uncarved.org blog

Cybore / Box Set Go.

Matt owns a lot more boxsets than me:

These Trojan sets, compiled by Steve Barrow, were the most accessible way to get into Black Ark stuff in the late eighties. They foreshadowed Barrow’s later work with the Blood & Fire label – incorporating great selection, sound quality and design. And also the excellent Arkology 3 CD set on Island.

Sort of “Occult Roots of Big Beat” set, featuring mad breakbeat tunes from across the board. I got this ridiculously cheap (I think 6 quid?) from Berwick Street in the mid 90s.

Test Dept’s first LP with grainy photo inserts. This must have been the first box set I ever bought, in the mid eighties. Ordered via the back pages of “Record Collector” magazine. Also the first record I ever picked up from a Post Office depot, something which seems second nature now! Some if not all of this was produced by Genesis P-Orridge. Another Some Bizzare classic.

This used to be ubiquitous – peaking out of people’s record shelves at you when you visited them for the first time. Shorthand for a particular background and all-encompassing worldview which many of us have now jettisoned most of – but the traces remain. Lots of 4o year old anarchopunk “sleepers” out there, biding their time.

This set includes a whopping great booklet featuring the tragic tale of Stonehenge Free Festival founder Wally Hope. And a full colour poster by Gee Vaucher (which mine is missing, boo!)

I had this on tape for years and then finally found a copy in Reckless Records in Islington (RIP) for a good price in the late 90s.

Vagina Dentata Organ
THE LONDON PUNK TAPES
Exhibition
15 JULY – 26 SEPTEMBER, 2010
ARCHIVE

La Ramblas 7, Barcelona 08002

During 1976 and 1977 Jordi Valls recorded live on nine audio cassettes some of the early punk gigs in London. These tapes, featuring The Sex Pistols, The Clash, The Damned, Subway Sect, Billy Idol & Generation X, The Slits and Buzzcocks, capture the true sound of punk — raw, countercultural and subversive — as a phenomenon that had a radical impact on popular music and fashion, first in Britain and America, and then worldwide.

Arguably the most interesting aspect of punk is its vital, visceral energy, and the demonstration that the only thing that really matters is the intention, the power of the imagination, and nothing more. Sound, photographs, an audio-visual with punk iconography by Franc Aleu-Urano Films and an installation combine here to profile a rebellious attitude firmly committed to its time.

More information

Vagina Dentata Organ on Uncarved

Having a rifle through my tunes tonight I rediscovered three releases from an obscure outfit called “The Christmas Bunch”. Like a fair proportion of my records, these were all bought second hand. In fact I think I grabbed them all for less than a quid over a few years in the late 80s.

They sound OK. Not amazing, but there’s enough going on to hold your attention. And I quite liked the anonymity of it all, after over twenty years holding onto these records I was still none the wiser about the people behind them – (insert ominous crescendo) until now.

The first Christmas Bunch product I found must have been their “Hit No. 1″ single. A one-sided twelve inch with minimal rubber stamped markings and a biro scribbling announcing it as 230 out of 250 copies.

It ain’t bad actually – characteristically stiff “dance” beats which could politely be described as motorik. There are some nice vocal samples and arrangements which remind a bit of the Art of Noise. The actual vocals spoil it for me a little, a bit too earnest and shouty – even for me, ha ha.

“Hit No.1″ also came with this intriguing free gift, made up to look like an executive toy or educational tool:

As you can see, it’s two circles of printed card with a central pin. Windows in the front card reveal words printed on the rear one, in combinations like “glitter [....] ofcorruption” and “hide [...] behindyoureyebrows”. This forthright rejection of spaces between words would be an enduring theme.

So when the album turned up a little while later, I figured it had to be worth another quid or so…

“Get Out Of My Face” is a six track affair. It even has some credits on it, which are difficult to decipher because of the lack of spaces between words. Nevertheless the label yields a useful “all songs (c) 1986″. The back cover states that it was recorded in London, Luton and Sussex and  announces that the group “are Clyde Ely Goldhurst”. I have no idea whether that is one, two or three people cos of the lack of spaces.

