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National Geographic
4 days ago
- Entertainment
- National Geographic
The science behind why Black Sabbath and Ozzy Osbourne's music sounded ‘satanic'
Black Sabbath performs during their Heaven and Hell tour in 1980. The band helped revive the long-feared 'Devil's interval'—a dissonant sound once shunned by medieval choirs—as the backbone of heavy metal. PhotographThe idea that two simple notes—not a song, just tones—could be 'banned' may seem ludicrous. But that's the legend behind the crushing opening riff of Black Sabbath's 1970 debut. With just three ominous notes, guitarist Tony Iommi, alongside the anguished vocals of the late Ozzy Osbourne, unleashed a sound so unsettling it was said to have been forbidden for centuries.'Those notes were banned many years ago,' Iommi told the BBC in 2014. 'It's supposed to have been a satanic thing.' While rock legend has never been the most reliable (see: Ozzy and the bat), this one does have a whisper of truth. Black Sabbath recruited what music theorists refer to as the 'tritone,' —a dissonant interval once avoided by medieval choirs and now known in music lore as the 'devil's interval.' Also referred to as the augmented fourth, diminished fifth, or sharp eleven, the tritone spans three whole tones on a scale, creating a clashing, unstable sound that has long made listeners squirm. But what is it about this ancient musical interval that has unnerved audiences for centuries—and why does it still strike such a primal chord? A history of the 'clang' Despite its sinister nickname, the tritone was never officially banned in the Middle Ages, though it may as well have been. In the stew of compositional standards of the time, this dissonant tonal interval was merely an unpalatable ingredient, but served in a supremely important dish. 'In medieval and Renaissance music theory, which was often characterised by mathematical and philosophical principles of harmony, the tritone did not fit well into the system of 'perfect' intervals due to its complex frequency ratios,' says Christoph Reuter, professor of systematic musicology at the University of Vienna. Guido d'Arezzo, an 11th-century Benedictine monk and music theorist, developed the hexachord system to help singers navigate early notation and to avoid the dissonant tritone. Photograph by VTR, Alamy Stock Photo Named for medieval theorist Guido d'Arezzo, the Guidonian Hand was a mnemonic device for teaching musical intervals. This version appears in Scienta Artis Musicae, a 1274 treatise by Helia Solomon. Photograph by Giancarlo Costa, Bridgeman Images One reason for this concerns the relationship between 'scales' and 'modes', the latter of which gives music much of its character. Major scales such as C, for instance, begin on their namesake note. But play the same scale from a different starting point, and it suddenly takes on a very different, but still musical, flavour. These flavors are called modes. Begin a C Major scale on a D, for instance, and you're using the jazzy-sounding 'Dorian' mode. Start it a note up, on an E, and you're in the exotic ambience of the 'Phrygian' mode. The Aeolian mode, starting on A, creates a somber, minor key atmosphere. But one mode stood out for all the wrong reasons. Things got thorny with the Locrian mode. Built on the seventh note of a major scale—in this case, starting on B in a C major scale—it places unusual emphasis on the interval between B and F. The result is a scale that feels unstable, unresolved, and, to many ears, vaguely threatening. This was more than a matter of taste. In the Middle Ages, modes were the backbone of choral compositions, used to pitch a choir in harmony. As Reuter explains, not only did the tritone contravene the ideal of musical beauty, but it was also hard. 'It was simply difficult to sing purely—especially in a cappella choral works, which were widely used in the church.' Limited Time: Bonus Issue Offer Subscribe now and gift up to 4 bonus issues—starting at $34/year. (The hellish history of the devil.) That difficulty likely gave rise to one of music theory's most ominous warnings: mi contra fa diabolus est in musica, or 'mi against fa is the devil in music.' Referring to the Medieval system of music developed by Guido of Arezzo in the 11th century, 'mi against fa' refers to the dissonance between two tritone notes in overlapping compositions, with the 'devil' likely referencing its tendency to cause mistakes or generally meddle with choral delicacy. At a time when music was meant