Noise and enabling: Stefan Kushima's farewell to Joey Chainsaw

The musics commonly tagged as noise or drone, with their frequently encountered tendency towards the formless, often evade the sort of emotional ascriptions that are common to more traditional forms. Can there be intention to noise? If intention is deducible, if the sounds are recognized on the level of intentions and perceived emotionality, is it still noise we are hearing / feeling? If noise is that which disturbs, which is always unfinished or dissipates (as Paul Hegarty, also discussing the "formless" via Bataille's informe, would claim in Noise / Music: A History), can emotions be ascribed to it at all? Of course, this might conflate "noise" as a common term with "noise" as a genre denominator. An intense Viennese Saturday night, somewhat colder than it could have been at this time of year, offered food for thought on these issues and, more importantly, enabled, fed and helped memories for those involved.

That evening, Vienna-based musician Stefan Kushima bid farewell to his close friend and artistic collaborator, Bristol-based Joey Chainsaw, who had passed away a few days earlier. It was Stefan himself who had introduced me to Joey's recordings not too long before, lending me a CD-R anthology he had received from his friend as well as presenting me with their duo release In The Spiral Door. Joey's music sounds uncompromising, and uncompromisingly DIY, crude, intense and certainly diverse in its exploratory character. I hear Joey, whom I never got to meet, was a gentle and sweet character. These musical and personal attributes are not necessarily ones often thought analogous in everyday usage – a discrepancy that can be frustrating, presumably for the artists in particular, but also useful, even possible to harness. This "secret Joey farewell" similarly defied these characterizations.

The concert took place at the Lust Gallery, a space close to the Donaukanal and, at the time of the concert, visited by a crowd probably attending an exhibition event. The concert itself was not publicized, and exhibition attendants mixed with the group of people interested in Joey's and Stefan's work. The handful of times I had seen Stefan play live recently, usually under his Cruise Family guise, his work embraced a certain pop pluralism. It has been tending towards, as he might call it, the "technoid", an imaginative melting and molding of musical ideas easily identified as the work of a voracious listener: visit Stefan's apartment and you're as likely to hear Ol' Dirty Bastard as Orphan Fairytale, while :zoviet*france: share speakers and headspace with Mariah Carey…

Still, at this concert, Stefan's music was probably closer to the raw, murky drone / noise of In The Spiral Door, a move that in what has been called today's "post-noise underground" here and there could almost be tagged "back to the roots"; however, it appears more beneficial to consider these sounds strands of a broadening field of artistic possibilities. It is fitting that Stefan has recently released a tape (Orbital Express) on Not Not Fun Records, a label whose quasi-postmodern pluralism is a particularly successful example of these tendencies (and whose website very aptly described Stefan's most recent exploits as those of a "neo-rave laser-rider").

As is his wont, Stefan spent most of the gig hunched over keyboards and pedals. In addition to a photo depicting Joey, some fond and playful tribute artwork and the circulation of a water bottle filled with vodka, Joey-style, he incorporated recordings of Joey's into his set, looping them and weaving them into his dense soundscapes. I finally got to see Stefan use his violin live, both vocalizing into it and stroking it with his bow during what felt like the concert's second third. The last part included percussive elements and, I believe, featured one of Joey's recordings looped on its own for a while.

I can't tell what the (presumably) unknowing bystanders thought of the set; did it just appear to be one ungodly racket (which it certainly was in the best possible sense), or did they perceive how Stefan's feelings for Joey (obviously, to me) fed into his physical approach towards his gear? While its vocal sounds were almost unrecognizable, the violin-centered section certainly matched signifiers of intensity and emotionality. The percussive section could doubtlessly be called ritualistic, or ritual-like in its emphasis on repetition and shifting tempi.

(Joey and Stefan live, July 2010)

Stefan's set, not just in its obvious musical and performative aspects, did that and more. Through the incorporation of Joey's music, photo, artwork dedicated to him, through Stefan's own bodily involvement, through one's knowledge of the concert's occasion as well as the personal and, indivisibly and indistinguishably from it, artistic friendship between Joey and Stefan, visitors were able to connect to a very unique field of intensity. Stefan's sometime collaborator Vanessa Arn (of Primordial Undermind) commented on his set that he was a "channeller"; if he was a channeller, he was also an enabler, invoking not one objective image of Joey Chainsaw but performing, harnessing and offering diverse aspects of their relations and experiences. Anyone engaging with Stefan's set and its background is likely to have developed very inspiring ideas of what Joey Chainsaw and his connection to this evening's performer were about.