Side One is a bit more”beaty” and includes “Hit No.1″ again. “Private Property”and “Dreamtime” remind me a little of Fad Gadget at his most croony – but with a slightly posher voice.

Side Two is more to my liking and verges on electronic chillout territory. “The Elephant Bar” is filmic and jazzy, a bit like some of Barry Adamson’s solo gear. Luckily the only vocals are wispy female operatic ones. (Hmm!) “Last Chance” almost sounds like a more plinky plonky Massive Attack or something. “The Fridge” might consist of pitched down church organs and choirs.

I then forgot about the Christmas Bunch for a while until I stumbled on this record in Brighton one summer:

I think you’ll have to agree that this cover either heralds the magnificent or the tragic.

The back cover reveals that the full line up is “Nick Sample featuring The Christmas Bunch”. Side A is “Marvelous Person” and features Margaret Thatcher doing vocals over an almost adequate “acid dance” backing. Whilst I doubt this ever got played at Shoom, it’s an interesting novelty record and yet another example of old industrial types dovetailing with acieeeed. Or maybe that’s too naive – it’s billed as “Yet Another Acid Cash In”. That guitar solo is a no-no though.

Side Two is all the vocal samples done acapella for all you mash up mixmasters out there. I’ve had some drunken fun with these over the years. Which is why it’s not exactly in mint condition, even by the standards of certain sellers on GEMM.

Actually, hearing it again, I’m not clear if it’s clever editing of Thatcher or a soundalike. She comes out with stuff like “I am a marvelous concept… we must take away the fruits of people’s labour” and stuff. There’s a newsreader type bloke in there as well gobbing off about “profits are modern warfare” and suchlike.

And that was the last I heard of ye Xmasbunch. It looks like they made at least one other record, which judging by its cover might include Michael Heseltine stepping up to the mic. I’m not about to start paying 5 quid for their records though. If anyone has any further information then please feel free to leave a comment below or drop me an email.

So anyway, where does Alison Goldfrapp fit into this? Well after occasionally googling for info on The Christmas Bunch to no avail over the years, this little snippet turned up tonight:

“Alison was born in 1966 — or earlier. She was in a LCP student film made in 1988 (find it on myspace) and also in 1985 also. She was NOT 15 in 1985! She was in a band called the Christmas Bunch. Do the maths.”

(It’s in the midst of a discussion about her age, which I am not remotely bothered about – it’s easy to see why women in the media spotlight might obscure their age, no? For the record I have a lot of time for Goldfrapp – particularly their “Black Cherry” and “Supernature” albums. There’s a lot of inverted snobbery about them in bloggerland.)

To be honest I don’t hold out much hope for an anonymous single source on the internet actually being true. For all I know it’s someone who used to be in the band trying to reignite some interest in their backcatalogue. But it was an unexpected bonus which has added to the mystery nicely.

And… there is an “Ali Blank” credited on the sleeve of the “Get Out Of My Face” album…

previously on “the first twenty three gigs I can remember going to”

I got a “D” in my Psychology ‘A’ Level, and an “E” in Maths. I also completely fucked up Chemistry, again. My parents were both at work whilst I stared at the slip of paper which announced my doom. I helped myself to a stiff drink before calling them.

I was quite upset, I needed better grades to get to where I wanted to be (can’t remember what was in the running, but Leeds and Warwick were up there I think).

So I had to chance my arm with the “clearing” system – where you throw your hat in the ring and see if any College will take you. This seemed to take ages and was quite humiliating, but I just stayed focused and got on with it…

I eventually managed to secure myself a place at the Polytechnic of Central London to do a BSc in Psychology. But I still needed to find somewhere to live. PCL had a reputation for being radical, and my flat hunting confirmed that the students union was a haven for freaks, goths and layabouts. My search for a place to rest my head was exciting but ultimately fruitless.

