[3] Once upon a time in the postfuture,
the streets’dl be: “stone roses junction…inspiral
carpets warehouses” (Jeff Noon, Needle in
the Groove 213-16). Today: An American Prayer:
[5]William
S. Burroughs: ”Devise alternative endings.” (The Adding Machine 43)
[6]Ram it! |
[7]t-h-e-g-r-o-o-v-e-s-o-f-t-h-e-s-o-u-l:
Orajt, lemmie spell it out for you—there is noise and noise. The former is noise pollution: delusional babylonian belief
in a positive connotation of Disney, etc. Then there’s a noise filter: the
noise. But it’s kinda different. It’s ro-ro-rockin’N’ro-ro-rollin’. The latter
is used to green the former.
[8]
Let’s Groove: If “providing the wider world with the gift of democracy,”[9]
makes one a denizen of the global suburbia, then we are all Americans “or at
least a product of the Black Atlantic.”[10]
[11]
Inner City Blues: Home’s critical concept of The Black Celts–triracial Celtic
tribe, consisting of ancient African, Indian, and Viking civilizations—is playful questioning of the
avant-garde-modernist-postmodernist trajectory. Home reads history through
occult lenses. He portrays an Afro-Celtic carnival as a glorification of the
dull everyday turned into an endless party. Or, so it seems.
Lee
Scratch Perry’s Jamaican dub-rock-steady-ska is an offering to the young punks’
experimental explorations. The likes of the Clash, the Specials, Madness, the
Ruts, to name just a few, incorporate reggae elements into the explosive base,
from the seventies onwards known as punk rock. Diverting from glam and prog
rock structural complexities and expressive verbosity, these bands’ minimalist
musical philosophy radiates surplus of energy amidst economic scarcity. Their
music breeds lyrical delicacy underneath an ugly mask of anger and violence.
The Sex Pistols opened up lateral postfuturist avenues under the guise of
dystopian cynicism, verging on nihilism. In The Damned, a touch of goth harmony
meets the rebellious impulse. The Stranglers’ keyboards are an insider’s
provocative invitation to the conversation with comrades.
[20]
Natural Soul Brother: White Stripes learn from the fathers to become mafothers.
Their radically rudimentary blues powerhouse is an untamable string ode, slaying
across the drum foundation. Violent Femmes’ and Wilco’s subtle critical references
to country music tell stories of the reconfigured American Dream. Pop
structure, yet somewhat different undertone in the Rezillos’s tongue-in-cheek
acidic bitterness and a sweet aftertaste is the sound of… the other
Scotland…the Scotland of Cocteau Twins.
Neil Young’s rebirth through
the guitar sound on the soundtrack for Jim Jarmusch’s movie Dead Man (1995) is another example of
the remix. ZZ Top introduce to the ear
of the listener the glory of seductive irony. Iggy Pop’s steady rockin with the
leftist twist immemorial on “Louie, Louie” is a survivor manifesto.
creations leads to a spurious denial of its historic roots.”[22]
[23] Givers Don’t Lack: Primal Scream’s amazing transindividualism is as versatile as their chameleonic passage from a crooked version of Brit Pop, via filtered echoes of acid house, to the modified Delta sound. Theirs is a jargon-free demonstration of the unspoken ramifications of the avant-garde-modernist-postmodernist journey. They show that postmodernism is right to denounce the notion of representation, but that the underpinning presumption is wrong. Representation is worthy of rebuking, not because nothing is authentic, but because a replica is an impossibility. Acknowledging the relational character of arts, they emphasize immediacy of creation, not by casting aside the original-copy dichotomy, but rather by rendering it redundant, thereby manifesting the inevitability of the much abhorred authenticity.
[24]”American
is dead. Long live America!” (Memphis
Underground 285). American might be dead, but Sheena’s spirit is still
alive and well, haunting the Bowery as vivaciously as ever. The greatest punk
rocka of them all.
[27] Yes.
And mind you, the reader, too, has to be a bloody good dj. To remix the text
and one’s good self guided by reforgotten turntablist poetics underlying the
uncertainties during postfuturist excavations. To remap the vocabularies of the
socioscape and the inner tissue alike is to bloody undo the knots in the
dreamscape of mafotherlands. Digging the archive of the giant body of research
is to spin one record after another until a flow is established and a leakage
from abutting narratives is purged. In such remix, scratching is a sudden
outburst of the radical light’s friendly smile amidst the communication
channel, rather than a noisy agitation in the dark tunnel.
[1]
Trafalgar Square, London. August, 2010.
[2]
Leicester Square, London. June 2008.
[3] Damien Hirst, The
Physical Impossibility of Death in the Mind of Someone Living, Metropolitan
Museum, NYC, March 2008.
[5] Edinburgh.
Scotland, UK. August, 2010.
[6]
Victoria. London, UK, December, 2010.
[7]
Siberia. Aberdeen, Scotland, UK. August, 2010.
[9]
Stewart Home, Memphis Underground,
258.
[10]
Ibid., 31.
[11]
Shoreditch, London. August 2009.
[12]
Lieth, Edinburgh. August, 2010.
[13]
Washington Heights, NYC. September, 2010.
[14] The
Living Colour. Central Park, NYC. June, 2010.
[15] The
West Village, NYC. April, 2011.
[16]East
Harlem, NYC. September, 2009.
[17]
Harlem, NYC. October 2009.
[18]
Hackney, London. January, 2011.
[19]
Hackney, London. January, 2010.
[20] St.
Nicholas’ at St. Sava. Ladbroke Grove, London. December, 2010.
[21]
Novi Sad, Serbia. January 2010.
[22]
Stewart Home, Memphis Underground,
77.
[23]
Leith, Edingburgh, August, 2010.
[24] Drummatics,
34th St, Herald Square subway station, 2008.
[25] MUF,
Ladbroke Grove, London. August 2010.
[26] Jeff
Noon, Needle in the Groove, 2000;
287.
[27]
Brookland, NYC. October 2011.
No comments:
Post a Comment