“Postmodernism and pop reggae: a marriage made in Heaven or Hell. You Decide,” declaimed a denim-clad Green Gartside with slightly-practiced modesty and a shuffling consternation that would appear repeatedly during Scritti Politti’s first Berlin appearance since a Martin Kippenberger-sanctioned night at SO 36 in 1979. Scritti—which is whomever the stage-adverse Gartside decides it wood beez—haven’t played many gigs since 1979, and with their arc from the directly countercultural to the complicatedly commercial, it’s not the only comparison one might make between them and the once stage-shy Steely Dan, whose initial dissolve coincided with Scritti’s brief ascendancy. Also like The Dan, their previous album (which was all Gartside) is over a half-decade old; with the Klieg light a-wanderin’ it is apparently safe to hide on the road again.
So, is that road a stairway to Heaven or a highway to Hell? Well, the road to Hell is paved with good intentions, just as the stairway to Hebbel Theater is red-carpeted with legacy acts. A well-known autodidact sporting a semiotic student’s bookshelf and a squatter’s sense of place, Gartside’s best known for his effortfully effortless mid-Eighties lite-funk and most respected by the current cognoscenti for his proleptical Rough Trade messthetic post-punk, and is self-effacing about both. That paradigm may yet shift again. He doesn’t record often—five official albums in thirty years. But if the stories he told while fronting his four-piece, which included seeing Tito Puente with Kraftwerk, as well as Gregory Isaacs, Joni Mitchell, and—HEY! There’s his buddy Robyn Hitchcock peacocking in polka dots throughout the room tonight—were any indication, the sparseness may have less to do with exactitude and more to do with an intellectual’s fall toward earthier pursuits. Introducing “The Boom Boom Bap” from 1999’s severely odd, rap-ish record Anomie & Bonhomie, he noted, “This next song is about beer and hip-hop,” which he claims dominated his life during his post-stardom years of Welsh exile. And may still be, as during an evening in which he was previously gulping Spree Quelle and cough syrup, he theatrically canvassed the audience for a brew. A woman offered up a Kostritzer from her bag she had smuggled in, though he perused a single quaff.
Gartside looks younger than he did in the promotional photos for that album. His voice, now housed in a bear-of-a-man instead of a rail-thin androgyne, is often described as boy-ish and, at his age, one might add uncanny. Perhaps the years of restricting its use have prevented retardation. Tonight’s concert revealed the songwriter beneath the perfect pop conceptualist; he did not privilege his hits and, by avoiding 80s soundtrack signifiers “Perfect Way” and “Oh Patti,” arguably de-emphasized them. But by doing so, also showed up the historical danger that ideas can render upon songwriting, positioning them as platforms for the sonics-of-the-day.
For while it appears that Gartside would go on to embrace black pop music out of aesthetic, not political love, like many brainiacs and Commies taken with populism during the 80s, the creator of the commercial pinnacle Cupid & Psyche 85 can (fairly or unfairly) appear a bit dilettantish, sampling and weaving the styles of the era, and Gartside’s discovery of Black Music as a Came to Golgatha moment whiffs a bit of the ridiculous in these 2000s. A 1980s England just coming to terms with the idea that black people were humans led to a lot of musical overdetermination (the first wave of British rappers is truly worthy of a mini-series; it would be more Brideshead Revisited than The Wire). But a quarter-century later and the UK is a truly multicultural society (Germany, not so much).
Still, there is a touch of the Amazon Shopper in the Ivory Tower to Gartside’s pop work, with its daub of Miles and smidgen of Mos Def (whose rap Gartside had to apologetically mimic on “Die Alone”), though this also makes the Scritti albums archetypal for their period(s!). If you want to understand a certain late-70s leftist mindset, the Early compilation Rough Trade put out last decade is as good as any. For the non-political ways Thatcher/Reagan and cocaine goosed Yippie into Yuppie, Scritti’s 80s albums are key. And Anomie reflects the mainstream absorption and bohemianization of hip-hop culture during the late 90s.