to reflect divine order, such instability struck a deeply discordant note. But uncomfortable tonal combinations weren't isolated to Western music. Many cultural styles—from the Middle East to Japan—had their own 'forbidden' tonal conventions, and different reasons for shunning them. Similarly to Western modes, certain Indian ragas omit certain combinations of notes—the varjya svaras—in their compositions, as certain notes are prone to unbalancing this intensely mood-driven music. Traditional Japanese music, such as gagaku, is often played in formal settings, employing tonal combinations that were sympathetic to the conventions of ma (negative space) and wa (unity), thereby avoiding discordant tones. By contrast, the Arabian maqam system embraces tonal combinations that Western ears might label dissonant. Its use of microtones and quarter-steps creates melodic tension and release through an entirely different framework of rules. So is the discomfort we feel from dissonance—like the tritone—truly universal? Maybe not. A 2016 study found that members of the Tsimane', an Indigenous community in Bolivia with limited exposure to Western culture, didn't find dissonant chords any less pleasant to listen to than their more pleasing counterparts. Isabella Czedik-Eysenberg of the University of Vienna believes this shows that 'while dissonant intervals such as the tritone have distinct psychoacoustic properties, the emotional and symbolic meanings attached to those–such as being associated with 'evil'–are likely culturally learned.' This 1970 publicity photo shows Black Sabbath early in their career, shortly before their sound helped shape the heavy metal genre. Photograph by MichaelBlack Sabbath's self-titled debut album, released in 1970, opens with the ominous tritone riff that helped define heavy metal's dark, dissonant sound. Photograph by MichaelWhy does the tritone sound so unsettling? One reason is auditory roughness—the jagged, irregular quality of a sound that our brains often associate with danger, says Czedik-Eysenberg 'Roughness is a particularly interesting audio quality—research indicates it can play a role in communicating danger [and is] a key feature in biologically salient alarm signals, such as human screams,' she notes. 'But auditory roughness also plays a very important part in the perception of extreme vocal techniques used in metal genres. Guttural and harsh vocal styles, for example, are often described by listeners as brutal, monstrous, or demonic.' But how we respond to sound isn't just biological—it's shaped by experience. 'Our responses to sound arise from the nervous system that broadly speaking we all have in common—but context is everything,' says Victoria Williamson, a music psychologist and co-founder of the sound wellness app Audicin. 'Some frequencies and sound textures are more difficult for the human inner ear and brain to process, a physiological clash that can trigger reactions from overstimulation to stress, disgust and even pain.' 'However,' Williamson adds, 'our psychological reaction to sound is predicated on what we have been exposed to during our lifetime and the associations we have created. That is 100 percent unique to each of us.' Back in 17th-century Europe, that exposure was changing. While medieval music prized harmony and order, the Baroque period embraced contrast and emotion. By the Classical era, it had appeared in works by Bach, Beethoven, and Wagner, among others, often to evoke drama or darkness. In Camille Saint-Saëns's Danse Macabre, the tritone famously opens the piece with a musical scythe swing. (Here's how Beethoven went from Napoleon's biggest fan to his worst critic.' Since then, the 'devil's interval' has appeared everywhere—from the theme of The Simpsons to the sirens that jolt us into high alert. And in 1970, Black Sabbath picked it up again, building the haunting foundation of heavy metal on its dissonant tension. 'Black Sabbath music will trigger the deep emotion centers of the brain like the amygdala, but rather than experience fear or discomfort the listener is drawn in. In theory it makes no sense,' says Victoria Williamson. 'The more this music drives the release of emotion and stress, the more it will trigger the reward and motivation centres of the brain like the ventral tegmental area, nucleus accumbens and the prefrontal cortex. Over the years the brain will get used to the dopamine rush it gets in the presence of this music. This can help explain why Black Sabbath fans have been so intensely loyal over the decades.'