I might have been desperate to move out of my parental home, but the rooms on offer at the students union only managed to cough up some real dives – places where you couldn’t even get the door open because they were so small. Or a room I’d have to share with a bloke who was monomaniacal with the excitement of being “out” in London.

Luckily one of the grebo freaks in the students union took me under his wing and I was offered a decent sized room in a house in Haringey. Everything else was detail. My awkwardness and fear dissolved into excitement. I’m sure my parents went through a similar process. There was time for one last gig before I hit the Big City on a full-time basis…

23 Foetus Interruptus, Tackhead Soundsystem. Town and Country Club, 20th September 1988.

I’d been waiting for two years for this gig and couldn’t quite believe it was happening. Peter Rehberg had done my mate Wal at C90 with “Hole” by Scraping Foetus Off The Wheel on one side and a bunch of 12″ with all sorts of mad names (You’ve Got Foetus On Your Breath, Foetus Art Terrorism, etc) on the other. Wal had duly copied it for me. We absolutely destroyed those tapes and I remember some really intense conversations in the school playground about what the fuck was going on with it all. Jim Thirlwell’s productions still sound amazing, he is definitely up there in my pantheon of sonic sorcerers. Legend has it that he was so driven he once barricaded himself in a studio when his time was up, emerging pallid and scurvied when the job had been done.

Foetus aka Clint Ruin aka Jim Thirlwell made Totalitarian Pop Music. “Hole” and its follow up “Nail” were precision-tooled pop records made by a psychopath. They distilled The Cramps‘ rockabilly, big band music from cartoons, James Brown funk, film noir soundtracks and jack hammer industrial dance. Tracks like “Calamity Crush” sounded like a marching band of drum machines being conducted by some Hammer Horror mad scientist.

The lyrics jumbled up pop culture with a completely nihilist hodge podge of mass murder, sexual deviance and military atrocities. But they weren’t shocking, they were oddly catchy, darkly funny and manic.

When I finally saw the artwork for the records, I was blown away by Thirlwell’s graphics. Really bold, pop-art styles combined with Maoist propaganda – all riddled through with that sickness.

Foetus was a solo effort, and he never played live. Well, not really. Rumours abounded about live shows he’d done as part of The Immaculate Consumptives alongside Lydia Lunch, Nick Cave and Marc Almond. Supergroup or what? I think they played in London and New York – one-off gigs when I was still working up the courage to go and see Howard Jones.

I slowly amassed a Foetus collection, originally acquiring both “Hole” and “Nail” as official cassette releases that stayed glued to my Walkman. Then onto the vinyl, largely courtesy of the Rough Trade Shop in Ladbroke Grove. I think Wal did the same, so that C90 Peter dubbed us lead to about 30 royalty payments for Clint Ruin Incorporated, and good luck to him.

Foetus was a relentless collaborator, cropping up on records by Coil, Marc and The Mambas, The The, even Nurse With Wound. I grabbed a bunch of these (notably the latter’s incredible “Brained By Falling Masonry” 12″) and filled my life with Foetus. Most of these collaborations were fleeting, the odd track on an album or one-off twelve inch. One of the more enduring projects was Wiseblood – Foetus + Roli Mosimann from SWANS = bludgeoning percussion and even more twisted visions. I’d got into trouble playing their “Someone Drowned In My Pool” 12″ in the 6th form common room one breaktime. To me, it sounded entirely acceptable, a little light ballad about murder. Apparently this feeling was far from universal.

Just when I’d fully embraced the idea of never seeing this stuff live, Foetus Interruptus embarked on a European Tour. They were doing two nights at the Town and Country Club and I was sorely tempted to go to both. But I only managed one, and considered it to be something of a celebration of my successful escape plan.