Gartside appears aware of this. He joked about mispronouncing ‘Jacques Derrida’ in the early single of the same name (why not? It worked for Sting?), then he warned us that he would be interpolating a Jeru the Damaja song. He pronounced him as Jerry the Damager. On the way to the show I caught a mustachioed fellow reading Slavoj Žižek on the U-Bahn. Returning, I mused on how Gartside’s lyrics are so literate and wordy that his confusion causes lyrical rhythms that might well end up being his true musical innovation. Or rather, invocation. Isn’t praying like Aretha Franklin just another form of analysis? ~
Photos: Tanja Siren, https://www.facebook.com/tanjasiren007
Mark Stewart is a formidable thinker. He talks quickly but his brain is almost definitely moving even faster. To engage him in conversation is to become entangled in a dense web of references, names and concepts, the conversational topics ricocheting from one to the other at an intimidating velocity. That’s OK though, we’ve come to expect that of the man that helped bring us Bristol post punk politicos The Pop Group. With their agitprop approach and DIY sensibilities they helped vocalise the anger and apathy that defined 80s Britain hobbled by a Thatcher government. While few would have predicted that they would ever reform, this year saw the band working on an album of new material.
There’s more to Mark Stewart than The Pop Group, however. A fervent online activist and solo artist, his recent album The Politics of Envy (released via Future Noise) affirmed his influence as he drew upon his friends and peers for collaborations – Kenneth Anger, Primal Scream, Richard Hell and Lee “Scratch” Perry all signed up. Still, for all his old guard status, he still resonates with a whole new generation and today sees the release of his collaboration with Nik Void of austere industrialists Factory Floor for new single ‘Stereotype’.
A good a time as any, then, for Electronic Beats editor-in-chief Max Dax to pick the his brains. Hold tight.
Max Dax: I’ve recently been thinking a lot about the role of protest in music, going back to the 1960s when it was a very real entity. I assume that you don’t consider what you are doing as protest music, but there is this very conscious aspect to the music you make – how would you relate to that term?
Mark Stewart: Personally I don’t separate politics from reality. I think every move you make is political – when you pick up the cup and the cup is made from tin from a death belt in Africa, or your trainers are made with slave labour in China. Everything is political. People say my music is political, so is everyone else in the world blind when they look at the obscene inequalities in the way the corporations are raping the world’s resources?
You are referring to this Joseph Beuys idea, that everything you do, everything you say, has a political component?
Yeah, they have a saying in Bali: “We have no art, we do everything well”. The Greek root of the word politics is just “gathering” or “people”. How come that since the Medieval times a small amount of people have convinced the rest that they are not in control of their actions, that it’s up to kings or queens or politicians. That’s rubbish. Why should pensioners in Greece or Spain be blamed for a banking scandal in America when millionaire bankers ripped off each other? It’s all a big confidence trick. I see capitalism as a mirror that is beginning to crack. I mean, Guy Debord, one of the founders of the Situationist International, wrote this book called “Society of the Spectacle” and I think we’ve been under the spell of the spectacle, we’ve been zombie workers for too long. Even in Tunisia with Tunileaks, in different parts of Africa people are realising that what they’ve been told is complete bullshit. The media is owned by the slavemasters.
Do you consider your music and your role as an artist as an opportunity to spread ideas, concepts and doubts?
Doubt is a very important word for me. The concepts of doubt and the fire of nihilism has been driving me since the beginning of punk days. With my last record “The Politics of Envy” I was collaborating with people like The Raincoats, The Jesus and Mary Chain, Keith Levene from Public Image Limited, Killing Joke and the Slits and it really reminded me of the D.I.Y. messthetics – as Simon Reynolds called it – from back in the day with Rough Trade. When we tried to control our means of production and we were just constantly doing protests rallies. I think at the moment all you can share is a sense of community across the world. Friends of mine are fighting on the front line of Burma, and yet other friends are fighting against loggers in South America. Music is like an umbrella which can give you a little solace and make you feel like you’re not the only lunatic or the only outsider in the world. We thought from punk that everybody was equal, the people on the stage were no more important than the people in the audience. I see my role only as important as someone making a carpet or fixing an engine or putting a shoe on a horse, it’s part of the continuous process.
