Ayanna Witter-Johnson – throwing out the rule book

Ayanna Witter-Johnson – throwing out the rule book

In 2016, Ayanna Witter-Johnson performed her stunning interpretation of Roxanne at the Mobo Awards pre-show. It wasn’t just the song that she was interpreting, she was also interpreting the cello itself, revealing the true scope of how this sumptuous instrument can tell stories that flicker with fragile beauty one minute, blaze with firestarter vibrancy the next.

Ayanna is a singer, songwriter, composer, pianist, and cellist. She doesn’t do rule books. Nor does her handsome cello, Reuben. Dancehall riddim with a signature riff. Jazz with tap, strum and bow. She’s writing songs for this generation, for the next generation and for herself. Reinventing, reinterpreting, imagining and always pushing boundaries. Her collaboration with Akala, Rise Up, is a powerful piece of work that captures the experience of her Jamaican heritage and sends an uplifting message of belief.

It was a delight to catch up with Ayanna during the second leg of her US tour with Andrea Bocelli.

Ayanna

The piano was my first instrument – I started playing around three or four years old. Cello came much later when I was about twelve or thirteen. I wasn’t doing much in first year secondary school music class because they were covering basic piano skills which I already had. So, my music teacher thought it would be better to pick a second instrument whilst the class were learning this. The seed was planted in primary school when a lady came in to play cello in assembly. I was sitting in the front row, so I guess that was my first close-up introduction to it. The list was full of all the orchestral instruments and my mum said, “No woodwind, no brass, no drums”. So then there were strings left and then it was a process of elimination from there like, “Oh, not the double bass, not the violin. What’s a viola? Okay, yeah, I know what a cello is – let’s go with that!”.

Giles

You’ve really broken out of the, let’s say, classical rule books and frameworks of what the cello “should” be and how it “should” sound.

Ayanna

The truth is, I was never really in the mould. When things started to edge in a more professional direction, I was already studying composition as my primary study. So, I was never in line to be a classical cellist, other than by training and what I enjoyed for myself. While I was studying composition, I needed money on the side, so I had a restaurant gig. I would have probably gone there and played piano and sang but they didn’t have a piano! So, I brought my cello along. That’s how I got started, and then it just became its own thing from there. I’ve always just seen it as me making the most of the skills I had.

Giles

And those skills – composition, songwriting, piano, cello and your amazing singing as well. You bring all of those together, which, I guess is unusual as many people tend to specialize.

Ayanna

Yes, and I think the thing that ties everything together – all my interests, from wanting to study French and Spanish, my passion for acting and dancing and all of that – is the umbrella of communication. I just use those tools I have to communicate with other people. I think my career has been an organic unfolding of events. I never wanted to be a singer or artist per se. I am just good at communicating wherever I am. So those things have taken on a life of their own.

Giles

Did you get encouragement to follow your path?

Ayanna

Yes. That’s a good ingredient. I’ve been invested in heavily. My parents have always given me lots of opportunities – be they tennis lessons, horse riding lessons, dance, music, drama – in any direction that I seem to be excelling in, then they continue to support me. So, I think it is an important ingredient to have a supportive framework. And they never saw pursuing the arts as a scary thing to do. I mean, my dad’s an actor, so he wouldn’t do! Both my parents believe in the concept of following your dreams and working hard.

Giles

Having encouraging people around you can be so influential on how your attitude, self-belief and mindset develops into adult life.

Ayanna

Yeah, it is key to think of the seeds that are planted when we’re children because they do expand, and I think I see life like that: planting seeds, planting ideas, watering the soil, how the environment shapes what happens next in our life.

Giles

How do you maintain the right physical environment and surround yourself with the right people to provide you with positivity and the right support? Are those things that you consciously look for?

Ayanna

Yeah, my big loves are self-development, well-being, and health – mentally, physically, and emotionally. I do a lot of yoga and I meditate. Eckhart Tolle is my favourite human. I spend quite a lot of time thinking about how to stay – or attempting to stay! – balanced in all areas. I’m a keen observer of people, dynamics, and relationships, and I’m very sensitive to energy, and when things don’t feel good, I quite quickly remove myself (laughs). You’ve got to protect your boundaries and learn how to establish boundaries. Life’s a playground that can be explored, and whilst you shouldn’t shy away from difficult experiences, you need to just look after yourself at the same time.

Giles

I guess that, with some of the music that you’ve written, you’re tackling subjects that are very personal to you. Portraying those subjects in your work, is that something that’s always been important for you to do?

Ayanna

I’m probably most open when I’m on stage, funnily enough. Offstage, I’m quite a private, reserved person (laughs) – well, reserved for people who don’t know me very, very well. But it’s an interesting thing to observe in myself. I do believe that there’s music for all the occasions but, I’m a truth seeker and I know that my music makes people think and feel and it might make people cry. I think I tap into subjects that mean things to me, be it my Jamaican heritage, my identity, emotional situations that I’ve gone through, people I love and care about.  When I was younger, I was singing about whimsical, playful stuff. I’ve still got quite a strong inner child, and in the beginning, that was more so in the music whereas now, my subjects are heavier – I mean the child’s still there, just not so much at the fore of my lyrical content! (laughs)

Giles

I read an interview with Karen O from Yeah Yeah Yeahs. Onstage, she wore these really phenomenal outfits, and her stage act was very extroverted, but offstage, she was completely the opposite: shy and introverted. Like, two personas where the stage persona was her means of connecting.

Ayanna

Yeah, it’s a balancing act. I enjoy people’s company and I like people. But especially this tour, and what touring gives you – potentially – is a chance to really have ‘me’ time like on the days off, I can just be at the hotel or go for a walk by myself. You get that balance of 20,000 people versus just me where I can like gather myself and just….be!

Giles

The cello is a hugely emotive instrument, which can generate such diverse emotions, you’ve also got your amazing voice and additionally, you have such compelling and assured visual ingredients for your lives and video which are incorporating dance and movement. It’s a very dynamic combination.

Ayanna

Yeah, it is and I think it’s born out of what I want to communicate. So, in the beginning, when it was just me and cello – well, it still is actually – I wanted to hear certain rhythms or certain elements of groove and I’d dance, so it’s all of my childhood seeds rolled into one – dancing, acting, singing, playing. It’s like trying to express myself fully at all times.

Giles

How do you feel looking back at your earlier work?

Ayanna

I think musically, it’s strong. I think I’ve always had an instinct for beautiful melodies and harmonies. I really appreciate that early work. It’s got a freedom and a playfulness that maybe I’m trying to bring back (laughs)

Giles

What influence did Helmut Lachenmann have on you? Pression is an incredible piece of work….

Ayanna

Yes, that was during the time that I was studying composition at Trinity Laban. The beauty of that course was just listening to all kinds of music that I’ve never come across and hearing different kinds of words. And it just gave me an inkling that there was even more that I could do with the cello. Erik Friedlander had done the same thing at a certain point in time as well, giving the idea that we can expand the sound and it need not be so pretty, it need not be so precious. That you can make mad sounds that still convey a message and create impacts?

Giles

Huge tribute to you that you’ve broken out of the “rulebook” and experiment with the sounds that you can get from the instrument.

Ayanna

Yeah, and it’s not always easy. I realised that because you’re constantly trying to forge your own space, forge your own pathway, then everyone has an opinion, and then you just have to…keep it moving.

Giles

Have you – I think I probably know the answer to this question – felt resistance to your pathway?

Ayanna

Oh, yeah, yeah. Oh, yeah, you can feel resistance, you can feel a lack of acknowledgement sometimes. Or you can feel disapproval. But I’m always curious, because if I feel those things, what is going on inside me that resonates with those things? Maybe it’s just being human, you know, maybe I’m being too hard on myself wondering why am I feeling like that or why have I interpreted it like that? And that’s, like, you know, a whole other thing (laughs), but it’s useful to just see some things and acknowledge their presence within you, and then decide what you plan to do with that.

Giles

How resilient are you at handling those obstacles that you must face, and how do you work at building them up again?

Ayanna

Resilience is a good word. I think I’m pretty resilient. I realised that a lot of my self-worth – I mean, this may change as it may not be the healthiest thing – is built around working. I really do thrive on working. I like to do stuff. I mean I like to be still and chill and meditate, but I also like moving forward and progress and achieving and creating. I like that cycle of events. So, I’m inclined to knuckle down and get on as opposed to retreat and feel bad and disappear. I’m more likely to just do more than do less.

But I do feel like I must battle it – daily sometimes. Like, sometimes I struggle with certain projects. You know, I’ve got all the critics in my head already and I can barely get on with it. And then it’s just like, well, you’ve just got to get on with it. I’m also quite a committed person. So, if I’ve said I’m going to do something then I’m very much wanting to fulfil the commitment. I guess I’m always in a state of being out of my comfort zone. So, I’ve said yes to something that is hugely ambitious and I don’t quite know how to do it. I’m always like, out of my depth with something, which is probably what keeps me going forward!

Giles

I wonder if also the fear of stagnation helps to override those obstacles.

Ayanna

Yeah. That’s interesting. Fear of stagnation. Yeah. Maybe that’s it. There’s momentum at the same time. If people are paying you to do work, then that’s also your job as much as you love the ‘job’ you’re doing. Equally applies where you grumble about getting out of bed and going to work!

Giles

The other area that I’m interested in is genres. Putting music into genres is a sort of lazy convenience and is almost irrelevant now – although I do fall into my own self-opinionated trap sometimes! But there are so many influences in your work, so you cannot put it in a box – which I think is a great thing. I think it blows away pre-conceptions of what a cello is about, I think it encourages people to think more about what the music is saying to them instead of saying, oh, that’s classical, that’s R&B, blah, blah, blah.

Ayanna

Yeah, thank you. And that’s what it is. To me, it’s storytelling. I’m always thinking ‘does this enhance the story, yay, or nay?’ It’s much less that I’m trying to write this kind of thing or that kind of thing. I’m trying to paint a picture, tell a story, share some sort of message or an emotion or a feeling and whatever supports that is what it then is.

Giles

Who are the big visionaries or influences in your life?

Ayanna

I really do admire Eckhart Tolle. When I start overthinking, his teachings tell me that this is all in the ego realm. This isn’t the essence of my being. I spent New Year’s Day with Maya Angelou 10 or 11 years ago now. That was really special. I feel like the sort of the things that she said, and the messages she gave to all of us in that space – have the courage to be somebody and really just do you – are still with me now and encourage me to keep going when it’s not easy. The overwhelming feeling that I got from her was that she just made everyone feel like family. And I just thought, oh, yeah, I want to be eighty-something and have an open house and be everyone’s grandma. Just soooo cool! When you get to that space of generosity and had so many twists and turns and things that she’s done, you know, she’s had like five lives. It’s inspiring to think that you still retain that sense of you, regardless of whatever it is you’re doing.

www.ayannamusic.com

Du Blonde

“I could be anything that I want, boy”

Smoking Out, from Homecoming April 2021

Du Blonde’s third and latest album, Homecoming, feels just like that. Consistently dealing with subjects that are personal, bruising and heartbreaking, this record feels like those subjects are now being faced off with more of a spirit of defiance, resilience and triumph. It’s a beautiful pop record with plenty of… are you ready?… fuzzy distortion, surf, soul, heavenly Mary Chain melodies, Mamas and Papas (or Bad Religion depending on your persuasion) ooozen-aaahs and fizzing hooks to keep us lo-fi punks happy. Personally, I’m really happy to see lots of collaboration – Shirley Manson, Ezra Furman, Andy Bell and the magnificently named Farting Suffragettes.

She’s working on her new EP which will be called Baby Forever and will be released on her own DaemonTV label. Written, played, produced, designed, released and marketed by Beth. She’s taken artist control by the scruff of the neck and detonated it into one that fits her gloriously unapologetic self and a generation of DIY renegades

The only thing you can expect from such a progressive, charismatic and thoughtful mindset is to expect something different to what’s gone before.

Giles Sibbald

So what deadline have you given yourself? 

Beth Jeans Houghton

Well, I’m going back to London and mixing on the 16th of July. I’ve got two days to mix it and it’s getting mastered on the 18th of July. I haven’t really got a release date deadline nailed down yet.

But, I do have three projects that I want to get out this year. I met with my manager yesterday, and he looked like his brain was shrivelling up. And he’s actually not even my manager, he’s my label services guy, but he pretty much acts as my manager but just won’t admit it (laughs).

GS

He needs to go with the inevitable! How are you going to mix and master the new EP?

BJH

So, last time I got Homecoming mastered at Abbey Road. This time, I was saying, like, I have this fun thing where, if anyone wants to do this so that I can like get it out quicker, then let’s talk. So, a really sweet guy on Instagram was like, “I’ll do it. I’m legit. I’ll do it for free!”

People sort of forget that it’s not just the cost of manufacturing, it’s the cost of studio time, whatever. And I’ve cut that way down, because I’m doing it at home. But if you cut mixing and mastering costs out, it doesn’t really matter how good the songs are, it’ll just sound a bit shit. And so for me, a lot of my timelines are based on when can I have saved enough money to pay for the mixing and mastering But lots of people donated to my fundraiser for the EP, which is really lovely. I’ve just got to do good songs now!

GS

Tell us all about the fundraiser and how you made your decision to do that.

BJH

I’ve always had a weird relationship with the idea of me doing fundraising. I see others doing GoFundMe, Patreon and stuff like that, and I have absolutely zero issues or judgements on them doing that  – I think it’s a really good, new way for artists to go about releasing music with more control and also its really nice for the fans, because it’s not a pity party, as they actually want to be involved. I was raised in the way of “don’t borrow money from anyone, you buy what you can afford”, which is still like a big part of me. And then also, there’s a part of me that wishes the industry wasn’t set up in a way that you have to ask people to donate money. And then the other part of me is “donations should be for people who are ill or have lost their house in a fire and who am I to ask for money?”

I think the turning point for me was when Spotify, during the pandemic, made that option available where you could attach your artist PayPal to your artist Spotify account and people listening could just press donate, right?

So, I activated that on my account, but I didn’t think anything would happen. But, I’ve had people donate money. Sometimes it’s like a fiver and that’s so helpful. I’m so grateful. All of the different third party tools that people use in the music industry just end up cutting artists’ income each time, so I try cutting out middlemen as much as I can. So now I’m thinking about doing my own version of a subscription service on my website that I have total control over. So there isn’t a third party taking a percentage, but also, I’m not confined to their rules.

GS

You posted a video on Twitter of you wrapping some of your merch (Beth designs and handles all aspects of her merch). It showed brilliantly the care you take when your fans buy your merch. And that totally reminds me of something Martin Atkins (PiL, Killing Joke, Ministry) said in one of my I Wanna Jump Like Dee Dee podcast episodes: “When somebody buys your stuff, why would you not just do that extra little bit and make their day?” So what you’re talking about is the same kind of mindset. I think how you interact with your fans is really engaging.

BH

Yeah, well, I’m really interested in music history in terms of the way that fan clubs were run in the 60s where you got things like a lanyard and a badge. I wanted to go down that kind of route.

