Burial: 'Rival Dealer EP'

Context.

I wouldn’t normally write two music related posts so close together, - this is nominally a blog about my visual art after all.  However, it would be pointless to ignore the central role music plays in my perception of the world, and just how much it leaks into my own work, both consciously and subconsciously.  Also, sometimes you hear something that just turns you over and requires an immediate response.  Enter, Burial’s ‘Rival Dealer’ EP [1.].

For some reason, William Bevan’s music just keeps hitting that spot for me year after year.  He doesn’t do that much, and seems to have settled into a routine of releasing small numbers of extended tracks in EP format, each winter.  Every time I fear I may be finally disappointed; that the familiar palette of sounds and air of profound urban melancholy will wear thin.  Each time I’m floored all over again by the guy’s ability to wring so much profound emotional mileage from what is essentially a toolbox of collaged, (and therefore, one might imagine, ultimately ironic or Post Modern), signifiers.

Three tracks in twelve months might seem a meagre return, but when each is so lovingly crafted; so full of changes of pace and direction; just so downright heartbreaking; - do we have the right to ask for more?  These aren’t just tracks of atmospheric beats & bass music.  Each is a miniature epic psychodrama and I’m not sure we could actually cope with much more.

The Internet will fill up with critics dissecting these tracks in terms of genre, current relevance, technique and P.R..  Burial’s addition of new tropes and motifs to his existing aural vocabulary will be analysed in microscopic detail and individual samples identified by the anoraks.  For me, this is just a chance to present some kind of subjective reaction to each of the three new tracks…

Response.

‘Rival Dealer’:  This opens with the now customary fog of sighs, surface noise and artificially pitched vocal fragments.  Darkness descends on another yearning South London Borough soundscape.  Then melancholy is shouldered aside by bullying Jungle-type break beats, seriously intimidating bass and a kind of looped, metallic wailing.  It’s not just large, it’s bristling and indignant; there are reserves of barely suppressed anger here, and the sense of long pent-up frustrations boiling over.  It feels like so much more than nostalgia for a lost age of imagined Rave communion.  This feels like what happens when the propulsion and sheer visceral heft of serious rhythm syncs up with real emotional damage.

Burial is no stranger to the nuances of layered crackle and hiss, - veils of elegantly draped aural texture.  Here, it’s all more clotted and overloaded than ever before and punctuated with multiple samples.  Over numerous stops and starts, missteps and pauses for thought, a trademark manipulated female vocal endows generic declarations of love with far more soul and significance than they really deserve.  Disembodied voices hint at crises of identity and of sexual confusion, descending, in the depths of the track’s most threatening Techno-inflected middle section, to the level of a rapper’s profanity.  It’s like being jostled and harried in a packed club where the dance could turn to violence in a moment.

When the aggression and bass pressure finally lift, we are treated to a coda of heavenly synth and stripped-in saxophone.  Phrases that should seem hackneyed, speak instead of healing; of something resolved.  A sampled voice declares, “This is who I am”, fearlessly but without arrogance.  Another closes out the track with what may be a Science Fiction-derived description of alien visitation but which sounds more like some kind of gift descending from the heavens.

‘Hiders’:  The shorter, second track picks up the lush, soulful mood of the immediately preceding movement, hanging it around solemn piano stabs, before applying what sounds like a brief passage of upbeat rhythm, typical of something far more optimistically Pop flavoured than we’d ever have expected.  In the track’s later stages, however, this gives way to a near-vacant space, almost bereft of actual ‘music’ and suggestive of deep, directionless anxiety.  It’s like one of those dark, truly forbidding ambient moments in a David Lynch/Angelo Badalamenti soundtrack.  A voice asks, “…Y’gonna take me away?”  Another intones “Excuse me, I’m lost”, and it really feels like we are.

‘Come Down To Us’:  When Burial finds a way out of this impasse it’s via an extended closing track that is, frankly, infused with a kind of Baroque majesty.  It’s like the blending of slow R&B with ‘Air On A G String’ (and a looped phrase of Arabic strings).  In visual terms, this feels like a stately procession through golden candlelight and is a world away from the profound shadow and sodium street lighting that normally saturate his music.  It sounds like nothing so much as a coronation of sorts and, in its later stages, seems to ascend from Earth into a higher realm.  With only minor adjustments you could actually pair this with a soft-focused video and release it as a Christmas song called something like ‘Redeeming Love’.

