Emotional Restraints: Martin Küchen live at Alchemia, Krakow, Sunday June 7th 2009

Not only afforded the pleasure of seeing Küchen for my first time live in Warsaw late last year, I’d also been introduced to him immediately before this particular night’s show by Marcin of AudioTong and was pleased to discover him extremely affable. Always nice to meet decent musicians, as I generally contend the vast majority are either dull or pretentious and, therefore, best avoided at all costs. Anyway, after grabbing a beer and heading downstairs to one of Krakow’s only venues dedicated to modern jazz, improv and related forms of music, I was surprised to find the place had several rows of empty seats available still. Good for me, of course, but not so good for those people who clearly had better things to do than join me in witnessing one of the best saxophone players I’ve personally caught for a long time. One of the best because, quite simply, his playing transcends all the usual barriers concerning the instrument.
Although having arrived from a freeform jazz background (and itself beginning, apparently, in a punk band many, many years ago), Küchen’s own work centres around a different approach to the saxophone. Each of the compositions played tonight, similar to his set in Warsaw, concentrates on a breathy, occasionally almost silent, type of playing given to more textural forms that are akin to utterances from beyond the space time continuum. If the wind could play jazz through the trees (and, heck, maybe it does!), it might come close to sounding like this. For all the obvious energy and exertion married to Küchen’s style, what comes out is a series of murmurs, melodious guff and near-impenetrable silence intent on perhaps picking at the notion of details lost to the everyday racket we’re generally bombarded by. It may be either a reaction to the latter or it may well serve as a reminder of those seemingly buried fragments of noise we at least think are obscured by those many bigger blocks of sonic debris, or it may indeed simply be open to subjective interpretation. In the end, it doesn’t especially matter when placed next to the music itself.
Playing five rather lengthy compositions in total, each related to the overall context by virtue of the stealthy playing at work, we were treated to music that made me think of hypnotic forms themselves occasionally conjuring all from strained cries of anguish to the internal sounds of a building collapsing caught from afar. Once in a while, more regular sounds associated with the instrument would make their pronouncements but, mostly, what Küchen does is create a setting where restrained yet dynamic enough movements flesh themselves out amongst babbling that’s more like electro-acoustic work than anything immediately related to freeform jazz or whatever. Quietly employing some kind of shaker to the saxophone’s bell on one of the pieces, the emphasis on detail becomes even greater. Outside of this, he also uses what looks like an electric toothbrush on another piece, sometimes taps out little rhythmic flourishes elsewhere on the instrument and is capable of working it up to resemble either Indian chanting or pipes being blown. Ultimately, his tool of choice, the saxophone, is pushed completely and utterly out of its context.
I bought a CD after the show itself dedicated to the material in the set. Sad to say that it’s not quite as good as actually experiencing this music live (although it's still good), but I’ve always maintained that such music is best caught being sweated out on stage anyway. If this man plays anywhere near you, push any reservations you may well have about improv or freeform music, or indeed a sax soloist come to that, and give yourself a treat. Küchen’s music is aimed at all open ears and can grease your mind’s tightest coils. Get to it.

Richo

Ulan Bator, Club Init, Weds May 13th 2009‏

I really should pay more attention sometimes. If it weren't for the fact that I randomly picked up a copy of Roma C'e (i.e., Time Out for the Italian capital), I would have missed the fact that Ulan Bator were playing at Rome's Init club. UB is the brainchild of ex-Faust musician Amaury Cambuzat, an amiable Frenchman resident these days in Milan. I first came across him when Richo helped organise Faust's first ever Polish gig a few years back (a phenomenal show, documented on the LTC release From Our Souls To Your Ears, or however the fuck it translates into Polish). Amaury had been great company on that occasion and kindly handed me a few Ulan Bator CDs, which turned out to be full of fine, muscular guitar rock of the type rarely found these days.

So arriving at Init (located bloody miles from my flat in the poncey boozwah part of Northern Rome) I track down Amaury and we catch up. He apologises profusely for a guest-list screw-up, but I assure him that I really don't mind paying to get in like everyone else. The rest of the band (including London's James Johnston - Faust, Bad Seeds, Gallon Drunk, etc) is relaxing with the homemade wine of the roadie's Southern Italian grandfather - such geographical specificity is important in this country. At 11pm they disappear off to perform.

It seems that Rome is infected with the big-city gig-crowd malaise that afflicts places like London - everyone stands around like statues, refusing to react, so it's left to roadie Diego and me to move around a bit. This has always annoyed me - apparently, you risk the fate-worse-than-death of looking 'uncool' if you dare to show any sign of being viscerally affected by the music you just paid 10 Euro to listen to. Jesus, shake your booties, people!

It's the least this band deserves, because they're a PHENOMENAL live act. I tend to see the guitar/bass/drums/synth setup as largely redundant these days, especially given what the disease that is Indie Rock has done with the format, but UB injected an intensity and ferocity into it that I haven't seen since Swans' final gig in London a decade ago... or since Faust in Poland for that matter. Working seamlessly with each other, each musician displays both virtuosity and - more importantly, perhaps - SHOWMANSHIP, throwing themselves fully into the gig, culminating in a 'musical orgasm' (a la 'Death Valley 69') that left me gasping.

The new CDEP, 'Soleil' (to be reviewed elsewhere here soon enough) is a fine piece of work (ta for the freebie, Amaury!) but it can't do the impossible and reproduce the potency of the onstage experience. UB gigs a fair bit in Europe these days; if they play in your town, do yourself a favour and drag your lazy arse out to see them. Their finely crafted sound-of-the-mountains guitar work will shake you up in a way that little else seems capable of doing these days.

Anton Black

New Continent of Noise: Cut Hands in Krakow, 5/5/09

Photo of Cut Hands in Lodz,
Friday 8/5/09



Despite the fact a cold had just begun to throw me into its turbulent waters, I dutifully broke away from the murky subterranean confines afforded by one of Krakow’s few venues, Alchemia, in order to meet William Bennett from the airport and get him there. In doing so, I missed saxophonist Ray Dickaty’s duet with Rafal Mazur, but such things cannot be helped. Half hour back from the airport and we’re in the venue’s vague semblance of a dressing room, nursing drinks and chatting whilst Alan Licht, Aki Onda and Noel Akchote take to the stage. Never having been impressed by Licht’s recordings before, I wasn’t so bothered about catching him live really, but what I could see and hear of his own improvisations in this trio setting from the stage’s wing seemed okay. Occasional plumes of textural glaze bombarded by shards of crystalline distortion and spiralling sonic shavings penetrated all conversation well enough, sustaining my generally good mood that was only otherwise dented by my losing the battle with the germs. Another Coke for William and beer for me later and it was time for the Cut Hands DJ set. Only the fact it had to happen after midnight and, as such, being a weekday, the audience began to thin out really betrayed everything once the line check was out of the way…

Of course, there were a few people around who clearly wanted some Whitehouse, going by the few song requests I heard being shouted out, but the entire Cut Hands deal is a world away from Whitehouse’s often overblown theatrics-led dabblings with perception via sound, language, ideas and, of course, an image supported by a rich history itself awash in notoreity. Only William’s obvious ability to create vast shifting torrents of electronic sound as dynamic as the best structures to be found in rock music furnish one with a link between the two platforms, really. Beyond this, whilst delivering what he has long called ‘afro-noise’, he’s onstage and bears more similarities to other DJs given to only focussing on their craft whilst performing. And by DJs I don’t mean the kind who play other people’s music, either. Akin to certain artists who’ve arrived from dance culture (I’m thinking Richie Hawtin, for example, here), William’s notion of Djing amounts to him playing around with, sequencing and live mixing sounds he’s mostly prepared himself via a laptop. Onstage, nestled amongst the darkness he’s insisted on playing in, there’s very little engagement with the audience or even, come to that, the drink carefully placed nearby. Full concentration is the order of the day, allowing the music to completely shout for itself. And shout it does.

