least as far as travel within a landmass goes, it replaced the steamboat in the popular imaginary. Now the railway was how you got from place to place, and how you moved freight from one place to another. The railway brought freedom, and was an opportunity for outlaws, whether train robbers or a romanticised version of the hobo hopping onto a freight train and making his way to new lands and new opportunity. It was the train that brought soldiers home from wars, and the train that allowed the Great Migration of Black people from the South to the industrial North. There would still be songs about the riverboats, about how ol' man river keeps rolling along and about the big river Johnny Cash sang about, but increasingly they would be songs of the past, not the present. The train quickly replaced the steamboat in the iconography of what we now think of as roots music -- blues, country, folk, and early jazz music. Sometimes this was very literal. Furry Lewis' "Kassie Jones" -- about a legendary train driver who would break the rules to make sure his train made the station on time, but who ended up sacrificing his own life to save his passengers in a train crash -- is based on "Alabamy Bound", which as we heard in the episode on "Stagger Lee", was about steamboats: [Excerpt: Furry Lewis, "Kassie Jones"] In the early episodes of this podcast we heard many, many, songs about the railway. Louis Jordan saying "take me right back to the track, Jack", Rosetta Tharpe singing about how "this train don't carry no gamblers", the trickster freight train driver driving on the "Rock Island Line", the mystery train sixteen coaches long, the train that kept-a-rollin' all night long, the Midnight Special which the prisoners wished would shine its ever-loving light on them, and the train coming past Folsom Prison whose whistle makes Johnny Cash hang his head and cry. But by the 1960s, that kind of song had started to dry up. It would happen on occasion -- "People Get Ready" by the Impressions is the most obvious example of the train metaphor in an important sixties record -- but by the late sixties the train was no longer a symbol of freedom but of the past. In 1969 Harry Nilsson sang about how "Nobody Cares About the Railroads Any More", and in 1968 the Kinks sang about "The Last of the Steam-Powered Trains". When in 1968 Merle Haggard sang about a freight train, it was as a memory, of a child with hopes that ended up thwarted by reality and his own nature: [Excerpt: Merle Haggard, "Mama Tried"] And the reason for this was that there had been another shift, a shift that had started in the forties and accelerated in the late fifties but had taken a little time to ripple through the culture. Now the train had been replaced in the popular imaginary by motorised transport. Instead of hopping on a train without paying, if you had no money in your pocket you'd have to hitch-hike all the way. Freedom now meant individuality. The ultimate in freedom was the biker -- the Hell's Angels who could go anywhere, unburdened by anything -- and instead of goods being moved by freight train, increasingly they were being moved by truck drivers. By the mid-seventies, truck drivers took a central place in American life, and the most romantic way to live life was to live it on the road. On The Road was also the title of a 1957 novel by Jack Kerouac, which was one of the first major signs of this cultural shift in America. Kerouac was writing about events in the late forties and early fifties, but his book was also a precursor of the sixties counterculture. He wrote the book on one continuous sheet of paper, as a stream of consciousness. Kerouac died in 1969 of an internal haemmorage brought on by too much alcohol consumption. So it goes. But the big key to this cultural shift was caused by the Federal-Aid Highway Act of 1956, a massive infrastructure spending bill that led to the construction of the modern American Interstate Highway system. This accelerated a program that had already started, of building much bigger, safer, faster roads. It also, as anyone who has read Robert Caro's The Power Broker knows, reinforced segregation and white flight. It did this both by making commuting into major cities from the suburbs easier -- thus allowing white people with more money to move further away from the cities and still work there -- and by bulldozing community spaces where Black people lived. More than a million people lost their homes and were forcibly moved, and orders of magnitude more lost their communities' parks and green spaces. And both as a result of deliberate actions and unconscious bigotry, the bulk of those affected were Black people -- who often found themselves, if they weren't forced to move, on one side of a ten-lane highway where the park used to be, with white people on the other side of the highway. The Federal-Aid Highway Act gave even more power to the unaccountable central planners like Robert Moses, the urban planner in New York who managed to become arguably the most powerful man in the city without ever getting elected, partly by slowly compromising away his early progressive ideals in the service of gaining more power. Of course, not every new highway was built through areas where poor Black people lived. Some were planned to go through richer areas for white people, just because you can't completely do away with geographical realities. For example one was planned to be built through part of San Francisco, a rich, white part. But the people who owned properties in that area had enough political power and clout to fight the development, and after nearly a decade of fighting it, the development was called off in late 1966. But over that time, many of the owners of the impressive buildings in the area had moved out, and they had no incentive to improve or maintain their properties while they were under threat of demolition, so many of them were rented out very cheaply. And when the beat community that Kerouac wrote about, many of whom had settled in San Francisco, grew too