Monday, July 18, 2016


Alan Vega was wild eyed, dangerous, and cool. He never pandered to the crowd or tried to win their affection. He was not Elvis Presley and he was not Iggy Pop, but he hollowed out a space that was all his own. His lyrics are fascinating and different than anything else. He knew the past and he knew the future. The music that he created remains a high water mark in an area that no one else even knew existed.  The due of Suicide is often seen as a product of their environment in late 1970s New York, but they are more than just a snapshot of animals in their natural habitat. They are artists who made deliberate choices and deserve to have an audience that explores their entire catalogue. Alan Vega and Suicide represent what can occur when you cease to let the expectations of others guide you creatively. He lived and died as we all will, but was not tethered to the same framework that guides most lives and artistic choices.

Monday, June 6, 2016

I keep returning to this video of Frank Tovey. I think that it is a very special performance and love how he responds to having to lip-sync the lyrics. His actions could easily be seen as a protest for being in the position in the first place, but maybe there is more to it. He seems tuned in to something in way that transforms a boring mimed performance into something powerful and hilarious. I'm sure that everyone involved were pissed off at him, but he carried the performance and made it real in the only way that he could. I think it is perfect.

Monday, May 23, 2016

Fat White Family Live in Portland, OR.

Fat White Family takes the stage unceremoniously, but even as the band mills around and soundchecks there is something about them that hints at the energy they possess. Not showmanship exactly, but rather an underlying sense of belonging in that space. When they launch into their set singer Lias Saoudi dives into his performance headlong. Usually with singers the act of vocalizing involves a certain level of balance where the voice hovers along and is hopefully pleasing on some level. With Saoudi, it is more about falling at top speed. He seems to be pressed against the limits of what his voice and body are capable of, and it is thrilling to see. Meanwhile, guitarist and primary musical arranger Saul Adamczewski has an awareness of the whole stage and is one of those rare musicians that can nudge a nearly unpalatable collage of sound into something fascinating without glossing it over too much.
The band wears their influences on their sleeves and even have a song called "I Am Mark E. Smith" which is an interesting play on originality. Still, at times when their sound and stage movements are traceable to past artists, it never comes across as being overly nostalgic. I find the idea of one musician claiming the identity of another in such a way to be hilarious and in this case it is also deceptively original. The fact that said musician is Mark E. Smith is too perfect, as he is an artist who once wrote a song about himself writing a song (How I Wrote Elastic Man) and the Fat Whites homage takes it to a new level. A lot of their other lyrics are on morally questionable ground, and it will surely be offensive to some, but keep in mind the comedy of Louie C.K. is on equal or even more questionable ground and he is popular and accepted on a mainstream level. The comparison is pretty abstract, but in both cases, you begin to see the intent of the performer as you grow acquainted with their work.
The band as a whole creates a seemingly unstoppable live force that barrels along while being simultaneously pulled apart from within. It feels unhealthy and a little self indulgent, but also represents something familiar and human. On some level it is like a failed meditation in which your subconscious goes chattering away and lifting up stones to see what is crawling beneath. Despite this, it never seems to wallow or become depressing. When you see them it feels like you are a part of what is happening and I left the show feeling reconnected rather than emotionally drained or exhausted as I often am after a concert. There is a manic energy at a Fat White Family show and you can tell that the band are completely invested in taking the performance to some strange elevated place.

Friday, April 8, 2016

Artist Interview: Mick Harvey

When I first heard the song "Red Right Hand" 20 years ago I was 15 years old living in Missoula, Montana. It was a gateway into the music of Nick Cave and The Bad Seeds and eventually The Birthday Party, Crime and the City Solution, PJ Harvey, Rowland S. Howard, Anita Lane, and the solo work of Mick Harvey. To this day I am fascinated by this vast network of artists and more often than not, Mick Harvey's involvement is the common thread. His presence is a far reaching and underlying current that among other things serves as an important documentation of a music scene or movement. When listening to Harvey's solo records, there is a dimensional quality that seems to suggest a physical environment. This can be traced to his collaborative work as well, providing other musicians with a productive atmosphere in which to interact and thrive. Combined with Nick Cave's intensity and narrative style of songwriting, this sense of place was instrumental in the telling of a complete story. On the albums of Rowland S. Howard in which Mick Harvey was involved, we are given the most intimate existing recordings and clear portrait of Howard as a solo artist. The same could be said for his collaboration with Anita Lane which yielded some of the only existing flashes of this talented songwriter. Harvey's style of creating gives evidence of a musician who has an instinct for moving in a forward direction and elevating whatever project he is working on without over-handling it. Since leaving The Bad Seeds in 2009, Harvey has released two solo albums, recorded and toured with Einsturzende Neubautens' Alexander Hacke for their project, "The Ministry of Wolves", and collaborated extensively with PJ Harvey on her albums Let England Shake, and The Hope Six Demolition Project. A massive thank you to Mr. Harvey for agreeing to this interview and for offering some insight into his process.