Dashing all expectations, there’s greater emphasis on William’s (personally played and, as he points out later, non-looped) djembe drum workouts. These alone form incredible polyrhythmic soundbeds that instantly transport many around me. I notice people sat down nodding their heads with eyes closed, helplessly locked into proceedings, whilst others take to the limited area there is to dance in. Then there are the electronic washes of blissed-out sound weaving in and out, cascading over or replacing the rhythm segues. Peaks and troughs again commanding the listener and clearly indebted to both William’s own background in such music and, to a far lesser extent, those live house or techno DJs who cut their teeth creating music destined to become new genres. On one hand, the ‘noise’ at work appears fully controlled and as carefully hewn as anything presented so far by Whitehouse’s ‘second phase’, on the other it is poised to the brink of going all Mount Pompeii on us and leaving everybody drenched in sonic sputum in its wake. What’s likewise noticeable is how the music which constitutes a Cut Hands set doesn’t pander to those whose bodies are firmly glued to it, either (mine included!). Anybody can be thrown off the scent at any time before then having to rethink a route back into it. As many doors are slammed violently in one’s feet as are actually opened for them.

But then, well, this is neither ordinary dance music or ordinary music to begin with. If it appears to be about anything then it may well be the basic premise of elevation or at least taking listeners to that very point where its both in their grasp and could be as dangerous as exciting for them. The place where possibilities, in all their guises, exist. And, yes, this might also be something which can be levelled at Whitehouse. I personally wouldn’t expect anything less from William Bennett’s music, though. Which is precisely what sets it apart from so much else…

Richard Johnson

Footnote: I also caught the third of three Cut Hands sets here in Poland in Lodz a few days later. This time the venue was an art gallery and I am certain that the audience, much as some clearly wanted to, wouldn’t ‘allow’ themselves to move to the music for all the (supposed) inhibitions this brings. Behaviour can easily be influenced by the environment and all preset ideas one may have about that. Or maybe it was the fact William was backed by three short Jean Rouche films from the late ‘50s this time. Or the combination? Either way, I strongly feel dancing in art galleries should be encouraged. Well, to live music in them, at least!

The Fine Arts of Language and Sound: An Interview with Michael Begg of Human Greed

The following interview took place between Michael Begg and Kate MacDonald sometime during April 2009, a mere cluster of months after the release of Human Greed's third CD album, Black Hill: Midnight at the Blighted Star, released on Lumberton Trading Company and featuring a number of collaborators such as Julia Kent and David Tibet. During this same timeframe the duo (also comprising phenomenal artist Deryk Thomas) have also played their first ever live shows (in Poland) and plan to embark on more...

Photograph by  Carlo Giordani.

 

AE: Start with a basic: What was it that originally made you want to start Human Greed?

MB: To tell you the truth, I have no recollection at all of wanting to start it, probably because there was no real start. It just kind of grew out of what had been going on before.

 The start Start START was when Deryk and I met, aged 12, sat down in a room with my father's electric guitar plugged in to a hifi and tried to pick out the theme music from John Carpenter's Halloween. Fast forward through years of aiming two cassette recorders at each other to create primitive multi tracks, a few effects boxes, a propensity for sticking a guitar into the back of an amp then kicking the amp to make the reverb wires crash together in the midst of the beautiful howl of feedback and the recipe for disaster was pretty much there.

We were good suburban boys though and had no conception or notion of taking this racket out to the world. It just kind of hummed in the background while we got on with other things.

The whole brew I suppose began to surface in the late nineties. I was writing at the time, and had my own theatre company, and was looking to do a new kind of performance. I didn't quite realise at the time how far I was subsequently going to come into personal dispute with the act of writing itself. I was just feeling my way forward in the dark, as it were. I had these ideas of pure sound leading to pure emotional response, and arrangements of sounds that would lead to some form of direct narrative that somehow would evade the negotiated meaning inherent within language. It was as vague at the time as it is pretentious now!

I travelled to Morocco and I was lucky enough to meet Paul Bowles. We had some nice chats: about dogs and dentists mostly, but sometimes writing. He, of course, was a composer who was unsatisfied at music's limitation at presenting negative emotions. Which these days seems an extraordinary thing to say. We have come to appreciate music, sound, as being very well equipped to present negative feelings. So he turned his back on musical composition to address his negativity in poetry and prose. I turned my back on poetry and prose in order to face the same demons with sound.

Round about this same time a friend introduced me to audio applications on the computer, and so I found myself tinkering with early versions of Cakewalk, Wavelab, Cubase, Sound Forge, etc.

I was like a kid in a sweetie shop. I sunk deeper and deeper into a dark pool of delight, where I would swim around, shredding, stretching and twisting synths, samples and instruments. It took a while, but I soon gained a reasonable degree of competence and began arranging and sequencing the results. It was exactly what I was after. Purity of intent, non-negotiable emotional response. I never thought of it as music, or noise, or anything really. I just knew it was right: and that is a feeling that I rarely ever have.

It just so happened that a play that was being worked up at this time was called Human Greed: A Mortality Play in 3 Courses. When I heard that Steven Severin was, at that time, composing work for theatre I decided, more or less on a whim as I recall, to send him a cassette of these arrangements, and Human Greed was what I wrote on the side of the cassette. In retrospect it seems outrageous that this approach should lead to the first HG album, but there you go. Says something about Severin too. Either that he has great insight, or is more desperate than I thought! Ha!

AE: After your first album, you started your own label, Omnempathy and then moved back to releasing music through another label for the third album. How would you compare the experiences of releasing your own material versus having it on someone else's label?

MB: Omnempathy was just a word I came up with and I wanted it to be something - a nom de guerre, a website, a publication, a family motto. It just so happened that the way fate wandered from day to day it presented itself, at the right moment, as a name for a record label.

I am enough of an enthusiast to say that I really liked being involved and in control of the whole enterprise, but on the other hand I have enjoyed not having to put capital up front for the work that appears on other labels.

That said, the general level of incompetence that sits under the administration of the majority of boutique labels is quite astonishing to me. There's no doubting the enthusiasm there but the marginal audiences involved in this kind of enterprise seems to allow them to give up entirely on any will to market or promote the artists in any way whatsoever. You end up with this weird scene where label owners act like artists, and that just doesn't work.

AE: Your music has a very strong visual and literary component ("the musical investigation of a writer and a painter"- stolen from your website). How do you think the other artistic pursuits of the HG members shape your sound? Are there other elements you'd like to add to Human Greed for future recordings? (kabuki-style puppet shows during live performances, slow-moving can-can dancers, kazoo orchestras...)

MB: I'm not really sure how to answer that one. It's not possible to separate one element of your life entirely from another so there is always going to be some kind of bleed. It would be difficult to pinpoint a single source for a particular intervention. As a writer I have a good grounding in narrative structure and that certainly informs my approach to composition. But its questionable whether it has any more or any less impact than my response to the sound of trains in the morning, or the way that a road drill fills me with profound melancholy - both direct examples that have informed HG recordings in the past - I really can't be sure. Deryk is an illustrator and there is a similar formality to his approach in that work. But it also demands a huge capacity for patience that is also valuable in navigating the long gestation periods of HG recordings.