I’m really interested in marketing and branding. Have you ever listened to the podcast 99% Invisible?

GS

As a serial podcaster, I’m ashamed to say No.

BJH

OK (laughs), it’s a really good design podcast and they released this episode about Sears department store and another top store in the ‘50s. The beginning question was, What made Sears overtake the other one? At the time, there were a standard set of dimensions for catalogues. So, simple trick, which was the Sears design people made their catalogue an inch smaller than the other one. So when the dutiful housewives were tidying the house, they would put the smaller Sears catalogue on top of the pile. That’s fucking brilliant. I’m really not into the idea of selling useless shit to people who don’t need it and tricking them into it. But I am very interested in how to be smart about what and how you are selling – making something people really do want, so that, you know, three months, three years later, they still love the product that they bought. And also, how to make being a musician and an artist a business that you can grow, much the same as anyone else who has a company would and taking away the shame of wanting to figure out how to do that. In any other industry that would just be you being smart and successful. Whereas like, a musical artist, you’re a sellout? Why do you want us all to just be like, broke forever? And if we’re not, then we’re not legit?

GS

You’ve also brought in homeware as well.

BJH

Yeah, when I was a kid, I wanted to be a fashion designer or an artist. I’m going to buy tufting guns so that I can make rugs. And then for the Baby Forever EP, I’m going to make limited edition stuff, like resin dummies or pacifiers.

For me, designing and conceptualising merch for each EP or album is just one of the most fun things.

GS

So, you’re really thinking about the entire artist experience, not just the music, it’s the music plus the usual merch, plus the stuff that people need in their lives – like rugs, like pacifiers, art, butt prints…

BJH

Yeah, definitely (laughs). I like it when things are all sort of connected. There’s this guy called Patrick Sparrow. He’s really my ex-boyfriend’s friend. We have like an email pen pal thing where we send an email every three to six months. He’s an illustrator and has this comic called Peeper Creeper. And it’s this character who is this gross meat man – it’s almost like he’s like a human with no skin.

And then he had these glow in the dark Peeper Creeper dolls and stickers made. And I will just get anything Peeper Creeper, but

I think I feel the same way about it as people who buy, like, Star Wars memorabilia feel. So, I think about merch in a way of like, what can I make that I can then make memorabilia of? It’s not even about selling stuff. It’s just like making small worlds each time where I can use the concept to try out anything that I’m interested in.

I can’t count the number of times that a record label has delivered to me my CDs and vinyl on the last day of the tour! With Lung Bread For Daddy (Du Blonde’s 2019 album) I was asked how many records I wanted for that tour and I said maybe 200. And they were like, oh, let’s start with 50 as in like, “oh, you totally wouldn’t sell 200”. And within the first two shows we’d sold out. And so I didn’t have any records for the rest of the tour! I think that a lot of bands and labels don’t realise what an opportunity merchandise is. Often, I don’t pay myself for shows. I use the show money to pay the bands so that they are paid properly, and then I’ll make money for me off the merch.

I think merchandise is a missed opportunity for many. And I think that if you like someone’s music, you want to hear what they have to say about other stuff: you want to know if the fucking bass player does little doodles of dicks, like you totally want a ‘zine of that. And then they’re getting like a couple of quid times 100. And then that, you know, helps them pay the rent when they’re away from their day job.

I use this as an example all the time: if Ty Segall made this, would I buy it and how much would I pay for it? I’d fucking buy his butt print if he made one. Because if I think about it, it’s just like, well, how much shall I sell my butt print for… and the only way I can possibly deal with that is to just pretend it’s someone else! (laughs)

I just think it’s a really fun way of doing things. For a lot of bands to survive, this is one of the few ways that they can continue to do that without having to rely on big companies. I think creating good merch does breed a type of fan that will be with you for a long time. You’re not thinking how do I sell this to a million random people. You think what can I make for the people who like my stuff? It’s like half of them you know by name and they keep coming back and buying stuff. I can see how many orders one person has made historically: I can see that Kevin has spent 250 pounds over two years with seven orders, so I’m now going to give Kevin an extra gift every time for supporting me.

GS

I think that’s absolutely the right way to go. I mean people eventually get fed up of reissues, you know, regurgitating told material and getting cookie cutter stuff. You know, eventually, even the most die hard fans will feel like they’re being shafted.

BJH

Yeah. It’s just another 30 quid for album that’s got one new song on it. I was talking to my manager about planning for the next album album, which is kind of going to be like, Homecoming Part Two. And I said that I should make it a bit longer (laughs) because Homecoming is like, 25 minutes long. So, I’m thinking maybe 12 minutes on the next one (laughs). Nah, I don’t seriously think it’s too short. I wouldn’t go back and add more to it. I think it was just right. Another one on and it would have been filler.

But then I’ve been listening to a lot of ‘90s rock recently, and then I’ll open up the album on Spotify and they’ve got 953 songs on it (laughs).

I realised yesterday that my songs are getting shorter and shorter the older I get and the worse my ADHD becomes. I’ll listen back to a song I’ve just written and I’m like Right! Yes, that’s a good length! And it’s like five seconds long (laughs)

GS

(laughs) Are you getting into Napalm Death territory?

So the new EP is called Baby Forever… tell us about it.

BJH

Well, it’s very different – at the moment – from Homecoming. I was thinking “God, these songs are so long!” but they’re not, they’re just slow!

GS

So, giving away as much as as you want to, how is it different from Homecoming? And what’s inspired you for this record?

BJH

Go on then, I’ll tell you what bloody inspired me. I got talking to this guy. And I was just like, oh my goodness, is this person like a soulmate, what the fuck?! It’s very rare that I fall for someone. I’m so happy single. The happiest times in my life are when I don’t have a partner. So, we were just talking, not “dating”, but I could totally imagine watching horror films with this guy and going on road trips. And then it turned into this thing where it was just like basically just like, Instagram emojis like back and forth. And I was like, “wait, what’s, what’s going on?” And then that’s just basically what it became. So, I was gutted for two weeks and then I was like, oh, fuck it, whatever.

I think I’m generally quite good at like, feeling out people’s vibe. So anyway, I’d written a bunch of like, really happy, excited songs in that short time. And I’m still super stoked with them. Maybe that’s why he came into my life: so I could just get new, happy material (laughs) And then, after this whole emoji thing happened, I wrote a bunch of really scathing slow songs.

I’m not a mean person but anyway, on Smoking Me Out, it was so fun for me to play a nasty character with a demon voice. I can get like angry about stuff, but um, it’s kind of fun to inhabit this dark part of myself where it’s just like “Fuck you” (laughs).

So, that’s kind of what the EP is about. For now!

GS

I see you flourishing doing things on your own. You got out of the constraints and control of the corporate industry. You create this wonderful, carefully curated merch, you’re experimenting with your music, and you refuse to be pigeonholed. It’s a very counter-culture ethos. What’s your relationship with the movement?

BJH

Yeah, I mean counterculture has always been something that I’ve been interested in. So early on, I was really into West Coast garage psych and the songs I really loved when I was 14 or 15 were all made in basements. You know, records that you really had to dig to find.

I mean I really love punk now but even back then, when I was still more into psych, I just loved the Riot Grrl and punk way in terms of DIY shows, making jeans and being politically outspoken. I’ve always loved freaky people being themselves.

I was thinking about counterculture recently and how I was part of probably like, the last “scene” generation. I mean I wasn’t any specific thing when I was a kid – I was never an emo kid or whatever. But scene kids were almost like the last proper counterculture group before everything just exploded. And I listened to something the other day where someone was saying that this explosion was because of the internet. My age group didn’t have the internet in the sense of looking at what people wore in the ‘80s. Now, kids are able to look up an era or a scene. They have all of the imagery, and they’re like, I’m going to be getting some cybergoth clothes listen to Mákina. Which I think is really great.

I think counterculture is coming back into like mainstream, not in a corporate sense, but in a widespread sense, and it’s down to things like Tik Tok. I fucking love Tik Tok so much. It’s actually super-educational. It just gives loads of people access to learning about all types of things. And the amount of social activism that goes on is incredible.

GS

It’s also a good way to get different perspectives.

BJH

Two things that I love Tik Tok for: firstly; before and just after I got my Tourettes diagnosis, there were two Tik Tok accounts ran by people with Tourettes and I learned so much more from them than reading any literature on the subject; and, secondly, there are small business Tik Toks which I think all bands should follow, because they are like “Do you want your own branded stuff but can’t afford it? Here’s how you can do it super cheap”. And there’s small business finance and it’s all bite size stuff which is how we all understand things now. I mean I’m on the weird cusp where I’m an elder millennial, having a bit beforehand and then the crossover but it’s such a great fucking tool and I can see so many younger people doing it for themselves which I hope is a new movement across the board, not just for music.

GS

I mean counter-culture is also an attitude, a way of doing things and I wonder what the common thread is? Perhaps its values and purpose that bring us together under a common desire to create things.

BJH

Create something that is your own and then share it with other people to see if it resonates. And I think that’s why a lot of cool counter-culture emanates from smaller towns because you don’t have easy access to things. Take smaller towns that don’t have venues, so bands can’t play there, you’ll get these skater kids saying “Well, my dad knows this guy who has a warehouse, we’ll see if we can get it and our band will play instead”. I know this is a massive generalisation as counter-culture can and does happen everywhere.

GS

I think that was a similar situation with Black Flag in Redondo Beach and Bad Religion in Woodland Hills, California. Scarcity meant they had to get creative and rehearse and even play shows in parents’ garages and basements. You’ve made a very good point. Where you’ve got scarcity, that’s where creativity kicks in. There’s no other choice.

BJH

Yeah, and going back to the EP, that’s why I’ve been toying with the idea of getting a 4-Track recorder again. It’s what I used to write music on – I’d write it and record it in that one take before I forgot it. Since I moved to using Logic or Pro-Tools, there’s something missing in the whole thing when you are just able to do anything you want, I would love to be able to release bootleg demos burnt to CD. Which is actually something I’d been thinking of if I did a subscription service.

I just need to navigate my morals and my pride (laughs).

www.dublonde.co.uk

www.daemontv.com

Sarah Corbett of the Craftivist Collective

I've learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel.

Mark Eris talks to Sarah Corbett of the Craftivist Collective about changing the world one stitch atatime.

Mark Eris

Hi Sarah. Could you give us a brief overview of your take on Craftivism?

Sarah Corbett:

Craftivism was coined in 2003 by an American lady called Betsy Greer. She basically said craft+activism=Craftivism. I always say Craftivism is abit like Punk music. To me Punk’s an umbrellaterm for lots of different artists I think sound completely different, you need to see Craftivism thatway. Google it and there’s everything from yarn bombing, to crocheted voodoo dolls of worldleaders, to swearycross-stitch. I call my approach Gentle Protest. Not passive or weak, but gentle asin compassionate, considered, thoughtful, and not polarizing.

Mark:

Last issue I talked with Richard Norris, he mentioned that as a youth Punk showed him you could bypass gatekeepers.

Sarah:

I love that. Craftivism showed me that activism isn’t just one thing. When I Googled craft and activism in 2008, the word existed, but there weren’t any groups or projects to join.So,I askedBetsy if I could tinker. I felt there was something within craft as a tool for activism. She said anyone can use the word, do what they like. So like Richard, I thought “Oh…right!” I could really dismantle and explore what activism could be. Slow activism, small, quiet. It was very freeing actually.

Mark:

That’s how you started?

Sarah:

That’s very specific. I had a five-hour train. I knew I couldn’t read or write reports because of travel sickness. I used to paint and draw but knew I couldn’t do that on a Pendolino train. So,I bought across-stitch kit-creative, but accessible. It immediately slowed me down. I noticed how tight my shoulders were, how shallow my breath was, which I’d never noticed before. It helped me be aware of my anxiety, my burnout as an activist. It gave me time to ask quite uncomfortable questions I’d been avoiding. Can I be an activist if I’m introverted? Can activism be non-confrontational? Why is so much activist imagery ugly? Then this lovely old couple opposite showed interest and I immediately thought “If I was cross-stitching a quote by Gandhi, we could talk about inequality.” I thought, “Oh, this is interesting-what if activism could be used so that people ask what you’re doing, rather than you forcing your views?” 

The process opened all these questions. Maybe I could make mini banners, postcard-sized, and leave them for people to find. Things that take hours to make rather than Xeroxing. It opened doors, that cross-stitch kit. 

Mark:

I had a similar experience at an Installation in Gloucester Cathedral, a collaboration with the local refugee centre. Beautiful lights, ambient music, the backdrop of this safe old world-building. Combined with local refugees telling their stories. One I’ll never forget was living on a park bench but was happy because no one was shooting at him. I realised that an audience that was perhaps quite Middle England, quite Daily Mail, might consider this in a way they wouldn’t if being called racist. 

Sarah:

Exactly, gently touching hearts and minds. Allowing time to reflect. My work is based on neuroscience and psychology. I’m not using yellow because I like the colour, but because it’s a hopeful, active colour that focuses on what world we want to be part of creating. Rather than black and red, which can bring short term attention, but can create more chronic stress in the long term if you’re only engaging people in those aggressive colours. You need both for short term and long-term change. 

Mark:

The neuroscience approach is fascinating!

Sarah:

It’s about focusing on what you want in the world, not just what you don’t. So, with refugees, what do you want? For them to feel safe and harmonious in a community. Once you start visualizing what that looks, smells, and sounds like, your brain starts figuring out the realities of that, how you can help create that change. If you’re just focused on people dying, or on xenophobia, your brain goes into fight, flight or freeze mode. You can’t think through realistic solutions. That’s why we always ask what’s the change we want to see? What does that world look like? Then to reach that lovely utopia-that we’ll never fully reach-we need this policy in place, this culture, this mindset.That’s much better than thinking “Sweatshops, this is all awful” which can become “Oh, I can’t deal with this, I’m too stressed.”

Mark:

It’s important this isn’t just something you do whilst watching EastEnders. It’s a space to actually think about aims and values.

Sarah:

Absolutely. We all want to feel good with the least amount of effort. In reality, to feel empowered, it’s hard work. What frustrates me a bit with some Craftivism is people don’t create “crafterthought”questions to reflect on whilst crafting. They make lots of things to put into the world because they love craft. I often focus on quality, not quantity. We’re making canaries for MPs-cute little chirpy canaries-to say “we need you to act faster and bolder tackling the climate crisis. To fly towards a cleaner greener air with our lovely yellow canaries.” I include ‘crafterthought questions’ such as ‘what does a healthy world look and feel like for you?’ ‘As your local MP how would you feel receiving this gift? Named and shamed, which is not helpful? Or encouraged and held accountable by a constituent?’ We always create issue-specific questions for each project. They help with critical thinking. You could do Craftivism where you just make lots of voodoo dolls while watching Strictly Come Dancing. You put them on Instagram, people love them. But you’re probably preaching to the converted. It’s more divisive and polarizing. You’re focused on personality, not policy, which isn’t helpful. If anything, you’ve sort of got to restrict what you do in Craftivism to have the most impact personally and out in the world.

