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Recently, I asked some students and fellow teachers I've been working with to remix my work. I am stunned by the results. There's also a previously unreleased original track, "The Child", tail-ending this little EP. I'm deeply humbled, and grateful to have had this opportunity.
"Emerging from the shadowy half-light of Acharné's debut album release, "Innocence And Suburbia", Seppüku Records presents 3 exceptional re-interpretations of the album's title track, and an exclusive unreleased original.
Unifying these remixes, is the unlikely fact that all artists involved are both practitioners, teachers and students of music; active students and co-workers in the artist's pedagogical sphere.
All re-interpetations are the result of both personal engagement with original album material, and experiments in composition strategy developed by Rick Bull (Acharné) during a recent semester spent teaching at the Australian Institute of Music, in close collaboration with fellow teacher Luke Warren (Microlot).
From Kcin's ruptured noise-floor aesthetic to Benefield's mutant piano inflections, we've experienced in these exceptional reworks a breathless reminder of the joy of 'unlearning' a little of what students are frequently taught remix culture 'should' signify in an often claustrophobic hyper-normalised sonic world.
All re-interpretations are unified by an shared sense of expansiveness, textural detail and stunning sound design, by some of the the antipodes most remarkable young composers.
The student is the teacher...."
Released June 6, 2017
Remixes by Amelia Benefield (Benefield), Luke Warren (Microlot) and Nicholas Meredith (Kcin)
Original works composed by Rick Bull (Acharné)
Mastered by Jay Hodgson Mastering Assistant: Jennifer McIntyre
Artwork by Tom Phillipson
I've felt like a little bit of a late comer to the Herndon game. I often used to see her around Neukölln, and most certainly a few times in transit at Tegel airport - most likely when she was returning from the US to Berlin, and I was setting off on tour. And so it goes.
In any case, some gorgeous matieral here, and certainly a frequent academic reference in classes / lectures I've given around the traps.
"The music industry tends to work with nostalgia and archetypes, especially in terms of emotionality. We’re supposed to understand that this certain vocal inflection means I’m really feeling it right now. For me, I know that is designed to trigger that, so it’s not a particularly emotional concept for me to take on because it’s not actually coming from anywhere - it seems to be more lifted from somewhere else culturally... I don’t like authenticity being tied to how we present music. That word ‘authenticity’, I wonder what it even means anymore. I feel quite uncomfortable saying it, but people often try to tie it into concepts like that. "
I've greatly appreciated her commentary on the laptop as a storehouse of (non-linear / non-localised?) memory, almost suggestive of a very real, personalised ecology made manifest. So much to unpack here, and all wonderful stuff.
"so that this world that we imagine in this room might be used to gain access to other rooms, to other worlds previously unimaginable...."
The year was, 2010. The place was Berlin.
I was given a book, "The Gift", by Lewis Hyde.
"The Gift" felt like a much needed philosophical retort to the dense individualism spruiked by books like "The Secret". Field notes, perhaps, for those among us weary of constantly 'manifesting' wealth, power, advantage, divine blessing and contriving gratingly self-referential memes and Instagram posts.
Perhaps there remain different ways of considering wealth / power / blessing / cultural collateral and exchange? Perhaps some of these modalities might even be worthy of anthropological invstigation?
After 5 years bouncing back and forth from the antipodes to the German capital, I had settled at last into the bosom of (now achingly hip) Neukölln, just to the West of the former Berlin Wall. All was giddy with possibility - without equivocation I had committed myself to the 'Berlin experiment' of trying to ply my trade from 'music alone', in a foreign nation, without the security of a 'day job'.
Committing to Berlin was a decision which has profoundly changed the course of my life - one which has served to fortify some quiet personal convictions regarding what possibly constitute enduring 'value' in life.
As ubiquitously branded, Berlin was most certainly 'arm, aber sexy' (poor, but sexy!).