large and notorious for the area of the city they were in, North Beach, many of them moved to these cheap homes in a previously-exclusive area. The area known as Haight-Ashbury. [Excerpt: The Grateful Dead, "Grayfolded"] Stories all have their starts, even stories told in Tralfamadorian time, although sometimes those starts are shrouded in legend. For example, the story of Scientology's start has been told many times, with different people claiming to have heard L. Ron Hubbard talk about how writing was a mug's game, and if you wanted to make real money, you needed to get followers, start a religion. Either he said this over and over and over again, to many different science fiction writers, or most science fiction writers of his generation were liars. Of course, the definition of a writer is someone who tells lies for money, so who knows? One of the more plausible accounts of him saying that is given by Theodore Sturgeon. Sturgeon's account is more believable than most, because Sturgeon went on to be a supporter of Dianetics, the "new science" that Hubbard turned into his religion, for decades, even while telling the story. The story of the Grateful Dead probably starts as it ends, with Jerry Garcia. There are three things that everyone writing about the Dead says about Garcia's childhood, so we might as well say them here too. The first is that he was named by a music-loving father after Jerome Kern, the songwriter responsible for songs like "Ol' Man River" (though as Oscar Hammerstein's widow liked to point out, "Jerome Kern wrote dum-dum-dum-dum, *my husband* wrote 'Ol' Man River'" -- an important distinction we need to bear in mind when talking about songwriters who write music but not lyrics). The second is that when he was five years old that music-loving father drowned -- and Garcia would always say he had seen his father dying, though some sources claim this was a false memory. So it goes. And the third fact, which for some reason is always told after the second even though it comes before it chronologically, is that when he was four he lost two joints from his right middle finger. Garcia grew up a troubled teen, and in turn caused trouble for other people, but he also developed a few interests that would follow him through his life. He loved the fantastical, especially the fantastical macabre, and became an avid fan of horror and science fiction -- and through his love of old monster films he became enamoured with cinema more generally. Indeed, in 1983 he bought the film rights to Kurt Vonnegut's science fiction novel The Sirens of Titan, the first story in which the Tralfamadorians appear, and wrote a script based on it. He wanted to produce the film himself, with Francis Ford Coppola directing and Bill Murray starring, but most importantly for him he wanted to prevent anyone who didn't care about it from doing it badly. And in that he succeeded. As of 2023 there is no film of The Sirens of Titan. He loved to paint, and would continue that for the rest of his life, with one of his favourite subjects being Boris Karloff as the Frankenstein monster. And when he was eleven or twelve, he heard for the first time a record that was hugely influential to a whole generation of Californian musicians, even though it was a New York record -- "Gee" by the Crows: [Excerpt: The Crows, "Gee"] Garcia would say later "That was an important song. That was the first kind of, like where the voices had that kind of not-trained-singer voices, but tough-guy-on-the-street voice." That record introduced him to R&B, and soon he was listening to Chuck Berry and Bo Diddley, to Ray Charles, and to a record we've not talked about in the podcast but which was one of the great early doo-wop records, "WPLJ" by the Four Deuces: [Excerpt: The Four Deuces, "WPLJ"] Garcia said of that record "That was one of my anthem songs when I was in junior high school and high school and around there. That was one of those songs everybody knew. And that everybody sang. Everybody sang that street-corner favorite." Garcia moved around a lot as a child, and didn't have much time for school by his own account, but one of the few teachers he did respect was an art teacher when he was in North Beach, Walter Hedrick. Hedrick was also one of the earliest of the conceptual artists, and one of the most important figures in the San Francisco arts scene that would become known as the Beat Generation (or the Beatniks, which was originally a disparaging term). Hedrick was a painter and sculptor, but also organised happenings, and he had also been one of the prime movers in starting a series of poetry readings in San Francisco, the first one of which had involved Allen Ginsberg giving the first ever reading of "Howl" -- one of a small number of poems, along with Eliot's "Prufrock" and "The Waste Land" and possibly Pound's Cantos, which can be said to have changed twentieth-century literature. Garcia was fifteen when he got to know Hedrick, in 1957, and by then the Beat scene had already become almost a parody of itself, having become known to the public because of the publication of works like On the Road, and the major artists in the scene were already rejecting the label. By this point tourists were flocking to North Beach to see these beatniks they'd heard about on TV, and Hedrick was actually employed by one cafe to sit in the window wearing a beret, turtleneck, sandals, and beard, and draw and paint, to attract the tourists who flocked by the busload because they could see that there was a "genuine beatnik" in the cafe. Hedrick was, as well as a visual artist, a guitarist and banjo player who played in traditional jazz bands, and he would bring records in to class for his students to listen to, and Garcia particularly remembered him bringing in records by Big Bill Broonzy: [Excerpt: Big Bill Broonzy, "When Things Go Wrong (It Hurts Me Too)"] Garcia was already an avid fan of rock and roll music, but it was being inspired by Hedrick that led him to get his first guitar. Like his contemporary Paul