I’ve always been very partial to the whole genre of Moog music. Late 60s and early 70s Moog records sound like white molded plastic chairs look. Fifty years on and those albums still sound futuristic. And totally artificial. To my mind, the sound of analog synthesizers make the perfect soundtrack for one’s aesthetic life, or at least mine. No really, if I go into a record store that has a selection of vintage Moog and exotica albums, I’m drawn to that first. It’s not like there’s many Moog albums I don’t already have, but hope springs eternal that I will find a “Switched On” something or other that I didn’t know existed.
My Moog bonafides are deep. Given an opportunity to do a compilation via Sony 20 years ago, I pitched a CD titled Best of Moog and they went for it. (Sadly six of what I considered absolute must-have key tracks were denied. Wendy Carlos actually hung up on me when I requested her cover of “What’s New Pussycat?” and I also had to make do with nothing from Mike Melvoin’s The Plastic Cow Goes Moog and no Mort Garson either—I wanted his cover of “Hair”—which was a drag.)
Which brings me to the new Mort Garson compilation, Music From Patch Cord Productions, released by the Sacred Bones record label. It’s fantastic, highly enjoyable. If you are already a Mort Garson aficionado, this will thrill you, and if you are new to Garson’s uniquely idiosyncratic work, this collection of sci-fi movie themes, radio ads, robotic disco, a wonderfully kooky stab at aural erotica along with alt versions of numbers from Garson’s 1976 classic Mother Earth’s Plantasia, is a decent place to start. It has a nice flow and is sequenced well, as if by a skilled DJ. It finishes up with a stellar Moog rendition of the Frankie Valli hit, “Our Day Will Come,” which surprise, surprise, was actually composed by Garson himself. It comes in a handsome retro package perfectly suited to the music within.
South Carolina-based filmmaker Christopher Bickel’s first film, the widely praised The Theta Girl, was released three years ago. Bickel recently unleashed a trailer for his second film, Bad Girls. The pandemic’s effects changed everything for everyone, but thankfully, with many of his original cast and crew from The Theta Girl, the film is on target to see the light of day in 2021. When the trailer was released, Bickel launched an Indiegogo page to help raise a modest amount of funds to help cover some of the film’s costs, which had a budget of 16K. The response was enthusiastic and, to date, has raised just over $10K. This does not include the cost of distributing Bad Girls, as in Bickel’s own words, they intend to stay true to their “DIY punk rock roots.” Here’s a bit from Bickel’s Indiegogo page that echoes this sentiment and helps give you a little insight as to what you can expect from Bad Girls:
“Citing influences as diverse as Jack Hill, Russ Meyer, Gregg Araki, R. Kern, David Lynch, Monte Hellman, Sam Peckinpah, John Waters, and Robert Downey (Sr.), we have crafted a vision more than just the sum parts of those influences. More than anything, it was probably the get-it-done-cheap lessons of Roger Corman that were the guiding light of this picture. This is a punk rock demo tape of a movie made for people who love punk rock demo tapes and movies.”
If you’re nodding your head because you too love punk rock demo tapes and movies, I get it because I love both of those things too. Also, if Christopher Bickel’s name is familiar to our Dangerous Minds regulars, he spent a few years here as a popular contributor. Since Christopher and I go back a bit, I called him (yes, on the phone) and had a chat about Bad Girls. Who knew it would be so much fun to pick the brains of someone who likes to blow brains up on screen? Well, I did.
DM: When an art form is censored, that inevitably creates an underground movement. Your first film, The Theta Girl, utilized a few perceived cinematic “taboos” such as full-frontal nudity and nude scenes with people of all sizes and colors. As the leader of a collective of creative people working to subvert the norm, what did you do in Bad Girls to keep that vibe going?
Christopher Bickel: I don’t think there are any taboos left—everything’s been done. When you’re creating something new, you’re drawing from ideas you’ve seen before. If there is anything about this movie that sets it apart from anything else, it’s a different reconstitution. There are some elements that may shock people, but it’s presented in a unique way.
DM: The response to the PR for Bad Girls has been exciting to watch. Tell me a little about some of the artists you used to create posters and other artifacts for the film, and how some of their bold visuals were incorporated.
Christopher Bickel: We got really lucky with (poster artist) Ethan Hanson, as he was just a guy I knew from Columbia who was making films, and eventually moved to the West Coast to be a graphic artist. His short film The Checkout Line blew me away and it’s where I really fell in love with the acting of Jonathan Benton, who I ended up casting as “Rusty” in Bad Girls. Hanson’s portfolio is jaw-dropping and his work on the Bad Girls art gives me a Michael Mann vibe. After seeing The Theta Girl, we got together, and I offered him some creative advice, and I think contributing his artwork to Bad Girls was his way of saying thanks. It also makes Bad Girls look like “an actual real movie.” I was introduced to Corinne Halbert by Christina Ward of Feral House and I just fell in love with her work instantly. It really captures the anarchic spirit of the film.
‘Bad Girls’ poster by artist and filmmaker Ethan Hanson.
