The Age of Virtual Communities of Taste
Dr. Bela Máriás interviewed with Chris Cutler
Jump Magazine Hungarian
Jump: What do you find interesting general tendency at the moment in music?
Chris Cutler: Well, I can't identify any generally interesting tendency
in the last three or four years, at least nothing since middle period
techno. But there are a lot of interesting individual projects, many by
younger people. For instance, Otomo Yoshihide emerged a few years back
with a unique approach both to his instruments (turntables, home-made
guitar) and to structuring music (viz Ground Zero, whose music was
organised in a truly original and stimulating way) at the same time
remaining intensely committed to the value of performance. He then
reinvented himself through his work with Sachiko M - exploring pure
tones, extremes of high and low frequencies, microtonal pitching,
difference tones, heterodyning and so forth. I could name others. But
then, there is the question of what's new and what's general, and then
there's the separate question of what exhibits quality. General, at
present, seems to be: more-of-the-same-jazz, late minimalism, rewarmed
romanticism, the worst kind of overproduced fomula MOR pop, tired
badass rap and, at home, the horrible phenomenon of
the-1960's-reinvented-as-farce Britpop.
So; new people but no new tendency (it's probably there, but I haven't
seen it yet). Certainly something is due. Meantime, the people we all
know -the ones who have been working creatively for years, are still
progressing and making new quality projects; as all artists do who
follow their own path and continue to evolve. But that's life and far
from fashion and popularity. And it's not a tendency.
That said, this is such a bad time; there is plenty to listen to and a
lot of it is coming from younger musicians.
You spent two months in Japan not so long ago. What did you do and see?
I did some concerts, I met a lot of people. Nothing
remarkable. I went there initially to play with Daevid Allen and Hugh
Hopper (in a trio, we played a lot of old Soft Machine material and some
new pieces) - it was a project that really came out of nowhere, but it
was a lot of fun to play with old friends again. Then I made a number of
concerts in Western Japan with Uchihashi Kasuhisa, a great guitar
player, and some guests, including Haco. Duos and trios. Plus a solo
concert at a saki factory, which was -extremely relaxed! I saw - well,
although other countries have, of course, very different histories and
cultures, the people I tend initially to meet when I go to play there
are those with whom I already have some kind of (usually virtual)
connection. I mean, they come to see the concert because they already
know what I do. There's a selection mechanism in operation that collects
a rather narrow and internationalised group of people together, not in
any way typical of the country as a whole. It's hard, then, to make
intelligent remarks about other cultures because any single 'community
of taste' - meaning any of those many 'communities' brought into being
through recording technology, gramophone records and the universal
circulation of music as an object - voluntarily creates itself as more
or less the same everywhere. In the musical field this is a fairly new
phenomenon - well no more than 100 years old and in reality not more
than 40 (dating from the point where the universal circulation of
records reached critical mass). Before recorded music, you were either
there - where and when an event happened - or you were not. There was no
way for sound to travel from one place to another without real people
travelling. And, while books and paintings naturally exhist in space,
music happens in space but exists in time. I mean, books and paintings
survive the moment of their genesis. Sounds do not; every sound is
unique and dies at the moment of it's birth. What Homer wrote we know,
how Beethoven sounded, we have no idea. So, at the moment music could be
stored, this simple fact ushered in a root and branch revolution in
musical thinking. Sound would no longer have to know itself as a thing
fated immediately to oblivion. Music would not be governed by forgetting
any longer, but by unable to forget. You make a record; it goes around
and around and on and on and even when you're dead, it is still being
put on record players and people are complaining about how out-of-date
it is. There is too much memory in music now. This a new problem with
which we have not yest really come to terms. Anyway, now that music
travels freely - mostly through the postal service - it is able to find
it's public everywhere. And it is this public musicians are most likely
to meet when they finally get to other places around the world: the
public who collect because they have already listened to the records or
at least heard the rumours, the public, who in fact, already belong to
the virtual community to which those musicians also belong, even if none
of them knows it.
Has this change had an influence on music itself?
Absolutely. It has made music less geographically
centered. Of course there are still people who relate to their own folk
traditions. But, rock'n'roll is a kind of non-local folk tradition;
there are far more people today whose musical community is accessed
through the record shop and the radio than it is through their
contingent environment. Such a community is no longer contiguous, but
virtual. Many of us, for instance, learned to play music by listening to
gramophone records and copying them. Once we'd have gone to sit at the
knee of some master and that master would have shown us what to do, or
we'd have entered a guild school or an academy, but now we can just as
easily learn by listening to records and imitating them. It's an
invisible college and it's nowhere, since and it no longer matters where
you are - that small flat silver thing (it used be a big flat black
thing) is the same whatever CD player it is played upon. This is
revolutionary fact. And it creates a supranational, extraterritorial
community in which people have more in common with people they've never
met than they do with their next-door neighbours.
Have your engagements in different projects changed in the last 15-20 years?
I think they change all the time, in a small way. I am
somebody who is interested in playing formal, organized, written music,
and also likes to improvise without any rules at all. These are two
polar personalities. But hey - we live in the century of schizophrenia.
Or perhaps they are necessarily connected expressions of a single
aesthetic impulse? I have certainly never wanted to specialise, to
dedicate myself to one thing or another. I think, somehow, this relates
to what I was saying about records - before, if you wanted to listen to
opera you had to buy an expensive ticket and own formal evening wear; if
it was rock you wanted you had go and find a club somewhere; if it was
the kind of music they were making in the rain forests of the Amazon,
you had to rent a boat and paddle up there and die of snakebite. Now you
can get all it all - and more - down at the local record store. As a
teenager I didn't want to stop at making music like the Shadows or the
Beatles or some local dance band, I was also interested in Stockhausen,
Bartok, Mingus, Coltrane, aboriginal music, pop, mississippi blues,
electronic music and who knows what else. I listened to everything - it
all went in, got processed, digested and most of it came out again all
mixed together. Because, not being in a real community, not being
limited to what was local, no-one is any longer obliged to obey any one
particular set of rules.The Master may say this is the way of music, but
the record tells you only what it knows. For the record there is no
master, no way of music; there are hundreds of ways of music, and you
can choose between them. Or mix bits of them together. This is one of
the more interesting aspects of the virtual community, 'it' doesn't
exist - an 'it' is impossible to pin down, since everybody's record
collection is different, and therefore every personal 'community' is
unique.