McCartney around the same time, he was initially given the wrong instrument as a birthday present -- in Garcia's case his mother gave him an accordion -- but he soon persuaded her to swap it for an electric guitar he saw in a pawn shop. And like his other contemporary, John Lennon, Garcia initially tuned his instrument incorrectly. He said later "When I started playing the guitar, believe me, I didn't know anybody that played. I mean, I didn't know anybody that played the guitar. Nobody. They weren't around. There were no guitar teachers. You couldn't take lessons. There was nothing like that, you know? When I was a kid and I had my first electric guitar, I had it tuned wrong and learned how to play on it with it tuned wrong for about a year. And I was getting somewhere on it, you know… Finally, I met a guy that knew how to tune it right and showed me three chords, and it was like a revelation. You know what I mean? It was like somebody gave me the key to heaven." He joined a band, the Chords, which mostly played big band music, and his friend Gary Foster taught him some of the rudiments of playing the guitar -- things like how to use a capo to change keys. But he was always a rebellious kid, and soon found himself faced with a choice between joining the military or going to prison. He chose the former, and it was during his time in the Army that a friend, Ron Stevenson, introduced him to the music of Merle Travis, and to Travis-style guitar picking: [Excerpt: Merle Travis, "Nine-Pound Hammer"] Garcia had never encountered playing like that before, but he instantly recognised that Travis, and Chet Atkins who Stevenson also played for him, had been an influence on Scotty Moore. He started to realise that the music he'd listened to as a teenager was influenced by music that went further back. But Stevenson, as well as teaching Garcia some of the rudiments of Travis-picking, also indirectly led to Garcia getting discharged from the Army. Stevenson was not a well man, and became suicidal. Garcia decided it was more important to keep his friend company and make sure he didn't kill himself than it was to turn up for roll call, and as a result he got discharged himself on psychiatric grounds -- according to Garcia he told the Army psychiatrist "I was involved in stuff that was more important to me in the moment than the army was and that was the reason I was late" and the psychiatrist thought it was neurotic of Garcia to have his own set of values separate from that of the Army. After discharge, Garcia did various jobs, including working as a transcriptionist for Lenny Bruce, the comedian who was a huge influence on the counterculture. In one of the various attacks over the years by authoritarians on language, Bruce was repeatedly arrested for obscenity, and in 1961 he was arrested at a jazz club in North Beach. Sixty years ago, the parts of speech that were being criminalised weren't pronouns, but prepositions and verbs: [Excerpt: Lenny Bruce, "To is a Preposition, Come is a Verb"] That piece, indeed, was so controversial that when Frank Zappa quoted part of it in a song in 1968, the record label insisted on the relevant passage being played backwards so people couldn't hear such disgusting filth: [Excerpt: The Mothers of Invention, "Harry You're a Beast"] (Anyone familiar with that song will understand that the censored portion is possibly the least offensive part of the whole thing). Bruce was facing trial, and he needed transcripts of what he had said in his recordings to present in court. Incidentally, there seems to be some confusion over exactly which of Bruce's many obscenity trials Garcia became a transcriptionist for. Dennis McNally says in his biography of the band, published in 2002, that it was the most famous of them, in autumn 1964, but in a later book, Jerry on Jerry, a book of interviews of Garcia edited by McNally, McNally talks about it being when Garcia was nineteen, which would mean it was Bruce's first trial, in 1961. We can put this down to the fact that many of the people involved, not least Garcia, lived in Tralfamadorian time, and were rather hazy on dates, but I'm placing the story here rather than in 1964 because it seems to make more sense that Garcia would be involved in a trial based on an incident in San Francisco than one in New York. Garcia got the job, even though he couldn't type, because by this point he'd spent so long listening to recordings of old folk and country music that he was used to transcribing indecipherable accents, and often, as Garcia would tell it, Bruce would mumble very fast and condense multiple syllables into one. Garcia was particularly impressed by Bruce's ability to improvise but talk in entire paragraphs, and he compared his use of language to bebop. Another thing that was starting to impress Garcia, and which he also compared to bebop, was bluegrass: [Excerpt: Bill Monroe, "Fire on the Mountain"] Bluegrass is a music that is often considered very traditional, because it's based on traditional songs and uses acoustic instruments, but in fact it was a terribly *modern* music, and largely a postwar creation of a single band -- Bill Monroe and his Blue Grass Boys. And Garcia was right when he said it was "white bebop" -- though he did say "The only thing it doesn't have is the harmonic richness of bebop. You know what I mean? That's what it's missing, but it has everything else." Both bebop and bluegrass evolved after the second world war, though they were informed by music from before it, and both prized the ability to improvise, and technical excellence. Both are musics that involved playing *fast*, in an ensemble, and being able to respond quickly to the other musicians. Both musics were also intensely rhythmic, a response to a faster paced, more stressful world. They were both part of the general change in the arts towards immediacy that we looked at in the last episode with the creation first of expressionism and then of pop art. Bluegrass didn't go into the harmonic explorations that modern jazz did, but