DM: You and your crew came up with some creative, special effects for Bad Girls. I’m wondering if you might have any behind-the-scenes stories to share about the effects you created for Bad Girls. Kind of like along the lines of when Dan O’Bannon paid bonuses to members of his The Return of the Living Dead crew if they would eat calf brains to help increase the authenticity of the zombie scenes?
Christopher Bickel: Well, I knew I wanted a baby to be “accidentally” blown up with a shotgun in Bad Girls so I was trying to figure out how to actually do that. Then I remembered the scene from David Cronenberg’s 1981 film Scanners when they blew up the first scanners’ head (played by unfortunate Canadian actor Louis Del Grande). They eventually figured that getting that kind of effect would need use of a shotgun. So we did the same thing, and I insisted on doing that stunt myself. There’s a definite danger element in a stunt like that. I set up a barrier and cleared the set and we did it. I believe you need to have those “what did I just see?” moments in a film around every ten minutes.
DM: You took on a lot of responsibility with The Theta Girl beyond directing it, such as the film’s cinematography, some of the sound/music, the arduous process of editing and providing some of the funding for the film. What was the scope of your “job” this time around?
Christopher Bickel: In a way, I did way more this time. I didn’t write The Theta Girl. But this one I did co-write with Shane Silman. One thing I learned was it is hard to direct and shoot at the same time. You’re either paying attention to the frame or the performance and if you’re too involved with one you’re not paying attention to the other. For Bad Girls, I was running a second camera next to my director of photography, Stephen Nemeth, the entire time so we could capture two different angles. So I ended up in the same boat I was in with The Theta Girl—doing too much. I always try to follow the Roger Corman lesson, which I believe is something like “do whatever you have to do to get things done in the time you have.” So most times that means wearing a lot of different hats.
DM: You had over sixty cast and crew members working on The Theta Girl. Did many of them return to work with you on Bad Girls?
Christopher Bickel: Yeah. At least four actors from Theta Girl returned for this one. I like the idea of having a John Waters “Dreamland” sort of group who come back to work on each project.
DM: Did you actually destroy actor and co-writer of Bad Girls’ Shane Silman—as Danny Lucifer’s—house? I have to know!
Christopher Bickel: The place that played the part of Danny’s house was filmed using three different houses. Two different interiors and one exterior location. We lit a controlled fire that appeared to burn in a house but wasn’t in an actual house. So, technically that’s four locations. We shot the exteriors of the police siege in the front yard of one of our producers, Stephan. His neighbors were… not too happy. I was actually hoping they would call the cops because I needed a shot of some cop cars!
If this all sounds pretty great to you, then you clearly appreciate films with a penchant for bloodshed and roving female gangs out for blood. To learn more about Bad Girls or to help support the film (which will get you some very cool campaign presents, like signed Blu-rays, a t-shirt featuring artist Corinne Halford’s incredible Bad Girls design or more, visit the Bad GirlsIndiegogo page. In the meantime, take enjoy some of the stills and promotional images for the film, then turn up your speakers and set up a splash guard while you check out the trailer for Bad Girls!
(Above and below) Two vintage-looking ‘Bad Girls’ lobby card done by director Christopher Bickel.
The festive-sounding fictional punk band Christmas Tits from ‘Bad Girls.’
A still from ‘Bad Girls’ featuring director Bickel as a cop. The film also features several classic cars from Gate Keeper Corvette Gasser owned by Rob Tansey and Shauna Morgan Brown. The pair also did the stunt driving in ‘Bad Girls.’
Bad Girls SMASH!
Actress Sanethia Dresch in action.
Actress Morgan Shaley Renew in a still from ‘Bad Girls.’
Like a late-night transmission from a long-dormant UHF station, a new Cabaret Voltaire LP is beaming from Sheffield on November 20 to succor Dangerous Minds readers during these trying times. Shadow of Fear, the Cabs’ first new release since 1994’s The Conversation, is also the first we’ve heard from the band since founding member Richard H. Kirk resurrected the name for the 2014 Berlin Atonal festival and subsequent live performances in happy European cities.
I caught up with RHK by phone last week. Despite a historically bad connection, I managed to learn a few things about Shadow of Fear, the new incarnation of Cabaret Voltaire, and Kirk’s welcome plans to release two more new Cabs albums and a twelve-inch single next year. An edited transcript of our conversation follows.
Richard H. Kirk (Courtesy of Mute)
How has the last year been?
Um, pretty boring. I mean, I was lucky, insomuch that I managed to get all of my recording finished just as the lockdown was coming in in England, so, you know, that was something. But pretty much since I finished recording the new album… I’ve got a couple of guys who I work with on the artwork, so next thing I was into that, and then afterwards it was mastering.
So it’s been pretty boring, you know? Not particularly nice weather, um, and, you know, now lockdown again. [laughter] I mean, I haven’t been out of the house since January.
Wow.
Well, back in January I got sick with some kind of bug which was suspiciously… it felt like it could be COVID. But I was unwell for about six weeks, and then I finally came back from it, so I just didn’t feel it was advisable to go out. I mean, I’m lucky; I have a garden, so I’m not kind of [stuck] indoors.