Whilst feeling no inherent virtue in poverty, removing over zealous fiscal aspirationism (as opposed to the very real need to meet basic needs) from life's daily tapestry did honestly feel like such a gift, leveler, a wonderful social blessing. At Berlin's beating heart, a quiet suspicion (even disdain) enduredover such aspirations. How did certain aspects of this far 'poorer' culture actually equate to a far richer cultural experience than one I'd previously experienced? I'd argue that, existentially at least, many fundamental aspects of the day to day were radically simplified, and this came to offer unlikely social salve.
Berlin nascent Socialist hangover was something I was in so many ways thankful for. Comforting realpolitik anchoring the curiously cadenced grammar of the city's multitude stories.
Forget picket-fences and quarter-acre blocks - how would I best make use of state healthcare, transport, shared public space? How could locals creatively steward the innovative potential of state-funded education? How would we all make mirthful sense of long, dark winters in close proximity?
What's REALLY important here? Were there inevitable spectres haunting the corridors of this strangely earnest utopia?
*cue the brilliant film, "Goodbye Lenin!' (we'll revisit Lewis Hyde again a moment).
---- SNIP ----
Value - how could this look, taste, stretch, expand and seed if not derived not from income, but rather intention, awareness, discourse and basic gratitudes sewn into the minutia of life's most seemingly 'insignificant' exchanges?
Inhale, exhale, render, loop, repeat.
For many far more enlightened than myself, 'arts practice' is an unnecessary prerequisite for exploring these notions - yet personally, music has continued to offer up profoundly helpful tools for self analysis and reflexion. Tools I might perhaps not naturally possess.
I'm rambling here, I realise. Im attempting to tie together some disparate threads. Trying to focus things sharply through the best lens I've been afforded - 'art', abstracted (even nominally) from 'commerce', or 'product', or 'publishing'.
Why do we 'do', what we do? Does art infact 'do' us?
What if arts work might be considered indicative of a different, parallel value-system - one invested in (at least some) useful moral predicates expunged from the discourse saturating late-stage capitalism?
What it, most fundamentally, 'arts work' might just be the most interesting excuse we can come up with to share a meal, a drink, a bed with people who we don't really know, but would like to imagine we could trust as part of our tribe?
Enter Lewis Hyde, who continues to speak to these questions, and who's anthropological insight is both comforting and inspiring. In "The Gift", Hyde oscillates from a firm thesis (at the books outset) to a less clear conclusion - and herein also lies his charm. He's willing to be proven wrong.
---- SNIP ----
Unfinished reflections Part 2.... (3, 4, 5.....)
For centuries immemorial, the roll of much 'artisanal' discipline has maintained a close relationship with what we might call the 'gift economy'. This 'gift economy' is not an abstraction - but forms an ever-present, deeply important part of social function and community cohesion. The gift economy bears an often opaque, frequently flirtatious relationship with the market economy - but (to me) is indicative of what I call the 'economy of the heart'.
Previously in Sydney, I had been privileged to be awarded the ongoing roll of Artist in Resident for a group called Café Church based in the inner west suburb of Glebe - creating original digital work every week, and helping facilitate and empower the voices who were part of a very special fringe community of souls - namely many who had been excluded, burnt out, or outright damaged by traditional faith communities'.
Café Church was an unlikely experiment in patching up broken things, and set me very much on the path of investing in arts / music as a deeply healing work, beyond the model of conventional commerce.
The 'practice' itself was the reward - and the more this practice was shared, the more its value felt enriched, rather than diminished.
After 2 years in the roll at Café Church, I reluctantly relinquished my position - due only to travel commitments, and the deep sense that it was time I passed on what was truly an incredible gift to me. As Lewis Hyde puts it in The Gift:
It felt time for me to honor the gift I had been given, by relinquishing myself of it, so that it might continue to breathe, thrive, become renewed.