That Burial is prepared to employ such potentially trite means of tugging the heartstrings whilst adhering to his own agenda is both amazing and exciting.  It’s as if he’s appropriating some already synthetic musical cliché and retooling it for renewed sincerity.  Somehow, this feels like a distillation of all the ways he has increasingly manipulated the second-hand fragments of a cynical world, saturated in urban dread and empty hedonism, to create a space where we might feel real emotion again.

The real kicker comes at the very end though, when a level, unprocessed voice describes the struggle to achieve contentment and self-acceptance within a trans-gendered life.  It seems to tie the whole record together and to confirm, (if we hadn’t already picked up the clues), the common themes running through this interlocking suite of tracks.  It’s also an account from life [2.]; a moment of moving, emotional honesty and, just possibly, the first time Burial has looked us full in the face.

Conclusion:

I don’t know if this is William Bevan’s own coming-out missive or just a heartfelt statement of solidarity with anyone who has suffered bullying or the struggle to establish an identity of his or her own, (and it shouldn’t actually matter).  For now, he remains as shadowy and elusive figure as ever, but this release does suggest something of a corner may have been turned.  We might all wish to stay forever in the familiar shadows of his grimy urban nocturnes, but instead, and quite rightly, he seems determined to push ahead, searching for breakthroughs within his music, and perhaps, his life.

Bevan’s public pronouncements are as rare as hen’s teeth, so I should let the last word be his…

“I put my heart into the new EP, I hope someone likes it.  I wanted the tunes to be anti-bullying tunes that could maybe help someone to believe in themselves, to not be afraid, and to not give up, and to know that someone out there cares and is looking out for them.” [3.].

[1.]:  Burial, ‘Rival Dealer EP’, Hyperdub, 2013.

[2.]:  The sample is an extract from:  (Filmmaker) Lana Wachowski, Acceptance Speech On Receipt of Human Rights Campaign Visibility Award, San Francisco, 2012.

[3.]:  Text message from Burial, read out on: ‘Mary Anne Hobbs’ RadioShow’, BBC Radio 6 Music, Saturday, 14 December 2013, (at approx. 50 mins).

The Outer Church, Hacker Farm, & The Rewiring Of The English Countryside

'The Outer Church':  A Highly Recommended Compilation

It’s no secret that my musical tastes are fairly varied, but also true that things sometimes go in phases.  So it has been recently.  My current artistic activities have been predominantly sound-tracked by various strands of contemporary and fairly abstract electronica, amongst which are a number of acts new to me.  Several of those have been associated, in one way or another, with Joseph Stannard’s ‘TheOuter Church’ events in Brighton of recent years.

Joseph Stannard (& Familiar)

In so far as this might be regarded as a ‘scene’, (and that really shouldn’t be the best way to assess the work), some common themes might include: a general sense of occult weirdness; an abstracted view of the British countryside; and a sensitivity to the darker strands running through, (sometimes ancient), folk history.  All of that is certainly true of the music of IX Tab and Kemper Norton in particular, both of which I’ve had on repeat play lately.

Those are hardly new ideas and there are also undoubted crossovers with other musicians currently working in the fields of dark ambience or horror soundtrack aesthetics. There’s also a connection with the whole Hauntological theme of recent times, not least through the active participation in ‘Outer Church’ type projects of such acts as Mordant Music and Pye Corner Audio.  Journalists and commentators have often bracketed them within the Hauntological camp, but it goes without saying that such labels are generally of more interest to journalists than to the artists they write about.

In fact, a loose connectedness, and a willingness to work in collaboration, are typical of many of these artists, and perhaps, of the current digital/social media generation in general.  One of the creative nodes who have demonstrated this collective approach, but whose rather more politicised, almost punkish, DIY approach and abrasive aesthetics also set them slightly apart, is Hacker Farm.  They are essentially Farmer Glitch, Kek-W and Bren, (yeah, right), - three individuals with varying pedigrees in experimental and dance music, who now create a kind of bastard rural electronica mostly rooted in noise generation, and often employ instruments comprising salvaged electronics and agricultural junk.  To date they have two official album releases; 2011’s self published ‘Poundland’, and ‘UHF’ from earlier this year.