I just feel like, over the summer, people went a bit too crazy. They lifted the lockdown, started encouraging people to go to pubs, restaurants, and that’s all kind of kicked back in, you know? It’s still out there.
I saw a lot of pictures in the media of people on beaches.
I mean, I’m 64 and also, I smoke, and I figure that I could be a good candidate [laughs] for illness, so I just have to be patient. They just announced some sort of vaccine today in the UK, but I don’t know whether I believe much of what’s on the news media anymore.
You’ve always been a skeptical consumer of media, right?
Totally, news.
If not for COVID, would you have been out on the road this year? Did you have plans to tour?
Yeah, I mean, there were a couple of possibilities for Europe. I think one was in the Czech Republic and one in Spain. But in the end, you know, it was October, and I just thought, I don’t think it’s gonna [work]. I’d love to be out there. I get the opportunity to travel around Europe, so, I really enjoy that, but at the moment I’m kind of stuck—stuck in Sheffield. Next year, things might be better, but there’s no guarantee about that.
Can you tell me about the process of making the record?
Okay, so, the tracks I started to write back in 2014, when I did the first Cabaret Voltaire show for twenty-something years, and it just built from there, basically. Over a five-year period, I had about three hours’ worth of material that I’ve been using for the live shows. And then in September of last year, I started to assemble it into the album, just making overdubs and removing things generally. Trying to make something that was a live experience into something that could be played as an album and repeatedly listened to.
I don’t want to pry too much, but the bio mentions that you had computer problems, so I’m curious what your setup is.
Okay, well, I have like a very old ProTools system on a Mac G4 which is twenty years old, so even my computer equipment is vintage. [laughter] But I decided to buy a MacBook Pro, and I was gonna get, like, Ableton, or another program called Reaper that’s very cheap and apparently very good. [So I bought my] MacBook, and I was just about to order the software, and I noticed that the USB ports didn’t work. So I took the computer to a repair place, and they said that it looked like someone had spilled a cup of coffee in there, into the circuit boards. So I sent it back and got a refund and just decided to work with [the G4]... you know, because I’d spent a long time looking into different setups and talking to various people who might recommend some different ways of working, and then I just got fed up, and decided “I’ll work with what I have.” And it turned out good for me in the end.
Yeah, I like this record very much. Do you play guitar on it at all?
Sure, there’s quite a bit of guitar on about three or four tracks that spring to mind. Maybe four tracks or something.
And these are pieces that you came up with playing at festivals, right? Starting with the Berlin show, and then you built it up as you did the festivals?
Yeah. I was writing new tracks when I usually went to a different place. Also I used a lot of ambient and tonal material in the live shows, like drones, so I kind of kept expanding upon that as well. There was way too much for an album. So apparently I’m okay to mention that there are gonna be two more albums and a twelve-inch single in the new year.
Oh, that’s wonderful!
Well, uh, you haven’t heard it yet. [laughter] The two albums are kind of drones, like sixty-minute tracks, very electronic, no beats, just kinda head music, which was a total contrast to what I did for the first piece. And the twelve-inch single is kind of, not techno, but more dance-orientated, but didn’t really work within the context of Shadow of Fear, so I thought it would be nice to make that a separate release just on twelve-inch vinyl. So yeah, there’s more to it than meets the eye.
When I was listening to Shadow of Fear, I imagined a visual accompaniment to it when you see it live. Is there a video or film component?
I mean, I used these screen visuals for the live shows, but none of it was synced up. It exists, but not as yet in conjunction with the music, and I think the problem… it’s kind of one thing to do it live, but there’s so much copyright material in there, I think if I tried to release it on a DVD or as a film, I could end up with some legal problems. [laughs] But I don’t know, maybe at some point in the future, it may be something that could happen, but at the moment it’s just straight-ahead music.
You always handled that aspect of the band, right? Didn’t you create the video component of the live show?
Yeah, I mean, that’s one of the things that I did throughout Cabaret Voltaire. Originally it was, like, Super 8 and standard 8 film, and then, in the early Eighties, video. I didn’t make the promos. We worked with a guy called Peter Care who now is based out in Los Angeles, and he made a lot of the long-form videos with us, some we edited, some he edited. But the live visuals always kind of had more to do with what I did. That was a kind of continuation, just with more screens and larger screens.
As a fan of Cabaret Voltaire, I always thought of it as a kind of information service, maybe in part because of what you did with Doublevision. I wanted to ask you where you go for information and culture.
Oh my God! I mean, I don’t use social media at all, you know, I don’t have any of my own channels. If I’m honest, I have fun trying to decode mainstream media, i.e., television. I’m still with television and radio, but I do use certain things; I do find the internet useful. But I wouldn’t rely on it for a lot of things. Maybe some years back, you know, it was easier to find some clarity and some truth, but, I mean, what can I say. The last four years of Mr. Trump and fake news hasn’t really helped, shall we say.
No, it’s one of the things that’s really worrying about a vaccine, because if a large percentage of people in America or the UK don’t believe the vaccine works, or think it’s nefarious, it will be much harder to get rid of the virus.