Sarah Corbett

Mark:

There’s lots of empathy in this. Asking yourself questions, but also “who is the person I’m sending this to?”

Sarah:

I think you need both. We need to remember what we’re putting into our Craftivism, what baggage we bring, what presumptions. Whenever we receive a handmade gift, I think we all know what it comes with, whether it’s a knitted jumper from your Nan who loves knitting more than maybe considering what you want to wear, whether it’s a genuine gift from a friend or it’s a bit manipulative. It’s what you bring to it, having the time to think through how to be a strategic campaigner. Equally, what I feel is lacking in a lot of activism and I challenge activists in a gentle way about, is we often focus on what do I care about? But to serve the cause we need to think about who the decision-makers are? Who do they listen to? Me or to someone else? How do we frame things to resonate with them, for them to take part in a way that ideally is win/win?

I grew up in a very poor area. My mum’s now a local politician, my dad’s still the local vicar, and asa community of people of all faiths, and none, we campaigned and squatted in social housing. The housing is still there, which is quite rare for a campaign.I remember as a teenager seeing this picture of me and asking my dad “how did we win?-that’s quite unusual.”I remember vividly him saying it was about getting unusual allies, focusing on what will engage the power holders. They got both Bishops involved, Catholic and Protestant. They got people from all over the city supporting the campaign, saying this isn’t just a local issue for people directly affected. It’s a bigger issue about a corrupt Council. I’ve definitely brought that into my strategies.

If we want to get fashion magazines covering the ugly side of the fashion industry, I consider what type of images will attract their readers and advertisers, not worry the editor about losing them.What wording will connect with them? We’ll say we love fashion; we want the whole of the industry to be as beautiful as the clothing. Not be anti-fashion. I think it’s really important that while crafting you’re thinking, “How would I feel reading this as a fashion lover? What’s mutually beneficial for the magazine?” We often just scream and shout, hope that people listen because we think we’re right. But most people think they’re right, whatever side they’re on. Most change happens when people decide for themselves what to do. So, the more we can help them decide for themselves, the more likely they’ll take on board what we’ve said in the long term. They might not even realize that it was you who planted that seed.

Mark:

In today’s hyper-polarized world, this gentle, empathetic approach seems incredibly radical. Back to it being Punk again.

Sarah:

In lots of ways, it’s counter intuitive. With our climate campaign #CanaryCraftivism, I said to my contacts at Extinction Rebellion, Climate Coalition and Greenpeace “I’m going to launch this campaign and I don’t want you to share it with your activists please. I’m specifically targeting people who’ve never done activism before-who are nervous of activists, apolitical or centre, centre right. In conservative constituencies, suburbia or villages. If you get involved, they might see it as another campaign that is not for them”. 

I’m really glad Extinction Rebellion get the national broadsheet media that they get. I’m not aiming to compete or conflict with other climate actions, but to fill gaps other groups struggle with. We want fewer people, meeting in flocks, attracting introverts and anxious people, creating unusual, intriguing images. We want MPs to have one Canary, or a small cluster from constituents, on their desk watching and encouraging them. Helping them be accountable. If you just make lots of Canaries, your MP will feel spammed and feel like you just care about craft.

I think creative people reading this magazine will know it’s so tempting just to make lots of stuff because it makes us feel better. But you could be lessening the impact by doing too much. It’s not good for the environment.

Mark:

You’ve had some real success with this approach, haven’t you?

Sarah:

For three years ShareAction and The Living Wage Foundation tried to discuss Marks & Spencers becoming a real Living Wage employer. Lots of traditional activism, getting nowhere. They said, “We’ve tried everything. There’s five weeks before the AGM and your ‘Little Book of Craftivism’ is so weird, we thought you might have a new technique.”

I got 24 Craftivists, chosen to reflect their core customer demographic. I bought handkerchiefs fromM&S and asked them to Google everything about a designated board member. What colours do they wear? Are they flamboyant? A shy introvert? Have they come from tech or the shop floor? Try and understand them as a human. Then stitch a timeless quote on the hankie from someone they would admire about being part of the change you want to see. We wrote handwritten letters saying “As loyal M&S customers, we love your staff, we love your company. We’ve supported you forages and are quite shocked and sad that you don’t pay the real Living Wage because it makes sense in terms of dignity and ethics for your staff, it makes business sense for staff retention, productivity and reputation.

We hand-delivered them to the AGM in little boxes with ribbons and said we would love to just have one meeting with you. We got our meetings, followed up with handmade Christmas and Valentine’s cards. 10 months later they announced they were paying the real Living Wage to 50,000 staff. We went back to the AGM to say “well done you” – “not well done us.” The Chair of the Board took me aside and said it was the most powerful campaign they’d experienced. It was humble, encouraging and memorable because it was so unusual. It was very respectful. And it worked. I call this approach ‘intimate activism’.

An opposite is our Mini Fashion Statements which are little paper scrolls, handwritten on textured paper with a fountain pen. With an intriguing message like “What’s the story behind this item of clothing? Is it one of joy or pain? Find out more at Fashion Revolution.” Wrapped in luxury coloured ribbons. On the outside, we write “please open me” in neat cursive handwriting with a smiley face and kiss.

We shop drop them–shoplifting in reverse-in an item of clothing in a shop that maybe could be more ethical. Or maybe a colleague’s coat, wherever you’re comfortable with. It’s about engaging people anonymously, but also about engaging the fashion industry. We got on influential fashion sites, the homepage of BBC News. It got promoted during international Fashion Weeks. Fashion journalists emailed saying, “Thank you, your press release and images means I can go to my editor without worrying we’ll lose advertisers or readers.” It was a way to say to the fashion industry, we love fashion, and we want you to do better, not “We’re against you!”

Both are very different. But impactful through gentleness, empathy and the craft elements.

Mark:

And the Canary project.

Sarah

The Canary Craftivist campaign is trying to engage people who’ve never done activism before-more eco-worriers than eco-warriors. They might be quite shy, quite anxious in big crowds and not feel like activists. It’s a great way for politicians and business leaders to see the climate movement isn’t just one type of person. It’s about asking people to make these little canaries for their MPs. And ideally, dress up like a canary – upcycle yellow fabric or shirts they don’t use, make a little beak and create or join a flock in their local community, 12 or fewer people to sit near a locally loved, recognisable community landmark and take a picture of their little flock.

The Canary Craftivists Manual has loads of free patterns for outfits and canaries, whether knitted, crochet, cross-stitch or upcycles. We’ve got PR templates, loads of advice. It’s a lovely way to encourage people to engage, focus on creating that healthier, cleaner, greener world. Not just wallow in despair. Using your hands in positive ways, it’s good for your mental health. It’s not confrontational in your community, and people of all political persuasions get involved. It’s lovely on social media to create these conversations and have solidarity with each other.

We’ve had over 100 flocks gather in places where you’ve never seen climate action before. I’m getting messages saying “I’ve never done activism before, I took part and got lovely positive feedback from the community.” Some of them have then gone on their first-ever march, or taken more actions. It’s been a great way to encourage people who’ve been quite anxious-give them some confidence to do more. We’ve lots of quotes from politicians saying how much they love their Canary, sitting on their desk. We’ve charity campaigners saying it’s a really powerful way of bringing new voices to the climate movement to help lobby world leaders on a global level.

We’ve had craft magazines involved, including Mollie Makes, the biggest craft magazine in Europe. Craft celebrities making patterns. We did social media takeovers for them. Focusing on areas where you don’t see climate action discussed at all. Now there are people all over the world wanting to participate. This year, we’re going to focus on insurance companies that invest harmfully. They’re boring, boring to campaign at, boring for the media. Whereas the Canaries is a great way to shine a light on what insurance companies are doing, and invite people to ask them to change. It’s been a really good pilot project and had more impact than I ever thought it would. It’s engaged so many people who never thought they’d be climate activists but care about global warming.

Mark:

Lots  of optimism! I love John Higgs’ idea that pessimism is for lightweights.

Sarah:

It can feel good in the short term to hang around and say, “I told you so.” But if we genuinely want our world to be a more beautiful, kind and just place, then it’s not helpful. It’s not good for our mental health, not good for the world. It can harm our campaigns. 

When people say it’s very privileged to craft, I think if you’re doing it well, you’re putting the cause before your love of craft. I think it’s more privileged to be pessimistic. I don’t want my little nephew, my friends’ kids saying to me, “what did you do with the climate crisis?”. “Oh, I did nothing. I just gave up.” We haven’t got that luxury.

I purposely don’t watch dystopian stories; I know it can slip me into despair. We need to make hope possible – not despair convincing. I absolutely agree that we need arms of activism where people are screaming and shouting and saying, “Look at this horrific thing that we haven’t done anything on.” But we also need people discussing some of the solutions we can put in place.

I’d say gentleness isn’t for lightweights. It’s really hard NOT to scream and shout at people that we think are wrong. It’s so hard to wonder where they are coming from. There’s that saying, “Hurt people hurt people.” Do they just want to make as much money as possible, because they grew up with so little? Do they feel unloved, are desperate for the love that comes from power and status? Everything harmful people do – me, you, whoever-it’s done from a lack, a need for something. Flip it on its head and say, okay, they’re doing awful things, because they’ve got an unmet need, what canI do to encourage them? Not shame them, because if you shame people, they never want to re-engage with you. Their physical body remembers you’ve shamed them.

This is why we make gifts. Creating dopamine in someone means they’re more likely to engage with you. Their body’s literally saying, “They gave me dopamine! I want more!” If you throw a milkshake at them, all their body remembers is the milkshake. It’s difficult to put other people before yourself. To craft everything to fit their language, their viewpoints without it being harmful.To put service before celebrity. But you’re ultimately more empowered, more inspired, more proud of yourself.

Gentleness is really bloody difficult. But it can have an impact.

It really has changed what the culture of activism can be, how it can also be beautiful, kind and quiet as well. That’s what we should all be doing. Trying to make the world more beautiful, kind and just. That’s my goal..

craftivist-collective.com

@craftivists

War – The World Is A Ghetto (Classic Album Review)

War – The World Is A Ghetto

When I was 14 in Thornton Heath visiting the record store by the station, a cover caught my eye. It was so different, and in many ways years ahead of Led Zeppelin’s Physical Graffiti album cover. What was inside the album was even greater than that brilliant cover, the album being The World Is A Ghetto, and a song that has stood the test of time – Four Cornered Room  “Zoom Zoom Zoom….as I sit in my four cornered room”. It was the first  album I bought without the friend of my older musical brother.

In 1984 I lent this to a friend, who refused / forgot to bring it back. He, too, had fallen in love with it. Hugh finally gave me back my vinyl in ‘91. There’s a CD with bonus tracks out.

Memories of the barrier block in Brixton and the white room dj sets in ‘land of oz’, fields of hay and rooms filled with thousands of cuddly toys. There are places in your mind that the power of this song projects to – its gongs and zooms, ohs and hypnotising bass. 

It’s the missing link between psychedelic music and soul music. It’s a song that has lasted nearly 50 years! Eric Burdon and War were the last band Hendrix played with live the night before Jimi passed to a higher place… I wonder what the last tune was – Four Cornered Room?

PS – check the cover out it could be now! The Bentley is so class with a flat!

Dr Alex Paterson locked up for 2020
Zoom Zoom Zoom

Steve Beresford

Steve Beresford: ‘Pianos, Toys, Music and Noise: Conversations with Steve Beresford’, by Andy Hamilton published in 2021 by Bloomsbury publishing.

Georgina Brett – So finally a year or so after the rather expensive hardback first edition, the paperback is now available at a more realistic price.

Steve Beresford – Bloomsbury are an academic publisher so they do books that are quite expensive. Andy Hamilton has another book out and that was around the same price, hardback. I don’t think of the book about me as being an academic book but having read it again I realise there’s lots of information in it.

GB – I agree for sure. So, I decided to have a look at the index to find what subjects were most mentioned.

SB – Good idea, I love indexes!

GB – It made me navigate the book in an improvisational way, quickly taking in that each chapter had a comprehensive introduction, and then the conversation. This gives the reader a great deal of context so you [SB] don’t need to explain too much in the conversation. It makes the discourse feel really spontaneous.

SB – He’s done a great job.

GB – Indeed, the extent of the index, the appendix, the photographs, the attributions, all the different ways of making a book very logical in terms of its title structures, the use of italics when he’s interviewing people about their work with you. Within a few minutes of investigation, you can see how comprehensive it is, and how much original material is gathered here. There’s so much ‘organisation’ in it. 

SB – Well, yes, because until David Toop’s books there was nothing about freely improvised music that was very reliable. They were either very badly written or just incorrect with important actors in history left out. This doesn’t claim to be in any way a total history.

GB – That’s not ‘Oceans of Sound’?

SB – It’s called ‘Into The Maelstrom, Volume 1’. It’s an extremely dense book, I could only read 3 pages at a time. It’s like eating very expensive chocolates, “That’s enough for now, I’ll leave it for another day”. Not only did he do phenomenal research, but he also had a way of contextualizing it, which was very new and extraordinary.

GB – Do you need to have quite a good understanding of the history of improvisation before reading it?

SB – No, but there is a lot of information in it, so subtle and complex that it will take you a while, but it’s a brilliant book. I am glad that mine is so different. It’s very casual like, “Oh, I forgot to mention him! Yeah, he was good.” kind of thing.

GB – Yeah, lovely, that’s good then, there are 2 tomes of different flavours in the market.

SB – Because with Alterations, (which is the group David and I were in together), the contrast between our approaches was ridiculous, but that’s what made Alterations. All 4 musicians had different ways of playing. That’s why the band was so good. 

Steve Beresford
Photo by: Blanca Regina

GB – Did you play regularly?

SB – Alterations was always a band that came together now and then. And we’d all go off and do what we did, it wasn’t like the Rolling Stones! We were together for 9 years then a huge gap and then Blanca [Regina] said “You guys should play again.” So, we did our first gig with Max Eastley, (the instrument maker), because he’s a friend of all of ours. It was the first ‘come back’, and we thought “Ok yeah, this works!”. It was almost like if you imagine – when you’re a little kid you spoke a language and then your parents moved, and you never spoke it again until you were 23 or something. It felt like that. “Oh, shit I used to do this! Oh my god I am fitting in with this way of working.” We still do things that make us go – “What the hell was that!”. For instance, we played on the first night of my 70th birthday [at Cafe Oto]. Everybody stopped, but we knew that wasn’t the end and I mean 20 years ago that was a huge cliché, particularly in London there was ‘the new London silence’ and then there was Echtzeit music in Berlin and something in Japan, but everybody was doing pieces with very small sounds and then having huge silences. So, we had a huge silence, we had never done that before.

GB – How long did it last?

SB – That’s a very good question. There is a recording so I could find out. It felt like half an hour, but it was probably 3 minutes or something.

GB – It’s bizarre how time contracts and expands depending on what you’re doing. 

Tell me about your work with The Flying Lizards.