You have to think of it, and I'm sorry to go on about this, the purity of the emotion. What is the emotional impulse and what happens to it on the way to expression? Language distorts because of its need to negotiate meaning in its presentation. Sound and image are much more representative of the pure thought. The prerogative of expression. As an illustration, think of a child at a kitchen table drawing pictures. They seldom do this in silence. They make all these lovely sounds as they scratch out their lines. They are expressing the same little thought in two representative mediums simultaneously. We tend to lose that approach as we get older. Probably round about the time we begin picking up writing skills.

I have been quite down on the written word for some time now. Though the ongoing experience of HG seems slowly to be resolving itself back towards some kind of embrace of language. We'll see, we'll see...

But it seems to me that the written word in the 21st century serves only a single purpose: To take something from you. Your money normally, but increasingly, your trust, your faith, your mind. Oh, I could go on, and I do. But I am tiresome, and pretentious.

How about this? Deryk and I set up an idea for a live routine that would involve us standing on stage and opening a cardboard box brimful of puppies. Then amidst a blizzard of noise we would shave the puppies with electric shears and set them loose, pink, terrified and pissing themselves into the crowd. That seemed to be a good way of generating the desired emotional response from an audience - that heady cocktail of disbelief, horror, pity. Of course, we could never follow through on such a plan. Not fair on the puppies, of course. And you can't really get puppy actors to consent to perform it as a role.

You will have read about the artist whose work amounted to a stray dog in a room that over the course of the exhibition starved to death in a pool of its own ordure. Who was it, Vargas? Costa Rican, I think. There was a huge outcry. Its not art, its cruelty, they screamed. It was absolutely very cruel, but it seemed to me a perfectly valid artistic statement. Who's to say what is and what isn't?

To be perfectly honest, I am now familiar enough with the process of recording an HG record that I can safely say at this point I have no idea whatsoever will make its way onto the next record! There are certainly new elements that pop into my mind on a daily basis, particularly since undertaking the live shows in Poland late last year.

But if you do happen to have a can-can dancer among your friends, pass on my number.

AE: You have comparatively recently started to perform live. Have you been (generally) happy with the results? How does the live environment change your sound (if at all)?

MB: Very, very happy. It was so thrilling to be able to take it all out on the road. And I love Poland, so it was just perfect. Those doomed, winter-savaged flatlands, those beautiful, sad Slavic faces, those late night smoky basements under the mediaeval squares - and there, tangled up in the Christmas lights, little old us with our fistful of sounds. Quite, quite beautiful.

As you say, we have only looked at this aspect of our work recently. That's on account of three things I suppose. The advances in software, the experience of my playing with Fovea Hex all over Europe, and the introduction of the visual element brought in by film maker Neil McLauchlan. He is another old friend of mine who is based out of Galway, Ireland.

I'd like to do more. In fact, I am in London right now and I'll be meeting a promoter later in the afternoon to look at possibilities. A London show would be good. And I'd like to go back to Italy. I've played there several times with Fovea Hex. I think they'd go for us there. From what I can gather we have a bit of a following there - largely on account of a pirate copy of Black Hill leaking out onto the Italian bulletin board communities.

The live sound is, necessarily, I suppose, much less contemplative, much more immediate. There is little room for subtlety, but there is still a lot you can do with these soundbeds of ours, particularly at high volume, that shifts the material in a whole new direction.

It was always a concern of mine that a show of beat-less, melody free laptop generated music would be the most boring thing in the world. God knows the world is jam packed to the gunnels with duos staring intently at computer screens and indulging in the ludicrous practice of improvised electronica. Everyone we met on the road always seemed to say that same thing; "Ya, ya, I'm, like, into doing improvisational electronica right now, ya!" Fuck that!

I had to think in a very traditional way about what works on stage. Instruments. Visuals. Vocals!

So, I configured the set to afford Deryk as much time as possible to work with a treated guitar. Neil composed some very effective visuals to be projected behind us, and I invited Gosia (Warsaw's Brenda LeeDVD) to read some texts from 'Moonsuite' (a piece of writing that has been occupying me recently). It worked really well, but sadly she could not make it with us as far south as Krakow. We still had a mic on stage and at some point  during the Krakow show I picked it up and began singing, after a fashion. It was not so much catharsis as purgative. Kind of like what I was saying earlier about children making noises with their mouths because the gateway to the pure emotion wasnít being opened quick enough by the act of drawing. The surge needed to get out fast, and in this case it just came from my throat. I don't know if it will ever happen again. Its not something I can envisage working up in rehearsal or introducing in any substantive way to the recording process. But it worked on the night.

I am pleasantly surprised at how flexible the performance set up was in the end. I didn't expect there to be so much room for improvising. Oh shit - improvised electronica!

For more information: http://www.omnempathy.com

ART OF DARKNESS: CocART, Torun, Saturday March 28, 2009

Long, long time since I last embraced a huge journey for any music. In fact, the last time it happened was probably for Whitehouse’s show at The Garage in London around a year ago, if I’m to conveniently overlook the fact I since happened to be in Warsaw for a Human Greed show there in December. But that doesn’t count. No, last time was the trip to London for Whitehouse although, similar to this particular instance, there were outside factors to the music concerned. In London, I not only had a chance to finally meet Kate MacDonald but also a great opportunity to catch up with old friends and faces hardly seen for a considerable while (years, even, in some cases): people such as good pal Steve Pittis, Stephen Meixner, Justin Mitchell and Jo, and many others. A good music event can often serve as a great social gathering, too. An ideal way to at least meet people not seen for a long time, if not the best way to actually catch up with them properly.

 Whatever. Fast forward. I’m ensnared by a similar circumstance as I travel to Torun by train. Alone. Following almost two weeks of deliberation during which my only friend from Malaysia, Yin, stayed with me for almost one of them. Whilst she was at my place, I made a decision to go to one day of the second edition of the annual CocART Festival in Torun and duly set about setting things up. A little groundwork conducted via old emails between Stefan Knappe of Drone Records/Troum and myself, plus my obtaining the festival organisers’ contact details, and I was in. With Yin on the plus-one. Only the train ticket and place to stay remained to be conquered, as well as the necessary finances for both, but Yin soon took care of the hotel situation and played her part in activating my otherwise latent decision. As such, several days after she left my place for Gdansk and following my usual couple of days teaching in a town 120km away from Krakow, I’m on my way to join her once more…

 …via a train journey that lasts over 7 hours and gives me a chance to not only catch up with some much needed sleep but also devour half of Ian McEwan’s incredible Enduring Love in fits and starts clouded by daydreams, idle contemplation and the occasional jotting of notes in a compartment that thankfully becomes my own after Lodz. If anything can justify travelling such great distances for me it’s the fact I rarely make time to relax or sit down with a book at home (most of my reading is done whilst away each week in the town I teach at, Polaniec). Even when I watch a film, I remain restless (at least at home).

 Anyway, I get to Torun at 16.40. Tired and laden enough with a bag full of CDs to give to various people. It’s raining, of course, and once I’ve got to the hotel with the aid of a taxi driver who forgets to put his meter on till 2 minutes into the journey (I notice these things…), I am left with all of 40 minutes to settle into my room, freshen up and walk around the very heart of the city that saw Copernicus become the person we all know him as before I have to meet Yin in the reception. I feel tired, but good and at least content. Well, quite content.

 Yin and myself meet and I’m pleased to finally talk to somebody who isn’t just a ticket inspector or a stranger attempting to make smalltalk with me on a train. We head for a restaurant and need a beer with our respective meals before heading back out into the downpour and a search for a venue which seems to magically and predictably evade its address. Fifteen, maybe twenty, minutes later, we find it. Opposite directions always seem to make the most sense in such circumstances.