Morocco World
21-07-2025
- General
- Morocco World
Legendary Toumliline Library Open Doors Once Again to Scholars, Visitors
Casablanca – In a remarkable initiative to preserve Morocco's spiritual and intellectual heritage, the Fondation Mémoires pour l'Avenir (FMA) has announced the reconstruction of the historic Toumliline Library, once recognized as the second-largest library in North Africa. This revival is part of the broader program 'Réinventer Toumliline,' which aims to restore and reimagine the monastic site of Toumliline, located in the province of Ifrane. The initiative follows the successful reopening in 2024 of the site's 20th-century Christian chapel, one of Morocco's most unique religious structures, thanks to the support of the Rabita Mohammadia des Oulémas, the Belgian foundation 'Futur 21,' and the US Agency for International Development (USAID). The library, originally home to more than 15,000 books, served as a center of knowledge and interfaith dialogue during the mid-20th century. According to the FMA, the rebuilt facility will serve two purposes: a 'library of the past' that recreates the original atmosphere and holdings of the 1950s, and a 'library of the future' equipped with contemporary resources and research tools, open to both scholars and visitors. 'This project is not only about restoring architecture, but about reviving an intellectual and spiritual heritage,' the Foundation wrote on its official Facebook page. 'Thanks to generous donations, we are gradually reconstructing a cultural epicenter that once welcomed the world's thinkers.' The Diocese of Rabat delivered a major contribution to the new library, which came personally from Archbishop of Rabat Cristobal Lopez Romero. The donation includes books and library materials from churches in Casablanca, Safi, El Jadida, Oujda, Meknes, Errachidia, and Rabat. Founded in the 1950s by French Benedictine monks, the Toumliline monastery is known for its intellectual vibrancy and as a site of pioneering interfaith dialogue, attracting Moroccan scholars, Christian theologians, and international philosophers. Tags: CulturelibraryToumliineToumliline library
SBS Australia
19-07-2025
- Science
- SBS Australia
Libraries usually like bookworms - but not these ones
The Benedictine Archabbey has stood for the last 1,000 years, perched on top of a hill overlooking the town of Pannonhalma in Hungary. Its library houses the country's oldest collection of books as well as many of its earliest and most important written records, including a complete Bible from the 13th century. It also houses several hundred manuscripts from before the invention of the printing press in the mid-15th century, and tens of thousands of books from the 16th century. The current director is Ilona Ásványi. "Every day, I experience being the guardian and caretaker, and custodian of this very valuable collection of books." The Abbey library is said to have survived centuries of conflicts, including the Ottoman invasion of the 16th century. But now it's facing a new problem: drugstore beetles have infested about a quarter of the Archabbey's 400,000 precious works. The Benedictine abbey is governed by a set of rules that have been in use for nearly 15 centuries - a code that obliges the library to do everything it can to save its vast book collection. Accordingly, Zsófia Edit Hajdu has been brought in as the chief restorer. "We have been working mostly on mould damage in both depositories and in open collections for 30 years, but we've never encountered such a degree of infestation before. Usually, we see problems of mould in warehouses and in other collections. But due to global warming, it is expected that more and more insect infestations will appear." The drugstore beetle, also known as the bread beetle, is often found among foodstuffs like grains, flour, spices, and other dried products. But they are also attracted to the gelatine and starch-based adhesives found in old books. Ms Hajdu believes the effects of climate change have played a role in spurring the beetle infestation. "Higher temperatures are favourable for the life of insects. They are quite inactive below 20 degrees Celsius. Below that, their activity slows down; above that, they're more active. The persistently greater heat leads to more life cycles per year than in cooler periods. In warmer conditions, the reproduction cycle of the drugstore beetle can be up to four per year compared to only two in cooler weather.' The beetle invasion was first detected during a routine cleaning of the library, when employees noticed unusual layers of dust on the shelves and then saw that holes had been burrowed into some of the book spines. Upon opening the volumes, burrow holes could be seen in the paper where the beetles had chewed through. Ilona Ásványi says everyone is heartbroken at the prospect of losing books because of the infestation. "When I see a book chewed up by a beetle or infested in any other way, I feel that no matter how many copies are published and how replaceable the book is, a piece of culture has been lost.' But the Abbey's restoration workers are trying hard to avoid that possibility. They're removing roughly 100,000 hand-bound books from the shelves and carefully placing them in crates. Zsófia Hajdu says so many books are being taken down because the infestation has been detected in several parts of the library. "This is an advanced insect infestation which has been detected in several parts of the library, so the entire collection is classified as infected and must be treated all at the same time. We have to remove all the books from the shelves, put them into boxes, then into hermetically sealed plastic sacks. Inside them, an anoxic disinfection process takes place. Basically, we create an oxygen-free environment in which insects perish.' Once that process is done - and before being reshelved - each book will be individually inspected and vacuumed, and any book damaged by the pests will be set aside for later restoration work. The abbey hopes to reopen the library at the beginning of next year.