it was absolutely as modern as anything Charlie Parker was doing, and came from the same impulses. It was tradition and innovation, the past and the future simultaneously. Bill Monroe, Jackson Pollock, Charlie Parker, Jack Kerouac, and Lenny Bruce were all in their own ways responding to the same cultural moment, and it was that which Garcia was responding to. But he didn't become able to play bluegrass until after a tragedy which shaped his life even more than his father's death had. Garcia had been to a party and was in a car with his friends Lee Adams, Paul Speegle, and Alan Trist. Adams was driving at ninety miles an hour when they hit a tight curve and crashed. Garcia, Adams, and Trist were all severely injured but survived. Speegle died. So it goes. This tragedy changed Garcia's attitudes totally. Of all his friends, Speegle was the one who was most serious about his art, and who treated it as something to work on. Garcia had always been someone who fundamentally didn't want to work or take any responsibility for anything. And he remained that way -- except for his music. Speegle's death changed Garcia's attitude to that, totally. If his friend wasn't going to be able to practice his own art any more, Garcia would practice his, in tribute to him. He resolved to become a virtuoso on guitar and banjo. His girlfriend of the time later said “I don't know if you've spent time with someone rehearsing ‘Foggy Mountain Breakdown' on a banjo for eight hours, but Jerry practiced endlessly. He really wanted to excel and be the best. He had tremendous personal ambition in the musical arena, and he wanted to master whatever he set out to explore. Then he would set another sight for himself. And practice another eight hours a day of new licks.” But of course, you can't make ensemble music on your own: [Excerpt: Jerry Garcia and Bob Hunter, "Oh Mary Don't You Weep" (including end)] "Evelyn said, “What is it called when a person needs a … person … when you want to be touched and the … two are like one thing and there isn't anything else at all anywhere?” Alicia, who had read books, thought about it. “Love,” she said at length." That's from More Than Human, by Theodore Sturgeon, a book I'll be quoting a few more times as the story goes on. Robert Hunter, like Garcia, was just out of the military -- in his case, the National Guard -- and he came into Garcia's life just after Paul Speegle had left it. Garcia and Alan Trist met Hunter ten days after the accident, and the three men started hanging out together, Trist and Hunter writing while Garcia played music. Garcia and Hunter both bonded over their shared love for the beats, and for traditional music, and the two formed a duo, Bob and Jerry, which performed together a handful of times. They started playing together, in fact, after Hunter picked up a guitar and started playing a song and halfway through Garcia took it off him and finished the song himself. The two of them learned songs from the Harry Smith Anthology -- Garcia was completely apolitical, and only once voted in his life, for Lyndon Johnson in 1964 to keep Goldwater out, and regretted even doing that, and so he didn't learn any of the more political material people like Pete Seeger, Phil Ochs, and Bob Dylan were doing at the time -- but their duo only lasted a short time because Hunter wasn't an especially good guitarist. Hunter would, though, continue to jam with Garcia and other friends, sometimes playing mandolin, while Garcia played solo gigs and with other musicians as well, playing and moving round the Bay Area and performing with whoever he could: [Excerpt: Jerry Garcia, "Railroad Bill"] "Bleshing, that was Janie's word. She said Baby told it to her. She said it meant everyone all together being something, even if they all did different things. Two arms, two legs, one body, one head, all working together, although a head can't walk and arms can't think. Lone said maybe it was a mixture of “blending” and “meshing,” but I don't think he believed that himself. It was a lot more than that." That's from More Than Human In 1961, Garcia and Hunter met another young musician, but one who was interested in a very different type of music. Phil Lesh was a serious student of modern classical music, a classically-trained violinist and trumpeter whose interest was solidly in the experimental and whose attitude can be summed up by a story that's always told about him meeting his close friend Tom Constanten for the first time. Lesh had been talking with someone about serialism, and Constanten had interrupted, saying "Music stopped being created in 1750 but it started again in 1950". Lesh just stuck out his hand, recognising a kindred spirit. Lesh and Constanten were both students of Luciano Berio, the experimental composer who created compositions for magnetic tape: [Excerpt: Luciano Berio, "Momenti"] Berio had been one of the founders of the Studio di fonologia musicale di Radio Milano, a studio for producing contemporary electronic music where John Cage had worked for a time, and he had also worked with the electronic music pioneer Karlheinz Stockhausen. Lesh would later remember being very impressed when Berio brought a tape into the classroom -- the actual multitrack tape for Stockhausen's revolutionary piece Gesang Der Juenglinge: [Excerpt: Karlheinz Stockhausen, "Gesang Der Juenglinge"] Lesh at first had been distrustful of Garcia -- Garcia was charismatic and had followers, and Lesh never liked people like that. But he was impressed by Garcia's playing, and soon realised that the two men, despite their very different musical interests, had a lot in common. Lesh was interested in the technology of music as well as in performing and composing it, and so when he wasn't studying he helped out by engineering at the university's radio station. Lesh was impressed by Garcia's playing, and suggested to the presenter of the station's folk show, the Midnight Special, that Garcia be a guest. Garcia was so good that he ended up getting an entire solo show to