Based in Yeovil, Somerset, the two really interesting things about HF, apart from the noise they make, are the strand of political subversion running through their work, and a singularly contemporary take on the realities of British rural life.  This is far from the cliché of romantic idyll with which Brits still hypnotise themselves.  Instead, they evoke a more recognisable world of rural unemployment (or casual, cash work), drab market towns denuded of their original economic function, populations priced out of local housing, limited opportunities for what was once called The Working Class, and cultural impoverishment generally.  This is all tied up with a healthy/unhealthy dose of conspiracy theorising which, let’s face it, is never far away, these days.

We’re not talking about protest songs, or indeed, anything resembling the Folk Tradition here at all.  Hacker Farm deal in a brand of post-industrial Noise Art in which those repeated rhythms that exist often resemble the irregular clunks and clattering of failing farm equipment.  Their synthesised atmospheres might call to mind industrial estates, bypasses, power stations, military installations or electro-static interference on surveillance footage, rather than anything traditionally bucolic or verdant.

Within this essentially abstract framework, however, are buried various clues to their underlying agenda.  These can take the form of album or track titles, (‘Poundland’, ‘Deterritorial Army’, ‘Austerity Measures’, etc.), or vocal samples buried within the music, such as the marketplace voicing of domestic dissatisfaction in ‘Ilchester’, or the frankly Situationist diatribe in ‘One, Six, Nein’.  They also carry over into the presentation of Hacker Farm product, be it in the detournement of the Hewlett Packard Logo for their own ident or the packaging of ‘Poundland’ in tatty, recycled CD cases (with a cheeky Oxfam sticker printed on the artwork).  Indeed, by holing up on a disused farm and augmenting their income by brewing and selling rough cider, their collective lifestyle might be said to epitomise some of the very issues they seek to explore.

Hacker Farm: Churning Sound...

I guess all this rather contradicts my stated aim, a few months back, of trying to relate to music primarily in an emotional way.  Certainly, this music does stimulate a number of subjective responses, (mostly fear, disquiet, and alienation, admittedly).  However, it strikes me that, as with much ideas-based art in whatever media, understanding something of the conceptual or theoretical context is pretty fundamental to the whole experience.  I’m not sure I’d have picked up all of the ideas in HF’s work from the music alone, much as I might enjoy listening to it.  Is this a problem?  Probably not.  Ideally, I want any artwork to either move and interest me.  However, in so many cases, and certainly with this kind of stuff, the two things aren’t mutually exclusive.

…And A Bucket Of Noise

The other thing that Hacker Farm make me reflect on is the whole relationship between urban, suburban and rural environments, and how the distinctions between them seem to be blurring.  I live in an inner city, consciously seek out subjects in my immediate environment, and have talked a lot about my own art as being essentially urban in nature.  I’ve also referred on several occasions, to artists who deal mostlywith those liminal territories where town and country once met.  The rurally based but somewhat brutalist work of Hacker Farm seems to relocate sonic motifs and ideas traditionally associated with the city, (such as Situationism), into the English countryside.  It suggests that, in a world of digital connectedness and global economics, and post both Agricultural and Industrial Revolutions, any clear distinctions between these physical zones may become increasingly obscure.

Of Particular Relevance:

Hacker Farm, ‘Poundland’, 2011, Self-Published CDR

Hacker Farm, ‘UHF’, 2013, Exotic Pylon Records

Various Artists, ‘The Outer Church’, 2013, Front & Follow

Kemper Norton, ‘Carn’, 2013, Exotic Pylon Records

IX Tab, ‘Spindle & The Bregnut Tree’, 2012, Twiggwytch Recordings

The House In The Woods, ‘Buccolica’, 2013, Exotic Pylon Records

Pye Corner Audio, 'Sleep Games', 2012, Ghostbox

Also Listening To:

Autechre, L-Event, 2013, Warp

The Haxan Cloak, ‘The Haxan Cloak’, 2011, Aurora Borealis

Laurel Halo, ‘Chance Of Rain’, 2013, Hyperdub

Emptyset, ‘Demiurge’, 2011, Subtext

Emptyset, ‘Recur’, 2013, Raster Noton

Oneohtrix Point Never, ‘R Plus 7’, 2013, Warp

The Stranger, ‘Watching Dead Empires In Decay’, 2013, Modern Love

Deepchord, ‘20 Electrostatic Soundfields’, 2013, Soma



(Some of these are quite dark, and there are relatively few easy listens, but there's not actually a bad one amongst them).