Forbes
19-07-2025
- Business
- Forbes
Global Missions With Monks Led Adventurer Into Wild World Of Whiskey
Phil Stegar went from adventuring in the preservation of ancient manuscripts in dangerous regions around the world to crafting innovative whiskeys in his home state of Minnesota. The Restaurant Project Two Benedictine monks, some Indiana Jones-like adventures in dangerous regions around the world, and a visit to a Kentucky bourbon maker led a Minnesota man to become a pioneering whiskey maker. Phil Stegar, who is the founder of Brother Justus Whiskey Company in Minneapolis, had been working for humanitarian organizations in Iraq and Lebanon when a Catholic monk and mentor from his alma mater, St. John's University in Collegeville, MN, asked him to undertake a perilous mission. This monk who worked at the Hill Museum & Manuscript Library, wanted help to preserve some ancient manuscripts that were in war-torn regions around the globe. 'The Benedictines have been around a long time, and they've seen wars before and what happens to' ancient books, Stegar says. 'He was working on this digitization project of ancient manuscripts, and he saw that there was this small window of time where there wasn't any major conflicts going on.' So, Stegar traveled to places like Syria, Iraq, and Ukraine for about two weeks at a time in 2007 and 2008. In these monasteries and religious communities, which had centuries of history, he would meet with abbots and monks, teach them how to use the cameras and studio equipment he brought to them, then return to pick up a digital copy of these ancient manuscripts after they were all photographed. 'I was kind of getting to be a digital Indiana Jones,' Stegar says.'It was so important to preserve these manuscripts, which were important to people's identity and history, their religion and faith. To me, that's the marrow of life.' 'I was kind of getting to be a digital Indiana Jones,' Stegar says.'It was so important to preserve these manuscripts, which were important to people's identity and history, their religion and faith. To me, that's the marrow of life.' Stegar knew that this work would eventually come to an end, but he didn't know what he was going to do next. 'I love art, but I'm not an artist,' he says. 'I wanted to do something physical, something with meaning.' In the midst of his adventures, Stegar found what he was looking for on a trip he and his wife Lisa Amman took to the Abbey of Gethsemani, a monastery in Kentucky, at the end of 2007. Stegar had long admired the late Trappist monk and mystic Thomas Merton, who once lived there. On the way back to Louisville, they stopped at a well-known bourbon distillery. 'We took the tour, and it just hit me that all of the ingredients for whiskey - water, grain, oak and peat - were in my home state of Minnesota,' Stegar says. 'It also occurred to me that when you are sipping whiskey, it can be an activity by itself. It can accompany other activities, but it's its own activity like monks reading from manuscripts or people telling stories.' It was an epiphany, Stegar says, that led him to fix his sights on creating a distillery that would preserve and create history in a glass. Along the way to starting his distillery in 2013, Stegar also went to law school. 'I needed to have a way of earning a living while I was starting this distillery,' he says, adding that his specialization in trademarks, laws and regulations helped him in the spirits business. When Stegar started his distillery, it didn't have a formal name. In the back of his mind, though, he remembered hearing stories about a monk in Minnesota who helped farmers make moonshine. In 2015, he discovered a book by Elaine Davis called Minnesota 13: Stearns County's 'Wet' Wild Prohibition Days . The name 'Minnesota 13' refers to a hybrid corn that the University of Minnesota developed in 1893. This corn produced a sugar-rich grain with a quicker yield time, which was better for the state's shorter growing season and also made it ideal for moonshine. 'I went right out to a bookstore, and I bought the last copy,' he says. Davis's book included one small reference to the monk that Stegar had heard rumors about during his college days. 'Brother Justus Trettel was a monk who was a blacksmith and a distiller,' Stegar says. 'He built the stills for farmers, and he taught them about the Benedictine distillation traditions.' Brother Justus was a Minnesota-born monk at St. John's Abbey in Collegeville, MN. Archives of Brother Justus Whiskey Company Delving deeper into the history of Minnesota and Prohibition, Stegar learned that Brother Justus helped the farm families in Stearns County survive the farm depression of the 1920s and the Great Depression of the 1930s. 'He insisted on teaching them the right way to distill so people wouldn't get sick from bad moonshine,' Stegar says. As a result this 'rebel with a cause' helped these Minnesota farmers produce quality moonshine, by stripping out the methanol and cutting the heads and tails. Stegar also built them the illegal stills so they could manufacture spirits. After learning about Brother Justus, Stegar decided to name his fledgling whiskey company in his honor. Stegar sought out Brother Justus's surviving family members, receiving their blessing to christen his distillery with his name. 'There was no legal requirement to do this, but it felt like the right thing to do,' he says. Not only did the monk's family give their blessing, but they also fleshed out the details of Brother Justus's life. Lawrence Trettel, who was his nephew, was delighted. 'He was especially happy that the stories about Brother Justus are going to live beyond him,' he says. Stegar formally named his distillery after this renegade monk in 2015, and he began releasing his first silver American single malt whiskey while continuing to age his other American single malts, made with all Minnesota ingredients, aged in Minnesota oak and crafted with Minnesota peat. The Founder's Reserve is an exquisite example of Brother Justus's ground-breaking American single malt whiskey. ELIESA JOHNSON 2019 Brother Justus American Single Malt has since become known for its patent-pending Cold-Peated® American Single Malt, which uses peat in a different way from smoking. The peat is exposed to gentle heat, turning it into a granular material, and it's introduced to the whiskey just before bottling to introduce the subtle aromatics without the smoke. 'It's a special thing,' Stegar says. 'If I hadn't been this monastic manuscript preservationist, I don't know if I would have seen this the same way or taken as much care.' Stegar plans to continue to create pioneering whiskeys while preserving culture. 'With manuscripts, provenance is important,' he adds. 'When you are responsible for a manuscript, you want it to speak for itself. I feel the same way about whiskey.'