Totally, totally. But then again, who knows? Like, they say that this virus originated in bats. You know, we might end up with a load of vampires! [laughter] People start mutating. But, I mean, they say that the one they have, the one they’re gonna use here, they’ve tested it, and I assume that means at least no one’s died who’s been given it.
But yeah, I totally agree with what you’re saying about whether people will trust it. Especially if there are voices shouting loud that you shouldn’t, you know?
There’s something about the early days of industrial music—I feel that you all approached music-making as a form of counter-propaganda, if that makes sense to you. Do you think of Cabaret Voltaire as still having that function?
I think, if not that exact function, then something very similar. Maybe it’s more evident in the live shows. But it’s difficult to explain. It’s nice to ask some questions in there, if you get what I’m saying, without being too specific, too blatant about it.
Raising doubts?
Yeah, that would be a good way to put it. And just, I don’t know, taking the piss out of establishment values. It was a big thing with the Surrealists, and I still hold true to that, you know?
Richard, did you have anything else you wanted to say about this record?
Not particularly. I hope that it can speak for itself. It’s not a piece of COVID propaganda or something, it’s just about the dark times we seem to have entered in recent years. It’s almost like, especially with the news media, everything seems to be a threat to people of one type or another, whether it’s Al-Qaeda, Islamic State, the coronavirus, you name it, there’s a very long list. I often wonder, why do they do this to us? Why should everybody be scared?
I’m a bit relieved that Trump didn’t win another four years, because in England things are—kinda like a right-wing government, and if you look back to the 1920s and what happened in Germany, and the notion that immigrants are scapegoats, and like basically if you create a situation of chaos, then what it needs is a strongman to come in and take charge. And we all know who the strongman was in Germany, we know how that went. So the way this thing has been going, you can’t help thinking about how we ended up with the Nazis, and are we going to end up with them again? But I don’t know, maybe things might change now.
I totally agree with you. That was Trump’s strategy over the summer, was to try to make the protests as violent as possible so that he could then appear to be the person restoring law and order to the country.
Strange way to do it. [laughter]
It’s like a protection racket.
Yeah. Yeah, totally. And you’ve got a few people in Europe, very right-wing leaders, and I’m just wondering now whether we might see the domino effect now that the main protagonist is exiting stage left, hopefully.
Hopefully.
Well, yeah. I just got some news earlier, and he’s mounting his legal challenges. I mean, I was watching the news over the past couple of days, and they just had this bedraggled figure in a baseball cap swinging at a golf ball on one of his fucking golf ranges. [laughter] It just looks so sad, you know? All on his own.
I don’t know, I don’t think he’s been right since he supposedly had the coronavirus and then they gave him a load of steroids. I think something went a bit astray.
I think the guy’s in denial. He needs to do the right thing and let someone else clear up his mess.
Thank you for talking with me, Richard, I’m a huge fan of your music. I hope you’re able to tour sometime soon so I can see you play.
Well, now that things have changed in America, you might even see me make my way across the Atlantic, you know? I look at a lot of news footage, and those mass shootings, you know, it just seemed at one point, America just seemed, like, very dangerous. I don’t know, maybe I’m just seeing the worst and not the best.
You know, and then there’s all the police beating and murdering Black people. I mean, for fuck’s sake, man, you know?
It doesn’t make you want to visit?
Well, not up until the recent change of leadership. It’s a long time since I’ve been to America. I think 1991 was the last. I think I went to Montreal in the year 2000, but that’s Canada.
Was that a solo gig?
Yeah, it was. I played at FCMM film festival. It’s really good, a really good festival. I’ve had one or two requests, but the problem is I don’t like to fly. Some guys, they were trying to get me on a cargo boat, but it took like two weeks or something.
That’s a long trip.
Well, it is on a cargo boat. [laughter]
Probably not a lot of amenities.
No. [laughter] So, we’ll see. It would be great to get back out and play some more live shows, but by that time I will have written new work anyway, so it would be a combination of existing things from the new album and then a bunch of new stuff.
“Epidemiology and microbiology are better guides to our future than any of our hopes or plans,” the philosopher John Gray wrote nearly 20 years ago in Straw Dogs: Thoughts on Humans and Other Animals. Anyone who entered 2020 with hopes and plans has seen these words vividly illustrated.
Gray’s work makes a strong case that our species is incorrigibly irrational, and it raises questions about humanist beliefs that should be particularly important for those of us on the political left to consider. Among his books are False Dawn: The Delusions of Global Capitalism, Black Mass: Apocalyptic Religion and the Death of Utopia, The Silence of Animals: On Progress and Other Modern Myths, and Seven Types of Atheism.
In his latest, Feline Philosophy, Gray pursues the deep interest in the nonhuman world that makes his critique of humanism so sharp in fang and claw. Through his reading of Montaigne, Pascal, the Stoics and Epicureans, and Spinoza, as well as literary writers from Dr. Johnson to Mary Gaitskill, Gray considers what cats have to teach us about philosophy and the good life. As I write this, the hardcover edition of the book is #15 on Amazon’s “New Releases in Philosophy” list and #1 in “New Releases in Cat Care.”