Some of your past collaborations are with people who seem to possess a sort of unhinged wild creativity but perhaps not the ability to fully realize it. How do you help channel this in a constructive way?

I just work on their ideas with them. All such creativity, or most of it, finds its course eventually. I suppose on some level I have helped realize a lot of creative work which may otherwise not have seen the light of day but it’s hard to work out which or how they would have been without me. It’s also possible I have straightened out some more eccentric presentations in the past but I would hope not. I like to allow the extremities to flourish and perhaps certain people choose to work with me because they know this will be the case.

There is a perception that you were a grounding force in The Birthday Party and Bad Seeds. Did this give you a stronger sense of your role in the bands? Did it ever impede upon your own creativity?

My role in both bands grew quite unexpectedly. At first I was just playing guitar in The Birthday Party and writing the occasional piece of music. As time went by and we wanted more artistic control over the production of our recordings I had a stronger role to play as it seems I have a reasonably good ear. Then I gradually took over management responsibilities and in the end was writing much of the music for Nick’s lyrics. None of these things were in any master plan of mine - they just happened over the course of the years. Once the Bad Seeds began I suppose I just fell into similar roles with the
production and management but less so with writing the music. Nick seemed to want to guide the direction the music was taking after The Birthday Party and that was fine with me. All those new responsibilities had come to me by default. I’m quite happy to just be involved in playing and arranging the music.

When working with Rowland S. Howard or Blixa Bargeld, people might understandably assume that the more experimental parts of a song were their contribution. Was this usually the case? Are there musically unconventional elements that people would be surprised to know that you are responsible for?

Of course. In fact, even when people find out who is playing which guitar part in The Birthday Party they are surprised. I mean, there are usually 2 guitars on most songs up to and including Junkyard. Sometimes I’m playing some other instrument and after Junkyard I moved to the drums but I have the feeling people listen to old Birthday Party albums and assume Rowland is playing all the guitar parts, which is not the case. As for general unconventional elements……you’d have to point them out to me one by one and have me identify them. I suspect these are also the product of collaboration in most instances.

Anita Lane had a unique voice in the scene and her solo albums are fantastic but she is still largely unknown. From an outside perspective her artistic trajectory could be compared with that of Nico's solo work and involvement with the Velvet Underground. Do you think that those
albums will ever generate a greater swell of interest?

It would be nice if her work had more recognition but she is her own worst enemy in that regard as she has absolutely no interest in promoting her work or having any public profile. Sadly, this affects the level of awareness around an artist and their work. I’m still hopeful of reissuing ‘Sex O’Clock’ and perhaps such a reissue would generate new interest and awareness. It can always happen.

Is the reception of an audience a consideration when you are working on a song or is it counterproductive to think about it?

It rarely comes into my thinking or that of people I am working with as far as I am aware. There are occasions where it might cross one’s mind but I suspect that would be more disturbing than informative. To be honest I have no idea what people like about my music and never really have so I can keep on creating in a state of blissful ignorance. I know what I like about it so I just follow that.

When working with another artist, do you find it important to have your style or influence identifiable in the result of the collaboration?

It’s almost always there - it’s hard to stop it getting in there. I’m not a slick professional session musician.

What effect did having an audience present for the creation of PJ Harvey's latest album have? Was there ever a sense that you were performing during the recording process?

I think it made us focus more on what we were doing. And, yes, sometimes there was an awareness the audience was there which made the whole situation have some connection with a performance.