SB – Ok well, The Flying Lizards is David Cunningham, who I still see sometimes. He works with Rie Nakajima quite a lot and he lives near Spitalfields Church, a kind of nice place to live. He still does stuff with lots of people. Anyway, his then-girlfriend, thought he’d like to do a Cageian version of a pop song. So, they chose Summertime Blues by Eddie Cochran. He put a backing track down with sort of creaky kind of robots falling apart and then realised his girlfriend couldn’t sing at all. She had no sense of rhythm…haha. 

GB – I remember you telling me this before, that’s why she’s speaking the lyrics. The way that she does it, in a deadpan kind of way, actually works incredibly well.

SB – She made the record, it did quite well. It got into the charts! A surprise to everybody. Then they made Money, the old Motown tune. People think it’s a Beatles song but it’s a Barrett Strong song. It’s very early Motown, a fantastic record, but before they had the Motown sound, so it sounds like a rough old R’n’B record. Brilliant record and I think the do-over is also extremely good, very funny. The piano player on that was called Julian Marshall and for some reason, he didn’t want to do tours or be on Top of the Pops and stuff, so I was asked to pretend that I was playing the piano. We were just miming, and then we put together a band with David Toop. I was in a sort of soul band at that time, based around Stoke Newington, and David Cunningham said, “Why don’t I use the rhythm section to that?” It just had me, drummer Dave Solomon from the band, and the 2 Davids. So, we did the subsequent records, none of which were hits, but we mimed on TOTP for the records that were more popular obviously.

GB – And your work with The Slits?

SB – Viv Albertine started coming to ‘Company’ gigs at the ICA, she was very interested in improvised music.

GB – That was Derek Bailey’s thing.

SB – That was Derek Bailey’s thing, and she was one of the few women in the audience, usually with her boyfriend, Gareth Sager, so he was playing with The Slits but he was also in The Pop Group, so for some reason they didn’t want Gareth anymore I don’t know why, and they got me. The first time I met them all was in Munich, of all places, I was playing with The Flying Lizards. I think there’s a video from Munich, The Slits were on the same bill so I met all of them.

GB – And the drummer was Palmolive?

SB – No, Palmolive had left by then. She’d left quite early, and then they got Budgie. Budgie did the first album, then left. He’s the drummer from Siouxsie and the Banshees. A really good drummer. The first album has Budgie, then they got Bruce Smith who’s not so rocky as Budgie. He had a lighter touch, in those days. I saw him later on, he joined Public Image and he’s kicking the shit out of the drums, but when we were playing with The Slits one of the things, I liked was the lightness of the drums, the diversity when he was playing. I thought he was a good choice.

GB – So what were you playing, mainly piano?

SB – I played electric piano, they had a Farfisa VIP 500 two-manual, such a great organ and euphonium, maybe flugelhorn and second guitar sometimes.

GB – So how long were you in The Slits?

SB – I think it was about 18 months, not all that long.

GB – Was that the end of the band?

SB – Yes, and I took the organ, so it’s in Syd Kemp’s studio on long term loan. It’s too fucking heavy to do gigs with!

GB – That’s a big factor I think, I found myself with backache, always carrying things around. 

Moving on to talk about your work with Christian Marclay. You’ve collaborated with him several times in the past, but you finished a project recently where he sent images for you to improvise.

SB – He would walk from the Barbican where he lives to his studio, which is in Somerset House. He’d take photographs on the way, and he sent me one and he said, “Can you think of something inspired by this picture?” There was a bunch of things that looked like note-heads on a gate. I sent him something, so he started doing this. He sent me maybe 23 or something and I’d just do it on my phone. I’d usually record an improvisation, but the early ones were notated. Very simple notation like Howard Skempton, I sort of grew up on that tiny book of Howard Skempton’s piano music. I knew it quite well. I like particularly his early music, which is more like Feldman. He loves Feldman. So, I recorded and sent them on my phone. 

Christian was talking to a publisher in The States, and they said, “Yeah, we could do a book of the music on one side and your picture on the other.” There’s a book by Erik Satie called ‘Sports et Divertissements’, which is a set of 20 nice illustrations of people. This is 1912 or something. People playing tennis or going for a walk. Kind of ordinary things, with Satie, in his own hand. Very short piano pieces which go with the illustration. There’s one called ping-pong or something, where the left-hand jumps over the other. Some of them use sliding down shapes suggesting movement. They are beautiful, some of my favourite Satie pieces, very easy to listen to. There’s a little tango which is incredibly simple, really lovely. 

So I said, “We could use that as a model.” Most of Christian’s stuff was taking the photographs and writing a paragraph of explanation. Mine was transcribing my improvisations, Damn! That’s hard, if I had known I was going to be transcribing them I would have played simpler music!

GB – So you transcribed them all and you’ve brought the finished publication for me to see which is wonderful. A very tactile hardback book with a simple cardboard cover. 

SB – There is very little unconventional notation. It doesn’t have barlines that are stolen from Satie, but it has treble and bass. They are not technically difficult. You need a toy piano as well occasionally and I think there’s one with a little sample from a Casio SK1.

GB – So it was very much a covid lockdown activity?

SB – Very much. It’s called ‘Call and Response’ and is due for release on May 17th this year.

GB – Moving on to ask you about the two-concert series you co-host with Blanca Regina ‘Strange Umbrellas’ and ‘Unpredictable’.

SB – We haven’t done a Strange Umbrellas for a while, I enjoy them, Katy Carr came along and sang songs in Polish with her ukulele, and we had a Bavarian musical comedy act who was funny, and if we go south of the river, for instance, we make sure we have people from south of the river so it has a sort of local feel to it. We haven’t done anything like that for a while.  We do have two things under Unpredictable coming up. March 16th is the launch gig of the paperback, there will be various acts, Pat Thomas and Angharad Davies will play, Andy will be there doing a half-hour Q & A about the book and I’m very hopeful there will be copies of the book available. Then the next day we have a gig at the Vortex, they do hour-long sets. Alex Ward and Blanca will play, so that’s the 17th of March. 

GB – Definitely hope to come along. 

I tell you what I’d like to ask you about because I was just remembering that the first time, I heard Ivor Cutler was on a cassette mixtape that a friend of mine gave me when I was about 20 something. was such a wonderful discovery and then finding out that you played on a record with Ivor Cutler poems, he is just reciting, isn’t he? He doesn’t play an instrument.

SB – No, no, ok. David Toop and I both knew about Ivor Cutler, from various things. We knew he’d been on Magical Mystery Tour and John Peel had him on a lot. Ivor was Scottish/Jewish from Glasgow and wrote very short poems and very short songs that he usually performed on a ‘so called’ portable harmonium, like the ones that missionaries took to India. You try transporting it anywhere, it’s so heavy. He was incredibly funny. Geoff Travis came to us, (the boss of Rough Trade Records), and because we’d been recording different things for different labels he said, “Would you like to produce something for Rough Trade?” and we said, “Yeah, ok.”, “No guitar bands please.” So, he said, “How about Ivor Cutler?”. “Oh yeah of course!”.

GB – Goes without saying, doesn’t it!

SB – So the album was made in Dennis Bovell’s studio, which was just south of the river near London Bridge. He’d asked Linda Hirst to sing on the album, Ivor was on harmonium. I chose Dennis Bovell’s studio because I had worked there with The Slits and it’s a big room. So, David and I tried quite hard to convince Ivor that you are allowed to record songs that last more than 45 seconds. It was very difficult, he said, “That’s where the poem stops.” I’d said, “Yeah but that bit in the middle you could call it a chorus Ivor and do it again.”. Ivor said “No.”.

SB – And we killed ourselves laughing, even he because he’s famous for being very funny and always looking really stern. He corpsed, as they say. 

We always use Dave Hunt from White City; I knew him from Berry Street Studio. I did lots of reggae sessions there mainly with Adrian Sherwood and Prince Far-I. Dave Hunt was one of the engineers, then he had an 8-track in the basement under his house in Stokey, not far from where I lived. I introduced him to Diamanda Galás, she did a fantastic track there for her first record, “The Litanies of Satan.”

GB – Great title.

SB – Yes, great title and then he moved to White City, and he sort of became the guy to go to for recording unusual music. I suppose you could say Ivor Cutler was unusual! So, the lineup was Dave and Linda and then David Toop and I tried to do a tiny overdub of maybe 3 single notes on the piano, and he had this song called Jungle Tip no. 1. David Toop had some wonderful jungle recordings, so we used some of those and he occasionally played maybe a note or 2 on the flute, maybe we added a tiny drum to something.

GB – So basically there was a lot more appreciation and laughter than playing?

SB – No, no there was a lot of music! We only laughed very much once and then Dennis Bovell showed up at one point and had shades on, he was known as ‘Blackbeard’ but now it’s kind of ‘Silverbeard’! It was a long time ago.

GB – What’s the name of the Ivor Cutler album?

SB – It was called ‘Privilege’, apparently it was his worst-selling album ever and then it came out on CD. It’s a bit like The Shaggs, how different generations discover the Shaggs and go “Oh my God”. I did this when I was with The Slits, I didn’t know about The Shaggs and then someone played it to me and I said to the Slits, “Do you know this band?”, they said, “Yes of course we do!”, “Why didn’t you tell me”. So, it’s a bit like that. People somehow hear Ivor or see Ivor.

GB – I’m interested in your involvement with the London Improvisers Orchestra. Were you a founder member? 

SB – It came out of the project by Butch Morris, who was an African American trumpet player, arranger, cornet player. He wrote arrangements for David Murray for instance, but he had a thing called ‘Conduction’, he didn’t say he invented it. He always said that Charles Moffat, the drummer in Ornette Coleman’s band, had the idea, he just built on it, and he had various ensembles around the world always called ‘Skyscraper’ and somehow, we got together this tour, we put together a 15-piece band. The first time I met Orphy Robinson, I rang him up and said we’re looking for a vibe player. He was hugely enthusiastic; this is a long time ago now. So, we did this Contemporary Music Network tour with Butch Morris doing improvised conducting, this was 23/24 years ago in 1997. It was a very diverse band in terms of attitude. What we liked was playing in a large ensemble, it was very unusual for improvisers. He conducted the whole night. And a year after we finished that we (myself, Evan Parker and Ian Smith) decided it was really good and everybody really enjoyed it, so we started London Improvisers Orchestra. Straight away we had a slightly different angle on it. So, we decided that anybody could conduct and there would be pieces without conducting, just free improvisation pieces that would be central to it

GB – It works well having different conductors, each one has some kind of idea of the shape of the piece they are creating. It’s really exciting to have the variety.

SB – Yes, I’m glad you like it.

GB – I do! And I know there’s so very much more to talk with you about! Your musical associations/recorded music/gigs/concert series/teaching. Quite a formidable feat for anyone’s lifetime!

And just to recap… 

The paperback edition of ‘Piano, Toys, Music and Noise – conversations with Steve Beresford’’ by Andy Hamilton is now out on Bloomsbury as of February 2022. 

The Christian Marclay/Steve Beresford ‘Call and Response’ book is due to be released on May 17th. 

Unpredictable and Strange Umbrellas are holding regular concerts.

London Improvisers Orchestra meet once a month.

And Steve can be found guesting at many other concerts in and around London, and often further afield. 

Thank you, Steve, for your time, you are such an inspiration! I’ve really enjoyed speaking with you today. 

Words by Georgina Brett 

SIDNEY’S STAR

Aged 94, a powerful totem topples; actor, director, activist,

And exemplar of the Black is beautiful creed in and out;

The great Sidney Poitier dies, taking that elegant name 

Across borders that we are yet to understand, while his charting 

Of the terrain we should know saw truth shout. 

 

As a Civil Rights crusader, his art proved his first point of protest. 

From No Way Out, each new movie signalled his own circumstance;

Bahamian bred, he was actually born in Miami, with his parents there 

To sell reared tomatoes we heard the first roar of defiance, 

And saw the former British Colony escaped by pure chance. 


Then Cry the Beloved Country loudly wept as the apartheid alarm 

Pierced soft silence, and his own resolve hardened to use acting 

Itself for the good; not for a career, but for the care of his people; 

As it was for their representation  that he sought to rise and rouse 

Neighbourhoods. And while The Blackboard Jungle birthed rock, 


And aimed to understand  the delinquent, the roll in the music 

Saw no moss gained on his path; from Edge of the City’s harsh streets, 

To being tied to Tony Curtis on train tracks;  each appearance 

Was advance and emblem and concentration, too, on the task; 

Chiefly to effect change through Art, whether  


In the Heat of the Night’s famously retaliatory slap, 

Or at that infamous dinner table; from where A Raisin in the Sun 

Could be savoured, to A Patch of Blue and the first interracial 

Pre-Kirk kiss onscreen, Poitier was that celluloid kisser caught 

As he reflected back misted mirrors to cast a burning light 

On his era, and like his Mr Tibbs, seek distinctions 


Between what Social Injustice is and then means. 

If he had done nothing else than these films then we should 

Mourn and remember this hero, who made his stance seismic 

As he historically rewrote the book. Even Robeson and Belafonte 

Had songs with which to enrich their presence.  

 

Poitier had only acting’s traditions to try to denounce 

With one look. But he was there with the greats who influenced 

Modern culture; activists in art and advances in perspective, 

Pain, power, and Politics. From Civil rights to social wrongs, 

The list’s endless, as we mourn Dr Martin Luther King, 


Rodney also, George Floyd, Trayvon Martin, and all those 

Who suffered at the hands of the KKK’s gruesome kicks. 

As those and other tragic victims were lost in his time, 

Poitier’s position proved vanguard, along with the Artists 

Who exemplified the profound. From Miles Davis, 

 


John Coltrane, Otis Redding, Sammy and Ossie Davis, 

Charlie Parker,  Billie Holliday, Little Richard, Chuck Berry, 

Nina Simone, and James Brown, to Mingus and Monk, 

Nat King Cole, Louis Armstrong, Robert Johnson, 

And Hendrix; each of these shared the crown. Cry the Beloved 


Country, indeed, for it may it not be the one you now 

Live in. Poitier was an actor who exposed on film 

Every challenge and taught us all how to be, through his poise, 

His regard and the energies unleashed on us, he was 

Human nature as nation, as belief released territory. 


When trends turned, he changed, using comedy 

As his vehicle; last gifts to the public after the former force 

Of intent. Politics saw him steer a singular ship for the sailing, 

As Bahamian Ambassador to Japan towards the circles 

Of diplomacy centred around UNESCO’s need to invent 


A more balanced world. Poitier influenced and then 

Equalled. He paved a clear way for Pryor,  just as he did 

For Denzel. For Morgan Freeman, Chadwick Boseman 

Ad Samuel Jackson, to today’s equivalents; each nation 

Has theirs who compel. But Poitier was the first to claim 


Mass attention. I can’t contain in one poem every person 

To prize.  All I dare do is point towards another star lost 

To darkness; as we focus on these bright fires 

Who time can never douse, only rise.

                                                                                David Erdos 1/7/22   

Penny Rimbaud talks to Youth

Y: Have you enjoyed lockdown?

P: Yeah, I enjoy solitude. All the people I know who are creatively involved really loved lockdown. All the people who need to go out – “need this”, “need that” – it really sort of shows the needy from the unneedy. We just need our own space. And that is good enough.