The Star
18-07-2025
- Science
- The Star
Hungary's oldest library battles beetles to save 100,000 books
Tens of thousands of centuries-old books are being pulled from the shelves of a medieval abbey in Hungary in an effort to save them from a beetle infestation that could wipe out centuries of history. The 1,000-year-old Pannonhalma Archabbey is a sprawling Benedictine monastery that is one of Hungary's oldest centers of learning and a Unesco World Heritage site. Restoration workers are removing about 100,000 handbound books from their shelves and carefully placing them in crates, the start of a disinfection process that aims to kill the tiny beetles burrowed into them. The drugstore beetle, also known as the bread beetle, is often found among dried foodstuffs like grains, flour and spices. But they also are attracted to the gelatin and starch-based adhesives found in books. They have been found in a section of the library housing around a quarter of the abbey's 400,000 volumes. "This is an advanced insect infestation which has been detected in several parts of the library, so the entire collection is classified as infected and must be treated all at the same time,' said Zsófia Edit Hajdu, the chief restorer on the project. "We've never encountered such a degree of infection before.' The beetle invasion was first detected during a routine library cleaning. Employees noticed unusual layers of dust on the shelves and then saw that holes had been burrowed into some of the book spines. Upon opening the volumes, burrow holes could be seen in the paper where the beetles chewed through. The abbey at Pannonhalma was founded in 996, four years before the establishment of the Kingdom of Hungary. Sitting upon a tall hill in northwestern Hungary, the abbey houses the country's oldest collection of books, as well as many of its earliest and most important written records. Books are kept in hermetically sealed plastic sacks for disinfection at the Pannonhalma Archabbey's library in Pannonhalma, Hungary. Photo: AP For over 1,000 years, the abbey has been among the most prominent religious and cultural sites in Hungary and all of Central Europe, surviving centuries of wars and foreign incursions such as the Ottoman invasion and occupation of Hungary in the 16th century. Ilona Ásványi, director of the Pannonhalma Archabbey library, said she is "humbled' by the historical and cultural treasures the collection holds whenever she enters. "It is dizzying to think that there was a library here a thousand years ago, and that we are the keepers of the first book catalogue in Hungary,' she said. Among the library's most outstanding works are 19 codices, including a complete Bible from the 13th century. It also houses several hundred manuscripts predating the invention of the printing press in the mid-15th century and tens of thousands of books from the 16th century. While the oldest and rarest prints and books are stored separately and have not been infected, Ásványi said any damage to the collection represents a blow to cultural, historical and religious heritage. "When I see a book chewed up by a beetle or infected in any other way, I feel that no matter how many copies are published and how replaceable the book is, a piece of culture has been lost,' she said. The extent of structural damage of old books due to a drugstore beetle infestation at the Pannonhalma Archabbey's library in Pannonhalma, Hungary. Photo: AP To kill the beetles, the crates of books are being placed into tall, hermetically sealed plastic sacks from which all oxygen is removed. After six weeks in the pure nitrogen environment, the abbey hopes all the beetles will be destroyed. Before being reshelved, each book will be individually inspected and vacuumed. Any book damaged by the pests will be set aside for later restoration work. The abbey, which hopes to reopen the library at the beginning of next year, believes the effects of climate change played a role in spurring the beetle infestation as average temperatures rise rapidly in Hungary. Hajdu, the chief restorer, said higher temperatures have allowed the beetles to undergo several more development cycles annually than they could in cooler weather. "Higher temperatures are favourable for the life of insects,' she said. "So far we've mostly dealt with mold damage in both depositories and in open collections. But now I think more and more insect infestations will appear due to global warming.' The library's director said life in a Benedictine abbey is governed by a set of rules in use for nearly 15 centuries, a code that obliges them to do everything possible to save its vast collection. "It says in the Rule of Saint Benedict that all the property of the monastery should be considered as of the same value as the sacred vessel of the altar,' Ásványi said. "I feel the responsibility of what this preservation and conservation really means.' - AP
