Neil Young and Graham Nash in New York City in 1970
Photograph: Joel Bernstein
For the first time, the Morrison Hotel Gallery is hosting an exhibition in all three of their locations – Long May You Run, a retrospective of Neil Young, charts his rise from Buffalo Springfield to refusing to settle down in his 70s.
Neil Young in a limo with a Gretch White Falcon in June 1970
Photo by Wikimedia user Tobi 87 | Copyright: Creative Commons
The St. Stephen’s Cathedral of today was built in 1682, but the original version of the church had already burned to the ground by 1662, taking with it the parish’s first organ.
As is the case for most of the world’s giant organs, the organ at St. Stephen’s took shape gradually over the course of centuries.
The contemporary version consists of five separate organs in varying tonal styles amounting to 17,774 pipes, 223 registers, and four chimes.
Each portion of the organ was built separately, possesses its own unique tone, and can be played as a standalone instrument by way of its own console.
The obvious centerpiece of the cathedral is the main organ, being the largest of the five with a stunning case built in 1733 by Joseph Matthias Götz.
A tiny Echo Organ in the middle nave vault section of the church is more demure in its charms, compensating for its modest size by producing sound through the “Heiliggeistloch” (or Holy Ghost opening) in the ceiling.
A lone, general console found in the western loft unites these disparate musical instruments into a single organ unlike any other in Europe.
From this seat, a master organist can play all five organs individually or as one giant Franken-organ, producing a cacophony of sound by means of electric key action and a programmable setter capable of storing more than 4,000 settings.
Mathematically speaking, the variety of ways to coax and combine range and tone from this instrument is nearly infinite.
Though St. Stephen’s ceded the title of world’s largest church organ to that of the First Congregational Church in Los Angeles in the 1990s, when it comes to matters of musical grandeur united across space and time, the organ at St. Stephen’s remains nonpareil.
Edited by: Annetta Black (Admin), racheldoyle (Admin), littlebrumble (Admin)
From 1966 to 1971, an unprecedented quantity of extraordinary graphic art was produced in the San Francisco Bay Area.
This resulted from the demand for posters, handbills, and flyers advertising rock concerts and dances in some of the city’s oldest ballrooms, most decrepit sports arenas, and sweatiest dives.
The two main patrons of this proliferation of posters were Bill Graham—who promoted concerts at the Fillmore Auditorium, Winterland, and a dance hall he renamed the Fillmore West—and Chet Helms—the charismatic, if less business savvy, leader of an organization called the Family Dog, which produced concerts at the Avalon Ballroom, among other venues.
The “Big Five” poster artists of the San Francisco music scene, c. 1967. From left to right, Alton Kelley, Victor Moscoso, Rick Griffin, Wes Wilson, Stanley Mouse. Photograph by Bob Seidemann.
A handful of San Francisco artists were ready for this poster renaissance, which flowered from the Trips Festival at Longshoremen’s Hall in January of 1966 until the closing of the Fillmore West in the summer of 1971.
During those five-and-a-half years, these artists were often inspired by Art Nouveau masters such as Alphonse Mucha and Alfred Roller, whose blocky lettering was made psychedelic by Wes Wilson. Alton Kelley and Stanley Mouse were drawn to Art Nouveau, too, but also to advertising art and appropriated images, giving their collaborations a look that was at once in sync with and outside the Pop Art currents of 1960s contemporary art.
Mouse and a Southern California artist named Rick Griffin were also infatuated with the artwork that grew out of hot-rod car culture. Victor Moscoso, on the other hand, turned the traditional art-making orthodoxies he had learned as an art student on their collective ear, creating posters that nearly vibrated before the viewer’s eyes.