Y: I think it was nice just softening everyone’s footprint a bit, living on a lot less.

P: There is some really beautiful stuff going on where people have got together and they’re working to create new ways of doing things, and that’s all beautiful, but equally there’s a sort of mass which still seems to be determined to return to all the same sort of tragic ignorance that existed beforehand. They are going to be in for a big shock, because half of it is not going to be operating.

Y: I would say that you have been a pioneer of something like this happening for a long time. A free thinker, who’s kind of a prophet of doom, who’s warned us of the impending consequences of our collective social behaviour and used a lot of shock tactics to wake us up to living in a lot more sustainable, gentle way. How do you see all that panning out now?

P: I have had to move back into the very thing that I’ve been most of my life away from, which is the material world. I’ve become involved in a sort of material view because I realised the entire globe is suffering common pain and anguish. My job as an artist or creative person has always been to combat what my father used to call – the real world. I knew that from the age of four really, and I’ve actively engaged in not belonging throughout my life, to the extent now where I feel completely removed from it, unless I choose to move back into it.

Within this sort of material structure, it’s over, basically, it’s clinging on by its fingernails. The age of enlightenment is over, and we are now moving into the age of abandonment, where we have to abandon all our old values, all our own standards. Now talking from materials point of view, all of those material values have to be abandoned – I think, therefore I am – that’s already a nonsense within the new framework and there’s nowhere to look and actually understanding that there never ever was anywhere to look, is the beginning of the new freedom.

I’m not interested in the new normal, because the new normal has never particularly changed. The normal has always been defined by an elite, whether it be a sort of capitalist elite, or militarist or religious elite, or any other form of elite. That is all over. We have to learn to stand on our own feet, and our own feet are not the feet we think they are.

Actually, our own feet are the very soil that we stand in. That is our own being, sort of returned to the profound depth of nature. I mean, you cease to belong within the landscape because you are the landscape. It’s that whole redefinition, which I tend to feel, is the only saviour. Anyone who is looking for any sort of liberation within the old narrative, they’re already dead.

There were thousands of people today gathering at Trafalgar Square, saying that they don’t accept overall vaccination, which of course I don’t, and that they don’t accept mask wearing which, well, I take it or leave it, etc’. But who are they talking to? They are trying to persuade a government, and by trying to persuade a government, they are empowering that government. By saying no to something, you might just as well say yes, because yes and no mean the same thing within the materialist framework. It is a completely impotent statement.

Y: I was reading a quote of yours where you were talking about anarchy. And you said – “anarchy as a label has been thrust upon you and you decided to run with it”. This must have been around 45 years ago. What you are saying now is very much still in philosophical mode of anarchy as I perceive it. Well, how has that changed and how does that fit with you today?

As a label, well, it never fits comfortably with me because no label fits comfortably with me. I’ve run with all sorts of things throughout my life. Running with things is a bit like – I’m not particularly worried about what I put on in the morning. I put on things because it’s bloody cold here. I mean, I can put on less things if I’m sitting on a mountain in Spain, etc. The running with it is just saying ‘Okay, so this is the current thing, I need a sweater. Today I’m an anarchist, tomorrow might be a bit warmer so I don’t need a sweater – so tomorrow I might be an any other “ist” I want to’. That’s bollocks! It’s all just the clothing we’ve put on in the morning. Yet I’m happy to do that because I’m moving around largely amongst people who operate within the material framework, or materialist framework.

Penny Rimbauld

Y: Can you see a time where everybody will be able to live socially harmoniously without government?

P: [Long pause] Well, I do.

Y: The government’s becoming increasingly irrelevant now, isn’t it?

P: Yes, it’s over. It actually became “over” when it started. Governments are simply an extension of capitalist intrigue, increasingly so since the Thatcher and Reagan days. Global economics was the end of governance because actually, it’s just handing it to the capitalist overlords.

Y: About 4-5 years ago you said that the most radical thing you can do today is be a romantic. Now, I love the optimism of positive idealism. That really has helped me find a sense of direction over the last few years. I’ve quoted you on that many times. Do you still feel that?

P: Oh, of course. I mean, the romanticists were pretty much equal to a man and woman. They were realists, really, they were transcendentalists in one form or another. I don’t like the term transcendental because it seems to imply some sort of bigger value or bigger sort-of godlike figures, or something you’re transcending to, but I like the essence of what it means actually, there’s something else.

Y: Going beyond, yeah…

P: Yeah, I remember talking with you about futures and progress and all those things I don’t accept. Those are very much part of that sort of materialist narrative. I can only accept that we are of it, and we’re not even of it, we ARE it. If we want to be constantly refusing the very earth that we are, then that’s a choice within the materialist framework. I don’t make that choice. I have to carry out a dialogue, I have to accept – ‘Okay, so this is me being introduced here to a part of the narrative. How do I…?’. I’m not in opposition to it. It’s of no concern to me, what people think or do, that’s their business not mine. Because I’m not there to care in that way.

Y: How’s your connection with nature at the moment?

Well, whatever is happening is a symbiotic absolute. It can only be the way it is at the moment, because this is the way it is, it could be no other way, and we are a part of it. The pandemic isn’t something that’s over there and we’re over here, going ‘nynynynyh!’.If it’s raining, you put on a raincoat or you strip off, you’ve got a choice in a complete embrace or protective clothing if you like. And we have that choice all the time.

One of the things I’ve found difficult with the pandemic is this sort of mixture: on the one hand taking on a mildly defensive position – which I really don’t like to do; on the other hand, exposing myself naked to it and saying ‘All right, then. What have you got to offer?’. I accept that, I don’t feel any fear about it. I do have one fear, and that is passing it to someone else. For myself, I have no fear because I’m not here to be fearful of it. That’s the materialist structure.

The whole fabric of it has been sort of incorporated, or materialised, and that’s the threat of it. It’s totally natural for things like that to happen, even if they’re man made, which I happen to believe this pandemic was. The results of this, I don’t think were designed, but I certainly think the actual virus was designed. I think it’s a GM virus. Either way, it’s part of what’s happening, and that’s all in nature. Do we want to step back from that and sort of demand explanations for why? Am I going to demand explanations for why a magpie just flew past the room? Well, that’s as much a reality as a pandemic creeping into my bed is part of what’s going on, and an unavoidable part.

Y: The theme of this edition of the magazine is new visionaries. You’re certainly still a new visionary for most people I think, you’re still under a lot of people’s radar. It doesn’t necessarily mean young visionaries, but are there any other artists, writers that you’ve discovered recently that are talking about a vision that you can share that you would endorse even?

P: There’s none I’d endorse, I mean, there are people that I’ve gained huge inspiration from within the material world. People who are firmly on the other side of the fence, like John Coltrane or Jackson Pollock, or, well, Whitman, were people who were profoundly on the other side, shouting instructions over the fence. There’s a little foothold to the right, or there’s a little brick out to the left, or whatever, and I guess that’s the role I’d like to see myself in.

I’m on the other side of the fence shouting over it ‘well come on, stop fucking about, get on with it. There’s a brick loose there, pull it out and crawl through the whole’ sort of thing.

What I’ve been given by lockdown is sort of a greater freedom, because freedom is lack of need. I think there’s no other, better explanation. I realised in the lockdown that I need nothing because I am… You don’t need air because air’s there, and if there isn’t air there, you still don’t need it, that just isn’t air there.

Of course, I understand that I live in a very safe and a very beautiful environment, it’s a sort of Garden of Eden, but that’s not through fortune, it’s through prediction. As you said at the beginning of the conversation, I set up a sustainable domain for anyone who wanted to share. It’s only small because that’s all I could afford, or that’s what I could get, or whatever. Basically, it has always been a sort of microcosm of what I think is a possibility, and that’s much more of a sort of positive demonstration than I can ever make through word.

I can tell the moment someone walks through the gate, whether they are here, or whether they’re carrying a load of expectations or requirements, or self-interest into the environment. Freedom is lack of self-interest, as that’s a need.

I don’t believe in prophets and visionaries and all that sort of stuff, and I don’t belong in that framework at all. I’m a sort of activist doing nothing. My activism – ‘nothingism’ – is allowing it to happen and responding appropriately. Which is precisely the martial arts or things that are not about anything except appropriate action and having the confidence to not be there to assert it. Tai Chi, for example, is deeply rooted in sort of animal movement and animal response, which is what we lose, or what we’re instructed not to operate with within the materialist framework. So, it’s all there, it’s all present. There’s a tree just outside the window there waiting to grow. There’s a sun lounger, waiting to be lounged on. It’s all there.

Y: I love the nothingism! In doing nothing or just being able to respond to whatever is appropriate, how’s your routine been? Have you been writing every day? Have you been creative every day? Or do some days, do you just go with the weather?

P: I always go with the weather in the sense that first, I’ve got nothing to do. Yeah, in my diary I have 3pm chat with Youth – you put forward that as an idea, and I’m happy, I love doing that, but otherwise I’m silent.

I might be silent writing, or I might be silent making bread, or I might be silent digging the lawn or the vegetable patch, or whatever, but because that silence is the nobody that I am, or is the someone I’m not, which is the same person, which is no person at all – I don’t consider anything unless I’m asked.

Y: You seemed to have unravelled the riddle of existential existence almost. You’ve found a balance…

P: Well, I think you slightly hit the nail on the head because, until probably about 10 or 12 years ago, I was much more engaged in sort of existential thinking and the idea of nothingness, but I think existentialism falls on its face because it actually doesn’t see that nothingness is everything. That’s an absolute. If nothing is nothing, it must also include everything. It can’t exclude everything, and that was the big leap for me. I took the existential leap when I was in my early 20s into the void, and I became actually quite angst ridden, and I lived an angst-ridden life.

It was this breakthrough about 10-12 years ago, when I first met you, and I was just ‘wow!’ when I realised that nothingness was actually everything. That there are two absolutes: there’s absolutely everything and there’s absolutely nothing, so they must be the same thing, and that was the biggest, second only to Sartre’s mind-blower of the egos is every bit as much a construct as anything else within the material world, which was maybe 20-25 years ago. But really realising that while there is nothing here, and there is also everything here, that’s a huge thing. That is freedom in itself, because it’s absolute acceptance of all of everything that could be, or everything that could not be, and it’s not some sort of an emotional or psychological position, it’s a reality because it’s an absolutely unquestionable truth. It can only be as it is.

Y: Yeah, reminds me of the idea that, for many poets, the ideal is to become a shepherd, or goat herder. There is a great documentary on a guy in the 60s from England, who was a poet and decided to do it, and he lives just up the road from here in the Alpujarra and he’s got 300 sheep. I suppose it’s the sort of draw of that for a poet is exactly what you’re saying. It’s that nothingness and everything that’s everything, with the sheep on the side of a mountain, 

to be really rich is to have the least needs.

P: I think you could almost say it’s belongingness. ‘The home is where the heart is’ – an expression one often hears. Well actually, the heart is where the home is. That’s the truth. One is always at home within oneself with one’s heart. And I do feel that wherever I am, it makes no difference whether I’m sitting up in Bron’s house in Stoke Newington, or on the top of your mountain or whatever. I’m always at home, and I feel at home, because that’s where I am. Where else can you be but home?

Basically, it’s a belongingness that we don’t really need to express. We are who we are. And that’s that, and what we want to orchestrate that into, or delude ourselves with, or magnify ourselves, is irrelevant. We simply are, and equally we’re simply all or nothing. We can’t escape that. The whole materialist line therefore is a complete separation from that reality.

Y: Have you ever gone through a phase where you’ve not used money? Been a renunciate?

P: You mean deliberately chosen not to use money?

Y: Yes.

P: No, I haven’t. I have met a couple of people who have done that. Talking to you reminded me of them. It’s a bit of a hassle because if you want to visit them or them to visit you, you have to go and pick them up and get their train fare because they can’t use money.

All the rest of the band of Crass renounced tax. I happened to have a bank account, and I was the only member of a band back in the day with a bank, so I’ve lived my entire life dealing with their fucking tax problems.

Y: [Laugh] You had to pay all their tax?

P: To this day!

Y: It reminds me of when someone says they stopped smoking and they ask if they can…

P: …just have a little one, yeah!

It’s a bit like vegetarians who enjoy a steak once every so often because they need to, you know… I don’t mind what people eat, but I’ve got a bit of a sort of ‘Oh come on’. I’m a vegetarian but I eat chicken when ‘Oh right, okay… I forgot about them’ sort of stuff. It’s just bollocks isn’t it?

Actually, I’m not into any sort renunciation. If I don’t feel like sex for 10 years, well I don’t feel like sex. I’m not renouncing it. Let’s be realistic about ourselves, we’re all massively self-indulgent in that sense, aren’t we? And renunciation is as much an indulgence as absolute engagement. It’s the same thing.

Y: A psychologist reminded me the other day that if you’re an introvert, you have to be an extrovert as well, you can’t be one without the other.

P: Absolutely. In that sense we are all things, and if we choose to be a sort of stupidly individuated, isolated, little thing , then (a) we’re defying all known physics, and (b) we’re being bloody stupid because we’re not making the decisions. I’m not deciding what the weather is going to be, or I don’t even think my own thoughts. Thoughts thinks thoughts. Not the thinker. Thought thinks the thinker. That was a good one I came up with recently

Y: Yeah, that’s very good.

P: I don’t know what I’m going to think, and I don’t suppose you know what you’re going to think, it’s just thought thinks the thing, not me. Quite a lot of time me doesn’t like the thought that thought thinks. I can very much do without it. I don’t need that sort of intrusion. It’s been like people ringing you up all day, isn’t it? Who needs it? I mean, not really.

Penny Rimbauld

Y: Do you meditate? Have you found a way of stopping thinking? Apart from busying yourself with making bread.

P: You can’t stop thinking. It’s a matter of whether you are attached to the thinking or not.

Y: Right, yes.

P: I mean, I allow thought to go on. I can’t do anything about what the weather’s doing out there, it’s just weathering. Well, thought thinks. It’s ‘thinkering’, and it’s got very little to do with me. As I say, a lot of the time it’s nothing I want to be thinking about. Especially when I start getting trouble. Do I want to be worrying about bank balance or worrying about whether my underpants are clean? No, I don’t! But we just deal with that sort of thing.

Y: Sometimes thoughts can be nice. And you can have other reveries and by your imagination wander somewhere.

P: Yes. But then if you’re controlling it, it’s not going to wander. That’s how I write basically, I just let thought do the writing. I don’t get engaged with it and think ‘oh, that’s a good thought’ or something other, because it’s nothing to do with me.

In the Pagan tradition a good metaphor of creativity and life is cup and sword. The sword is where you’d use your will and you’re an active, and the cup is where you’re being receptive, and yielding and letting go. It’s the balance between those two dynamics that creates everything or something.

I can see that it tallies with my concept of appropriate action. There’s no action to be made except appropriate action. Animals do it all the time; an animal never makes an inappropriate action because it hasn’t got the psychology to fuck itself up with. If anything, the psychology is an extension of the ego which as Sartre said, and I entirely agree, is a pure construct.