The music's formless character itself arguably was not the evening's very central factor in the sense of a deterministic mood-shifter, but rather was a realization of daily and yet not-daily artistic DIY praxis integral to the farewell performance. This was not functional music subject to a specific topic and occasion, but certainly not untouched thereby either. Stefan has expressed frustration about the relatively small size of Joey's listener base, but the complex of music, artwork, DIY tactics, memories and care he helped manifest at the Lust Gallery has certainly helped make Joey unforgettable to some people and will help further investigations and connections be made.

Dead Pilot Records: RIP Joey Chainsaw
Lava Thief: RIP Joey Chainsaw
Rottenmeats: Joey Chainsaw Rest in Peace

Jandek's "Vienna Wednesday", October 14, 2009

My reports on earlier gigs are lagging so far behind, I have decided not to post any further update for those - which is a pity, considering quite a few great gigs have taken place in between. However, two days ago, Jandek offered a nice reason to revive my failed blog. May it unfail (or so)!

My enthusiasm for Jandek's first ever gig in central Europe stemmed not only from my admiration for the man's liberated approach towards whatever instruments he uses, including his voice (based on my knowledge of an admittedly small percentage of his vast discography, but I'm working on that), but also from my trust in his sidemen for Wednesday's show, Primordial Undermind's Eric Arn (bass) and DD Kern (drums) of Fuckhead, Wipeout and Bulbul, both of whom I've seen play excellent shows of vastly varying sounds and approaches here in Vienna. And indeed, the show delivered on its line-up's promises.

The B72, while not sold out, had filled up quite nicely when the show started at around 10pm. The representative of Corwood Industries played his guitar in a fierce and piercing way that made me think of my first encounter with his music, the CD release of his first ever live performance (the fabulous Glasgow Sunday); unlike on that recording, however, the first piece, or at least Kern's drumming, seemed almost straightforward, and while the trio eventually steered into what felt like rhythmically freer territory after this instrumental, a bizarre form of (rhythmic, textural, or - presumably and undefineably - overall?) catchiness was showcased here that seemed to inform big parts of the evening's music. There was a certain spikeyness and angularity to some passages that made the questionable term "Math Rock" pop into my thoughts - based more on an idea of what that term might have been used for than on any actual knowledge of its use (although some moments here and there almost seemed a bit Slint-esque to me).

We're talking about maths' most delightfully paradox aspects here though: Arn's often melodic yet unpredictable serpentine bass runs, making me think of vintage psych as well as his free jazz excursions with his usual instrument (the guitar), added a unique touch to the overall sound; Kern's drumming, meanwhile, didn't stay content with the beginning's straightforward drive, instead heading into all kinds of different directions, depending on the situation. It was obvious that Jandek's partners are as adept in various rock modes as they are in decidedly free playing. Both musicians, as different as their backgrounds may be, are regular participants in Viennese free jazz cellar blow-outs, and their playing stayed versatile, alert and adaptable throughout the evening - and they must have had plenty of fun all the while. Jandek himself turned to vocals on every second song; the evening's second piece, the first one to feature the representative's familiar voice, ended up being a personal favourite, a slow-moving entity of what almost seemed like a rather abstract form of desert rock to me, evoking a hot and tedious Texan afternoon to this friend of sonic Americana imagery. Jandek's stage presence was absolutely remarkable; together with his vocals, their unique emphases and patterns, it made me think of a good Butoh performance, effortlessly intense as his singing was. Seemingly strange or grotesque yet going way beyond these simplistic and hierarchic descriptions, closer to forming a language of its own, his performance always felt profound without having to refer to any signifiers of profundity. It all gelled remarkably well, a challenging performance seeming like the most joyfully obvious thing in the world to do (which it probably was). As the performance has been filmed and, like all of Jandek's gigs, recorded, I assume we'll be able to confirm that impression once Corwood drops a Vienna Wednesday 2xCD/DVD release in a few years.

(Also, more people should discover the pleasures of dancing, but then I'm always ranting about that.)