John Gray answered a few of my questions about cats by email in October.
John Gray (photo by Justine Stoddart)
While Feline Philosophy returns to questions that will be familiar to readers of your work, it seems different in some ways from anything else you have published. How did you come to write this book?
I’ve been thinking of writing a book on cats for many years. I’ve always wondered what philosophy would be like if it wasn’t so human-centred. Among all the animals that have cohabited with humans cats resemble us least, so it seemed natural to ask what a feline philosophy would be like. My book is an attempt at answering this question, and tries to imagine how a feline creature equipped with powers of abstraction would think about death, ethics, the nature of love and the meaning of life.
The book is also an ode to cats, expressing my admiration for their life-affirming capacity for happiness and their courage in living their lives without distractions or consolations.
Do you live with cats? Have you always? Can you tell us about a particular cat you have known?
My wife and I lived with four cats over the past thirty years, two Burmese sisters and two Birman brothers. For some years they all lived contentedly together, until mortality began to take its toll on them. The last of them, Julian, died on Xmas Eve 2019 in his 23rd year. He was perhaps the most tranquil of all four, and even when old and a little frail seemed to enjoy every hour of his life.
The most companionable was Sophie, who passed away at the age of 13 around seventeen years ago. She was extraordinarily intelligent and extremely subtle in her insight into the human mind, and very loving.
Why don’t cats share humans’ concern with making the world a better place?
Because they are happy. Wanting to improve the world is a displacement of the impulse to improve yourself. But cats are not inwardly divided as humans tend to be, and don’t want to be anything other than what they already are, so the idea of improving the world doesn’t occur to them. If it did, I suspect they would dismiss it as an uninteresting fantasy.
Your writing often deals with distressing truths about human beings, such as their capacity for cruelty and self-delusion. It can be upsetting. But I read Feline Philosophy with a feeling of serenity, which I attribute to cats’ total incapacity for cruelty or self-delusion. Does contemplating cats provide you relief from thinking about human affairs?
Cats are a window looking out of the human world, so I suppose that’s one reason I love being with them. I think they also help me look at the human world as if from their eyes, with tranquil detachment and a certain incredulity.
Do you know of any works of art that plausibly represent the mental experience of cats, or any other nonhuman animals?
I don’t know of any art works that capture the mental experience of cats. Whether literary or visual, they would be very difficult to produce. There are some books that try to enter into the inner world of dogs, the best of which seems to me to be Sirius (1944) by the British science fiction writer Olaf Stapledon. Perhaps the most brilliant book I know that tries to enter into a nonhuman mind is the Polish writer Andrzej Zaniewski’s Rat (1994).
You suggest that cats’ independence arouses envy and hatred in the people who torture them. Is this a culturally specific diagnosis, or do you think all cat torturers share these motives?
By no means all unhappy people hate and envy cats, but I think pretty well all of those who do are unhappy. That seems to be a universal truth.
I was surprised to learn recently that one of my closest friends, who is a committed vegan and supporter of animal rights, is a cat-hater. When I asked him why, he talked about his love of birds. Can there be meaningful ethical standards for nonhuman animals’ behavior?
I can’t speculate as to why your friend feels as he does, but it may be the innocence with which cats kill and devour other living things that offends him. Perhaps he’d like the natural world to conform to human values, which for me would be a kind of Hell.
I’m not persuaded that it is the well-being of birds that he cares about. Birds are also innocent killers, after all. The British writer J.A. Baker, who in his shamanistic masterpiece The Peregrine (1967), described ten years of his life attempting to inhabit the life of a falcon, loved the bird partly because it lived according to its nature as a predator.
The Cynics took their name from Diogenes’ epithet, “the dog.” Why haven’t any philosophers styled themselves after cats?
That’s a very good question. I don’t know a good answer, but possibly philosophers suspect that cats don’t need them.
As a reader of your work, I am very happy to have finally gotten a list of tips for living well from you. Are there any prescriptive philosophies that have helped you conduct your own life?
No, I can’t think of any prescriptive philosophies that have influenced me. In the early Seventies I met Isaiah Berlin, and talked with him regularly until his death in 1997. His value-pluralist philosophy of competing and often incommensurable values strengthened my suspicion of any strongly prescriptive ethics. In recent years I’ve been more and more influenced by Montaigne, whose scepticism about philosophy as a guide to life appeals to me greatly.
My ten feline hints for living well are of course meant playfully, as examples of feline philosophy. But they might not do much harm if taken seriously.
Feline Philosophy, already out in the UK, will be published in the US and Canada on November 24.
The legendary Jad Fair blesses us with a new album in 2020. Here’s “Undisputed Champions,” a preview of the upcoming Half Japanese album Crazy Hearts, due out on December 4th.
The video was animated by Jad himself who says:
“Undefeated, undisputed, undeniable, unstoppable,
Untoppable, unflappable and unquestionably great.
Take a pen and underline the word great. To quote
The Beatles ‘All you need is love.’ To quote me
‘Damn straight.’ Celebrate the celebration. Bravo
The undisputed champions.”