 Whatever. Not too drenched and we are truly in. The venue is some kind of art centre and the festival itself takes place in its underground car park: a location perfectly suited to the first group for its notions suggesting escape. Yes, Column One are into their set as we arrive, and I’m instantly reminded of so many groups who think they’re something they are clearly not. I’ve never been really into such music a great deal, anyway, but their mish-mash of horror movie textures, farmyard sounds and intergalactic grunts coupled to a man strutting about in his underwear and a large cardboard tube over his head, plus others in Japanese masks, only succeeds in making me look for a viable alternative: another beer. I’m sure Column One spend time on what they’re doing, and maybe even take their slightly Dadaist performance art sensibility seriously enough to believe it means something beyond all the usual cliches, but their music moves in concentric circles to the point it becomes a powerless and insignificant dot. When it comes to music of this kind of faltering and wispy disposition, I am glad there are other things in life worth savouring far more.

 Such as meeting people. Luckily, one of the festival organisers, Rafal, from drone outfit Hati (who performed the previous night), is there to greet me almost as soon as I make my way for a glass of beer. CDs are exchanged, lightening my bag, and I thank him for letting Yin and myself into the show for free before we tentatively discuss the idea of collaborating at next year’s festival. This idea of some kind of Lumberton Trading Company spotlight has been simmering away for a while now, actually. Another flash in the pan mooted for only too long by various parties that must be realised at some point. No question.

 Also meet Agnieszka, a photographer who’s been in touch a lot recently. Always nice to put a face to some writing. We catch up a little, disagree over Column One and then watch The Magic Carpathians soon commence their set. When I saw this group in Krakow last year, I was mesmerised by their blend of folk and psychedelia strained with an avant sensibility, but the performance on this particular night started out like a hippie tea party in a church hall and ended as an excuse to get lost in thoughts so far removed from the proceedings it was impossible to return. I think I ended up surveying the audience instead, plus engaging in more beer and conversation with my various friends and associates. I’ve absolutely nothing against music drifting through pseudo-Pagan corridors smothered by the stench of lentil soup and slightly stupid yearnings for ‘a better world’, but it needs to be backed up by something that may actually pull you in, even if momentarily. These mountain folk just couldn’t do it, though. At least, not on this particular night. When it comes to so-called hippie music, I want Amon Duul or Can or whatever. Hippie music with bollocks (and, indeed, a yearning to evade the ghastly hippie trappings it may be attached to in the first instance). The Magic Carpathians may have been striving for that ‘transcendental’ level of music afforded by certain minimalist artists, such as Charlemagne Palestine or, better yet, Christina Kubisch, but nothing actually worked. When the female vocalist started playing around with her own capabilities, Yin remarked that it all sounded like Enya. Which just about encapsulated it perfectly. Hippie trance-out music for office workers isn’t quite what I want from my own listening experiences…

 Thankfully, Frenchman Richard Pinhas was up next to save the night. Although, perhaps to my shame, I’ve not kept up with his solo work since his group Heldon disbanded (and didn’t he collaborate with Merzbow recently, too? Mind you, who fucking hasn’t…?!), certain people over the years have often mentioned it as being pretty strong still. And the show here clearly illustrated this. Aided by two other musicians and, between them all, utilising a guitar, laptop and various electronic devices set to some suitably bright and tantalising abstract visuals, Pinhas moulded a molten soundbed of shapes and textures into focus. Sometimes jarring and taking on an almost quasi-noise approach, the music mostly, however, remained anchored to a palette owing as much to his background in Tangerine Dream-inspired ‘70s electronics as its then stretching its tendrils out to more filmic concerns. Ultimately, Pinhas’ psychedelia successfully honours his past without sacrificing its potential stakes in the contemporary arena. On top of this, the moods constantly shifted. With enough abstraction woven in to keep us transfixed, melodic swells crumbled into ominous twilight pools as enchanting and exciting as being reminders of our solitude. This performance was worth the trip alone, and I hope I will one day get the pleasure of seeing Pinhas again.

 More drinks, more talking, more lapping up the moment. All is good, and the combination of alcohol, fatigue and having perhaps not eaten enough during the previous few days send me reeling to a space where Oren Ambarchi’s set doesn’t do so much for me. During his 45/50-minutes solo show of electronics, I keep telling myself I should be enjoying it more than I am. Stitching drones and fragments together, Oren’s music once again assumes a psychedelic stance that at least worms its way through some interesting corridors, but I find it hard to get as excited about it all as Yin. I put this down to my own state of mind rather than the music, though. Maybe I’ve just had too much electronic music for one night?

 Once Oren finishes, I grab another beer and make my way to an adjoining room, where the smokers are allowed to indulge their habits, and catch up with Stefan and others a little more. My beer quota has reached the point where I need conversation rather than music, plus a little less noise disturbing it.

 When I leave this room to return to the main one where the concerts are, a Japanese guy is banging out some techno hopelessly muted by the seated audience and its sounding not only out of place and awkward but slightly out of date.

 It’s time to leave.

 Yin and myself are asked along to an after-show party at a nearby bar. We tag along for a while, walk into the new venue and decide, after only a minute or two in this smoke-choked and busy environment, that it’s time to head back to the hotel.

 I fall asleep knowing that my journey back to Krakow is going to be padded out by a monstrous hangover and that the notion of hell will once again consume me on it. But at least I've enjoyed myself, if not all of the artists on offer.

Richard Johnson

Reviews: Number Two

A small round-up this time, just to illustrate that not all the music received here simply ends up forming another pile...


AND ALSO THE TREES (Listen For) The Rag and Bone Man CD (Indigo, 2007)
Before AATT’s singer, Simon Jones, sent me a copy of this album, I must ‘fess I’d not heard anything new by his group for a few years. Not sure why, either, as I always enjoyed their reflective and autumnal songs before, plus even had quite a good friendship with them once that included my first group playing with them twice and my staying over with various female friends of ex-bassist Steve Burrows in London a number of times. I suppose life can just take over at various junctures, leaving certain people, groups or whatever relagated to the wings. Still, if there’s one good thing to be said for the internet and, indeed, possibly cheesy social networking sites, it’s that long forgotten bridges can be traversed once more and, naturally, old friendships restored. As such, my tail is firmly between my legs as I now seek to investigate what I’ve been missing out on in the AATT camp during more recent years (but why does it all appear to be so expensive on, for example, eBay…?)…
(Listen For) The Rag and Bone Man hails from the tail end of 2007, actually, but warrants inclusion here simply because it deserves whatever little extra attention I can bring its way. Thirteen songs form this album and capture a sound that, really, can now only be described as AATT’s own. Whereas earlier work drew parallels with certain other post-punk contemporaries such as Joy Division, Nick Cave, Modern English and The Cure at times, AATT’s emphasis on the imagery in Jones’ words always took a bigger hold on the music and elevated it somewhere else entirely. And it’s now evident that this has matured to the point the songwriting operates in a landscape purely of its own: one where world-weariness converges with a lonely stroll along a river’s bank, lost thoughts, broken romance, the evening shade and times lost to the hungry jaws of the modern age. In the wrong hands, this very same world could end up fey and pastoral, like the very worst of so much so-called ‘indie’ music, but AATT anchor their sound to weightier stuff. Alongside Simon’s brother Justin’s forever evocative guitar work and the muscular basslines that always served AATT well, the generally contemplative and melancholic air gives way to occasional swells of bitterness and anger. A hint of danger, or of things not being quite right, stakes its presence perfectly amongst these songs…
From the opener, ‘Domed’, with its dynamics building up to a punchy finale, through the murderous tale ensnared in ‘The Legend of Mucklow’ and on to the beautiful combination of melody and cello of last song ‘Under the Stars’, (Listen For) The Rag and Bone Man makes for a successful celebration of both yearning and new passions like very little else. And with Cave having clearly laid songwriting ability to rest in favour of seeing out his mid-life crisis, only Tindersticks serve as AATT’s most obvious contemporaries. It would be nice to see them garner the same kind of recognition. (RJ)
www.andalsothetrees.co.uk