October round-up, part 3 / November round-up, part 1: Wien Modern highlights

I cannot stress enough just how much the yearly Wien Modern festival impresses me through its scope and its use of the 'resources' at hand in Vienna: while I missed last year's edition due to being on the wrong landmass, 2006's festival featured eye openers and thought fodder aplenty. Distinctions between 'high-brow' and 'low-brow' art/'E-Musik' and 'U-Musik' are exposed as arbitrary and baseless dichotomies, unfair and unhelpful from whatever point of view they are constructed and/or reproduced in. It's not like Wien Modern itself (whichever way one would define that) takes down these imaginary and structural barriers on its own; however, looking at how it emphasises forms that, despite often being overlooked/pigeonholed, seem to blossom intensely here (associated with assumed realms of the orchestral/the symphonic/'modern composition', 'experimental electronics', 'Electro-Acoustic Improvisation' etc.) and making use of all the structural and architectural opportunities Vienna offers (with venues ranging from the fluc_wanne's cavernous-industrial 'rock' space to the Musikverein in all its imperial bombast, from the Alte Schmiede's intimate arts space hidden at the city centre's edge to the Museumsquartier's nicely flexible halls) and showing the connections between all these and their forms of convergence, it is hard to get rid of the impression that the festival, founded by star conductor Claudio Abbado, could hardly do a better job at both using what the city it's based in offers and going far beyond that, revealing unknown paths old and new and exposing unexpected linkage at every turn. And I haven't even mentioned its children's programme, its multimedia cross-overs or its attempts at offering theory-related material and background information through symposia or the impressive tome that is the festival's Katalog yet.

As this profoundly hyperbolic first paragraph probably indicated, I have lived through some truly formative experiences at Wien Modern; to be precise, I tried to make good use of the 2006 edition's student pass, visiting more than a dozen events over the course of a few weeks, some of them being true eye-openers (first and foremost, the electronics/laptop vs. cello duo set performed by Bernhard Lang and Michael Moser at the Alte Schmiede comes to mind; but pieces by Helmut Lachenmann, Sofia Gubaidulina or Friedrich Cerha are quick to follow). Considering that year's (as well as this one's) great experience, it's a shame to see that Wien Modern's profile doesn't nearly seem as high as I'd like it to be, with plenty of people who would most certainly enjoy at least parts of its eclectic programme not actually being aware of what it offers. Whether that has to do with Wien Modern revolving around the Konzerthaus, another one of Vienna's well-established venues often associated with a classical-based programme and, probably, a certain 'poshness' is hard to tell. That said, it's not like the festival seems to miss a young audience; I just think it could be able to hold a broader appeal. Maybe us fans just need to be louder. Who knows?

Tony Conrad actually might just know, considering he has carried his thoroughly winsome personality and stubbornly open-minded approach to art and representation through decades of politically frustrating and probably often precarious art/work circumstances. Not that I really know all that much about what drives him and... makes him do what he does, but as Wien Modern's focus on his work in various 'disciplines' suggests, it all manages to be funny but earnest and heart-felt, politically charged but not oppressive (yet commenting on issues of oppression, even, or especially, within performer-vs.-audience relations), seemingly trashy and tossed-off in places but still quite obviously driven and filled with purpose, regardless of whether that purpose is backed by directly related/applied, profound theoretical thought (as it often is in Conrad's case) or maybe just a desire to do... something else? I'm just throwing around guesses. Whatever the relevance of all this, I had a great time at the three events I attended that were part of said programme focus. He played a solo violin concert at brut im Künstlerhaus, following a string quartet's performance of a new piece of his; he used a sewing machine as well as additional pieces of cord and even started playing a banknote at one point. Similar gadgets were used for his even better -- actually quite stunning -- duo performance with London improvisor Angharad Davies (on violin, too) at brut im Konzerthaus a few days later, which turned out to be drone heaven, enveloping and fearless. The banknote bit (cut short by the note tearing partially at one point) was joined by comical-sinister growling/moaning on Conrad's part -- just repeating the word 'money' from what I remember, and thus probably not the most superficially complex comment on the current financial situation but, in the context of the concert, a funny one and, in the context of listeners' knowledge on Conrad's work and his thoughts on art/artists' work, a thought-provoking one nonetheless.