himself, where normally the show would feature multiple acts. Lesh and Constanten soon moved away from the Bay Area to Las Vegas, but both would be back -- in Constanten's case he would form an experimental group in San Francisco with their fellow student Steve Reich, and that group (though not with Constanten performing) would later premiere Terry Riley's In C, a piece influenced by La Monte Young and often considered one of the great masterpieces of minimalist music. By early 1962 Garcia and Hunter had formed a bluegrass band, with Garcia on guitar and banjo and Hunter on mandolin, and a rotating cast of other musicians including Ken Frankel, who played banjo and fiddle. They performed under different names, including the Tub Thumpers, the Hart Valley Drifters, and the Sleepy Valley Hog Stompers, and played a mixture of bluegrass and old-time music -- and were very careful about the distinction: [Excerpt: The Hart Valley Drifters, "Cripple Creek"] In 1993, the Republican political activist John Perry Barlow was invited to talk to the CIA about the possibilities open to them with what was then called the Information Superhighway. He later wrote, in part "They told me they'd brought Steve Jobs in a few weeks before to indoctrinate them in modern information management. And they were delighted when I returned later, bringing with me a platoon of Internet gurus, including Esther Dyson, Mitch Kapor, Tony Rutkowski, and Vint Cerf. They sealed us into an electronically impenetrable room to discuss the radical possibility that a good first step in lifting their blackout would be for the CIA to put up a Web site... We told them that information exchange was a barter system, and that to receive, one must also be willing to share. This was an alien notion to them. They weren't even willing to share information among themselves, much less the world." 1962 brought a new experience for Robert Hunter. Hunter had been recruited into taking part in psychological tests at Stanford University, which in the sixties and seventies was one of the preeminent universities for psychological experiments. As part of this, Hunter was given $140 to attend the VA hospital (where a janitor named Ken Kesey, who had himself taken part in a similar set of experiments a couple of years earlier, worked a day job while he was working on his first novel) for four weeks on the run, and take different psychedelic drugs each time, starting with LSD, so his reactions could be observed. (It was later revealed that these experiments were part of a CIA project called MKUltra, designed to investigate the possibility of using psychedelic drugs for mind control, blackmail, and torture. Hunter was quite lucky in that he was told what was going to happen to him and paid for his time. Other subjects included the unlucky customers of brothels the CIA set up as fronts -- they dosed the customers' drinks and observed them through two-way mirrors. Some of their experimental subjects died by suicide as a result of their experiences. So it goes. ) Hunter was interested in taking LSD after reading Aldous Huxley's writings about psychedelic substances, and he brought his typewriter along to the experiment. During the first test, he wrote a six-page text, a short excerpt from which is now widely quoted, reading in part "Sit back picture yourself swooping up a shell of purple with foam crests of crystal drops soft nigh they fall unto the sea of morning creep-very-softly mist ... and then sort of cascade tinkley-bell-like (must I take you by the hand, ever so slowly type) and then conglomerate suddenly into a peal of silver vibrant uncomprehendingly, blood singingly, joyously resounding bells" Hunter's experience led to everyone in their social circle wanting to try LSD, and soon they'd all come to the same conclusion -- this was something special. But Garcia needed money -- he'd got his girlfriend pregnant, and they'd married (this would be the first of several marriages in Garcia's life, and I won't be covering them all -- at Garcia's funeral, his second wife, Carolyn, said Garcia always called her the love of his life, and his first wife and his early-sixties girlfriend who he proposed to again in the nineties both simultaneously said "He said that to me!"). So he started teaching guitar at a music shop in Palo Alto. Hunter had no time for Garcia's incipient domesticity and thought that his wife was trying to make him live a conventional life, and the two drifted apart somewhat, though they'd still play together occasionally. Through working at the music store, Garcia got to know the manager, Troy Weidenheimer, who had a rock and roll band called the Zodiacs. Garcia joined the band on bass, despite that not being his instrument. He later said "Troy was a lot of fun, but I wasn't good enough a musician then to have been able to deal with it. I was out of my idiom, really, 'cause when I played with Troy I was playing electric bass, you know. I never was a good bass player. Sometimes I was playing in the wrong key and didn't even [fuckin'] know it. I couldn't hear that low, after playing banjo, you know, and going to electric...But Troy taught me the principle of, hey, you know, just stomp your foot and get on it. He was great. A great one for the instant arrangement, you know. And he was also fearless for that thing of get your friends to do it." Garcia's tenure in the Zodiacs didn't last long, nor did this experiment with rock and roll, but two other members of the Zodiacs will be notable later in the story -- the harmonica player, an old friend of Garcia's named Ron McKernan, who would soon gain the nickname Pig Pen after the Peanuts character, and the drummer, Bill Kreutzmann: [Excerpt: The Grateful Dead, "Drums/Space (Skull & Bones version)"] Kreutzmann said of the Zodiacs "Jerry was the hired bass player and I was the hired drummer. I only remember playing that one gig with them, but I was in way over my head. I always did that. I always played things that were really hard and it didn't matter. I just went for