THE DRONES Havilah CD (ATP Recordings, 2009)
Dear oh dear. Very ordinary rock music strained with an air of melancholy and the occasional savage spurt to, I imagine, balance things out. And a vocalist who sounds like he gets through two packets of cigs a day. Apparently, this Australian group have received heaps of acclaim during the past few years. I guess pub rock passes for innovation and excitement these days…?! (RJ)
www.atpfestival.com


ETHAN ROSE Oaks CD (Baskaru, France, 2009)
Third album by this Portland, Oregon, soundsmith whose work during the past decade includes soundtracking films, its appearance in Gus Van Sant’s Paranoid Park, a number of collaborations, and various sound installations. Here, he has employed a reconditioned Wurlitzer theatre organ to form the basis of his acousmatic explorations, resulting in a contemporary instrumental electronica approach whereby soft textures and unobtrusive tones are brushed with much attention to detail. Whilst pleasant and relaxing enough, it’s a shame the Wurlitzer was reduced to the level of a mere sound source rather than being actually utilised more directly (in, say, the same way as Eric Cordier’s Breizhiseled remained faithful to its own use of a 1960s reissue of a 78rpm record of traditional French music was). By reducing the sounds here to highly contemporary forms, the source has become irrelevant, and the idea itself has no substance beyond amounting to something reflecting a whim. Not a bad album in and of itself, although it doesn’t exactly jut out of the sea of such music in any great way, but it could have been so much more. (RJ)
www.baskaru.com


SEELAND Tomorrow Today CD (Loaf, 2009)
Following two singles on Stereolab’s Duophonic imprint during the past few years, Tomorrow Today represents Birmingham group Seeland’s debut album. Spread over the twelve cuts you’ll find a summery pop that’s as wispy as it is dreamy and comprises the kind of electronic inflections their beloved Joe Meek liberally applied to his work. Amidst the standard arrangements of a pop song, tones waver and occasional sounds babble away that resemble old sci-fi film soundtrack effects, leading to an overtly nostalgic glow recalling an age when the idea of space travel was dominated by visions of people in bacofoil suits roaming the stars in search of little green men. Outside of this, the tunes themselves have arrived strictly from that part of the horizon still indebted to ‘80s giants such as The Smiths and New Order. There’s clearly a depth there, but it’s unfortunately not strong enough to punch with the same weight. Equally, the album’s simply not idiosyncratic enough to compare with other electronic pop albums of a generally deemed ‘classic’ nature. Whilst certain songs, such as ‘5 a.m.’, possess an infectious quality absolutely imperative to music of this nature, The White Noise’s An Electronic Storm’s position at the top remains very much in check… (RJ)


V/A Escaping From Colour: Rapoon Recomposed & Remixed CD
(Quasi-Pop Records, Ukraine, 2008)
One’s reaction to this release is likely to be determined by two factors:

1. How one feels about Rapoon to begin with;
2. One’s ability to distinguish sonic traits of artists working in what might be termed organic-influenced ambient music.

This release, on an almost unknown Ukrainian label called Quasi-Pop (their web site is an exercise in online futility), features artists using source sounds from Rapoon, the long time project of former Zoviet France lynch-pin Robin Storey, to create new pieces. It’s unclear whether the source sounds were created specifically for this project, or if they were taken from previously released Rapoon material. Given the artist’s prodigious back catalogue, there would certainly be plenty to choose from.
Many of the “re-composers” are better known in the field of art than that of music. However, there are some bigger “names”, such as Francisco Lopez, Troum and Aidan Baker. All tracks are created from Rapoon source sounds, although- with the exception of a couple- other elements have been added by the remixers. The shimmering depth, the glacial reserve and the organic texture of the Storey sound is evident throughout. Much of the album sounds very much like a Rapoon release (ironically, more like traditional Rapoon than Storey’s 2008 release The Library of the Dead). Alternately, other parts sound like Shouting at the Ground or Shadow, Thief of the Sun-era Zoviet France. A Storey fan (and, while I don’t claim intimate familiarity with all his work, I do count myself as one), will find much to like here. If Rapoon material normally leaves you cold, then chances are these tracks will have no great appeal.
One of the things that struck me listening to this is that, while there are certain artists present- Lopez and Troum, for instance- who have a distinctive sound, that sound already meshes pretty well with that of the source artist. Some tracks - Tube’s noisier take on things, or Ronnie Sundin’s more stripped-down, raw approach - offer a bit of variation, but this is akin to choosing between desks made of various types of hardwood; sure, there are differences, but it’s not like you’re choosing between a ultramodern glass and aluminum affair and a Queen Anne escritoire. (In the live collaborative piece between Rapoon and Russian artist Cisfinitum, one could easily be forgiven for assuming it was a Storey solo track. The elements combine so effectively that the collaborator is entirely subsumed.)
Overall, this will be of interest to Storey fans. There are some moments of real beauty, much like those on “proper” Rapoon albums and the tracks remain very true to the spirit of the originator. (KM)


WINDSCALE Servitude CDEP (Fellacoustic, USA, 2008)
Four cuts very much indebted to early Whitehouse and various affiliates of the infant era Broken Flag Records. What, as ever, gets me with such artists is that they all appear to have missed the fucking point. ‘Noise’ has to have some depth that goes beyond all the hackneyed ‘shock horror’ reflections of the modern world. It needs to cut deeper and work with far more interesting agendas. It needs to be reconfigured, fucked around with and cast into new contexts where meaning actually dovetails with purpose. Windscale can only take some solace from the fact there are probably several handfuls of people scattered around the globe who will brainlessly nod their heads in approval of their work. Well done. (RJ)

A Conversation With William Bennett

Interview by Richo

Photo by Melissa Musser


NOTE: This interview took place with William Bennett during October and November 2008. In hindsight, I feel several points raised could have been pushed further, plus more questions to a few of his responses could have been drawn. But it's at least good to leave something for another time, though. Outside of this, the interview will be posted on the main Adverse Effect website in due course, but since this may take another month or more its being posted here in the interim makes perfect sense.


William Bennett, of course, needs little introduction, really. Since 1980, he has courted controversy via his group, Whitehouse, who themselves have sometimes been responsible for the most aggressive and hostile electronic music imaginable and have thrown all manner of different ideas together to create something way beyond the realms explored by the vast majority of their peers. Perhaps meaning different things over the years to their many listeners as to William himself, Whitehouse have primarily concerned themselves with the very basic premise of engaging with their audience and in turn evoking a response, whether necessarily willed into view or otherwise. A response that can be every bit as much about itself in its purest, most natural and raw form as much as being about it leading to an equally interesting array of interpretations open to discourse, debate and even different ways of thinking. At least, this is how I have always seen the group, anyway. To dismiss them as merely clever bastards fucking about with electronics to create a din with obscenities glueing sometimes fantastic wordplay together would, to me, undermine precisely how much the group have succeeded with getting the listener to think, although it’s absolutely clear William would deny this as being part of the group’s agenda and would doubtlessly be just as content, or carefree, if you did just dismiss Whitehouse so or, indeed, not think about anything whatsoever. What I have personally always enjoyed about Whitehouse is not only how their sound and ideas have progressed, especially in more recent years (Phase Two of the group, as it has become known by many) and documented perfectly on 2007’s Racket CD, but how wide-ranging people’s opinions about them are and how this equally matches an audience’s reaction to any one of their live performances.

