Theresa Stadft is one of the many artists who make up the underground of the underground, the sub-stratum of people who are almost completely unknown to anyone outside their social circle. With a few exceptions, she has always limited distributing her work to a group of her friends by cassette, later CD-R, and most recently downloads out of her Dropbox account. Her most public appearance was playing bass in the early 2000s in the psychedelic noise outfit StarCat1000AD, whose songs ‘Down and Out in Pakuranga and ‘Garbage Eating Wasters’ featured on the Auckland student radio top ten playlist. (The band ended when Theresa and another member of the band were arrested and jailed in a drugs bust). Continue reading
For the last few years I’ve had the dubious honour, and guilty pleasure, of DJing in a popular bar. The bar sits at a promising but also slightly uncomfortable intersection between young people expecting interesting non-mainstream culture/music/hipsterdom and young people out to get drunk and laid. Depending on the bands that are on beforehand, there might also be similarly-minded older people. As a DJ, I task myself to provide a good party soundtrack for all and sundry – not too obvious, but with enough recognisability to occasionally re-energise the dancefloor when there is a lull. Continue reading
As 2011 and 2012 slowly unravelled in their summery ways, Greta Van Newtown gave us all the great gift of the CD-Rs “Meowy Xmas 2011” and “Meowy Xmas 2012”, both released on the Van Newtown’s Sloth Recordings imprint.
Packaged in Sloth recordings signature recycled soymilk carton silver, MX’11 is bedecked with occult symbols and a picture of Meowy Xmas visionary Greta in full metal pierrot-cat makeup, and on MX’12, as pictured above, in full metal leopard print. Continue reading
Fukeiki noise tours: Tokushima edition
Japan after two lost decades and a stuttering recovery – no one wants to pay to hear you pump your tinny noise through some crappy little livehouse PA. You can’t afford those deluxe reissues with 180 gram slabs, gatefold sleeves. You want to go to the concert by the touring bigshot sound artist but you balk at the door charge. During such an ongoing economic malaise, it’s only natural to consider noise that’s free-as-in-beer as well as free-as-in-manifesto. “Wait,” you might say, “have you heard of downloading?” Well, I can’t download the 60 bucks to get into the Phil Niblock concert can I now smarty-pants?
The Society for Cutting Up Venues Manifesto as written by Ducklingmonster in collaboration with Uniform.
- !No Venues!
- Do not pay to play.
- Use ALL of a space – play in the windows, stairwells, cubby holes, car park, roof top, middle of the room, in the corner, in front of a film, behind a curtain, whatever! Play the sonic architecture / ride the lightning. As a performer you should be allowed to define your performance and that includes using a space how you want. Continue reading
In Renegade Scanners’ album “Hands on Future”, simple rock structures are flooded with melody. The sounds on this album are familiar: analogue synthesizer, blues scales, and straightforward rock drumming. But thanks to Jakob Olausson’s sweet lyricism, the sum of each song exceeds the parts.
Experimental music is about innovation and the revival of taonga puoro (traditional Maori musical instruments) is about tradition. Yet a large part of reclaiming, re-learning, rediscovering and reviving the traditions of taonga puoro has come out of improvisation. Improvising construction, improvising playing methods and styles, improvising how something should sound according to specific memories of people present and passed, improvising whole instruments from scant and rare, or singular, historical descriptions, and sometimes even improvising on knowledge when large parts of accounts have been mislaid/covered over (lost).
Sound surrounds us and inhabits us as we inhabit it. A never ending song that sings itself in a cacophony of frequencies – white noise, harmonics, interference and otherwise.
The slow throbbing undulations of the earth beneath our feet, as it moves through geological time. Our hearts beating in our chest – that proverbial drum beat – the oscillations of electric signals pulsing through our brains.
Earlier this year, I was fortunate enough to see an exhibition in London at a gallery called Calvert 22. The show was called ‘Sounding the Body Electric: Experiments in Art and Music in Eastern Europe 1957–1984,’ and it focused primarily on innovations in Sound Art and experimental audio practices, comprising prepared records, graphic scores, video and audio pieces, performances, kinetic sculpture and works with voice.