It’s like my bookcase over there, that’s the ego. It’s over there and it’s got predictable books in it. Things that mirror thought thinking its own thoughts. The ego gets a thought because it confirms something about it, not about me because there’s nothing to confirm about me.

Y: That reminded me a Hillman quote about Lorca, he says ‘originality is a construct and a construct is never original’.

P: Yeah, absolutely, that’s totally right, and it is all that ‘just get it out your own way’, and just relaxing, really. We don’t get involved in all that consideration when we are of the earth, because we are the earth. We don’t need to argue with it. We don’t need to argue with each other, we are doing the same thing, we’re just using different knowledges.

Photos by Maryann Morris

 Punx of colour: decolonising the past to decolonise the future

“What about Elvis? He give you anything for ‘Hound Dog’?”

“I never got a dime.”

“Did he tip his hat, or something?”

“Well, he refused to play with me when he first come out and got famous. They wanted a big thing for Big Mama Thornton and Elvis Presley. He refused. And I’m so glad I can tell the world about it.” [laughs]

Interview with Willie Mae ‘Big Mama’ Thornton, 1971

Willie Mae ‘Big Mama’ Thornton and Sister Rosetta Tharpe and, before them, Ma Rainey and Bessie Smith, were at the creative vanguard of one of the biggest music genres of all time – rock n roll. Even now, I don’t think the significance of what they did is fully recognised. Firstly, conventions: they broke all sorts of them in America between the 1920’s and 1950’s, starting the deconstruction and liberation of black femininity from the gender roles that had become so ingrained in society. They rejected the prevailing expectations of what constituted black femininity. They rejected societal expectations of sexuality and performance art. They spoke in their own voice. Secondly, the music. They were black women and they created rock n roll music and they created it with a heart and soul that was emphatically punk.

Rock n roll is, and always will be, synonymous with revolution. Often a revolution in your own bedroom playing air guitar to les enfants terribles du jour. When the genesis of the movement is pieced together, the rock n roll revolution was started by these black women who were then pretty much excluded from its commercialisation. The revolution will not be televised. As Maureen Mahon wrote in Listening for Willie Mae ‘Big Mama’ Thornton’s Voice: The Sound of Race and Gender Transgressions in Rock and Roll, “This form of musicality was then taken from the black women who created it and commercialized into a genre that excludes them.” Thornton did not receive the sort of money or wide acclaim that her work deserved.

Thornton died alone and in poverty on July 25, 1984 in a Los Angeles boarding house. She was 57 years old.

And there is the bitter irony of Hound Dog starting life as an anthem of black female power…

Black musicians like Miles Davis and the highly innovative and avant-garde Sun Ra motivated The Stooges to follow their experimental path that ferociously dismantled rock n roll into a nihilism that would, over the next five years, incubate and give birth to punk rock. The freeform, experimental style of Stooges saxophonist, Steve Mackay, nodded towards Davis – Side Two of Funhouse (LA Blues, Funhouse, 1970) had a Miles In The Sky / Bitches Brew -esque vibe to it. Legend has it that Davis attended a Stooges gig in New York City in August 1970 and Iggy has recently highlighted the influence on him of his 1960 seminal album, Sketches of Spain.

The influence of black artists continued to be felt by the rock industry as it realised the commercial potential that their music offered. And herein lies the source of contention: that vastly successful, white male rock bands have often stood accused of appropriating black music. When the Levee Breaks, originally written and performed by Memphis Minnie in 1929, was “reworked” by Zeppelin in 1972. And, of course, Bonham created THAT massive drum intro… While I was preparing for this article, I read on the jar of a male face product ‘…it will be to your face what Led Zeppelin was to Rock N Roll’. I thought “why doesn’t that say ‘…it will be to your face what Big Mama Thornton was to Rock N Roll?’”… but I digress…

James Baldwin contended that the principal force of history is not so much in telling the past, but in shaping who we are right now and, by extension, our future. This is why it is important to understand the historical importance of black musicians. 

Baldwin and artists like Sun Ra and George Clinton were cultural exponents of Afrofuturism, an intersectional lens that seeks to unearth buried black history and use that lens to reimagine and claim the future of black identity – one where it does not sit in the shadow of a white dominated society. Those pioneering black women are our buried punk rock history.

We’re delighted that Steph Phillips, the guitarist and lead vocalist of Big Joanie, is with us to talk about the influence of black musicians on punk rock music and the state of play for today’s black musicians in the DIY punk scene. Steph is unequivocal about the real visionaries that shaped music history.

Sister Rosetta Tharpe, for example, still hasn’t got the recognition she deserves as a black woman who picked up a guitar and shaped rock n roll”, says Steph. “She is a big inspiration for me, especially the confidence to keep going in the face of adversity. Music history is filled with black women, but their impact has been diminished in the rock mainstream. Knowing about and acknowledging black women such as Sister Rosetta gives us a better understanding of the mainstream history of rock n roll and helps us understand how to create a more equal and representative scene.”

Afrofuturism is now expanding its reach. It asks questions about any construct that influences the future – culture, technology, science, philosophy etc. The film Black Panther gave us a delicious, progressive vision of black success. In his book A Pure Solar World: Sun Ra and the Birth of Afrofuturism, Paul Youngquist illustrates how Sun Ra’s creative expression was shaped by his yearning for a better world, one where equality is attainable. Sun Ra was resistant to any forms of industry or societal convention – from DIY publishing his poetry and music to sexuality to philosophy. Punk has long been present in black culture.

Steph had been on the UK DIY punk scene with her previous band, My Therapist Says Hot Damn, but was finding that there was a distinct lack of intersectionalism in that scene, so after putting out an online ad asking for musicians to form a band, Big Joanie came to be in 2013 with Steph being joined by Chardine Taylor-Stone (drums, vocals) and now Estella Adeyeri (bass, vocals).

After releasing their superbly lo-fi Sistah Punks EP in 2014, Big Joanie’ released their Crooked Room single which is about black women trying to find their “vertical” in a world that is skewed by misogyny, racism and heteronormativity. Is the punk scene embracing (or ready to embrace) intersectional feminism? Which areas are problematic?

“I don’t think the punk community is much different to society at large”, says Steph. “Tolerance is improving, though. People of colour are demanding change, a better way and saying “we deserve better”. The Black Lives Matter movement is obviously important for giving confidence to demand that change. It’s cool that a lot of scenesters from back in the day are helping to change attitudes and open up opportunities.“

Talking of back in the day, punk and LGBTQ+ culture seemed to become intertwined in the years surrounding the Pistols’ arrival through fashion, clubs, fanzines and the music itself. Lucy Toothpaste, for example, wrote fanzine articles for Jolt and Spare Rib as early as 1976 that gave a platform to feminism and LGBTQ+. The late 1970’s saw the coming together (albeit male dominated) of Rastafari and punk – essentially two groups of alienated, outcast youth – and bands like X-Ray Spex, The Clash and Steel Pulse playing at the legendary Rock Against Racism festivals and then The Ruts emerging to combine punk with reggae and dub and releasing their first single, In a Rut, on Misty In Roots’ label People Unite in January 1979.

Fast forward and an emerging, yet important festival created for and by punks of colour – DeColonise – is one of Steph’s numerous projects. DeColonise has had an excellent mix of established and emerging artists playing, talking about and sharing their lived experiences. It feels like it is creating the strong, united community, similar to historic unions that formed RAR, that could challenge and rewrite the rules and societal norms that the punk of 1976 once did.

“DeColonise felt like something that should have existed before we created it”, Steph says. “Something where the black punk community could come together and be in charge – and that’s important – of creating a welcoming environment for all punks of colour. In lots of ways, DeColonise is similar to Black and Brown Punk Show Collective (a Chicago-based group that follows a DIY punk ethos, supporting like-minded communities of colour through DIY shows, fund-raising and challenging the societal norms of how to live). Our vision is to be creative and to allow punks of colour to shape their own future. Our goal is to recognise, celebrate and play. We have also worked with Celeste (Bell) to celebrate the legacy and influence of her mum, Poly Styrene.”

Much like those pioneering black women who played the blues and rock n roll, the legacy of Poly cannot be overstated. Poly is testimony that punk has been a part of black culture for a long, long time. But which women of colour have held the mantle of visionary? In the early 2000’s in NYC, it doesn’t take a genius to work out that the big bands were predominantly white male – Strokes, Interpol, LCD Soundsystem, Vampire Weekend – and the Yeah Yeah Yeahs. Karen O was one of the few – if not the only – high profile women of colour on that scene. In Lizzy Goodman’s excellent Meet Me In The Bathroom, Karen said that she basically had a double personality – one was a terribly shy woman off stage, the other was this totally amazing whirlwind of a performer – she called it “explosions of performance behaviour”. 

“Yeah, yeah, that book’s on my reading list. That time of the early noughties in New York City is so interesting for me. Karen was totally unrestricted in everything she did”, says Steph. “Her costumes were incredible, cartoon-like in a way and she did not allow herself to be sexualised. She is another musician who gave me confidence to be myself when I perform. And Poly (Styrene), of course.”

Musically, Big Joanie don’t fit into the uniform four on the floor punk rock of 1977. You’re going to find them powered by the combative, jagged elements of The Slits, The Raincoats and Sleater-Kinney and the melodies and tenderness of the Mary Chain and Ronettes. Lyrically, they address subjects that are happening in, and affecting, their lives. You get the feeling that they have created a space where they feel safe in their own creativity and can use that experience to advocate for the empowerment of women of colour inside and outside of the LGBTQ+ community. The band’s latest single (their first release on Third Man Records), Cranes In The Sky, is a simmering, claustrophobic and searingly powerful cover of the Solange song.

“We collectively agreed that it was an important song and album and we all connected with it”, says Steph. “It’s a song that doesn’t pretend to be anything other than honest. We felt that it represents the experiences of black women. It’s honest. We’ve just released a video of us playing the song live at Reel Rebel Studios, London. It took us a while to get the song out on 7” vinyl but we got there eventually.”

 

It’s the most punk rock thing I’ve heard in a long time. There’s still the taught, ‘80’s and ‘90’s DIY feel that has been their trademark but it sounds like they are continuing to evolve their playing and sound.

“Yeah, we toured a lot before and after the Sistahs record that came out in November 2018 and we really developed into a tight, live unit”, Steph continues. “It feels very natural. We’ve just finished a writing retreat where we’ve been writing new material, but we did things a little differently this time. We went straight into the studio and did the writing for our new material there. It was a bit of an experiment but it was really fun and I think it gave us some spontaneity to our writing and playing. We tend to like the same kind of things and have similar ideas so it’s usually quite easy to get consensus for what we write.”

In 2018, Thurston Moore and Eva Prinz’s Daydream Library Series released Big Joanie’s first album, Sistahs. This was a breakthrough for the band, says Steph: “It was amazing working with Thurston and a producer, but all kind of surreal! We had supported The Ex at Electrowerkz in Islington and Thurston and Eva (Prinz) came over to our merch stand and said they really loved our set and wanted to buy some music. We told them that we had a bunch of songs written, but we’d been trying, but hadn’t been able, to get a record deal so we didn’t have any music for them to buy! They kinda looked at each other and then said that they would put some music out for us. We were like ‘ermmm……yeah okaaaaay!’”

Big Joanie

Steph also has a solo side act – Stef Fi – and is an author, journalist and content editor, specialising in music, race, pop culture and feminism.

“Stef Fi has been an on/off project for a few years now”, Steph says. “It’s taken second place to Big Joanie but it’s something that I want to do more of. I put out an EP called Girlhood in April. That was basically material that I wrote many years ago and recorded around two years ago, but hadn’t had the chance to release it yet. I’m really happy with the response to it. It’s definitely got an emotional, melancholic sound.”

Steph tells us that the other members of the band are also involved in other projects: 

“Yeah, Estella’s other project is Charmpit – they’ve recently released a record called Cause A Stir – and Estella also won the Barbican x Moog competition (where people are invited to create a track inspired by their favourite artists, using the Minimoog Model D Synth app) for the track Remedy. Chardine is busy studying (for a law degree), writing and speaking. Her book (Sold Out: How Black Feminism Lost its Soul) will be released next year.”

Through journalism, Steph has often explored the relationship of the written history and the real lived history of black people in music.  

“I’ve tried to adopt an interpretative journalistic style”, Steph continues. “I did a recent article (for She Shreds) on Joan Armatrading which was a really interesting experience. Joan didn’t let herself be put into any pigeonholes. She’s a bit of an anomaly – commercially successful and influential yet I don’t feel she has had the level of recognition that she deserves. Perhaps because she didn’t play by the rules! As a writer, I really respect Nathalie Olah. Her book Steal as Much as You Can: How to Win the Culture Wars in an Age of Austerity is very relevant.” 

Olah’s book is about how the ruling class continues to dominate the education, culture and media narratives and how we can beat the system. The punk ideal was born out of class struggle, and whilst it still exists, punk has a place. I can’t help but think, from my privileged white male vantage point, how full-on it must be to be a black woman, rowing against the tide, coming up against full on resistance, oppression and glass ceilings as well as the more ‘subtle’ but exhausting micro-aggressions. Mental and physical resilience are like muscles, needing constant exercise, rest and replenishment. 

“Yeah, it’s full on”, laughs Steph. There’s not one tried and tested way for me – and I don’t always succeed in making sure I replenish, but I try to do yoga, take regular breaks and……avoid Twitter! But I keep focussing on Big Joanie and my writing. The important thing for me is having the freedom to do what I want and when I want.”

Black DIY punk artists such as Big Joanie, Bob Vylan, Blxpltn, Pleasure Venom, Ho99o9, FUPU, Danny Denial, Txlips and many others are writing songs about their lived experiences as people of colour on the punk scene – racism, sexism, sexuality, intersectionality, policing and creating more visibility for punks of colour. Punk was always meant to be interpreted widely, to be idealistic, individualistic and contrary, to allow everything to be questioned and to be open to anyone without judgement.

 

Punk’s not dead, it’s very much alive.

Big news for Big Joanie – following their opening slots on the  Bikini Kill UK 2019 dates, they have been announced as one of several all-female support bands for IDLES’ UK and Ireland tour in May 2021

 

Words by Giles Sibbald

Photography by Maryann Morris www.maryannmorrisphotography.co.uk

TO THOSE WITHOUT RESTRICTION

An exclusive encounter for MU with writer and visionary ALAN MOORE

DAVID ERDOS:  True Vision arrives and can even be found through a phonecall. And so, across distance these words will have ‘brought to light’ the opinions that are guidance indeed for us all..

(DAVID CLEARS THROAT AND DIALS:)

ALAN MOORE:  David, how are you mate?

DAVID ERDOS:  I’m hanging on, sir. How are you? Hope all the family are well.

ALAN MOORE:  We’re all fine, Dave. So, this is for Youth’s new Magazine..

DAVID ERDOS:  Yes, which is coming from him and members of the South London Arts Lab; not as a product of the lab but as a new initiative. The brief is very much OZ meets THE FACE.

ALAN MOORE:  Well, that sounds like a good idea. That could work..