it." Garcia and Kreutzmann didn't really get to know each other then, but Garcia did get to know someone else who would soon be very important in his life. Bob Weir was from a very different background than Garcia, though both had the shared experience of long bouts of chronic illness as children. He had grown up in a very wealthy family, and had always been well-liked, but he was what we would now call neurodivergent -- reading books about the band he talks about being dyslexic but clearly has other undiagnosed neurodivergences, which often go along with dyslexia -- and as a result he was deemed to have behavioural problems which led to him getting expelled from pre-school and kicked out of the cub scouts. He was never academically gifted, thanks to his dyslexia, but he was always enthusiastic about music -- to a fault. He learned to play boogie piano but played so loudly and so often his parents sold the piano. He had a trumpet, but the neighbours complained about him playing it outside. Finally he switched to the guitar, an instrument with which it is of course impossible to make too loud a noise. The first song he learned was the Kingston Trio's version of an old sea shanty, "The Wreck of the John B": [Excerpt: The Kingston Trio, "The Wreck of the John B"] He was sent off to a private school in Colorado for teenagers with behavioural issues, and there he met the boy who would become his lifelong friend, John Perry Barlow. Unfortunately the two troublemakers got on with each other *so* well that after their first year they were told that it was too disruptive having both of them at the school, and only one could stay there the next year. Barlow stayed and Weir moved back to the Bay Area. By this point, Weir was getting more interested in folk music that went beyond the commercial folk of the Kingston Trio. As he said later "There was something in there that was ringing my bells. What I had grown up thinking of as hillbilly music, it started to have some depth for me, and I could start to hear the music in it. Suddenly, it wasn't just a bunch of ignorant hillbillies playing what they could. There was some depth and expertise and stuff like that to aspire to.” He moved from school to school but one thing that stayed with him was his love of playing guitar, and he started taking lessons from Troy Weidenheimer, but he got most of his education going to folk clubs and hootenannies. He regularly went to the Tangent, a club where Garcia played, but Garcia's bluegrass banjo playing was far too rigorous for a free spirit like Weir to emulate, and instead he started trying to copy one of the guitarists who was a regular there, Jorma Kaukonnen. On New Year's Eve 1963 Weir was out walking with his friends Bob Matthews and Rich Macauley, and they passed the music shop where Garcia was a teacher, and heard him playing his banjo. They knocked and asked if they could come in -- they all knew Garcia a little, and Bob Matthews was one of his students, having become interested in playing banjo after hearing the theme tune to the Beverly Hillbillies, played by the bluegrass greats Flatt and Scruggs: [Excerpt: Flatt and Scruggs, "The Beverly Hillbillies"] Garcia at first told these kids, several years younger than him, that they couldn't come in -- he was waiting for his students to show up. But Weir said “Jerry, listen, it's seven-thirty on New Year's Eve, and I don't think you're going to be seeing your students tonight.” Garcia realised the wisdom of this, and invited the teenagers in to jam with him. At the time, there was a bit of a renaissance in jug bands, as we talked about back in the episode on the Lovin' Spoonful. This was a form of music that had grown up in the 1920s, and was similar and related to skiffle and coffee-pot bands -- jug bands would tend to have a mixture of portable string instruments like guitars and banjos, harmonicas, and people using improvised instruments, particularly blowing into a jug. The most popular of these bands had been Gus Cannon's Jug Stompers, led by banjo player Gus Cannon and with harmonica player Noah Lewis: [Excerpt: Gus Cannon's Jug Stompers, "Viola Lee Blues"] With the folk revival, Cannon's work had become well-known again. The Rooftop Singers, a Kingston Trio style folk group, had had a hit with his song "Walk Right In" in 1963, and as a result of that success Cannon had even signed a record contract with Stax -- Stax's first album ever, a month before Booker T and the MGs' first album, was in fact the eighty-year-old Cannon playing his banjo and singing his old songs. The rediscovery of Cannon had started a craze for jug bands, and the most popular of the new jug bands was Jim Kweskin's Jug Band, which did a mixture of old songs like "You're a Viper" and more recent material redone in the old style. Weir, Matthews, and Macauley had been to see the Kweskin band the night before, and had been very impressed, especially by their singer Maria D'Amato -- who would later marry her bandmate Geoff Muldaur and take his name -- and her performance of Leiber and Stoller's "I'm a Woman": [Excerpt: Jim Kweskin's Jug Band, "I'm a Woman"] Matthews suggested that they form their own jug band, and Garcia eagerly agreed -- though Matthews found himself rapidly moving from banjo to washboard to kazoo to second kazoo before realising he was surplus to requirements. Robert Hunter was similarly an early member but claimed he "didn't have the embouchure" to play the jug, and was soon also out. He moved to LA and started studying Scientology -- later claiming that he wanted science-fictional magic powers, which L. Ron Hubbard's new religion certainly offered. The group took the name Mother McRee's Uptown Jug Champions -- apparently they varied the spelling every time they played -- and had a rotating membership that at one time or another included about twenty different people, but tended always to have Garcia on banjo, Weir on jug and later guitar, and Garcia's friend Pig Pen on harmonica: [Excerpt: Mother McRee's Uptown Jug Champions, "On the