The support was the Tackhead Soundsystem, i.e. Gary Clail on the mic and tapes whilst Adrian Sherwood made the floor vibrate. I seem to remember that they did this all from the mixing desk, there was nothing to see on the stage. There’s a lot more to be written about that, but I’ll have to leave On-U Sound for another time.

Foetus Interruptus was essentially Clint Ruin backed by most of SWANS. They rocked their way through a load of Foetus and Wiseblood material and it was great, but not amazing. I think my main disappointment was the  impossibility of reproducing that studio wizardry on stage. And even the “I like the way you fill out your clothes” vocal sample introducing “Clothes Hoist” was squealed by Mr Foetus instead. None of this stopped me having the time of my life, however.

A couple of days later I moved down to London with the bare essentials. I’d already sorted out my first evening’s entertainment:

Aside from an unsuccessful attempt at suburban living in Leighton Buzzard in the mid nineties, I have pretty much lived in Haringey and Hackney ever since.

As I said at the outset of this story, these years saw me transform myself “from being a polite boy who toed the line, into a polite teenager with a head full of weird ideas. Who wasn’t quite so sure about that line he’d been toeing…”.

There are probably a million things I’d do differently if I had that time again, but looking back on it now I can see how all the fuck ups and the worrying in my bedroom and of course the obsessing over music has made me the well-rounded, sensitive and attractive man I have undoubtedly become.

It was intense, which is why I can remember it so well.

Road Rage archive #1 « Piece of Paper Press.

Tony White on 1980s Hackney, the backstory to his “Road Rage” crusty pulp novel, Psychic TV and much more…. well worth a read, as are his books!

previously on “the first 23 gigs I can remember going to”

22. Throbbing Gristle Ltd. Astoria, 3rd June 1988.

The Apocalypse Club put some good events on after the main gig of the night at the Astoria had finished. I remember weighing up whether I could get to see Into A Circle there after the Butthole Surfers gig at ULU, until my sister grassed me up to my parents for thinking about being out so late. Actually, I think they said it was up to me but I figured I’d better play it safe (being the revolutionary psychonaut that I was, ha ha!)

I was mystified and excited when I saw “Throbbing Gristle Ltd” in small print in the NME listings. I rang up the Astoria and the person on the other end didn’t really know much about it but muttered something along the lines of “yes I think they’re reforming for it”. At the time that was completely unthinkable, but that didn’t stop me handing over my Mum’s credit card details for a ticket.

Throbbing Gristle had played their last gig on 29th May 1981 at Kezar Pavillion, San Francisco. I wasn’t able to make it for various reasons including being eleven years old, living on another continent and never having heard of them.

By the mid eighties I had become an industrial music obsessive and knew that the group had split up pretty acrimoniously after that gig – and that the various parties had made snide comments about each other in interviews ever since.

TG product was readily available in the eighties courtesy of the Mute Records reissues of their albums. Needless to say I was too purist for them and waited patiently until I got my hands on cheap copies of the Industrial Records originals (except for the ultra limited 2nd Annual Report which I got on Fetish).

It should go without saying that the first four “proper” LPs (2nd Annual Report, D.O.A., 20 Jazz Funk Greats and Heathen Earth) sounded earth-shattering to these ears in the mid eighties and still cut the mustard in 2010.

I can still remember working as a temp, changing the oil in lathes at a factory in Enfield one summer and spending my lunch hour sitting in some waste ground, eating my sandwiches and playing Throbbing Gristle on my walkman. Which made for a very noisy day.

The two RE/SEARCH books dealing with TG were staples of my weirdo library, with a wealth of information and trivia. I had resigned myself to never being able to see them live. And to be fair, I never have seen them live – not really. Because this wasn’t actually Throbbing Gristle, but Genesis & Paula P-Orridge, Scott Nobody and other PTV types.