DAVID ERDOS:  Indeed! Ok, I know I have about an hour with you, so we’ll have a rough structure and some questions and thoughts I’ll put to you, and then lead on to anything you’d like to feature and discuss. 

ALAN MOORE:  That sounds fine, Dave.

DAVID ERDOS:  Great. So, as we’re having this conversation on September 14th 2020, the day when this supposed edict is coming into play, it therefore seems churlish/wrong not to ask you what you feel about it. I was going to use a quote from your film with Mitch Jenkins, His Heavy Heart (part of the SHOW PIECES series), where the clown character says that he’s  been reduced to masturbating and crying, often at the same time. Would you say that’s an assumption of where we are now, as a society? I’m referring to this Rule of Six that they’re bringing in today..

ALAN MOORE:  Well, I tend to ignore anything the Government tends to say on the assumption that               it’ll probably have changed its mind or violated the concerns its set within twenty-four hours. But yes, I suppose, in general, everyone is masturbating and crying, or at  least a number of us have been reduced to that. But this is pretty much the rock bottom for all sorts of things; for capitalism, and even for reality. I find it difficult to imagine a reality more fragmented than our current one. One’s response could indeed involve a combination of masturbating and crying, or, perhaps there might   be something else more constructive that we could do..(LAUGHS)

DAVID ERDOS:  I’m being facetious of course..though it does seem to me that the quote could connect to passion and the need for a rallying cry. There’s a hope for some new form of communal feeling, but if anything people seem to have become more insular. That may of course just be my own small circles.

ALAN MOORE:  Right. Well, my feeling is that of course we are all completely isolated from each other at this point. This would seem to me to be an illustration of the alchemic principle of Solve’; by which everything must be divided into its constituent parts, to the smallest atom; which is the process of analysis, where you separate everything so you can understand all of its tiny parts, and that is certainly where we are now as a culture, because we’re physically separated from each other. The next part of the process would hopefully be the Coagula, which is the equivalent of synthesis. Its where we put all the parts together in a hopefully improved working order. And I think people in general, or at least between the people that I’m in touch with, there is in some ways, a stronger communication between us now. I was talking to Jarett Kobek the other night. He’s over there in the ring of inferno that is Los Angeles, and he was talking about everybody seemed to have become a more refined version of themselves, which is absolutely true, I think. When something like this happens, its like we’re all playing statues and this comes and shows us what we are, whoever that happens to be. We become more like ourselves. Most of the people that I know are shining to some degree. They’re often beset by troubles, but they’re all becoming more intensely themselves. And I feel that even though I’ve not seen anybody other than the odd visit from (collaborator) Joe Brown or (friend, and NAL member) Michelle Labelle on the doorstep, you know, other than me and Melinda; I feel a far more intense connection with the people that I’m talking with over the phone. I think we’re probably in each others’ thoughts more, even if we’re in each others’ lives less.

DAVID ERDOS:  That’s incredibly hopeful. But do you think that’s to do with the particular vibrancy and richness of the people who are connected and drawn to you and the circles you collaborate with?

ALAN MOORE:  Well, obviously its very difficult for me to discern. I don’t suppose I’ve got any more wonderful people around me than are around anybody. It’s just to do with appreciating those people more. I mean, I would hope that this is more a general thing. I hope it isn’t just me. But this is what the world looks like from where I’m standing.

DAVID ERDOS:  There was a wonderful phrase you used some time ago in which you described characters from the genre you used to work in as ‘people without restriction.’ Not only is this a perfect means of describing Superheroes, but it is also emblematic for the state of being that we all need to aspire to, independent of the so-called governing forces that in many ways are the new supervillains.

ALAN MOORE:  Well, I suppose I have become a lot more bitter and cranky about the concept of superheroes since then. But I’d say that the problem or the real issue is, that to do anything you have to find your own restrictions. This is what George Perec’s Oulipo used to suggest, by imposing interesting restrictions such as writing an entire novel without using the letter e. (Perec’s A VOID, trans. Gilbert Adair). These forced new forms. But even if you’re not talking about something as extreme as that, I think all artists impose a series of restrictions upon themselves to give the work shape and form. So, I’d say the ideal is the human being with no restrictions other than those that they may choose. That’s not quite as snappy, but it’s important that we’re able to choose our own restrictions rather than accept the shackles that are handed to us.

DAVID ERDOS:  The Oulipo is a great example, from Perec’s initiatives, to writers like Ian Monk. How then do we persuade those who aren’t familiar with those works and who can’t gain access to those ideas, and to some extent manifestoes for change, to encounter and even accept them, especially in an age when the arts have become so marginalised?

ALAN MOORE:  Well, the only way that I’ve ever had and I’m not sure how useful this is, but I think that the place for the Avant Garde is squarely at the centre of culture, and if the Avant Garde cannot place itself there, then that is the failing of the Avant Garde. I do tend to think along the same lines as David Foster Wallace, when he was talking about that failure. Yes, the Avant Garde produces stuff that is challenging, but it’s also very often hostile, ugly, or unfathomable. Or, at least it is in its modern expression. The urge to be more challenging and Avant Garde tends to alienate everyone apart from a minuscule fraction of the intended audience. I think it is quite possible to do challenging things in a popular medium. That’s what I was always trying for. As I say, I’m not sure how useful it was. But I think it’s always a fairly decent strategy to actually take some less exalted, or less supervised medium and sneak some Avant Garde into it. This, after all, is what Patrick McGoohan was doing in The Prisoner, whether he knew it or not. It was placing a new wave Science Fiction narrative straight into the laps of ordinary working-class people. And in my experience, they loved it! If something is presented entertainingly and in a way that actually communicates its ideas then people will love it. It’s just a pity that all too often in order to make something commercial you have to deal with concerns that will package that subversion and turn it into another commodity. So, that is a constant balancing act. But there are presumably strategies, there are ways around this. To delve into the popular mainstream, but with Avant Garde clothing on.

DAVID ERDOS:  Yes, I suppose a good example of that is Stewart Lee and the whole approach and vision of his recent work. The only issue I can see in that is how he chooses to package his work. If you read the books and transcripts of his standup work, there are these long David Foster Wallace like footnotes, which could be seen as obstructive to someone coming cold to it.

ALAN MOORE:  Well, when I was talking to Stewart most recently – in fact it was probably him who brought Covid 19 to Northampton.. (LAUGHS) as it must have been one of his last gigs before the tour shut down…

DAVID ERDOS:  He didn’t have a bat with him, did he, Alan!

ALAN MOORE:  Not that I could see, David, but you never know with these modern comedians..but he was on good form, and I was saying to him that I’d just read his previous book, the one with the view of ocean and clouds on the front, from the previous tour (March of the Lemmings), and I was saying to him that actually, if this was a work of fiction where you were just imagining this kind of self referential comedian who was having a kind of breakdown at the same time as the country was having a breakdown and you included all these David Foster Wallace footnotes this would be an incredible modernist novel! If only it hadn’t actually happened!

DAVID ERDOS:  Split infinitive/eternal Jest indeed! Now, as someone who continues to extend and redefine your own boundaries, would you bridle at the notion that a lot of that work has made you  – and again I say this facetiously- a kind of Dystopian in Chief?

ALAN MOORE:  Well I’m starting to have a couple of problems with the term Dystopian. I’ve started to see that a lot of my early work, particularly say, Watchmen, was seen as being a dark, gritty, dystopian Superhero franchise, which wasn’t what I intended it to be. I mean I can see that V for Vendetta is pretty much a kind of standard Dystopia and is presented as such. Watchmen didn’t seem to me to be a Dystopia. It seemed to be, pretty much a different version of our contemporary world at the time, where, yes, you’ve got superheroes instead of massive nuclear powers but the end result of that for the people on the street was pretty much the same. So, you know I wouldn’t have thought of that as any kind of Dystopia. I mean, a lot of my work – it’s not that they’re Dystopias, because I’m really not sure how useful Dystopias are at the moment. When we’re actually in one it seems a bit redundant to try and imagine any others!

DAVID ERDOS:  When this started it did occur me to as to which exact story of book of yours we were in. But I’m not sure whether you’d be happy with that kind of thought.

ALAN MOORE:  Yes, the thing is I did have a number of similar things said to me. But I mean, if this was something that I was plotting, it would actually have a plot and a kind of meaning to it.

DAVID ERDOS:  And be much better written!

ALAN MOORE:  It would be probably much better written and there wouldn’t be any of these pointless red herrings, and supposed plotlines going all over the place…

DAVID ERDOS:  Exactly. And that was the point: how people often miss the true depth of something. What distinguishes V for Vendetta, which as I think one of the great accomplishments of the 20th Century is its beauty, romanticism, complexity and undeniability. And this begs a question that’s concerned with prophecy. Are you aware of that status and what or how do you feel about that?

ALAN MOORE:  Well, apparently I have been cursed with prescience. I mean when I started work on V for Vendetta in 1981, or, whenever it was, probably 1980, where I thought I was probably going to set it in 1997 just because that was impossibly far into the future; one of the quick and easy symbols to tell the reader that we were living in a fascist surveillance state was to put mounted cameras on every corner, because I thought, well, that would look dead fascist! But then of course in 1997 the Blair government got in and after a trial run at I think Kings Lynn, they rolled out security cameras across the entire country. So, I think these are the sort of things that anybody might have seen coming. I did actually predict the Brixton riots. I was reading a book about my early work the other day – though I don’t want to give the impression that I usually sit around reading such stuff, but it was talking about a headline that I’d got in (the old music magazine) Sounds in my comic strip, in I think the final episode of Roscoe Moscoe; there’s something about ‘Riots in Brixton. Martial Law declared.’ And this was a good year before there actually were riots in Brixton. And luckily, no Martial Law declared. But in terms of actually being prophetic, the only thing that I am quite struck by, and that doesn’t seem to just be meaningless coincidence are the bits in (Alan’s recent epic novel)  Jerusalem is the bit where the angel is talking about if the centre of the land is about to collapse then that will be like a hole in the middle of a tapestry that will spread to the edges and that everywhere will collapse. I mean, Northampton actually did collapse in 2018  when we were declared – I mean, we’re barely even a town anymore: we’ve gone into special measures. The Tories are carving it up into two voting districts which will probably be jerrymandered to the point that this will remain a Tory stronghold until the end of the universe! And lo and behold, here we are: we’ve got the conditions of Northampton now worsening and spreading –  and this was happening even before Covid – we’ve lots of other places that are now teetering on the brink of the same abyss that we fell into in 2018.    

DAVID ERDOS:  I’m sorry, I wasn’t aware. What was behind these stipulations? What caused it?

ALAN MOORE:  It was just chronic mismanagement by the council. The town went bankrupt. And this was why when we made our film, the council was so desperate for something to bring some potential money into Northampton, and some interest into Northampton, they gave us access to everywhere in town that we wanted and they even pointed out that they know that I don’t like them! And yet they stipulated that I could still say whatever I wanted to say about them and that this wouldn’t affect The film. And I said, that was very nice of them, but I was going to do that anyway! But they also gave us the old council building as our production offices. It was like being in a 1950s KGB building. But it was great! So, yes, this is what happened to Northampton, just a couple of years after the publication of Jerusalem.

DAVID ERDOS:  Without wishing to demean Northampton or anyone else in it, does this make you their Gold; are you their prime asset?

ALAN MOORE:  Well, I think we must be getting close. Me and –

DAVID ERDOS:  Your close associates…

ALAN MOORE:  And also a very cutting edge reincarnation of the Northampton shoe industry. Whereas once we made the shoes for the whole of Britain, certainly most of the time. I mean, we made all the boots for Oliver Cromwell’s army. And we also made all the boots for the confederates in the American Civil War. I presume we must have had a surplus of grey leather and stuff like that. We certainly seemed to know how to pick a winner!

DAVID ERDOS:  Well, rather those boots than Corby’s Weetabix factory, right?

ALAN MOORE:  Yeah. Both Corby and Kettering are teetering on the brink of lockdown, as are we. But I digress. Northampton has plunged into this – well, I mean its the first time in 35 years or something like that, that a town in the UK has gone bankrupt. And its the first one that has gone bankrupt because of austerity. But as I said, not the last. Like it, or not, it is the centre of the country in lots of ways and it’s an excellent barometer of what is coming too everywhere.

DAVID ERDOS:  Which brings me to the notion of visionaries. While there are many artists whose Work embodies a visionary status, very makers are as equal or as mythic as the work itself, at least in the minds of others. There’s you, Ballard, Heathcote Williams… How do you define a visionary in the full cultural meaning of that word?

ALAN MOORE:  Well, I’d say that with a visionary it’s always got to be personal. It’s got to be a personal vision. I think if you look under visionary in the dictionary you’ll see a picture of William Blake. He’s pretty much the archetypal visionary. As I’ve said elsewhere, human beings don’t come a lot better than Billy Blake. I suppose what this is connected to is finding a way of seeing. There was a performer called Nicholas Curry who worked under the name of Momus. Well, I remember one of his songs; there was a snatch of lyric that stayed with me: ‘I’m in love with everyone who knows its hard to find a way of seeing. Who knows that nevertheless that is the only way to flame into being.’ And I think that this is the important thing: to identify the way in which we see the world. And to then communicate that; to develop the skills that we will need to communicate that: Sing your particular song. Give your particular view of the world. And as far as I can see it, one subjective view of the world is not privileged over another. Everyone’s subjective reality is the entire universe. And they are constructing it entirely within the confines of their mind.

DAVID ERDOS:  That’s certainly a visionary way of looking at subjectivity, as subjectivity is the real problem in art, most evidently in poetry, where one person’s revelation is another’s indulgence. There was that famous debate some years back when the playwright David Hare posed the question as to whether Bob Dylan was a better Poet than Keats and how we might measure that view. People seem to have moved away from the notion of that battle somewhat, settling certainly in the mainstream for good old style over substance, or worse, blandery. I wondered if you felt that.

ALAN MOORE:  There’s always got to be some element of personal fire in amongst the elements of the work. You can have plenty of material and earthly structure in there, and you can have the air of intellect and you can have the fluids of emotion, but unless there’s some fire in there; a fire of vision, spirit, whatever you choose to call it…

DAVID ERDOS:  Which Jerusalem was a perfect example of, full as it was, with your own voice and fire. It felt as if you were doing something truly radical and personal, informed as it was by elements in your own family mythology and that of Northampton.

ALAN MOORE:  I suppose that as well as wanting to teach people a new way to read, and get them to perhaps raise their standards of reading, I wanted to show that you can do huge concepts and still communicate them, and where you can still tell what the person is talking about! But as well as that, I wanted to suggest new ways for people to write. I wanted to suggest that the novel was capable of much more than people give it credit for. I wanted to suggest, that no, there isn’t any reason why you can’t shove a strange, savage children’s narrative inbeween a relatively straightforward section of the book, and a wildly Avant garde and experimental section. And have it all still being in the same book. I wanted to show that you could skip from genre to medium at will. It could be a poem and it could be a play, or it could be a hard boiled detective story, or it could be any of these things.

DAVID ERDOS: It’s the 21st Century Tristam Shandy.