The very fact that I’ve heard strangers and good friends alike suggest Whitehouse as being everything from intellectual noise-mongers or post-modern purveyors of the avant-garde at its angriest to a one-trick act whose supposed ‘joke’ had worn thin by their second album certainly hints at the spectrum of responses I speak of. And, again, it is something galvanised by a live audience; performances being a medium where Whitehouse have always especially thrived and where, indeed, one can witness any number of people screaming (joining in?), thrashing about, attempting to rip ex-member Philip Best’s clothes off (or even the almost skeletal William’s, come to that), laughing uncontrollably or simply looking nonchalant as though waiting for a big event beyond a live music concert to somehow consume them. Without doubt, it’s a great display and I’m sure I’m not alone in gleaning so much pleasure from a band and audience alike. Rarely do groups with a captive audience transcend the usual trappings of simple adulation from them.

However, there is far more to William Bennett than simply Whitehouse. Whilst the group are presently in limbo following Best’s departure in early summer 2008, he has been busy overseeing a vinyl reissue campaign on Very Friendly Records which commenced the previous year, has taken his interest in what he calls ‘Afro Noise’ to new heights via his Cut Hands DJ performances, still has plans for his long-running Susan Lawly imprint, and can be found occasionally indulging in other activities widely documented on his frequent posts on his page at Blogspot or at least via the links there. For a man now steadily creeping towards the valley of his middle years, he appears to possess as much energy as somebody around half his age.

On top of this, and having been afforded opportunities to get to know him a little (with the emphasis on little, as I strongly feel William will forever remain rather guarded and never fully reveal himself) better during the last two or three years, he’s proved to be a deeply fascinating individual who is every bit as charming, personable, generous, caring and witty as one could hope for from anybody. Not bad going for somebody who’ll readily declare himself a misanthrope and whose perhaps not completely unfounded mistrust of other people never belies his abject friendliness and warmth.

Whitehouse are possibly only part of the story behind William, but the worlds they inhabit, expose or even dash back against the walls they came from certainly shine a torch towards one of the most genuinely interesting people presently operating in music still. Let’s hope it remains that way for a considerable while yet…



AE: Firstly, since Philip left Whitehouse, you have gone from abandoning the group altogether to a short while later announcing that it will continue. What prompted this decision?

WB: Less a case of abandoning it altogether than a case of being in a quandary as to what, if anything, to do next – after much soul-searching and messages of encouragement decided to carry on (even though it’s still not clear in what form that’s going to take).

AE: Are you going to work with anybody else in Whitehouse, following Philip’s departure? Since Philip is clearly a close friend who has likewise worked alongside you and contributed much to Whitehouse, won’t he prove a tough act to follow?

WB: A very tough act to follow indeed – and that’s why it’ll require a different approach, a major rethink. Not necessarily a bad thing of course to be shaken up a bit – it’s always easy to get comfortable and stuck.

AE: Do you think Whitehouse were becoming comfortable before his departure, though? I would say that, certainly live, you’d had everything down perfectly for a considerable while…

WB: That’s true and is ironically part of the problem, which is why circumstances (whether or not by design) that force a shake-up can generally be embraced; another related factor was the role played by the stupid accident that I had in Belfast which meant that Philip found himself having to do several solo shows in our stead which had unwelcome effects upon his performance dynamic, and therefore ours, upon later resumption.

AE: Clearly, Whitehouse is at a point of change once again. Do you think you will utilise this to your advantage and try exploring something new? Of course, your sound was changing anyway, as especially proven on Racket, but I’m not specifically referring to the sound. Rather, besides perhaps pushing your interest in African percussion even further, I mean new strategies, concepts, or even ways of performing live…

WB: Yes, exactly – of course that’s way easier said than done, I think there needs to be a period of reflection or contemplation on how things could evolve. There are a couple of half-baked ideas I have but nothing too electrifying yet.

AE: Can you elaborate?

WB: Let me bake them a bit more, then I’ll get back to you on that...

AE: When do you think Whitehouse will be ready to emerge again, either live or on record?

WB: Hard to say because a lot will depend on the outcomes of the aforementioned period of reflection - I’m confident that something will come of it however, but it’s just too early to be too specific. There’s also the unreleased track ‘Pains Part Of The Dilemma’ which is like the third part to ‘Cut Hands Has The Solution’ and ‘Killing Hurts Give You The Secrets’, it also has that rather stripped down bare sound – so one would imagine that will form a part of the next releases.

AE: How is the reissue campaign of the Whitehouse back catalogue going in the meantime?

WB: The first 3 releases came out very well, and then things stalled a bit before the summer with the Bird Seed 2LP – issues with the test pressing and side 3 which were then followed by issues with the manufacturer themselves. Now we’ve changed manufacturer and by the time you’re probably reading this, Asceticists 2006 and Erector will both be out which will hopefully lead to a resumption in the series’ momentum.

AE: You’re also in the throes of making the back catalogue available for download. I can appreciate the advantages of this in respect of it possibly making your work available to a market otherwise not interested in buying CDs or vinyl, but I know you wanted to avoid it, ideally. Where did the change of heart arrive from?

WB: It’s not really a change of heart, I still have serious misgivings about it, but was persuaded by the distributor to at least try it out through iTunes with the understanding that I could change my mind about it at any time. In one sense, it seems churlish to deny anyone who might be interested access to the songs in this format, and in another it certainly goes against my strong belief that music is to be experienced and not merely listened to.

AE: Where do you personally stand on the debate between vinyl/CDs and downloads?

WB: Personally? Vinyl is by far the best in terms of the music experience – the visual (the large format artwork; the grooves; the turntable), the kinaesthetic (through the ritual of purchasing, examining of the grooves, the turning over, the anticipation of dropping the needle down), even the smell – and then the sheer warmth of the sound, and the format’s increased longevity over the alternatives. To go back to your previous question, the point is really one of whether it’s any of my business to impose that bias upon anyone. Almost certainly it isn’t.

AE: So, can we expect to see the more recent albums reissued on vinyl in due course, then?

WB: For sure, everything’s getting reissued on vinyl – Asceticists 2006 (and Erector) are already now here.

AE: Forgetting the last album, which must surely represent the one you’re most proud of, what are your personal favourites?

WB: I don’t know, which is your favourite son or daughter? All the albums mean a lot for differing reasons, they represent moments in life as much as the music itself, and all the fond and not so fond associations and memories that come with them.

AE: Do you believe the Whitehouse audience has changed much during more recent years? I’ve personally witnessed much less in the way of abuse hurling, spitting, beer bottle throwing and suchlike at your shows. Do you think this is due to your shift towards playing the ‘art’ card more heavily?

WB: Yes, I’m sure we still have a lot of the same fans, along with many new ones and the dynamic in the live context has shifted considerably, just as you point out. Around about the time of the Batofar show in Paris, we decided to make several subtle alterations in order to challenge previously held expectations, and it paid off and things changed pretty quickly for the better. I’m not sure we’ve ever really consciously played the ‘art’ card, though I do much like that turn of phrase!

AE: I have aways suggested that Whitehouse are somewhat ‘misunderstood’. An opinion you’ve steadfastly denied. However, do you feel that, in a sense, misinterpretation has been integral to Whitehouse?

WB: This is always going to be a danger whenever you challenge or provoke – people are pretty fixed in their ideas and if something comes along that questions that, you’re going to see a wide range of responses. Really, I think the problem I have is with the term ‘misunderstand’ which implies some kind of message that requires specific interpretation – my preference is for the term ‘get it’ – and it’s one of the expressions that can’t be deconstructed but can be felt. My artistic definition with regards to the music is that if you hear it then you get it, if you don't understand it then you get it, if you understand it then you get it, if you misinterpret it then you get it, but if you want not to understand or interpret or hear then you don't get it. But you can't have the arrogance to experience it as if there wasn't something not to know, the knowing of which would make a difference, absolutely.