Road Again"] The group played quite regularly in early 1964, but Garcia's first love was still bluegrass, and he was trying to build an audience with his bluegrass band, The Black Mountain Boys. But bluegrass was very unpopular in the Bay Area, where it was simultaneously thought of as unsophisticated -- as "hillbilly music" -- and as elitist, because it required actual instrumental ability, which wasn't in any great supply in the amateur folk scene. But instrumental ability was something Garcia definitely had, as at this point he was still practising eight hours a day, every day, and it shows on the recordings of the Black Mountain Boys: [Excerpt: The Black Mountain Boys, "Rosa Lee McFall"] By the summer, Bob Weir was also working at the music shop, and so Garcia let Weir take over his students while he and the Black Mountain Boys' guitarist Sandy Rothman went on a road trip to see as many bluegrass musicians as they could and to audition for Bill Monroe himself. As it happened, Garcia found himself too shy to audition for Monroe, but Rothman later ended up playing with Monroe's Blue Grass Boys. On his return to the Bay Area, Garcia resumed playing with the Uptown Jug Champions, but Pig Pen started pestering him to do something different. While both men had overlapping tastes in music and a love for the blues, Garcia's tastes had always been towards the country end of the spectrum while Pig Pen's were towards R&B. And while the Uptown Jug Champions were all a bit disdainful of the Beatles at first -- apart from Bob Weir, the youngest of the group, who thought they were interesting -- Pig Pen had become enamoured of another British band who were just starting to make it big: [Excerpt: The Rolling Stones, "Not Fade Away"] 29) Garcia liked the first Rolling Stones album too, and he eventually took Pig Pen's point -- the stuff that the Rolling Stones were doing, covers of Slim Harpo and Buddy Holly, was not a million miles away from the material they were doing as Mother McRee's Uptown Jug Champions. Pig Pen could play a little electric organ, Bob had been fooling around with the electric guitars in the music shop. Why not give it a go? The stuff bands like the Rolling Stones were doing wasn't that different from the electric blues that Pig Pen liked, and they'd all seen A Hard Day's Night -- they could carry on playing with banjos, jugs, and kazoos and have the respect of a handful of folkies, or they could get electric instruments and potentially have screaming girls and millions of dollars, while playing the same songs. This was a convincing argument, especially when Dana Morgan Jr, the son of the owner of the music shop, told them they could have free electric instruments if they let him join on bass. Morgan wasn't that great on bass, but what the hell, free instruments. Pig Pen had the best voice and stage presence, so he became the frontman of the new group, singing most of the leads, though Jerry and Bob would both sing a few songs, and playing harmonica and organ. Weir was on rhythm guitar, and Garcia was the lead guitarist and obvious leader of the group. They just needed a drummer, and handily Bill Kreutzmann, who had played with Garcia and Pig Pen in the Zodiacs, was also now teaching music at the music shop. Not only that, but about three weeks before they decided to go electric, Kreutzmann had seen the Uptown Jug Champions performing and been astonished by Garcia's musicianship and charisma, and said to himself "Man, I'm gonna follow that guy forever!" The new group named themselves the Warlocks, and started rehearsing in earnest. Around this time, Garcia also finally managed to get some of the LSD that his friend Robert Hunter had been so enthusiastic about three years earlier, and it was a life-changing experience for him. In particular, he credited LSD with making him comfortable being a less disciplined player -- as a bluegrass player he'd had to be frighteningly precise, but now he was playing rock and needed to loosen up. A few days after taking LSD for the first time, Garcia also heard some of Bob Dylan's new material, and realised that the folk singer he'd had little time for with his preachy politics was now making electric music that owed a lot more to the Beat culture Garcia considered himself part of: [Excerpt: Bob Dylan, "Subterranean Homesick Blues"] Another person who was hugely affected by hearing that was Phil Lesh, who later said "I couldn't believe that was Bob Dylan on AM radio, with an electric band. It changed my whole consciousness: if something like that could happen, the sky was the limit." Up to that point, Lesh had been focused entirely on his avant-garde music, working with friends like Steve Reich to push music forward, inspired by people like John Cage and La Monte Young, but now he realised there was music of value in the rock world. He'd quickly started going to rock gigs, seeing the Rolling Stones and the Byrds, and then he took acid and went to see his friend Garcia's new electric band play their third ever gig. He was blown away, and very quickly it was decided that Lesh would be the group's new bass player -- though everyone involved tells a different story as to who made the decision and how it came about, and accounts also vary as to whether Dana Morgan took his sacking gracefully and let his erstwhile bandmates keep their instruments, or whether they had to scrounge up some new ones. Lesh had never played bass before, but he was a talented multi-instrumentalist with a deep understanding of music and an ability to compose and improvise, and the repertoire the Warlocks were playing in the early days was mostly three-chord material that doesn't take much rehearsal -- though it was apparently beyond the abilities of poor Dana Morgan, who apparently had to be told note-by-note what to play by Garcia, and learn it by rote. Garcia told Lesh what notes the strings of a bass were tuned to, told him to borrow a guitar and practice, and within two weeks he was on stage with the Warlocks: [Excerpt: The Grateful