ALAN MOORE:  In some ways. That was an incredibly modern novel. One of the first and one of the first post modern.

DAVID ERDOS:  Do you think that we have the culture that deserves these advances? I have this standard that I apply in my own work across the mediums and forms that people don’t work hard enough or think fast enough. Do you agree?

ALAN MOORE:  I do. And I think people should be made to, simply because otherwise, they won’t enjoy it so much. I think that if the members of the audience are working as much as the artist is, or even just working a little bit to understand the work then it will be much more rewarding and make it much more personal to them. I think it’s what the audience need. So that is my only criteria for providing. It’s also what I believe.

 

DAVID ERDOS:  So I wonder to what extent the vision is served by the notion of entertainment. Its a common argument in theatre for instance that all you have to do is entertain. I’ve never believed that. I think the theatre has to include that of course but is actually  about something else: ideas, exploration, challenge, transformation. And that a play is a list of ever changing or uncharted decisions. It’s why I’m a great Pinterist. In his plays everything is both true and untrue at any given moment and you have to navigate each silence, and each mystification.

ALAN MOORE:  Of course I have great respect for Pinter as a dramatist. I am more of a Bertholt Brecht geezer. In that I – I mean, I’ve always liked Brecht, but I’ve only recently  realised in fact, how much my own methods were an unconscious approximation. I’d never heard about Brechtian alienation, until I realised it’s what I’ve been doing all my life. The thing about Brecht is that he took hugely difficult moral and political concerns, and he mashed them up with the most appalling and vulgar popular media; sing songs and cabaret..

DAVID ERDOS:  Shows about murderers, reprobates, prostitutes, tyrants, capitalists!

ALAN MOORE:  There are ways in which almost anything can be communicated, and I think the onus on us is that we can’t continually complain about the public, because they’re only responding to what they’ve been fed, and what they’ve been conditioned to like. We should be able to offer more tempting dishes with our culinary skills, and if we can’t make them irresistible enough, then that really is on us. Certainly, it would help and be encouraging to get more response from the audience out there, but I think its our fault, rather than theirs. Or, rather, that is the best way for us to regard it. That we should buck our ideas up and try a bit harder to captivate people.

DAVID ERDOS:  Yes, that’s the point. So often in theatre actors think it’s all about them, but its actually about the play or moment they’re serving.

ALAN MOORE:  Ah, now that is interesting as it’s a complete contrary to the stage directions for our  feature film.

DAVID ERDOS:   Right. THE SHOW..   (Alan’s film with the Director, Mitch Jenkins)

ALAN MOORE:  Yes, it’s called The Show and will be premiering at Sitges in Spain in October. I’ve just recorded a beguiling doorstep interview with Joe Brown that will be introducing the film over there, from here in semi-lockdown Northampton. With The Show we’re going for a new approach to realism. Though I think it will surprise anyone who’s seen anything of The Show, or heard about it, that this could be thought of as realism! One of the things was that we told all of the actors to act as if the entire show was about them and that they were the most important character, because then we thought that it should work just like real life. Because that’s the way we all behave in real life: it’s always about us. And that’s the way everybody’s behaving, as if its their movie. So we thought, why don’t we do a movie like that and see what happens and we embrace the fact that everybody is trying to steal the scene.

DAVID ERDOS:  Yes, there it’s part of the methodology. I suppose what I was referring to was this awful notion of ego and the situation where star or celebritised actors become more important than the work itself.

ALAN MOORE:  Sure. Everyone we had was lovely. And actually, I can take credit for some of that, because I am probably at least as famous as anyone else as anybody else on the film and so if I’m not acting like an arsehole then why should they? And I’m sure that none of them would.

DAVID ERDOS:  You’re the golden goose, Alan and the egg.

ALAN MOORE:  Let’s hope so.

DAVID ERDOS:  I rewatched The Show Pieces short films last night. So, The Show is a full length extension of  those? There’s more of Metterton and Matchbright and  the whole coterie? I’m not sure how much detail you want to reveal here…

ALAN MOORE:  Yeah, I’m quite prepared to give you some broad stuff. All the Show Pieces films take place on the night of the 2nd of November 2018. The feature film, The Show takes place on the morning of Saturday the 3rd of November, 2018. So, its somebody coming to town on matters that are related to the stuff that we saw in the showpieces films. It’s about their adventures when they arrive in the town on their   unusual mission.

DAVID ERDOS:  And does it involve all of the former characters from the Show pieces films?

ALAN MOORE:  Yes, well all of the characters in the Show Pieces films…

DAVID ERDOS:  Are dead!

ALAN MOORE:  Yes, they are dead, but that doesn’t stop them getting about. And they are in this film as well, but they were part of the dreaming underworld beneath Northampton. (Nighthampton) But this film, which takes place on the Saturday morning takes place in the real Northampton. Well, it’s not quite the real Northampton, but its our version, where we’ve got a whole bunch of new characters that we’re introducing, before re-introducing the characters that we have in the Dreamclub and then it all comes together in a satisfying finale, which nevertheless leaves the door wide open. In some ways the feature film is an incredibly lavish pilot episode for a possible TV series we’re wanting to do. I’ve written a rough outline for a thirty episode TV series. Though of course everything’s been put on hold by the pandemic. But yes, that’s certainly one of the things that I’m most interested in. I can’t wait for people to see this thing. It’s not going to be the best film ever made, but it’s going to be the sort of film that hopefully will be able to stop Northampton from completely collapsing into a black hole. I’ve tried to make this a very accessible, very funny, very commercial film, considering how incredibly fucking weird it is.

DAVID ERDOS:  Well, what’s wonderful about the short films is just how captivating they are on every level. Obviously, your views on filmic adaptations of your former work are well known, but what’s great here is that like Jerusalem reclaimed the Novel as a film, here you’re reclaiming film as the prime location for the imagination and using the scope and scale of a film to break through the homogenised deadlock that many mainstream films still find themselves in.

ALAN MORE:  One of the things I’m proud of is that our budget was so ridiculously low. The BFI offered us a million if we could find someone to match that. Then we had loads of people putting into the project and then pulling out again because they couldn’t get on with each other financially. And then we finally got backers who were putting what would have made us a £3.1 Million film, which is still not a huge amount of money, considering that it’s a film that has got quite a lot of stuff packed into it. And I was told it was going ahead, as by this time I was starting to despair of this thing ever seeing completion. Then I was told it was going ahead in October or November 2018.  I noticed that there were lots of producers who were hanging around early in the shoot, and who seemed to be scrutinising Mitch Jenkins very carefully. But we got through it at an incredible pace and were getting some great stuff, and so at the end of it, at the wrap party, which we had at a Northampton restaurant which has probably closed down since then, I said that I thought we’d done really well to do all that on 3.1 Million, and then Mitch said, well, actually we didn’t do it for 3.1 Million. We weren’t going to tell you, until afterwards, but apparently, all of the backers had pulled out at the last minute and that it was just that BFI One Million. Someone on the crew at the time had said that perhaps we should give it a year or two to get some more backers in? And then somebody else had chipped in and said, you do realise that if Alan Moore even hears about this conversation, we’ll never see him again!(LAUGHS) So, the BFI said, well, Ok, we’ll be keeping a very tight eye on you, but if you want to try and do it for a million, go ahead. Though it won’t of course be a million as one hundred thousand of that is tax breaks. So, yeah, we got the entire film done for nine hundred grand.

DAVID ERDOS:  That’s amazing. That would have been unheard of even thirty years ago, when you consider HandMade films etc…

ALAN MOORE:  It just shows what you can do if you’ve got an imagination and a decent script.

DAVID ERDOS:  Absolutely. And it also shows how morally irresponsible mainstream film has become. For the price of any low level blockbuster you could house the homeless in this country.

ALAN MOORE:   Yes. Its become obscene, where the budgets of some of these films are like the budgets of several third world nations. So, we’ve done a really low budget film that looks like a really expensive film, because we just put a lot of talent into it.

 

DAVID ERDOS:  Which seems to be the precept for most endeavours now. Style over substance has become more dominant in some quarters.

ALAN MOORE:  That’s it. I think ours is a good film in the real sense. I don’t know how it’s going to be distributed, but it will be launching as I said in Spain in October.

DAVID ERDOS:  You won’t need it, but anything I and we can do here to promote it, it goes without saying, just let us know.

ALAN MOORE:  That’s a lovely offer, David.

DAVID ERDOS:  It also connects back to what we were saying about visionary status. I don’t see the same kind of sustainable talents now like those who inspired me when I was a kid. Who are the new, or emergent visionaries now, that you recognise?

ALAN MOORE:  Well, let me think. Probably Steve Aylett.

DAVID ERDOS:  Of course…

ALAN MOORE:  He’s working towards a new collage comic that is going to be called Hyperthick and which is even more demented than the similar stuff he did for (Alan’s own magazine) Dodgem Logic. It’s brilliant.

DAVID ERDOS:  Heart of the Original, like all this work is breathtaking. Lint, Shamanspace, etc

ALAN MOORE: It’s a fantastic book. So yes, Steve Aylett.

DAVID ERDOS:  Yes but Steve is of an age, isn’t he? I mean I’m interested in your answer to this, as   I’m someone who taught all the disciplines; acting, writing, directing for many years, and began to come into contact with young people only interested in celebrity, or self promotion and who were less interested in expertise, context. I don’t think it happens in music, but in other forms, do you think there’s a different dynamic?

ALAN MOORE:  Yes, Steve is of an age, but of course a spring chicken next to myself. Steve was born   in 1967. As with Stewart Lee, a lot of these people were born, ironically, around the Summer of Love, and they’ve grown up to be cynical, hateful people! (GALES OF

                             LAUGHTER)

DAVID ERDOS:  Funny, that, Alan!

ALAN MOORE:  Yeah, I don’t know what’s happened there. Though, I would also like to talk about a very young man whose work I’ve been very impressed by. It’s a guy who wrote to me called Ben Wickey. It was one of the most intelligent letters that I’ve ever  received. He was talking about a project that he’s got, a comic strip about Salem. He’s already got to this credit that he was the artist on The Illustrated Vivien Stanshall, which was written by his widow, Kiki Longfellow-Stanshall. I’ve just finished reading that and it’s an incredible book. And Ben has also worked as an animator and done an animation film about Edward Gorey. But he was talking about this book about Salem and was mentioning of course Giles Corey who was crushed under paving slabs as a wizard at Salem. He was actually baptized, or christened at the font of the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, the round church in Sheep Street here. So, yes, he was a Northampton man. Apparently he was eighty when they piled the stones on top of him. And he took a fuck of a time to die. He was defiant to the end. His last words were: ‘More weight!’ Which is the title of Ben’s book. This won’t be available yet, but he’s just done seven copies of it, of which we were very grateful to receive one. That’s the first of two books that he’s written and illustrated, so he’s going to send that round. I mean, I am so far away from the comics field at the moment but that doesn’t mean that I will ever lose my respect for the comics medium. And Ben is doing some fantastic stuff in that regard. But yeah, there are people around in every field, who even if you are not seeing their work very much, that’s only to be expected. But they’re there and they are working towards some sort of a future. I think we’ve got time for one more question, if that’s alright with you, David?

DAVID ERDOS:  Of course. Do you think then, that it’s about reaching large groups of people anymore, or is that future more about finding widespread and more selective groups? As a way of starting that culture again. Do you think that we need to start that culture again?

ALAN MOORE:  Hmmn. Well, I myself would like to see a material culture. This might be because of my own prejudices. But I think you’ve got to have material culture before you can have material counter-culture. I think the idea of magazines is a great one. Maybe this is never coming back, but it struck me recently that the way that I and many of the people I knew managed to find ourselves in our current positions, or got to the point that we wanted to get to in life; a lot of the ways we used, are simply not there anymore. I was asked to do an intro for a very very good biography of Malcolm Mclaren that came out recently, and it occurred to me while I was reading it, that there was a particular scaffolding that enabled us to climb into those positions. It was Art Schools, Arts Labs, in my own case, to start with; the underground press, which then vanished, or at least the national underground press did. By which time there were poetry magazines, and they endured while there was the brilliant poetry boom of the sixties and seventies. Then there were regional alternative papers… then there were regional newspapers, whether they were alternative or not..there  was the music press, which was one the ways I got into being an artist and writer. But all of the ways, all of the steps, all of the handholds that got me to where I am don’t exist anymore. And I am suspicious of the fact that the modern handhold are all owned by some tech company or other. I mean, I was talking to my grandson, one of my grandchildren, and he was talking about how at the moment he’s looking forward to becoming a Youtuber! I mean, he’s ten, you know..but then my daughter Amber who was in the background chipped in and said that maybe having your own Youtube channel was like having your own fanzine! And when I was talking to Jarett Kobek the other night he was talking about how he had started a book about Youtubers, and the tragic stories of a number of them, as he was saying that for a lot of these kids, unless they become one of the successful Youtubers, all they’re going to be or have are all of the disadvantages of being well known and none of the advantages. I mean, a lot of them  – and I wasn’t talking about this to my grandson – but a lot of them have suicided. And Jared said, and this is very unlike him, that he gave up writing the book because it was just too depressing. He couldn’t actually face doing it anymore as it was making him feel terrible about humanity. So, yes, I’ve got my reservations about all the modern media. I would probably greatly prefer a return to material media, because I think when you’ve not got that physical artefact the atmosphere behind a counter-culture suffers. It’s an intangible and ephemeral feeling that needs something physical to actually coalesce around. There’s a number  of problems that I have with virtual online culture. I can’t really comment on it much because I’m not part of it. But I’m not part of it for a reason. So, I really applaud any attempt to do print media, because I think people want them. It’s like vinyl albums…

DAVID ERDOS:  The future is still in the past!

ALAN MOORE:  Yes, I think it is. And we should also not assume that every new thing is progress. It might just be a new thing! It doesn’t mean that it’s better than what came before.

DAVID ERDOS:  Yes, it’s the blu—ray argument, isn’t it? I don’t need to see the acne on the face of the crowd, it’s the beauty and composition of the image that’s important. Or the HD thing; it doesn’t look real, it’s actually a form of distortion!

ALAN MOORE:  Low tech offered lots of interesting ideas that were needlessly abandoned and we could still go back to them.

DAVID ERDOS:  Substance prevails.

ALAN MOORE:  Exactly. At the end of the day, it does.

DAVID ERDOS:   Well, that’s a wonderful place to end, Alan especially for an interview that will appear in a magazine and actual paper object. Thanks so much.

ALAN MOORE:  No problem at all, David. And best of luck with it all.

DAVID ERDOS:  One last thing I wanted to say to you is simple and heartfelt and also straight from the gut. For the vision you’ve shown over all of your work, both you and that work are deeply treasured, valued and loved.

ALAN MOORE:  Well, thank you. That’s very much appreciated, David. And love straight back at everyone. Take care.

DAVID ERDOS:  And with that, all was done. But the vision contines. Moore waits for no man. But let us all wait with him.

 

Written by David Erdos

Photos by Joe Brown

                                                                            

 

Jordan

 

 

 

 

 

1955-2022

R.I.P.