AE: Okay. I would then contend that many of your listeners/’fans’ (I hate this term, but…) do not ‘get it’. Agree?

WB: It depends what exactly you mean by ‘many’ or ‘listeners’ but, to put it another way, I’d tend to think that, based on my own particular artistic definition, that most do in fact get it.

AE: Fair enough. Would I be correct in stating that, given how much Whitehouse seem to be concerned with eliciting or provoking a response of any kind, the biggest insult would be to fail in this?

WB: Failure to ‘respond’ isn’t seen as being an insult. Then again, exposure to anything will elicit some kind of response, even a perceived lack of a response is a type of response. So to go back to the original point, it’s not really what I’m saying - I know it’s rather tortuously worded but I refer you to ‘but if you want not to understand or interpret or hear then you don't get it’ from my original definition... (which isn’t the same as failure to respond).

AE: How do you feel about most of the electronic noise groups who cite Whitehouse as an inspiration? Have any of them made you sit up? Do you pay attention to any of them?

WB: Not really, to be perfectly honest. One of the difficulties with that is that all the new ideas I get are coming from a domain far removed from that genre – and beyond that, I see such little desire in most music to take much of a risk. Depressingly, it either seems to come down to a safe way of paying the bills, or in the case of so many new acts, scratching around looking for some kind of gateway into the scene, to live the life, to buy into the fantasy.

AE: It has been contended that your Extreme Music from Africa compilation CD on Susan Lawly is purely your own creation and, as such, isn’t an authentic document. What would you say to this accusation?

WB: Of course, I would say the accusation is incorrect.

AE: But it is only this particular entry in the series which garners this immense wagging of the accusatory finger. Any idea why?

WB: Because the names of the artists are less known perhaps?

AE: Can you tell us which of the artists have other releases out, then, and give us some pointers as to what they are and where they can be found?

WB: The album came out over 10 years ago and sadly little in Africa is widely available and easily googled and packaged; I can tell you the original contact for coordinating the project has not been in touch for a long time...

AE: Considering how wide your own music tastes are and that, indeed, you can play a handful of instruments outside the electronic realm, don’t you ever feel compelled to use any of them (again) in a non-electronic noise-orientated context?

WB: Hey, maybe I already do!? In all seriousness, I’m not really too into specific technology or instruments – for me, it’s much more about having great ideas and notions and how they can be best realised. That’s why calling oneself a guitarist, or a djembe player, or even a laptop musician or whatever, wouldn’t be useful because it limits you to such a very narrow range of outcomes.

AE: I guess, more specifically, I mean do you ever harbour the desire to pick up a guitar, or whatever, again in a live context?

WB: It would only be an exercise in lazy indulgent self-gratification. Most guitar playing has the same intent as karaoke - it’s what a game like Rock Band is for.

AE: Using laptops can be considered lazy as well, though, can’t it?

WB: I certainly don’t wish to defend the laptop or anything else as a superior type of instrument, can be lazy, yes, by all means (as with everything) - but not as a means of performance self-indulgence in the way that guitars are typically utilised. It’s why they’re such a popular instrument with guys.

AE: Have you been involved in any non-Whitehouse collaborations? If so, what? And please explain why you would choose one such offer over another (presuming, of course, you receive offers?!).

WB: I recently did a mix for Colt on their recently released EP, and there’s probably other stuff over the years that I can’t think of right now. There have been some nice offers which I mostly turn down either because I might not have the time, or else more often, I can’t bear not having things my own way...

AE: What does ‘extreme music’ actually mean to you?

WB: To be frank, absolutely nothing!

AE: So why use the term on the compilation series? For me, it’s such a broad term, anyway, and certainly has nothing to do with, once more, these stupid and infantile little bedroom-‘noise’ outfits playing around with same tired ideas first explored around 28 years ago…

WB: Extreme is merely a quantifier but is not intended to be genre specific – that’s why I believe it’s a good term for the compilation series. It opens up possibilities, rather than to limit them. As with all language, words end up getting co-opted just as ‘noise’ has in the way you point out.

AE: But there’s no escaping how language is reduced to its most convenient level, no matter how our own subjectivity may interpret it in certain contexts, don’t you think?

WB: Yes, absolutely - and it’s an inexorable process, and part of the way languages, any language, evolves – from the moment a word or an utterance is originally created as an abstract noise it has to go through stages of greater common understanding and dilution to replicate itself. So when expressions such as noise began to be used in a music context, in order for them to be ever more widely understood, it adopts rules and boundaries which get increasingly narrow – this is then, ironically to us as early adopters, seen to be manifested in how greater numbers of people then make this music abiding by these adopted limitations because the linguistic value has become a part of their very identity and worldview. I saw a performance by ‘noise’ musician John Wiese in Cologne a year or so back and wrote at my blog about how generic an example of music it was, and although it will be to him an invisible compromise (in other words, not something he would notice), it was this - the phenomenon - that I was referring to rather than any personal criticism.

AE: Every band or artist makes mistakes. What are Whitehouse’s?

WB: If you’re referring specifically to the music, I’ll be coy and say I don’t accept the metaphor of making mistakes within the domain of music, or art for that matter. Of course, beyond that, there’s stuff outside that aesthetic domain: routine stuff like at live shows for example where you’re in a scenario sometimes where all bets are off and you just have to do your best with a good intent – and that sometimes isn’t enough with so many variables and factors at play. You take the risk and hope it works out. Sometimes it doesn’t.

AE: You started the group during what I would personally deem an extremely vibrant period in music, having arrived from the post-punk landscape. Are you interested in the work of any of your peers? I mean, do you even keep a wry eye open towards a handful of them?

WB: A wry eye open for sure; I know I probably come across as pretty disparaging a lot of the time, but I do love the whole field of popular music (good, bad and indifferent) and try and stay pretty well read.

AE: Wouldn’t you like to work alongside some actual African musicians? Or is that too close to concepts explored by Peter Gabriel, Jah Wobble and the especially ghastly Sting…?!

WB: Now there’s a horrible thought! It’d be a great learning experience to have, yes, but ultimately not especially meaningful, simply because the use of the African instruments isn’t in order to try and make African music – while it can be inspiring to listen to, the super-objective is to create something different and new.

AE: Any stories concerning Whitehouse you’d like to impart that may either shock, illuminate or even be amusing for us? (And, no, not the rib-breaking incident, please!)

WB: If we’d accepted the extraordinary offer we had a couple of years ago to play in Angola then I’d be undoubtedly be able to deliver on all three of your criteria – and certainly all three as far as my dear cousin was concerned as he foresaw our inevitable return home in 2 white caskets.

AE: Along with a mere handful of groups, Sex Pistols, TG and Crass being the most pronounced (and I must confess I think the early Punk/Industrial generation groups achieved much more than those before them in the western world), I have always seen Whitehouse as being far more than purely about music. It has been a whirlwind of ideas caught up in something that, similar to these other groups, could only be too readily dismissed for all manner of stupid reasons, plus has simultaneously always served as some kind of portal to them. To look at Whitehouse at face value and deem you a mere ‘noise’ group has always cheapened your worth, in my opinion. Rather, I have always considered you amongst those few who can truly help stimulate thinking (which of course can likewise lead to inspiring myriad copyists…). Do you agree? Has this ever been part of your own agenda?

WB: I like to think what you’re saying is true, yes – and if so, it’s heartening to know though I couldn’t claim it be a part of any specific agenda. Going back to your point of the legions of copyists, for me the really curious thing is that they seem only fond of that very early sound of ours from the early 80s, and I can’t think of a single example of anyone even attempting to imitate any of our stuff from after that era.