There was no support band, just lots of anticipation – on my part at least. Wandering around the venue I spotted the obligatory merchandise stall selling the usual bits and bobs, but also some ridiculously rare artifacts like Heathen Earth on blue vinyl. There was a bit of a scrum for the “antique” items, so instead I got myself a TG LTD t-shirt with union jack a la Jack the Tab but with a TG lightning flash instead of the inverted peace sign. It was a bit fascist looking, which went with the territory.

Years later I spent some time rummaging around in the London patents office on a P-Orridge related mission. One of the guys working on the front desk saw the TG logo and mentioned that he used to march under it. I twigged that he was talking about Oswald Moseley’s British Union of Fascists. In retrospect I should have pursued that further, but the guy clammed up a bit when he realised we weren’t on the same wavelength.

On the night in question I think the Coum Transmissions film “After Cease To Exist” may have been shown. At the time I would have paid six quid just to see that, such was its legendary status. Side two of TG’s first album is the soundtrack to the film – lots of sinister pulsing electronics which are soothing on the surface but somehow also manage to create a sense of unease. A lot the film itself is completely black (an idea borrowed from Guy Debord?) which means that the audience is plunged into darkness, waiting. I can’t remember much about the the actual footage you can see except that it features a staged castration of some unfortunate man.

TG Ltd performed reconstructions of Throbbing Gristle that were pretty good facsimiles of the original. Moody lighting, black and camouflage attire. Minimal, militaristic. Very different from the recent “hyperdelic” Psychic TV shows.

I remember a lot of rhythmic noise and electronics, out of which emerged the familiar sonic attributes of tracks like “Weapons Training”, “Persuasion”, “Hamburger Lady” and others. They were probably all the better for not being faithful tributes. Gen was clad in black, improvising heavily around the lyrics.

In many ways this satisfied the itch I had to witness PTV performing darker pre-”hyperdelic” material. Paula P-Orridge provided some vocal samples on tape from the PTV library, stuff like Charles Manson talking about being “scared to live”, “This is a fucking war!” from a zombie film via the Jack The Tab album, moans of female pleasure and pain.

“Discipline” was the grand finale, with the mighty Jordi Valls appearing onstage brandishing a whip, looking out of his mind. Some people down the front were losing it a bit, I think there was some ranty screaming going on. It was pretty intense.

But what was it all about? Genesis described it both as “a banishing ritual” and “to pay the telephone bill” at the time. He went on to explain his take on the event in an interview with the Swedish T.O.P.Y. magazine “Fenris Wolf”:

click to enlarge

The continuing historification of TG after this gig has thankfully allowed old wounds to heal. Throbbing Gristle reformed in 2004 and have performed live and released a few albums. I have to confess that all of this has completely passed me by, although people who I respect tell me that they are doing good works. I’m glad they are still out there, causing trouble.

Meanwhile, back in 1988, my ‘A’ Level retakes were looming…

previously on “the first 23 gigs I can remember going to”

21. Skinny Puppy plus comedian. Fulham Greyhound, 21st May 1988.

This was a really sunny day, so a bit of drinking outside the venue was called for. I can’t remember much about the Greyhound  except it was a bit of a hike from the nearest tube. I suspect I was still wearing a leather jacket and army surplus trousers despite the heat. And the obligatory t-shirt.The unwritten rule was that you couldn’t wear a t-shirt of a band which was actually on the bill, but you should try to wear one featuring an act which was similar, but more obscure.

In those days wearing a t-shirt signified being a true fan with an encyclopaedic knowledge of the band in question. At least it did for me. So, yes, I get annoyed by goons wearing Ramones shirts these days who can’t tell you three of their favourite tunes. (Off the top of my head: “Beat on the Brat”, “53rd and 3rd” and “Rockaway Beach”).

The St Albans stoner goth posse were in full effect at this gig. One of the things which put me off drugs as a teenager was that they seemed to make people really boring. I swear I spent whole afternoons sitting around while people argued over whose turn it was to skin up. And then talked bollocks to each other.