Dead, “Grayfolded"] In September 1995, just weeks after Jerry Garcia's death, an article was published in Mute magazine identifying a cultural trend that had shaped the nineties, and would as it turned out shape at least the next thirty years. It's titled "The Californian Ideology", though it may be better titled "The Bay Area Ideology", and it identifies a worldview that had grown up in Silicon Valley, based around the ideas of the hippie movement, of right-wing libertarianism, of science fiction authors, and of Marshall McLuhan. It starts "There is an emerging global orthodoxy concerning the relation between society, technology and politics. We have called this orthodoxy `the Californian Ideology' in honour of the state where it originated. By naturalising and giving a technological proof to a libertarian political philosophy, and therefore foreclosing on alternative futures, the Californian Ideologues are able to assert that social and political debates about the future have now become meaningless. The California Ideology is a mix of cybernetics, free market economics, and counter-culture libertarianism and is promulgated by magazines such as WIRED and MONDO 2000 and preached in the books of Stewart Brand, Kevin Kelly and others. The new faith has been embraced by computer nerds, slacker students, 30-something capitalists, hip academics, futurist bureaucrats and even the President of the USA himself. As usual, Europeans have not been slow to copy the latest fashion from America. While a recent EU report recommended adopting the Californian free enterprise model to build the 'infobahn', cutting-edge artists and academics have been championing the 'post-human' philosophy developed by the West Coast's Extropian cult. With no obvious opponents, the global dominance of the Californian ideology appears to be complete." [Excerpt: Grayfolded] The Warlocks' first gig with Phil Lesh on bass was on June the 18th 1965, at a club called Frenchy's with a teenage clientele. Lesh thought his playing had been wooden and it wasn't a good gig, and apparently the management of Frenchy's agreed -- they were meant to play a second night there, but turned up to be told they'd been replaced by a band with an accordion and clarinet. But by September the group had managed to get themselves a residency at a small bar named the In Room, and playing there every night made them cohere. They were at this point playing the kind of sets that bar bands everywhere play to this day, though at the time the songs they were playing, like "Gloria" by Them and "In the Midnight Hour", were the most contemporary of hits. Another song that they introduced into their repertoire was "Do You Believe in Magic" by the Lovin' Spoonful, another band which had grown up out of former jug band musicians. As well as playing their own sets, they were also the house band at The In Room and as such had to back various touring artists who were the headline acts. The first act they had to back up was Cornell Gunter's version of the Coasters. Gunter had brought his own guitarist along as musical director, and for the first show Weir sat in the audience watching the show and learning the parts, staring intently at this musical director's playing. After seeing that, Weir's playing was changed, because he also picked up how the guitarist was guiding the band while playing, the small cues that a musical director will use to steer the musicians in the right direction. Weir started doing these things himself when he was singing lead -- Pig Pen was the frontman but everyone except Bill sang sometimes -- and the group soon found that rather than Garcia being the sole leader, now whoever was the lead singer for the song was the de facto conductor as well. By this point, the Bay Area was getting almost overrun with people forming electric guitar bands, as every major urban area in America was. Some of the bands were even having hits already -- We Five had had a number three hit with "You Were On My Mind", a song which had originally been performed by the folk duo Ian and Sylvia: [Excerpt: We Five, "You Were On My Mind"] Although the band that was most highly regarded on the scene, the Charlatans, was having problems with the various record companies they tried to get signed to, and didn't end up making a record until 1969. If tracks like "Number One" had been released in 1965 when they were recorded, the history of the San Francisco music scene may have taken a very different turn: [Excerpt: The Charlatans, "Number One"] Bands like Jefferson Airplane, the Great Society, and Big Brother and the Holding Company were also forming, and Autumn Records was having a run of success with records by the Beau Brummels, whose records were produced by Autumn's in-house A&R man, Sly Stone: [Excerpt: The Beau Brummels, "Laugh Laugh"] The Warlocks were somewhat cut off from this, playing in a dive bar whose clientele was mostly depressed alcoholics. But the fact that they were playing every night for an audience that didn't care much gave them freedom, and they used that freedom to improvise. Both Lesh and Garcia were big fans of John Coltrane, and they started to take lessons from his style of playing. When the group played "Gloria" or "Midnight Hour" or whatever, they started to extend the songs and give themselves long instrumental passages for soloing. Garcia's playing wasn't influenced *harmonically* by Coltrane -- in fact Garcia was always a rather harmonically simple player. He'd tend to play lead lines either in Mixolydian mode, which is one of the most standard modes in rock, pop, blues, and jazz, or he'd play the notes of the chord that was being played, so if the band were playing a G chord his lead would emphasise the notes G, B, and D. But what he was influenced by was Coltrane's tendency to improvise in long, complex, phrases that made up a single thought -- Coltrane was thinking musically in paragraphs, rather than sentences, and Garcia started to try the same kind of th

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