AE: Is modern culture presently nose-diving towards a dead-end? Or is there still some hope?

WB: An interesting question that would probably merit book treatment. In a word, I don’t know.

AE: Who do you respect (in culture or otherwise)?

WB: What I respect more than anything is a person who has a sincerity of intent and whose fire is still burning. (You can see some of my lists for examples.)

AE: Your interest in merging African music/instrumentation with electronic ‘noise’ (I personally think the best noise music falls nearer psychedelia, but…) has recently culminated in some DJ slots under the Cut Hands moniker. What does this entail exactly?

WB: Cut Hands is a bit unusual in the sense that it’s being used as a loose umbrella term for a number of activities and notions (a bit like its origin...). So it’s the clubnight, it’ll be the name for the afro noise LPs, for the DJing, for the live visuals (done by Nick Herd) – and anything else related for that matter. Likewise the format for the club nights is an unusual one comprising just one live band that we consider very special (such as Skullflower, who played at Cut Hands II in November), a DJ set, a short demonstration/talk by my good self to get everyone in the mood, and of course the live visuals. It certainly makes a change from the usual diet of one band after another, or else some band stopping off on some horrendously long tour.

AE: Certainly sounds interesting. What are the talks about, though?

WB: It’s a secret part of the Cut Hands experience. I can’t say more.

AE: That sounds like a good way to cultivate interest or a selling point, to me!

WB: Maybe indirectly, yes - better to say it’d be like telling you what presents you’re getting for your next Christmas, you might want to know but it’d ruin the experience!

AE: Do you prefer performing on stage or Djing? What’s more important for you?

WB: It’s kind of similar, both fun to do, though you’d have to say the former has more resonance and I’ll find more memorable.

AE: How do you see Cut Hands progressing?

WB: Difficult to say, I really have an abundance of preposterous ideas to try out that’ll probably destroy any of my remaining street cred, not sure how good they’ll all be but it’s fun to be operating within this new territory. It’s genuine experimental music in that sense.

AE: You’re a huge film fan, but you seem to spend a lot of this time watching complete and utter rubbish or releases you know will ultimately only lead to disappointment. Why?! Do you have too much spare time on your hands?!

WB: Oh yes, way too much time on my hands – and clearly you do too for reading all those ‘reviews’. Some of the obvious rubbish I watch is also because I think it’s a good thing to keep up with all sorts of culture even the mainstream, and occasionally you can be surprised – receptive absorption is an integral part of inspiration.

AE: Fair enough. Leaving your lists aside, what has struck you as being particularly memorable or surprising lately, though?

WB: I’ve been on a bad run lately, much has been memorable and surprising for negative reasons only. I did very much enjoy Tarsem Singh’s The Fall – Catinca Untaru’s performance is truly magical, it’s so very rare to have a child role that doesn’t depend upon stereotyping of children by adults.

AE: Any more plans for Susan Lawly? If so, what?

WB: Well, we’ll continue with all the vinyl reissues – plus the afro noise vinyl, and any other Whitehouse stuff that gets released, so the label will pretty much continue as before.

AE: Why do you continue to make every Whitehouse live recording available?

WB: Actually, there are several recent shows without recordings – but I think it’s nice for anyone to know where they can get an archive recording of any show should they want it. I’m not one for doing live albums, but the archiving seems worthwhile.

AE: What are the most important things for you in life?

WB: Wow. How about appreciating the moment on my own terms?

AE: Is that always possible?

WB: Not at all, it’s a good super-objective to have.

AE: Do you have a generally positive or negative worldview? Why?

WB: It’s the internal conflict of being an unreformed misanthrope that has got to know a few people that I really like a lot.

AE: Don’t you think the notion of being an, in your words, ‘unreformed misanthrope’ goes against your engaging with people through the highly communicative medium of music? I’d contend that true misanthropes would want to avoid people as best as possible rather than attempt to engage with them. And they certainly wouldn’t join ‘social networking’ sites…!

WB: Therein lies the conflict – especially when you consider the difference between being misanthropic and antisocial.

AE: I would still suggest that the idea of a true misanthrope wouldn’t want to socialise or engage with those he finds abhorrent on any level whatsover. And, again, that involvement with music is completely paradoxical. Should a real misanthrope even be able to look at himself or herself in the metaphorical mirror…?

WB: What you’re suggesting there is different from being antisocial by nature – misanthropy suggests a universal aversion to mankind, not a targeted one. And social interaction, indeed forms of narcissism, will confer all sorts of benefits to a person, even a misanthropic person... no, I see the two as belonging to separate domains.

AE: Would you feel lonely without the world you have created for yourself?

WB: Can we really take the credit for that creation?

AE: Are you saying that you’re not wholly responsible for that creation? Surely, this goes against your idea of placing so much importance on being in control of your own life?

WB: Again, there’s a critical difference. I’ll take responsibility for things but that doesn’t necessarily mean that I am responsible for them, or indeed am in control of them. And I offer these notions as questions of personal philosophy, not about what’s true and false, or right and wrong.

AE: Are there answers to all questions?

WB: OK, we’re getting really philosophical now... I would challenge whether questions are indeed questions in the way we commonly understand them. So what is a question, and, more interestingly, isn’t? There’s something to make your head spin.

AE: Okay, we’re going towards the realms of asking whether grass is truly green now…!

WB: Not at all! We can both have a shared perception of the colour of grass, but the abstract notion of what a question is and isn’t is extremely difficult to define. The more you try and think about it, the more elusive it becomes.

AE: I see this as corresponding perfectly with Whitehouse. For me, a group that has raised as many questions as (possible) answers without a fixed agenda or any dogma attached, whilst allowing for interpretation and, again, subjectivity. Agree?

WB: I certainly wouldn’t disagree with that.

AE: Is change important, both to yourself and in the more general sense?

WB: Well, change is inevitable whether you like it or not, we’re changing (dying?) from the day we’re born – and our environment is also constantly shifting and evolving around us. To word this in a slightly different way, what’s important (to me), is not being stuck – and that’s all too easy for all of us. We get stuck in our beliefs and our behaviour patterns even when they’re clearly unuseful.

AE: I think it’s incredibly difficult to avoid the comfort zone furnished by being stuck, however. Some of us try hard to break away, even momentarily, but it’s always there, ready to lull us back and mostly succeeds, don’t you think?

WB: Yes, very much so.

AE: And how successful do you consider yourself to be in evading its clutches?

WB: If - and it’s a big if because most people wouldn’t even see it as a threat - you’re aware of the process, then you can establish circumstances which will allow the possibility of subverting its clutches. So for example, in the artistic context – after every album or recording has been released I typically destroy all the notes, settings, templates, and sometimes the equipment that have been used - that creates an artificial obstruction for any subsequent recording of course which could potentially be subverted by reversion to how things were done before. In other words, the comfort zone. Originally I did that in order to experience the music as if it was done by someone else but then I learnt how effective it was for these reasons too.

AE: Finally, you have lots of different and contrasting interests outside of what you do with Whitehouse, Susan Lawly and Cut Hands. And, despite the many different accusations I’ve seen thrown at what I’d call your main concerns, I’d argue everything you do is borne of an incredible passion for life and the many things it throws our way. What do you think about that?

WB: I’d like to think so, yes – the underlying intent I’ve tried to adopt is one of taking personal responsibility for what you get. That’s not to say bad stuff doesn’t happen but it really helps you play with what’s thrown your way.

For more information on William Bennett’s activities, visit: www.susanlawly.com And, indeed, either follow the links there or find him at Blogspot or on MySpace