You just mentioned the importance of friendship, of exchanging and formulating thoughts. One of the irritating facets of the 21st century is how the term friends seems like it’s owned by Facebook. How do you see this shift in how we talk about issues like friends and gatherings?
I feel that across the world people are beginning to see through the lies. There’s a generation of people who’ve been fed by music and radical ideas, from the Occupy movement to Tibet to people on the streets in Thailand. Everywhere I travel people are really beginning to question what we’re being told. Whether they use Twitter to organise a demonstration, whether they organise Occupy protests or hacktivist symposiums, I think the speed of the hypermedia helps. My community now lives online. Back in the day you could say I’m a punk, I’m a goth, I’m into reggae and you’d gather at certain concerts but now there are people like the Electronic Frontier Foundation and other groups and there’s a space where people with shared interests can gather – online. It seems that there are punk secret agents from our generation throughout different levels of our society like The Simpsons creator Matt Groening, to the head of a big Japanese media conglomerate. I’ve got a lyric on the new album: “bankrupt ideologies litter the dealing room floors” – I think we’ve really got to keep open minds and keep our antennaes open and not moan and not judge things by the past and use the new tools to build something new. It’s a time of hyperchange and we can’t keep judging it by morals and ideals from the 1950s.
Another ideal, not from the 50s but the 80s, a result of punk, was the foundation of Rough Trade Records. They considered themselves independent from the market and from the media. Then Rough Trade went bankrupt and now when you talk about indie rock, it seems to have become a genre of music but it’s not filled with political context any more. How do you feel about this word Independency being stolen?
It would be a ten page conversation about so-called independent record stores or record labels. My only feeling is when we were kids we built up the tendrils that stretched across the world from Japan, to Survival Research Laboratories in the States, to Rough Trade America to cool protest groups in South America, bands in Japan. What I’ve found in the last couple of years with my friends, my comrades, they’re Chinese artists, people behind Tunileaks, they’re aboriginal people, it’s a much wider thing than just music. I call these people sympatico, maybe we argue over the specifics and maybe somebody’s got the wrong concept of economics … But music is one small corner of this group. There’s a global underground and I’m finding that people on the electronic frontiers have the most imagination at the moment. The discussions we’re having is reminiscent of the old salons in Vienna where mystics, alchemists, scientists and politicians did gather. People at the bleeding edge of new technologies, new political concepts and experiments in art and music are all gathering together. That’s how I found Kreuzberg in Berlin, with people like Bruce La Bruce. It’s possible for bright minded people to meet like they did in the Cabaret de Voltaire and create new things. My father was a great scientist – so I grew up with mad people coming to the house anyway!
Do you see your new record as a manifesto for this?
A personal manifesto. All I’m doing is that I’m going through notes of what I’m interested in, notes of what I think is wrong and what I think is right, interesting things I see in the world, be they political, mystical, artistic, sexual or politics. And often it’s just questions. For me my new album is like a personal letter from my front line. If I have to be a poet in this situation I should be allowed to deal with any subject in the world. Why should we be censored in music to just sing about cars and girls?
You say it’s a personal letter, but normally you write a letter to a certain person you have in mind – and not an anonymous mass of people.
It’s a jumble of my mind. I remember talking to Allen Ginsberg once about how he wrote, and it’s just the way my mind thinks and it’s the way my mind’s been thinking since I was 14. I’m not saying anything is right or wrong but these are the things I find interesting. Other people obviously find it interesting to sing about bottoms or breasts or Ferraris. But I don’t, sorry.