For myself, musically speaking, I try to indulge all my interests, at
least so far as circumstances allow. I still play more or less
straightforward rock music, with Peter Blegvad and David Thomas, for
instance, and I still pursue my song projects which are more concerned
with attempting to bring 'art music' compositional values and the pop
song format together. Incompatibles whose proximity always produces
interesting results, for me anyway. (As it happens, the last two CD's in
this series were both collaborations with East European contemporary
composers: Lutz Glandien and Stevan Tickmayer)ノノOn the other hand, I
have been working with Iancu Dumitrescu and Ana Maria Avram in Romania
with their Hyperion ensemble. Scored and unambiguously contemporary
music. This is particularly interesting for me, not only because Iancu
and Ana Maria are great composers, but also because I get to work with
classical percussion which I can mess up with electronics. Otherwise, I
continue to work on my personal instrument - electrified drums - and to
apply it in various improvisational and compositional contexts. Each
teaches something new. And s the instrument extends. However, it must be
said that, although I try to follow all my interests equally, economic
forces oblige me to do more improvising work than big composed piecework
or large ensemble work, simply because with two people you can earn
enough money to eat for the next two weeks and with a six-piece band,
you can't. And, since my large projects ineviatably involve people from
different countries and continents (it's a global community, as I said:
and that's easy travel for CD's but hard travel for people) and since,
for me, the project is the people, I can't compromis: if I need Otomo
and Zeena, that's a plane from New York and a plane from Tokyo and
there's no way around it. And, even with small projects, I can tell you,
it's still hard to earn enough to earn a living. That's just a sad
truth. I am absolutely certain that if there were money around, we would
be hearing a lot more interesting music than we are. A good half of the
people you see doing small projects would love to do larger projects
too.They have the projects, you bet, and the imagination, there's just
no one willing or able to pay for them.
Could you be more specific about your present engagements?
I am going into a studio now to finish off some recordings
with Peter Blegvad. Then I am off to Portugal to work with Vitor Rua and
Jorge Lima, exceptional people I have worked with on and off for many
years. After that, a concert in London with Peter Cusack and Alqumia -
improvised - and, early in 2000, a music-theatre piece with Stephen
Tickamayer, Marie Goyette and two actors, after which I go back to
America for various projects with Zeena Parkins, Tom Dimuzio, Kato
Hideki, Jack Vees, some solo concerts and a couple of lectures. Followed
by work in Canada with David Thomas' Mirror Man', a duo with Fred Frith
and a tour with the new Palinckx project. I have to finish a chapter for
a book too, and of course there's ReR to look after. In between are a
few one-off concerts I needn't list (see my website!). That's my
immediate itinerary.
How did your joint work with Fred Frith develop through the years?
With Fred? Well it starts, of course, with Henry Cow.
Henry Cow was a big school really, a hands-on academy, a very intense
workshop that lasted ten years. The policy in Henry Cow was to write
music we couldn't play and play music that couldn't be written. I mean,
on the one hand compositions were written without worrying about the
technical difficulty of playing them - the band would work out how to
play them afterwards. So pieces became increasingly compositionally
complex and technically challenging. On the other hand, our improvising
was as rule-less and free as possible. So, we took a fairly extreme
position toward both disciplines: compositional and improvisational -
with the result that all of the musicians who came out of that group can
still sit down on a stage today and communicate immediately,
irrespective of what any of us have been doing in the meantime (the
group broke up in 1978) since so much of our basic vocabulary was
developed in those ten short years. Immediately after Henry Cow, Fred
and I continued to work together in both areas - exploring songs and
studio techniques in 'Art Bears' (3 LP's, a tour) and working as an
improvising duo, which still goes on today (the third live CD is due out
soon). We also played together as a rhythm section, in the large 'Duck
and Cover' ensemble, in Heiner Goebbels 'Man in the elevator' and in
'Aqsak Maboul'. Apart from performances, Fred played on my 'Domestic
Stories' CD and more recently in the 'Science Group' project while I
worked in his 'Graphic Scores' orchestra and at present am playing in
his 'Tense Serenity', a new project which is a serious attempt to put
composition and improvisation together in a natural way. This is
actually a harder job than you might imagine, in fact it's a kind of
musical "Holy Grail". Imagine - you are improvising, but you know you
have to arrive at the beginning of a written piece, and after that piece
you have to continue to improvise until the next written piece. How can
you improvise freely? You're seriously constrained by the fact that you
always have a destination and you always have to start a new
improvisation from a fixed point. In fact you can't be very free.You
can't follow an idea where it leads, because you always have to get back
on track. On the other hand, if you want to perform a written piece,
it's best to be prepared and concentrated. In focus. So, to improvise up
to it and out of it splits the mind. By mixing media, both the
improvisation and the composition are inevitably somewhat compromised.
Fred's solution in TS is elegant. It involves having no fixed
destinations and working with compositions that are fluid and arise more
or less organically, or don't arise. It's too complex to explain now,
but - it is a very interesting group. I like to work with Fred, it's
always productive. And, to speak personally at the end, I like him a
lot. He's a gent.
Budapest, 2nd October, 1999. MU Theatre