They were OK people despite all that – some of them let my mate Wal camp in their garden for a whole summer when he fell out with his parents. Plus it was good to widen the circle of people you traded tapes with. I remember getting a C90 with “Tackhead Tape Time” on one side and Portion Control’s “Psycho Bod Saves The World” on the other, as well as a whole tape of Skinny Puppy. I played the former more often, but Puppy definitely had something going for them.

It’s just a shame that the future gets old so quickly. A quick shonky download of “Cleanse Fold & Manipulate” and “Bites” reveals some cheesy orchestral synths, plodding beats and pantomime growly vocals. And some samples of evangelical preachers and horror film dialogue and all that. Death and War and Disease and stuff, yeah? YEAH? It’s like… WOAH!

Nevertheless this sound proved to be hugely influential with yer Slimelight cyber-goths. In fact you just have to add heavy metal guitars and you have the template for a load of groups which followed – albeit after having passed through the intestines of Trent Reznor. Needless to say, during this process a lot of the more experimental and ambiguous aspects of the original wave of industrial artists got left out.

Meanwhile another branch of industrial would shed any trace of rock music and converge with house and techno… but that’s a different story.

I have no idea who the warm up comedian was – he ranted on and threw raw sausages in the audience. Quite an odd billing.

Skinny Puppy had been heavily hyped in the music press, notably in the Melody Maker  as part of Simon Reynolds’ rather dispersed Arsequake “movement”. Much was made of their singer, Ogre, mutilating himself onstage. This seemed to bring the ghouls out, baying for him to do something outrageous.

There were some theatrics with fake blood and masks and possibly a staged vivisection, I can’t really remember. What stays with me is a packed sweaty mosh pit and a pummeling wall of noise and synths.

Sent via email, 14th July 2009:

Thank you for the latest issue of New Humanist which is a great read as ever, only slightly let down by Fiona Russell-Powell’s piece on Genesis P-Orridge. Whilst I’d be first in line to agree that Gen can be grumpy old sod, I don’t think he deserves a hatchet job for refusing an interview.

Leaving most of the snide gossip and factual errors in the article to one side, it seems curious that Russell-Powell omits the background to Genesis’ family exiling themselves from the UK.

The police raid on the P-Orridge household followed a sensationalist TV programme on “satanic ritual abuse” which falsely implied their involvement in child murder. The objectivity of the programme was called into question when defences of the P-Orridges were mounted from sources as diverse as Derek Jarman and The Mail On Sunday. The programme makers were revealed as evangelical Christians with their own axes to grind.

I was surprised to read that Hackney social services had taken an interest in the incident as the family had been living in Brighton for a number of years when it happened. Needless to say, no charges were brought against the P-Orridges, who must therefore be included in the select group of victims of “satanic panic” in the UK. I imagine that this will be of some interest to New Humanist’s readership.

I too was at the recent PTV gig in London and found the band to be on surprisingly good form. One of my friends had a brief chat with Genesis afterwards and remarked on how polite he was.

John Eden

Published in edited form in the September/October 2009 issue. My missive was awarded “Winning Letter” much to my amusement, but I am yet to receive my prize of six bottles of wine.

Since writing the letter I have been made aware of this recording of an interview Fiona Russell-Powell did with the Psychic TV for The Face in the early eighties. Her fascination with Charles Manson and the P-Orridge’s genital piercings seems to have diminished somewhat in the intervening years.

In a Madonna stageshow involving gasmasks and kilts, circa 2001.

(See the left dancer’s shirt).

Part one in a probably-not-very-expansive and very occasional series:

Chicago House producer Traxx aka Melvin Oliphant III aka one third of The Dirty Criminals rocking the classic* “crucified wolf” t-shirt.

(*actually the classic t-shirt just had the logo on with no mention of Psychic TV, spotters).