My time at Café Church had reminded me, in a fundamental sense that music, art (cooking, gardening, breathing...) were all acts which might best be served by being considered acts of grace. After decades stumbling on through the undergrowth of arts-practice, fundamental questions remained about how best to 'monetise' my practice, however one thing was sure - my priority above all else, was really to make the best 'work' possible.
Imagining that 'work' might be valuable in its own right was precious realisation. Particularly in an an age of unprecedented automaton, considering reimagining a truly valuable 'work life for all' feels deeply important.
Prior to my tenure at Café Church, 5 years working as a designer / video editor in a rather more corporate environment had continued to lead me to new pastures - based purely on the (perhaps egotistical?) assumption that working within the realms of advertising / front end web design often meant that the work I was producing was compromised. There were only so many times I could get away with turning down jobs based on feeling they were morally compromised, or aesthetically patronising to clients.
I didn't feel like I could keep my heart tender creating army-recruitment, gambling, porn, big-pharma websites. And yet these sorts of 'jobs' were increasingly the types thrust before me.
Eventually, through natural attrition, I exited the corporate universe...and landed square in the centre of so-called 'community work', where the road rose up beyond all expectations to meet me. My income halved overnight - but suddenly this seemed largely irrelevant. I was making work I loved, relishing every hour of practice, bettering my skills, service, thesis.
This is not to say that my previous 'corporate incarnation' wasn't filled with incredible humans. Moreover, it truly was - hyper-intelligent, infinitely more skilled and visionary designers, copywriters and artisans, and some notable social visionaries. It was just that, as a 'coal face' pixel-pusher, I felt my craft couldn't grow in such an environment.
---- SNIP ----
So music became 'the thing'...and yet... I was privileged (deeply so) to have the freedom to allow it to be 'the thing' - a freedom initially afforded by being born into privilege, education and relative security. Same as it ever was.
Ironically, many aspects of the 'music industry' proved far more morally compromised than anything I had experienced in the corporate universe.
And yet.... somewhere amid the rubble, I encountered a radically different set of presuppositions, honor codes and modalities of trust, place, belonging, gift exchange and....value....
Whats more, curious, experiences like playing clubs like Berlin's Berghain, revealed to me a parallel, if rather different experience of 'music as monument', or temporary homeland for those without a sense of historical place.
Art as a modality of creating psychic (un)realestate - temporary autonomous space, a new kind of cultural common, a kind of tangible, economy of the heart...and often a refreshingly non-sentimental one, in addition.
This question of space, place, belonging, and the place of 'non-place' remains a central thesis in my work - as an expat, a migrant currently wedged between continents.
I'll stop for now. It's late, once more, and there's too much to say. I'll leave for now, with this quote from Lewis Hyde, and gather more thoughts again later.
To be continued.....
Bill Drummond (best known for his band, The KLF) is one of the great heros of my life. There's too much I could say, and not nearly enough space to say half of it. It's late now, so I'll just leave this here. Dig deep into the Drummond crypt - you won't regret it.
...ok... just a couple more, for now. Here's one of my favorite interviews with Drummond, and beautifully shot. His comments on recorded music are timeless. Enjoy.
"I don't really know what I am... I always feel embarassed to say I'm 'an artist'...
I don't think of myself as a musician. Even though I've written quite a few books, I don't think of myself as a writer either"
- Bill Drummond
And finally, below, some wonderful comments about the inspiring sound of Land Rover engines, and Drummond's "The 17" project, and (once again) challenging the value of recording musical experience as the only measure of musical value.
"...because music and performing does not make sense..."
- David Byrne
"...what? I dated your mother? How is your mother? How did the Maggi find the Christ-child in the manger?"
- Tom Waits
Believe it or not, I can actually draw.
- Jean-Michel Basquiat
It took me to 2015 to see a 'real' Basquiat, up close and personal in New York City. His work still feels transcendent to me - curiously, his wordplay as much as his painting....couplets, poetic dissonance, savage, direct, knowing critique of the dialectics of pop art's white lineage. So much to say here. He was, of course, also a musician - and was Madonna's beau for a period.