How have you felt about The Pop Group’s comeback so far?
The strangest thing happened when Matt Groening curated ATP and he asked Iggy to reform the Stooges and me to reform The Pop Group. I thought it was a stupid idea. I thought it would be like necrophilia. Then, suddenly, with my art projects I’ve been flown to Vancouver and been told to collaborate with a fat Korean artist who works with lard and some shadow puppet maker from Thailand. I keep trying to decondition and question why I’m making certain judgements: One side of my brain said why are you negating this thing, why can’t you just treat the reformation as a new commission. So I thought OK I’d walk into this with new eyes and I just said to the other members “let’s see if we can make something new”. Immediately when me and Gareth Sager started working something really bizarre happened. There’s these alchemical beasts called golem, and golem appeared in the room. It’s nothing like anything from The Pop Group, it’s nothing like anything me or the other guys have ever made, they’re like these huge French chansons with string arrangements and these things are running off with a life of their own. I’m shocked. We’ve just control of our back catalogue so next year there’s going to be a classic box set and we’re going to produce a brand new Pop Group album called The Alternate. The thing’s got a life of its own. It’s interesting for me, I can stand back and watch, it’s like a firework. I don’t understand how these things work but from hanging around with Kenneth Anger last year in Portugal I learned that if magic happens you just have to stand back and watch. You don’t try and control it.
But somehow you control it by having different outlets, you have the Pop Group, you have The Maffia [his band which releases material on On-U Records] your internet activity, how do you know what’s going to come next?
I don’t. It’s random procedures that we learnt from oblique strategies and from the beatniks: You can do these strategies of refusal where you deny your past and break a habit. A lot of it is chance procedures, but those chance procedures create sparks. Over the years when I’ve taken a chance and clashed different genres people have said that I invented industrial or trip hop or whatever but that’s because I deliberately negated a normal procedure and something strange happened and I let it happen and I was man enough to stand back and not say no that’s wrong. Some of the best things in science are when people think in a lateral way and in juxtapositions. I think Kenneth Anger’s juxtaposition in Scorpio Rising, of that homoerotic biker footage and that religious imagery he got through his letter box by chance. I would go that far to say that these random juxtapositions are the most important things of our generation. Then there is a chance for something new without our conditioning. Basically we’re all the constructs of our condition.
How far does it go back? You said it was the beatniks were the first to use this random, anti-cyclic process of putting things together – also called cut-up.
I didn’t say they were the first, I’ve got some old Arabic grimoires and I think it goes back to the beginning of time. As a human being you’ve got to realise, Tricky had this project called Product of the Environment. Basically we’ve got to realise that since we’re born, it’s like the Enigma of Kaspar Hauser, if we were raised in the forest we’d have different ideas to those we have. Part of my thing is to always keep on questioning why I’m doing something. ~
Rough Trade have announced a remix record of Pantha Du Prince’s Black Noise album which he released last year.
The release is called X1 Versions Of Black Noise and features reinterpretations from the likes of Animal Collective, Four Tet, Moritz Von Oswald, Efdemin and Walls . The rollcall of guest remixers reads like a who’s who of the current electronic music world, which goes someway to showing what a spectacular piece of work Black Noise is – you can read our review here.
If you would like a sneak preview of what to expect you can listen to Four Tet’s remix here.
1. Moritz Von Oswald: Welt Am Draht
2. Die Vögel: Welt Am Draht
3. Lawrence: Stick to My Side
4. Four Tet: Stick to My Side
5. The Sight Below: A Nomad’s Retreat
6. Efdemin: Stick to My Side
7. Hieroglyphic Being: Satellite Sniper
8. Carsten Jost: Stick to My Side
9. Animal Collective: Welt Am Draht
10. Fata Morgana: Lay in a Shimmer
11. Walls: Stick to My Side
Rough Trade will release X1 Versions Of Black Noise on April 1st