Regarding predecessors, it wasn't at the same level of immersion, broad talent or personal response but early sides by The Righteous Brothers were an absolute staple of black radio in the early '60s when that "reverse cross-over" was pretty rare. But their material went down-hill pretty quickly.
Earlier the only example I know of someone who literally chose to "become black" in music was Johnny Otis - who was a Greek-American kid from Berkeley. In his teens he married his black sweet heart, traveled with all black blues and "territory" swing bands in the late '30s and early '40s, was totally immersed in black culture and music and had a string of big band, early R&B and R&R hits via his own band and singers he promoted like Big Mama Thornton, Esther Phillips and Etta James.
But Johnny basically claimed blackness in a pre-civil rights world when you couldn't live and move across "color lines" without making a life choice and sticking to it - he was simply considered black, even making the cover of "Negro Achievements" magazine in the early '50s, and was deeply involved in SoCal black political activism. I've talked to older black folk who saw his band at the Apollo in the 40s and early 50s and didn't have any idea he was white.
I caught some justifiable heat for linking to Teena Marie's more pop joints, but I refuse to front--I'll take The Righteous Brothers version of "Unchained Melody" over Harry Belafonte's. There. I said it. Ghost ruined that song.
There's also some interesting conversation here about how black people have thought about white people who've done the reverse cross-over. As is mentioned in the comment, this deserves to be bracketed off from simply singing R&B, or performing blackness. It's interesting that Brucds notes that many people thought Otis was black. I can totally see why. Pictured above is Abe and Effa Manley, co-owners of the Newark Eagles. Again, I would not have known this, but Effa was white--but had a black stepfather and was thus considered "a light-skinned black."
I think what all of this really is how much blackness, like any culture, really isn't about a melanin count, per se. So much of it is historical along with specific mores. It's no mistake that both Manley and Teena Marie grew up around black people. Johnny Otis claimed to be "black by persuasion."
You look at this people's lives--Manley was the first woman inducted into the baseball hall of fame--and it's kind of humbling. It's like, I'm the descendant of slave, they aren't. But really, if Teena Marie says "I'm a black artists with white skin" who am I to truly object? Johnny Otis was on the cover of Negro Achievements. That's more than you can say for the kid.
Also, Questlove, for a less poppy perspective, Questlove breaks down his Teena Marie favorites.
Lawmakers overrode an Obama veto for the first time on Wednesday. A day later, they already had regrets.
The enactment on Wednesday of the Justice Against Sponsors of Terrorism Act should have been a triumphant moment for Republican leaders in Congress. They had succeeded, after years of trying, in overriding a presidential veto for the first time and forcing a bill into law over the strenuous objections of Barack Obama.
But the morning after brought no such celebration for HouseSpeaker Paul Ryan and Senate Majority Leader McConnell—only pangs of regret.
“It appears as if there may be some unintended ramifications,” McConnell lamented at a press conference barely 24 hours after all but one senator voted to reject the president’s veto of the legislation, which would allow victims of the September 11, 2001 terrorist attacks to sue Saudi Arabia in U.S. court. On the other side of the Capitol, Ryan said that he hoped there could be a “fix” to the very law he allowed to pass through the House—one that would protect U.S. soldiers abroad from legal retribution that the Obama administration had warned for months would follow as a result of the law.
With the death of Shimon Peres, Israel has lost its chief optimist. And the prime minister remains paralyzed by pessimism.
The Book of Proverbs teaches us that where there is no vision, the people perish. The people of Israel, now bereft of Shimon Peres, will not perish, because survival—or, at least, muddling through—is a Jewish specialty. But the death of Israel’s greatest visionary, a man who understood that it would never be morally or spiritually sufficient for the Jews to build for themselves the perfect ghetto and then wash their hands of the often-merciless world, means that Israel has lost its chief optimist.
Peres was, for so many years, a prophet without honor in his own country, but he was someone who, late in life, came to symbolize Israel’s big-hearted, free-thinking, inventive, and democratic promise. Peres came to this role in part because he had prescience, verbal acuity, a feel for poetry, and a restless curiosity, but also because, gradually but steadily, he became surrounded by small men. One of the distressing realities of Israel today is that, in so many fields—technology, medicine, agriculture, literature, music, cinema—the country is excelling. But to Israeli politics go the mediocrities.
An etiquette update: Brevity is the highest virtue.
I recently cut the amount of time I spent on email by almost half, and I think a lot of people could do the same.
I’m sure my approach has made some people hate me, because I come off curt. But if everyone thought about email in the same way, what I’m suggesting wouldn’t be rude. Here are the basic guidelines that are working for me and, so, I propose for all of the world to adopt immediately:
Best? Cheers? Thanks?
None of the above. You can write your name if it feels too naked or abrupt not to have something down there. But it shouldn’t, and it wouldn’t if it were the norm.
Don’t waste time considering if “Dear,” or “Hey” or “[name]!” is appropriate. Just get right into it. Write the recipient’s name if you must. But most people already know their names. Like they already know your name.