Moreover, Basquiat's approach to the use of words is a direct, potent corollary with audio sampling. Dig if you will, the following excerpt:
"(words)...when I'm working, I hear them.... I just thrown them down... that was from a guidebook on Roman history...I didn't snatch them...they caught my eye and I took them..."
"(on anatomy)...not really imitating....I use them as a source material.....academic references"
Jump to 5"27 here if you want to mainline this.
...and a few iphone photos I took of his work in 2015 - which don't do them justice, but still leave me reeling.
Although she'd probably be deeply resistant to me posting this, I'd contend that Kate Crawford and her brilliant compatriot Nicole Skeltys are largely responsible for introducing me to a world of deeply engaged feminist thinking, through the lens of their compelling and brilliantly tongue-in-cheek project, B(if)Tek, in the mid 90s. Yes, they named their band after a cut of meat...
"A.I systems reflect the values of their creators" - Kate Crawford
I've been privileged to maintain a wonderful connection with Kate over the years, and even had the honor of contributing a small part to her wonderful book, "Adult Themes: Rewriting The Rules of Adulthood"
To call Kate and Nicole "feminists" would almost, curiously, feel patronisingly reductionist - they are simply much more, so much more - smart at f•••, politically engaged, exceptional media makers and exceedingly good humored. I was reminded of their work today, listening in the car to some new music by Holly Herndon who's own discourse on process and composition feel inspired and necessary in a music-only context.
Anecdotally, I also heard Rhythm and Sound for the very first time at a house-party at Kate's place, circa 2001. True stories. Somehow both music, media and academia have been central to parallel journeys - although mine took me rather deep into the bowels of Berlin clubland for over a decade of performances in Germany, and over half this time living in the nation's capital.
But I digress. Here's what Kate's up to now, followed by a glimmer from 2001.
...and finally, here's a little from Ms Herndon, who's trajectory feels similarly engaged, and who's relationship with technology feels entirely resonant with the work of Kate's...
"And now you are cursed from the ground, which has opened its mouth to receive your brother’s blood from your hand. When you work the ground, it shall no longer yield to you its strength. You shall be a fugitive and a wanderer on the earth.” - Genesis 4:11-12
The late, great Mark Fisher is one of the most potent 'latter day' voices in contemporary music critique for me. Like so many of us from his generation (and perhaps a little younger!), I felt like there was a sense that the 'future' we were sold in the 70s and 80s never quite came to pass - infact, in many ways it seemed to stop, abruptly, without warning, in a way none of us had the words to adequately intellectualise.
When we stood back, however, we DID hear a contemporary art and music suddenly sounding very much like the 'past'. What happened? What was lost? What happened to the beating heart of the 'now'?
When did 'authenticity' start to sound like the tape-saturated 60s? When did the vitality and danger of 90s techno suddenly become trope-ified, dogmatised? And more importantly, WHY?
Mark Fisher combines savage, compassionate critiques of neoliberalism with a deep and abiding love of music. There are simply few other writers of his ilk i reference so frequently.
Examining hauntology, hypnagogia and late-stage capitalism, Mark Fisher not only NAMES the sense of existential loss many of us feel in our weird cultural half-light, but perhaps also gives us tools to continue the work of exorcising the demons which terrify us.
He's also a bloody good writer, with a visceral love of electronic music - from Joy Divison to Burial and beyond. Vital, accessible, compassionate reading for anyone invested in contemporary music culture.
I don't mention Masao Abe too often, and he's not overly well known in the Western Buddhist tradition. As a voice of inter-faith dialogue and helping pioneer Zen dialogue in the west, he is a force to be recognised, however.
I remember first reading Steven Heine's Buddhism and Interfaith Dialogue, Zen and Comparative Studies and feeling deeply affected by it - for a Buddhist 'newb' around 15 years ago, non-dualist concepts like "mu" or "non void emptiness" were so utterly foreign to me. Masao Abe shed a light on these in a way which was totally unexpected - and reverberated though my bones, my heart and my own musical practice.