The album will be available on see-through turquoise vinyl and CD. Preorder Crazy Heartshere.
Just one listen and after that, Jane Weaver’s latest, a funky, catchy-as-hell song called “The Revolution of Super Visions” was playing on a loop in my head. Happily so. It’s from her forthcoming album, Flock, which comes out next year.
Jane says:
“The revolution accidentally happens because so many people visualise the same ideals and something supernatural occurs. Everyone is exhausted with social media, inequality and the toxic masculinity of world leaders contributing to a dying planet.”
Lee Mann, the video’s director, tells us:
Our protagonist (played by Matt Raikes aka rapper Burgundy Blood) is blissfully unaware that he has been lured into a trap at the opening party of an art exhibition. He is the only male in the gallery and he arrives as a player, a self made playboy, confident and weighing up his options but he slowly realises his perceived power is diminishing as he starts to experience psychic attacks from the women gathered at the gallery. The idea of psychic attack is based on occultist and writer Dion Fortune’s book Psychic Self-Defense, first published in 1930. Fortune’s classic book teaches the art of protecting yourself against paranormal attack, something our protagonist clearly knows nothing about.
The world-famous, household names behind this don’t want their identities revealed just yet, but it shouldn’t be all that difficult to guess who they might be!
I have loved and revered Julian Cope since I was a teenager with a keen interest in LSD listening to the Teardrop Explodes. He’s one of my biggest heroes. The guy’s as cool as anyone’s ever been, he doesn’t care what you think about him and he has the best guitar riffs since the Kinks. I’ve seen him in concert four times, read all of his books and I interviewed him once around the time Peggy Suicide was released, in 1991. He was a fascinating person to talk to, full of energy, his mind wandering off in every direction at once. My guess is also that he was probably pretty stoned that day!
My friend Wm. Ferguson (now a longtime editor at the NY Times) and I met the Arch Drude at the Island Records offices near Tower Records in lower Manhattan. During the interview Cope told us about the mystical experience he had that led to his vision of the earth dying that inspired Peggy Suicide’s somewhat bleak environmentalist message. I recall that we discussed Madame Blavatsky’s Baboon which he and I had both read and he compared the physical sensation of his mystic moment to the first time a pubescent boy masturbates, not quite pleasurable and very confusing, a sort of mental orgasm felt in the brain. I asked him if he felt conflicted about bringing a child into a world—his wife Dorian was then pregnant with their first daughter—that he so obviously thought was in its terminal stages. He paused and said, “Well, yeah the world is fucked, but it’s not THAT fucked that it can’t be saved, certainly. We’ve got to try.” I then voiced my own skepticism about bring new life into the world—I was 25 at the time—and he said something that I will never forget and have repeated to friends who are expecting children several times:
“If people like you and I stop having children, we’ve ceded our world to the idiots. All intelligent people should have as many babies as possible to prevent all the thick, ungroovy Christians from taking over.”
When we were leaving, I mentioned in passing that I’d seen the infamous Hammersmith Palais show of his first UK solo tour in 1984, a concert that saw Cope performing a bloody act of self-mutilation. During the encore of “Reynard the Fox,” Cope snapped his mike-stand in half and proceeded to rake the jagged edge across his chest, back and stomach drawing lots of blood and generally freaking out the entire audience! Up until the very end it had been a slick, professional rock show. A girl standing near me puked when she saw what he had done. It cemented Cope’s reputation as a Syd Barrett-like acid casualty.
Cope laughed sheepishly and pulled out his wallet. “Well, you’ll appreciate this: Whenever I’m feeling like I am fucked in the head, I pull out this picture—” it was of a bloodied Cope from the concert I’d seen “—and I remind myself that however fucked up I think I am I am still not THAT fucked!”
And with that he was off. It’s often said of Cope that he’s the last of a dying breed or something to that effect. Not true. This implies that there were more like him, but Julian Cope’s a one off. All hail the Arch Drude!
Above, Julian Cope, tripping on LSD during a ‘Top of the Pops’ performance of “Passionate Friend.” Read about this experience in Cope’s own words here.
The great Roy Smeck surrounded by his instruments.
One of the many rumors passed around the Internet (imagine that!) concerns musician and ukulele player Roy Smeck, known as “The Wizard of the Strings.” It turns out that a lot of people seemed convinced that Smeck was actually Eddie Van Halen’s father and an innovator of “two-hand-tapping,” a method of playing a stringed instrument by tapping the strings with an object or your fingers. The technique has been traced back to the late 1700s, but as far as the popularization of two-hand-tapping, that honor belongs to Roy Smeck – a visionary ukulele player who rose to fame as one of vaudeville’s premier attractions. Smeck’s popularity was such that he was invited to play at President Franklin D. Roosevelt’s inauguration celebration in 1933. Getting back to the popular notion Smeck was EVH’s dad…after the devastating loss of Eddie earlier this month, keyboard warriors started sharing videos of Smeck tapping away on his uke with lightning speed, with the caption “this is Eddie Van Halen’s father.” I suppose it was an easy mistake to make, given the skill level Smeck possessed, and its eerie similarity to one of Eddie’s calling cards, his blink-and-you-missed-it guitar tapping wizardry.
