An instrument with the most incredible backstory, harnessed into a creative environment that’s designed to give you your new favourite storytelling device.
In the brutal chaos of World War II, Steinway & Sons, barred from piano-making by wartime metal restrictions, turned their Queens factory to crafting coffins and glider parts. Then they landed a contract to build over 3,000 “Victory Vertical” pianos—rugged olive, blue, or grey beasts airdropped onto battlefields, complete with tuning kits, to bring solace to American troops. From 1942 to 1953, these G.I. Steinways, often hauled in by Jeep, sparked joy and camaraderie, letting soldiers sing, smile, and remember home, their music a defiant pulse of hope.
Sampled at Hans Zimmer’s “Remote Control Productions” in Santa Monica, this is one of but a handful of remaining victory verticals, and since its recent refurbishment a unique working model where scars of its tumultuous past are borne out in the character of its unique sound.
An instrument with the most incredible backstory, harnessed into a creative environment that’s designed to give you your new favourite storytelling device.
In the brutal chaos of World War II, Steinway & Sons, barred from piano-making by wartime metal restrictions, turned their Queens factory to crafting coffins and glider parts. Then they landed a contract to build over 3,000 “Victory Vertical” pianos—rugged olive, blue, or grey beasts airdropped onto battlefields, complete with tuning kits, to bring solace to American troops. From 1942 to 1953, these G.I. Steinways, often hauled in by Jeep, sparked joy and camaraderie, letting soldiers sing, smile, and remember home, their music a defiant pulse of hope.
Sampled at Hans Zimmer’s “Remote Control Productions” in Santa Monica, this is one of but a handful of remaining victory verticals, and since its recent refurbishment a unique working model where scars of its tumultuous past are borne out in the character of its unique sound.
Installation