Moreover, I feel that Abe was one of many voices who served to remind me, with a smile, that musical 'practice' was enough for itself.
Zen and its crucial roll in shaping the very fabric of artisnal practice (from music through to flower arranging, and perhaps most notable in architecture) via frameworks like Wabi Sabi
represent everything I find most beautiful about art, immanence and practice.
Sure, this is a deep and fathomless hole to fall down, but voices like Masao Abe's have been crucial for furthering the dialog in the west.
Chop wood, carry water.
I first encountered Sun Ra by way of the writings of the incredible Kodwo Eshun, who's seminal tome "More Brilliant That The Sun" remains an exceptional (and often times confounding) primer on Afro Futurism - tracing the "song lines" and political history of Black Music in a manner which has profoundly changed the way I have experiened my own musical tradition.
Actually *edit* - the above statement is not entirely true...
I actually first encountered Sun Ra most unintentionally, in 1992, by way of a copy of The Grid's "456" album - purchased on cassette. Sun is sampled in the track "Face The Sun", and something about his voice in this track had me absolutely smitten. Who knew? For years (and arguably still to this day), I've had his refrain looping somewhere in my liver, my bowel, my Anetrior Temporal Lobe:
"I'm dealing with sound... not just what you call music. You know, you have a 'sound' party, a 'sound' doctrine...... you need to have a 'sound' music... so I'm dealing with sound. I'm talking about the cosmos. I'm talking about Universes, I'm talking about Omniverses...I'm talking about this Planet will have to cooperate with other worlds now, instead of just being isolated the way they have been - and that's what it is..."
For any interested, even marginally, in the African Diaspora's fearsome musical Grace, I can only suggest spending some time with Sun might just be life changing. In the light of 'the future' sounding increasingly like the past, Sun Ra (RIP) remains far beyond the space time continuum.
He remains, for me, beyond time. An exceptional jazz musician, but moreover an artist from the eternal tomorrow. Ra's ethos is at the heart of the electronic pulse for me.
I'm playing dark history. It's beyond black. I'm dealing with the dark things of the cosmos
- Sun Ra
I can only bow.
For further reading, I can highly recommend John Szwed's biography, "Space Is The Place"
It feels fitting to begin my feeble attempt at blogging with John Cage - although knowing where to even 'begin' speaking about his work leaves me dumbfounded. Which perhaps, is a convenient irony of the fact that Cage was popularized due to his work, 4'33
His 'work' (if one can even reduce his spirit to this) remains an indelible an influence on my own production, teaching and practice. This video interview was a springboard to so much for me, and perhaps might provide a little psychic resonance if you're not familiar with the guy. Cage's quest to democratise the 'non musical', the mundane, the supposedly 'random' in the audio-universe are notions which may have seen genuinely quaint at in the 50s, but have re-engineered collective hearing in a way which few can lay claim to (and Cage himself would probably laugh loudly at were he still alive)...
This Cagian mandate to 'legitimise' (if I can employ this term casually) the sound of the everyday, the overlooked, the mundane remains profoundly resonant to me. In many ways it's the antithesis to late-stage capitalism's insistence on reducing sound to novelty, and music to tokens of trade. What if, perhaps, there was 'nothing' really to acquire, which we didn't already possess? What if, perhaps, we might just be served by listening in a different way to the thrum of even those things about us which we might have been trained to hear as the 'other', the undesirable, the 'unclean'.
Oh, whilst you're here, dig on this. And then turn off the computer. And just listen.
“There is no such thing as an empty space or an empty time. There is always something to see, something to hear. In fact, try as we may to make a silence, we cannot.”
― John Cage, Silence: Lectures and Writings
For further reading, I highly recommend the most excellent "Where The Heart Beats" as an accessible primer for all things Cagian.