Doug Martch and J. Mascis Score a Film Live in Concert
The Buddhist on Public Radio said a nice thing yesterday. He suggested that we live infinite lifetimes. That we’ve known or, at least, encountered everyone we have ever met. Not only that, we’ve played the exact same roll as everyone we come across. We’ve been the kid, the crossing guard, the driver who hits a kid at the crosswalk and the policeman who arrests him. We’ve done it all. And everyone we meet now we will meet again, and this interaction will leave a trace that will affect me and everything else in the world infinitely.
It’s the big view of life. The idea that it all matters. Something that’s easy to ignore even after it’s become completely obvious unless you are an artist. Then you never forget that the quality of work matters. If you are visual artist, anything you see can either daunt you or haunt you. It could all be so much better or if it’s better than anything you could do, it stings you with your limitation. The kind of sting that makes you more of an artist.
So, the graphic artists I was with at the Built to Spill concert were in pain looking at the stilted graphic projected on a screen above the screen. It was two bands until Doug Martsch and J. Mascis of Dinosaur Jr. (who I remember trying out for the open drummer seat in Nirvana at the beginning of the 90s) would come out and perform some special thing together. And this graphic, which read, “Don’t Knock the Rock,” lingered constantly recycling with some orbital animation that was designed to enhance the craziness of the font. “There’s no way you could make the words look good,” I said to Designer Nick. “You could,” and he described how. I disagreed. The words are too stupid, instigating in some small way that’s better parodied by Pro Wrestling.
When Martsch, Mascis, et al took the stage in the semi-formation of an orchestra scoring a film, new images relieved the screen. Old footage of crazy 60’ British kids in the city. Great more bullshit, I thought. The images then began to be interspersed with news footage about Swinging London and then cutting back to a band in a studio playing a song. The more the cuts became rhythmic the more I realized the live music, while not a live version of what that band was playing in a studio, was accompanying their music in the exact same time. The drummers, one live at the El Rey theater and one from Swinging London, would flourish at the same time. The frivolity of the early footage evolved into focus as the footage began to document the 14 Hour Technicolour Dream that took place in April 1967. It was the closest that the UK got to the Acid Tests of Northern California’s late 60’s. The event was huge, like a rave occupied by people unaware that they were allowed to act like animals unlike people who live today. Tension grew as a huge crowd of proper men surrounded a woman each cutting a part of her clothing off. Relief as the text on screen reveals that this was Yoko Ono’s performance piece “Happening.” We see John Lennon surrounded by dozens of unknown people watching. Cut to our band from the studio now live, on-stage at the Dream. The El Rey band is trashing exactly with the Dream band. It’s a payoff of over twenty minutes of musical precision and visual teasing. The film ends with a last bit of text explaining that while Yoko and John were both there, they had not met and did not meet that night. That night which was the last time Syd Barrett ever played with Pink Floyd, the band we had been watching the whole time.
The Graphic Artists were relieved and stung. So was I.
Another thirty minutes later Built to Spill came back for a full set. Impossibly some guy, who I think has been wandering the Earth aimlessly since Rage Against the Machine broke up, stood by us the whole time screaming along with Built to Spill songs. It was difficult to believe. Didn’t this guy read about Indie Rock? Doesn’t he know the only reason this whole genre was created was so we could be sullen at live music events. Oh, well, after hearing that Buddhist guy, I realize now: I was that guy once. Man, I was a dick.
It’s the big view of life. The idea that it all matters. Something that’s easy to ignore even after it’s become completely obvious unless you are an artist. Then you never forget that the quality of work matters. If you are visual artist, anything you see can either daunt you or haunt you. It could all be so much better or if it’s better than anything you could do, it stings you with your limitation. The kind of sting that makes you more of an artist.
So, the graphic artists I was with at the Built to Spill concert were in pain looking at the stilted graphic projected on a screen above the screen. It was two bands until Doug Martsch and J. Mascis of Dinosaur Jr. (who I remember trying out for the open drummer seat in Nirvana at the beginning of the 90s) would come out and perform some special thing together. And this graphic, which read, “Don’t Knock the Rock,” lingered constantly recycling with some orbital animation that was designed to enhance the craziness of the font. “There’s no way you could make the words look good,” I said to Designer Nick. “You could,” and he described how. I disagreed. The words are too stupid, instigating in some small way that’s better parodied by Pro Wrestling.
When Martsch, Mascis, et al took the stage in the semi-formation of an orchestra scoring a film, new images relieved the screen. Old footage of crazy 60’ British kids in the city. Great more bullshit, I thought. The images then began to be interspersed with news footage about Swinging London and then cutting back to a band in a studio playing a song. The more the cuts became rhythmic the more I realized the live music, while not a live version of what that band was playing in a studio, was accompanying their music in the exact same time. The drummers, one live at the El Rey theater and one from Swinging London, would flourish at the same time. The frivolity of the early footage evolved into focus as the footage began to document the 14 Hour Technicolour Dream that took place in April 1967. It was the closest that the UK got to the Acid Tests of Northern California’s late 60’s. The event was huge, like a rave occupied by people unaware that they were allowed to act like animals unlike people who live today. Tension grew as a huge crowd of proper men surrounded a woman each cutting a part of her clothing off. Relief as the text on screen reveals that this was Yoko Ono’s performance piece “Happening.” We see John Lennon surrounded by dozens of unknown people watching. Cut to our band from the studio now live, on-stage at the Dream. The El Rey band is trashing exactly with the Dream band. It’s a payoff of over twenty minutes of musical precision and visual teasing. The film ends with a last bit of text explaining that while Yoko and John were both there, they had not met and did not meet that night. That night which was the last time Syd Barrett ever played with Pink Floyd, the band we had been watching the whole time.
The Graphic Artists were relieved and stung. So was I.
Another thirty minutes later Built to Spill came back for a full set. Impossibly some guy, who I think has been wandering the Earth aimlessly since Rage Against the Machine broke up, stood by us the whole time screaming along with Built to Spill songs. It was difficult to believe. Didn’t this guy read about Indie Rock? Doesn’t he know the only reason this whole genre was created was so we could be sullen at live music events. Oh, well, after hearing that Buddhist guy, I realize now: I was that guy once. Man, I was a dick.
1 Comments:
today i saw a peeling sticker on a lamp-post, a screaming chimpanzee grabbing at his head with curled fingers, "design no evil".
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