Belgrave Gate Project 7: Over & Under And Round & Round

Belgrave Flyover, Belgrave Circle, Leicester November 2013

As we slide into December and the days grow ever shorter, I feel like I’ve spent most of the year complaining about my creative frustrations.  There have been no shortage of ideas, (or commitment to them), but, for various reasons, everything got a bit fragmented and undirected this year.  Most annoyingly, the luxurious academic summer holidays found me plagued by various health niggles and singularly lacking in energy.  Some work was done, but without fully capitalising on that valuable block of available time.

The Woodsman, Belgrave Gate, Leicester, November 2013

I’ll probably look back on the year, in a few weeks, and find that plenty did happen really, but that it was mostly in the form of smaller, paper based pieces, extensive photographs, tentative writings and, (most intriguingly), experiments with video.  At the turn of the year I stated my intention to augment my core painting and photographic activities with other media, and that certainly has started to happen.  However, inevitably, it’s one of the reasons why things seem to be spread rather thin and there are less fully resolved paintings, to show for the year.

Belgrave Flyover, Belgrave Road, Leicester, October 2013

I’ve also caused myself problems by having too many seperate projects on the go at once, (five at the last count), each of which has the potential to become an extended body of work.  It’s great that I’ve been finding visual (and intellectual), stimulus all over the place; and identifying and compartmentalising distinct strands within it all does help to keep things reasonably focused, at least.  Unfortunately though, it also emphasises that my day job leaves only so many hours in the day/week/month, even when I’m using the time energetically.  A definite resolution for next year is to focus on consolidating existing stuff before I load any more creative shotguns.

Belgrave Flyover, Belgrave Road, Leicester, November 2013

Belgrave Flyover, Belgrave Circle, Leicester, October 2013

Anyway, enough moaning.  At no point has the work actually stopped, and the last few weeks have seen me applying myself with renewed vigour.  This is, in part, due to an external deadline of the most unavoidable kind, (see below).  I’ve spent much of that time with both still and video cameras around one of the two major flyover/roundabout conjunctions that characterise the area of Leicester covered by my ‘Belgrave Gate Project’.  When not there, I’ve repeatedly driven around both roundabouts and over the flyovers that transcend them, shooting video through the car windscreen courtesy of a very homemade, but fairly effective, dashboard camera mount, (it fits my Fabia pretty well, - I’m happy to license the rights to Skoda, for the right fee).

Told You It Was Very Homemade

There must be considerable CCTV footage of me performing these slightly eccentric manoeuvers already, so I should assure the authorities that my motives are benign and that everything is hands-free.  Revealingly, I now realise that pretty much any mundane activity can now become an art activity for me.  The normally frustrating stop-start tedium of driving in rush hour traffic has been translated into a captivating, strangely hypnotic stream of visual consciousness when played back on screen.  Of course, another drain on my time will be teaching myself to edit all this footage into something coherent.  Anyone want to pay me a modest stipend to give up work and just spend the rest of my days indulging myself with all this? (I thought not).

Sainsbury's Supermarket, Belgrave Road, Leicester, October 2013

Extra hours have also been devoted to collecting visual information in the car park of the adjacent Sainsbury’s supermarket.  Having faffed about over summer, I suddenly realised that their closure and relocation is upon us, and that the subsequent contested demolition of the flyover next to the site is likely to commence in the New Year.  The chance to document all this change should, of course, be a gift to the overall long-term project, (urban transformation being one of my preoccupations), but any ‘Before-During-After’ story relies on there being enough of the ‘Before’ to really tell the tale.

Sainsbury's Supermarket, Belgrave Road, Leicester, November 2013

For the time being, it’s a case of just seeing the year out as productively as I can and picking up the ball again as quickly as possible after the inevitable festive hiatus.  The hard drives are bursting at the seams; another of the mysterious paper-based ‘Clue’ pieces has reached completion; and a full-blown ‘Belgrave Gate’ painting is all planned, and under way.  Physiotherapy and an introduction to Pilates [1.], seem to be keeping me a little more mobile; and December should (hopefully) see an end to my distracting dental problems.  It seems that 2013 may be ending with rather more momentum than was evident six months ago.

Sainsbury's Supermarket, Belgrave Road, Leicester, November 2013

[1.]:  Many thanks, Di McDermott.  I know it’s been a heavy year for you too.