It began as a spirit of revolt
To break the rules and upset forms
It is the suspension of decision making
We let the body speak for itself.
To reveal itself
To reject the superficiality of everyday life.
In 1997, following a negative review of Tom Chant’s Touch (Matchless), three big cheeses in London Improv – Eddie Prevost, Evan Parker and Martin Davidson – decided that the Ben Watson by-line must be banished forever. This was Tom’s big break, and it upset their plans if anyone pointed out the record wasn’t much cop (since then, all three musicians have agreed in private that I was basically right). Derek Bailey was highly amused, and congratulated me on outraging no less than three eminences with a single short review. Shortly thereafter, Evan Parker was raging in a reader’s letter against another “erroneous” critic, and said something along the lines of “the problem is that, if – God forbid – Ben Watson should be run over by a bus, there’s going to be another idiot ready to replace him”.Derek pointed this out to me, raised an eyebrow and said “that’s a threat, you know, and not so veiled …”. Derek responded to this letter (and some other things) in “The Ballad of Big Bad Ben”. It’s from Chats (Incus), a fantastic CD-R with lots of Derek’s inimitable spoken-word.
Free improvisation and Chadbourne are most definitely a manifestation of Holloway’s other-doing. A crack in the fabric of market capitalism. Outside of the spectacle and beyond its tentacles. No commodities or profundity chasing here. This is primal use value all up in ya face. And he’s an old fart as well, who’s been doing it for years. Eyebrows and recalcitrant stiff middle fingers all over the place. A fuck you to the man. Who says you have to grow up! Revolutionary potential? Who knows, go ask Taylor Swift!
Below a review by the Psychedelic Bolsheviks of Eugene Chadbourne’s concert at Cafe Otto in London. The link for those interested
Seriously, how long does one have to put up with liberal Nobel Laureates and other half funking arsed liberal economic commentators rabbiting on with their holier than thou OVER FUNKING EDUCATED bullshit as if they REALLY funking care. Funking debt restructuring and giving countries a fresh start because that’s how capitalism can work?!? YEAH, AND THEN YOU CAN KEEP YOUR FUNKING HUGE SALARIES as you rock back and forth guiltlessly in your serious leather funking business shoes with your hands in the pockets of your seriously look-how-successful-I-am suit funking pants.
FUNK YOU AND FUNK OFF ! JUST CANCEL FUNKING CAPITALISM BECAUSE THERE’S NOT A FUNKING SKERRICK OF MORALITY IN IT. IT’S JUST ONE GREAT BIG FUNKING PHYSICAL AND MENTAL PRISON YOU FUNKING NOBLE LIBERAL LAUREATE MOTHERFUNKERS.
“So soon as I got home after I’d fed the hungry dog, the hungry cat and the hungry me, I started sucking on a piece of raw garlic which made it a bit better for a while. I had a few things I had to do online, apply for a job and apply for a benefit so I got the laptop out and looked for some music to play; I’d downloaded the three I to I tracks by Music with my insane friend, recommended by Out To Lunch on Facebook.”
Everything does seem to fail, doesn’t it. Things pop up then disappear. Some look promising but kind of go nowhere. Nowhere seems to be the destination of so many things. One could try to list them all but why bother. Where’s that gonna get us? Probably nowhere.
Occupy this, start that, infiltrate those, radicalise them, confront that discourse, write about this, think through that, debate them, discuss this. This idea, that idea. Yep, on and on and on and on. Nowhere bound.
[The annual Anzac Day ritual coming up soon here in Australia, so a poem in memoriam of two child victims of Australian soldiers in Afghanistan. Howard, Rudd and Gillard were the three Australian Prime Ministers in office during the Afghanistan intervention. ANZUS stands for the Australian/New Zealand/US alliance or treaty. Photo from AFP relating to other victims and a father’s grief.]