Ed’s real father, Jan Van Halen, was, of course, a great musician in his own right and mentor to both Eddie and Alex Van Halen. He was also born twenty years after Smeck in 1920. To my knowledge, Eddie has never credited Smeck as a source of inspiration for his style. Though he has given the nod to another musician known for his finger-tapping innovations, Genesis guitarist Steve Hackett. In a 2012 interview with Ultimate Guitar, Hackett credited himself as being the “inventor of tapping on record,” which isn’t really true as guitarist Jimmie Webster was known for his tapping (or the sexy-sounding “touching”) technique, which you can hear on at least one recording, Webster’s Unabridged, from 1959.
But let’s get back to the talented Mr. Smeck, whose first 78 rpm recording came out in 1928, shall we?
Roy Smeck was born in 1900 in Pennsylvania. Starting at a young age, the future virtuoso would teach himself to play the guitar, steel guitar, banjo, octo-chorda (or “octachorda,” an eight-string steel guitar), jaw harp, harmonica, and his weapon of choice, the ukulele. While still in his early 20s, Smeck would become one of vaudeville’s most successful stars without uttering a single word during his energetic performances. Smeck preferred to dance for his fans while he frantically tapped on his uke. He’d also play it upside down with the same alarming speed and precision. His early exposure in vaudeville would lead to a myriad of incredible opportunities. His music would be featured along with the 1926 film Don Juan—the very first film to use Vitaphone sound-on-disc, which allowed both music and other sounds to be played in sync with the moving picture. His Pastimes, a short preceding Don Juan, featured an electrifying uke performance by Smeck would send his star soaring. The following year, he was approached by Jay Krause, the president of the largest string instrument manufacturer in the U.S. (at the time), the Harmony Company of Chicago. In a 1984 interview with an 84-year-old Smeck, he recalled Krause’s proposal that Smeck “produce” a Hawaiian guitar, uke, banjo, and guitar exclusively for Harmony. Smeck’s bosses at Warner objected to the use of the word Vitaphone for the line. Smeck and Kraus changed directions slightly by naming the various instruments as “The Roy Smeck Vita-Uke,” The Roy Smeck Vita-Guitar,” etc.
None of the instruments in Smeck’s Vita line of instruments were crafted by the musician, though they contained some of the master uke player’s preferred modifications, such as the graceful sound holes at the base of the Vita-Uke neck. Though it’s important to note, the shape of the holes, which Krause would describe as “seal-shaped,” also were not designed by Smeck. In fact, it’s unclear whose idea it was. What is known is that when Harmony presented Smeck with the array of instruments they were creating for his namesake gear, he would choose the one he felt had the best “action.” Amen to that, Mr. Smeck. Harmony’s Smeck line was so successful, it gave birth to a sister line—Supertone—for Sears and Roebuck. During this time, Smeck was traveling around the country promoting the Vita line performing live at record shops, theaters as well as showing up to local uke contests where he would razzle-dazzle onlookers with his remarkable dexterity. During his long career, Smeck would release 500 recordings, a huge collection of instructional manuals, song books and more. In 1976, the sadly now defunct record label Yazoo released a vinyl retrospective of Smeck’s work, Roy Smeck-Plays Hawaiian Guitar, Banjo, Ukulele, And Guitar 1926-1949 with cover artwork by Robert Crumb. There is also a wonderful Academy Award-nominated documentary short on Roy Smeck, Wizard of the Strings (1985), that is well worth your time if this is the kind of history you like learning about. At the very least, you can now politely shut down the next person who tries to pass Smeck off as Eddie Van Halen’s dad. Lastly, but certainly not least, the legendary Leonard Cohen was a huge fan of Roy Smeck and met the Wizard of the Strings when he was just ten and an aspiring, enthusiastic ukulele-player himself.
In the first week of January, Hawkwind enter Olympic Studios to record two songs for their next single: ‘Kings Of Speed’, a co-write with Michael Moorcock, and ‘Motorhead’, a Lemmy-penned paean to amphetamine abuse. The Drum Empire are pleased, particularly with the first of these. Alan Powell tells Sounds: “It’s very powerful – it’s got two drums on it and it sounds fucking great. It’s like a Phil Spector thing.” Simon King more accurately says, “It’s the same as ‘Silver Machine’. Well, near enough, anyway”.
Amid a flurry of music press front covers, Hawkwind get back on the road again. In February, they play four shows in London in quick succession: the East Ham Granada Cinema, twice at the Hammersmith Odeon, and of course the Roundhouse. Melody Maker editor Ray Coleman’s Hammersmith review contains an eye-catching assertion: “Their music sounds like good, solid punk rock to me.” And the headline is ‘Hawkwind: Punk Masculinity’.