Before these two performances, a short portrait (Marie Loisier's DreaMinimalist) had been shown that might not have allowed particularly deep insight into an actual piece's/film's creation but did a great and thoroughly entertaining job at bringing the audience closer to Conrad and his ways of presenting himself. Unfortunately, I missed his lecture on Monday, October 27th; going by the Q&A session that took place right after the screening of selected Conrad films at the Filmmuseum, it would have been both entertaining and thought-provoking. During the actual Q&A session, he explicitly discussed views that humour and 'serious', relevant art are mutually exclusive; as I myself had to notice once again when arriving early before the aforementioned Conrad/Davies set to watch some more of Conrad's film work on TV sets that were placed outside the actual concert room, one will hardly be able to find a better way to see that dualism break down than immersing oneself in Conrad's richly rewarding work. (On a sidenote, the fanboy in me was actually able, or seemed to be able -- no guarantee! -- to spot legendary early Mercury Rev singer David Baker within the crowd at an early 90s anti-war demonstration in Buffalo documented by Conrad. Some of the band's members had been among his students there.)

Bad time management resulted in me missing the programme's 'Noise' evening, featuring Putrefier, Sudden Infant and the amazing Hild Sofie Tafjord, member of Fe-Mail and Spunk; her solo debut, Kama, was one of my favourite records of 2007 -- or, if you want, ever, in its amazingly detailed and competent construction: one constantly intriguing and intelligent single piece, sourced mostly from Tafjord's French Horn. Apparently she was joined onstage by Conrad at some point as YouTube material suggests, and, if you excuse my use of strong concepts/words, I cannot help but hate myself for not going.

It's a bit harder for me to write about the rest of what I saw at this year's Wien Modern, which shouldn't be taken as an indicator of lesser quality in any way though. The 'Musik & Gehirn' event I attended on November 1st might not have been what I was looking for but probably appealed to anyone genuinely interested in intersections of brain research and analysis of music reception. I assume that I would have been happier with the next day's event that featured Alvin Lucier, who had 'only' served as a test object for brain wave sonification at the earlier event, playing some of his pieces; again, (bad) time management intervened. Almost a week later, my first visit ever to Vienna's Tanzquartier made me witness Xavier Le Roy's More Mouvements für Lachenmann, a choreographed take on some of Helmut Lachenmann's pieces, designed to question the relations between music, performer and audience that are easily taken for granted: the most successful part of a generally excellent evening appeared to be the second that saw two guitar-less guitarists mime along to two other (hidden) ones' sounds (Lachenmann's Salut für Caudwell, actually). Not only was the precision of their decidedly un-authentic (as in: their movements were not designed to look like actual guitar playing) acting quite baffling, but some deliberatly imprecise and/or particularly playful moments amused and puzzled the audience -- that found itself being stared at reproachfully at various points during the performance's last part. Again, humour and praxeological questioning of form, content and power relations coalesced in beautiful and rewarding ways.

Other excellent events followed, but the most personally rewarding one of the festival's later parts turned out to be the second 'Elektrophiliale' event at Vienna's Gartenbaukino: The duo of Mego roster member Philipp Quehenberger on electronics and Fuckhead drummer DD Kern impressed with its spiralling sound that -- although that might just be a result of my own lack of knowledge -- reminded me most of a more sci-fi-like take on the Flower Corsano Duo's flourishes. Kern's playing was just as excellent as it had been the first time I saw him -- his duo set with brpobr (where are they? I want them back) drummer Bernhard Breuer at Vienna's prestigious Amann Studios in early 2007 had been rather spectacular. But while everyone had been seated there, the Philiale left some space for dancing, even up on its nice little gallery where some friends and I had a great time trying to physically approximate the swirls produced by the musicians downstairs.

October round-up, part 2: Silver Mt. Zion, Animal Collective, Larkin Grimm

As if Kontraste hadn't offered enough good moments to fill up a decent Viennese concert month, the Arena's main hall provided room for a particularly pleasant one-two punch at the month's very heart: Thee Silver Mt. Zion Memorial Orchestra and Tra-La-La Band once again graced Vienna, quite obviously a fandom stronghold for the group, with its presence, just one day before a 'New Weird America' line-up dream come true -- Animal Collective touring with Axolotl -- played the same venue.