Late in her losing primary campaign against Barack Obama eight years ago, Hillary Clinton put out her “3 a.m. phone call” ad. The idea was that real presidents have to deal with crises at short notice and with very high stakes. According to the ad, then-Senator Clinton’s greater experience meant that she’d be better at making those 3 a.m. decisions than the relative-rookie Obama would be. If you supported Hillary Clinton, you found that persuasive. If you preferred Obama, as I did, you were less impressed.
What does Donald Trump do at 3 a.m.? To judge by the social-media record, he sends out tweets—and real, “from the Id” personal tweets himself, rather than higher-road ones from his staff. The usual giveaway is the “Twitter for Android” label you see on Tweetdeck and other platforms, versus “Twitter for iPhone” from his staff.
Conservatives have put families and communities at the center of their conception of a better America—but they’re notably absent from the Republican nominee’s account.
Again and again at Monday night’s debate, Hillary Clinton attacked Donald Trump’s record in business. She accused him of caring only about himself. Again and again, he pleaded guilty.
When Clinton quoted Trump as cheering for a housing crisis, Trump responded, “That’s called business.” When Clinton accused Trump of not paying taxes, Trump answered, “That makes me smart.” When Clinton attacked Trump for declaring bankruptcy to avoid paying the people he owed, Trump replied, “I take advantage of the laws of the nation because I’m running a company.” Clinton set out to paint Trump as selfish and unethical. Trump basically conceded the charge.
Commentators are declaring Trump’s answers a tactical mistake. But they’re more than that. They show how unmoored he is from conservatism’s conception of America.
At Berkeley, researchers are studying how wearing flip-flops changes buildings' air-conditioning needs.
When a tech company recently came to Stefano Schiavon at the University of California, Berkeley to test an air-conditioning system for its office, his mind went to flip-flops. The new system would blast cool air from the floor rather than the ceiling, and this being the Bay Area, and this being a tech company, Schiavon figured he couldn’t use the same old models researchers have been using since the 70s to study thermal comfort. (Yes, that is the name for the academic study of maintaining a building at just the right temperature.)
He needed to test people in flip-flops.
Feet, it turns out, are exquisitely sensitive to temperature. When you get cold, the blood vessels in your extremities are the first to constrict, which is your body’s way of preventing more heat loss. “You feel uncomfortable because your feet get numb or getting close to numb,” says Edward Arens, an architect at the University of Berkeley, who also studies thermal comfort. If building managers could heat or cool the feet alone, they could cut energy and costs. So at Berkeley, researchers are focusing on thermal comfort from the feet up.
The Republican says he desperately wants to win his home state—but there’s scant evidence he’s actually trying.
NEW YORK—Earlier this month, Donald Trump stood in front of a midtown Manhattan ballroom crowded with supporters and repeated something that, in the context of his race for president, was as shocking as any of his more outlandish policy proposals.
“Just so you understand, we are going to play New York,” Trump said. “We’re not just doing this for fun. We’re going to play New York.”
It was a public commitment to invest the time, energy, and resources necessary to win a state that has not voted for a Republican presidential candidate in 32 years, that hasn’t been competitive on the national level in nearly as long, that has twice elected Hillary Clinton to the Senate with large majorities, and where the most recent poll showed Trump losing by 24 points.
They were given the same 120 minutes. But each network presented them its own way.
A presidential debate never really ends. For weeks—until the next matchup—cable news keeps the top clips on rotation, replaying the zingers and goof-ups. (I expect to see Hillary Clinton’s Shaq-like shoulder shimmy about a zillion times before this election concludes.) And what’s wrong with that? A debate is America’s rare chance to compare the candidates head-to-head. Each appearance is worth chewing over.
But if cable-news recaps constitute part of our collective short-term political memory, it’s interesting to see which clips they choose to spotlight—and how their choices vary by network.
For months, the Political TV Ad Archive, a project of the Internet Archive, has faithfully logged when campaign commercials air in key media markets. How they manage to track them is pretty neat: Their software builds an audio fingerprint of each campaign advertisement, then listens for that distinctive waveform on live broadcasts. Using the same technology, the group launched a side project this week, monitoring how clips from Monday’s debate have reappeared on the major news networks.
After Andrea Wulf won the Royal Society’s highest honor for her book The Invention of Nature, a writer at The Guardian attributed it to a new fondness for “female-friendly” biographies among prize juries.
Last week, the Royal Society held its ceremony to honor the best popular-science book of the year. I was there, having had the good fortune to be one of the finalists for my recent book, The Hunt for Vulcan. I didn’t expect to win—partly because of my baseline pessimism, partly because of the strength of the competition, and partly because I had set out to write a kind of miniature, a brief book on a quirky topic. Whatever the reason, I was right: I didn’t.
The event itself was good fun. Each of the authors read a passage from their work; the head judge for the prize, author Bill Bryson, led us in a brief question-and-answer session, in which we compared notes on what moved us to write about science. Then came the moment of truth. Venkatramen Ramakrishnan, the president of the Royal Society, approached the podium, opened the envelope, and announced that Andrea Wulf had won for The Invention of Nature.