‘Punk’ is a term initially popularised by US writers such as Lester Bangs to describe a stripped-down, no frills approach to rock – and it’s telling that Hawkwind are now being tagged this way. Coleman describes audience and band as “creating an intensely private event”, and being “members of a secret society.” In other words, the UK’s biggest cult band, a gathering point for those still committed to the values of the underground, but also the crucible of a new type of anti-establishment feeling, as some in the audience prepare to cut their hair and embrace anarchy.
For Dave Brock, it’s like a war. After a show at the Birmingham Odeon, Melody Maker’s Allan Jones describes him as shell-shocked, “an exhausted counterfeit of his dramatic space warrior stage persona.” Touring has become a ceaseless military campaign – he’s conflicted by their level of success, but also worries that they might have peaked. Like Nik Turner before him, he’s concerned about losing contact with the community that spawned them. Unlike Pink Floyd’s middle class audience, who “sit there comfortably”, Brock says, “ours is a predominantly working class audience, and we want to keep tickets as cheap as we possibly can. We want to get close to the audience.”
It’s not a complete surprise then when the final British dates are cancelled. A spokesman explains that after two UK and three US tours in 12 months, everyone is physically and mentally shattered: “Matters came to a head at London Roundhouse last Sunday when about a thousand people who had been unable to get in tried to burn down the side entrances, and the police had to be called.” Even Turner accepts there is no alternative. He apologises for the cancellation, but “there was no way the band could continue without time for a rest.”
After time out to recuperate, they return to Rockfield Studios to record their next album. While they’re away, the ‘Kings Of Speed’ single is released, but it fails to set the charts alight. Speaking in April, King seems sanguine enough – “I didn’t like the number anyway” – but gives an insight into how Hawkwind are becoming increasingly alienated by the mechanics of the music business: “We had to do a single to fulfil our record contract… People kept on saying to us that it had to have this, had to have that. In the end, the band didn’t want to know.” He’s more satisfied with the album though, despite only having three and a half days to record at Rockfield, and three days to overdub and mix at Olympic. Why the rush? “We’re soon to tour America. Atlantic, our recording company over there, needed an album to coincide with our visit”.
Peaking at number 13 in the UK charts, Warrior On The Edge Of Time is the highest placed of Hawkwind’s studio albums, and the last to feature on the US Billboard chart, at 150. Not only does it confirm Hawkwind’s ongoing popularity, it also consolidates and reinforces their position as musical flag bearers of a thriving science fantasy subculture. Ever since J.R.R. Tolkien’s Lord Of The Rings became required reading for heads everywhere, the counterculture has been drawn to both the imagery and philosophy of fantasy literature – its portrayal of alternative societies locked in battle with the forces of darkness chimes with a new generation banging its head against the strictures of the straight world. The likes of Led Zeppelin may have amped up Tolkien’s romantic, ‘mystic macho’ vibe, but Hawkwind are drawn to Michael Moorcock’s more nuanced treatment of order and chaos.
Predictably, certain critics can’t wait to put the boot in. Melody Maker’s Allan Jones, a man seemingly condemned to write about a group he has little time for, makes concessions about the album being their most professional yet. But the main thrust of his antipathy is that he simply doesn’t like the idea of Hawkwind – they’re not what he thinks a rock band should be. The partisan Geoff Barton at Sounds is more positive – but concludes, “Even the band’s publicist admits that you can’t really expect too many people to enjoy the band’s albums.” Presumably said publicist was given their marching orders soon after.
While UK fans dig into Warrior, a drama is unfolding overseas. On 11 May, crossing from the US into Canada, the band are stopped and searched. As a long-haired rock band with a reputation for narcotic indulgence, this is an entirely common occurrence and they’re used to ensuring that all vehicles and personnel are drug-free. But this time, their luck runs out: Lemmy is found in possession of two grams of white powder. Believing it’s cocaine, the border police arrest him and cart him off to jail. The rest of the band make it into Canada and apply for Lemmy’s bail. But they have a gig in Toronto scheduled the next day, and Brock instructs band manager Doug Smith back in London to put ex-Pink Fairies guitarist Paul Rudolph on the first plane over.
The charges against Lemmy are dropped when the powder proves to be speed rather than coke, and he arrives in time to play the show. But at a band meeting afterwards, Lemmy is sacked. His arrest is the final straw, grievances having built against him due to his constant lateness and continued enthusiasm for amphetamines. “They must have wanted me out,” Lemmy surmises glumly. He claims that Turner declared he’d leave if Lemmy returned, though Brock does ask him back – but by then, Rudolph has taken his place, and Lemmy has decided to form his own band instead.
Lemmy’s departure is arguably the most significant personnel change to occur within the band so far. A firm favourite with both fans and media, and a defining presence during Hawkwind’s rapid ascent from the underground, his playing has had a profound effect on the group’s sound, injecting both rhythmic drive and unexpected melody. If not the heart and soul of Hawkwind, he’s certainly been their guts, the low-end throb that Brock has relied upon to provide a flexible backbone during passages of improvisation. And of course, he’s forever the guy who sang ‘Silver Machine’ and encapsulates the band’s anarchic outlaw spirit.
For many fans, this marks the point where Hawkwind’s ‘classic era’ ends…
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