Even though it was rather excellent, the Silver Mt. Zion concert arrived a few years late for me -- which is, quite obviously, not the band's fault. 'This Is Our Punk-Rock', Thee Rusted Satellites Gather + Sing, was a disturbing but strangely empowering soundtrack to 2003 and those confusing days of the Iraq War('s beginning) and, on a personal level, my own Zivildienst. They somehow lost me a bit with Horses In The Sky, which sounded strangely 'dry' and never appealed all that much to me beyond the powerful waltz of 'God Bless Our Dead Marines'. While 'preparing' for this particular concert by listening to some of their releases for the first time in ages, I ended up warming up to it a bit -- and who knows, my appreciation for it might not yet be at its peak. Regardless, I had yet to hear (and still haven't heard, but that may change) 13 Blues For Thirteen Moons, their acclaimed new album, two songs from which made an appearance here, rocking powerfully in what seemed to be typical recent Silver Mt. Zion manner. 'God Bless Our Dead Marines' and two new songs, among them the (sometimes) almost Spiritualized-like space gospel country-ish 'There Is A Light', fit in neatly, but a personal highlight arrived in the first encore, an (unsurprisingly) expansive version of 'Microphones In The Trees' from 2004's uncharacteristic but always intriguing Pretty Little Lightning Paw EP. Similarly, the second encore offered a bit of a flashback in the concert's 'oldest' song, 'Take These Hands And Throw Them In The River', which felt more (punk-) rock-ish than its seven years old studio version, nicely showing the band's evolution towards a heavier, more electric (and electrically charged) sound.

Things felt quite different regarding the next evening's Animal Collective concert: in terms of my own personal interest in the band's music, the concert could have hardly arrived at a better point, even though it was to be my fourth time seeing this band in 15 months. This May's London concert had been the most impressive one of theirs I had seen so far, musically, and increased my interest in the kaleidoscopic and strangely rave-like new songs they played on their recent tours (most of which will end up on January's Merriweather Post Pavillion album on Domino). While they had already sounded excellent at last year's immensely enjoyable Vienna concert and even at that fall's Dublin one, which had only felt like half a gig (Avey Tare, while on stage, suffered from flu, resulting in his vocal contributions being reduced to some groaning here and there -- we received a short Panda Bear solo set in exchange though), they sounded particularly catchy, addictive and complete at that London show; nicely enough, new songs I hadn't heard before ('No More Runnin', which I still think of as their Neil Young and Crazy Horse song, and the delirious 'Lion In A Coma') were among the concert's highlights. I'm not exactly a big bootleg listener and thus still wasn't particularly familiar with the new material, but it really grabbed me at that show. That the surprising appearance of a hazy but heavy reworked version of 'Grass' at the set's very end 'blew my mind' certainly helped.

The Vienna concert thus felt like a great way to see them one last time before they'll change their setlist to include new new songs, something the band likes to do before/around the time of the release of whatever their 'new' album is at that time. While some surprises would have been nice, the setlist, which was quite similar to the London one (no 'Grass' this time, unfortunately), was satisfying and did a good job at structuring this concise and truly fun concert -- the addictive 'Summertime Clothes' and 'Brother Sport' once again proved to be potential highlights from next year's release roster, 'Chocolate Girl' -- slowed down and rearranged almost to unrecognisability -- was less jaunty but more haunting than its studio version and 'Peacebone', fittingly augmented by a rainbow colour lightshow, made me dance like it always does which, of course, is a good thing. It's just a bit of a shame that Strawberry Jam's heart of darkness and sleeper masterpiece '#1' wasn't played here unlike at various other shows that were part of the band's tour of Eastern Europe. Axolotl's support set was a good one too, although there were moments when some of the beats used seemed a bit too straight-forward -- not much to complain about though, all power to all you violin droners! But more about that in the next round-up post.

October 23rd brought about my first visit to the peachy (and packed) Verein 08 venue, featuring a show by Larkin Grimm whom I had last seen leading an audience parade from venue to venue at the end of her Terrastock Six set two and a half years ago. Her set, featuring an additional guitarist, was as intimate and charming as one could expect considering the performer/venue combination -- I guess one could use the term 'campfire atmosphere' though but that might miss the point, i.e. Verein 08's living room vibe. An excellent evening, and I'd love to see someone book a Fonal Records-related band (how about Hertta Lussu Ässä?) because they'd fit right in.