What are some of the typical things that you have to overcome in order to complete a song? Is it different each time or do you always encounter similar obstacles?

Mostly one hopes the music just falls together in a natural way and has that immediacy that makes music so beautiful and intangible. This actually happens quite a lot in my world. Sometimes one struggles to make a song what it should be - in those cases it can be any of hundreds of things which create the problem. Oftentimes it’s worth the struggle, sometimes not.

Your solo albums are fantastic. Is there a greater sense of freedom when you are working on a solo project?

No, I feel much the same as on any project except I’m only answerable to myself which can be challenging.

On "One Mans Treasure" your cover of "Mother of Earth" following "Bethelridge" is very moving and effective as a sequence. Does a lot of thought go into how the songs on an album relate to each other? Is the track order important?

Absolutely. Much time is spent on sequencing an album. These days much of that work is lost as people make their own playlists or just have a few individual songs. I still put a lot of work into it and continue to assume people will listen to the album I have put together even if it’s not on vinyl.

Do you have routines that you go through to stay practiced up on your instruments or is it ingrained at this point?

I agree with Ginger Baker on this point. I never practice, I just play. However, when one is playing a lot one’s playing gets better and one continues to learn, always, about everything.

Do you enjoy challenging yourself with difficult things to play? Does repetitive practice or playing the same song ever get tedious?

I only challenge myself with difficult things to play if I need to play them. I don’t consider music a sporting event. Repetitive practice and playing the same songs over and over can become tedious, or perhaps tedious is too harsh a word. If I like the song in the first place it’s probably more a case of becoming less interesting over time.

Are there any songs that you could listen to or play every day and never get sick of?

La Bamba.

It is sometimes said about musicians that they do it because they don't have any choice. Do you believe this? Could you have chosen a different path?

It’s probably true of some musicians but to put it another way it may be more a case of them being unemployable in any other field. I feel I could have done many different things. In fact I have always asserted I ended up in music by accident and maybe whatever I ended up specializing in would have been by accident. I may yet move on to making films. That possibility is certainly in my head again - more than it has been since the 80s.

Monday, December 28, 2015

Artist Interview:
Suniti Dernovsek

Dancer/Choreographer Suniti Dernovek's latest production, "A Leading Light", is a collaboration combining the movements of Allie Hankins, Dernovsek herself, and sound artist Holland Andrews. It seems a purposeful deconstruction in terms of cast and set design, resulting in focused yet surrealistic storytelling. A sense of opposition and danger is always present, but ultimately so is the strength to face it. Even at points when the performers crash to the ground or rap their knuckles on the floor, it feels as much a reaffirmation of physical self and surroundings than a representation of harm or failure. Dernovesek is an artist who possesses the ability to translate idea into movement on a relatable and universal level while retaining an awareness of the audience and respect for their power of interpretation. Throughout this process her artistic fingerprint is always present.

Could you describe the early stages of Leading Light? What sparked the idea for this project and how did it take shape? 

In the beginning stages of making Leading Light, I was working alone in the studio with some general interests around experiencing the audience/performer relationship with more intimacy. For several years, I had been focusing on my role as a choreographer and not dancing in my larger works and in this project I wanted to include more of myself. This piece came out of a big transitional time for me. My daughter had just turned one and I was blown away by my own strength and vulnerability. Every container that I had built for myself was being pressed against and I needed to speak to these new edges and deconstruct any holding I had to a feminine ideal. I became fascinated by the creation of public and private personas, spaces and expectations. Questions arose in regards to presentation and the vulnerability in expressing what feels honest.
I asked Holland to work with me as I’ve been a big fan of her work for years and sensed that she would be the perfect fit for this project. We made a 20-minute performance as part of a residency at Studio 2, which was powerful and strong but didn’t feel complete. I wanted to keep going with it and that is when I asked Allie to get involved. Allie is a stunning performer and talented dance maker. I feel grateful to have worked with such a dream team and it really informed the work. We spent a lot of time improvising and I found myself intuitively following new paths and considering fresh possibilities. 

What was the collaborative dynamic like between you, Allie Hankins, and Holland Andrews? Did they bring unexpected ideas and developments?

Allie and Holland are both such incredible artists and part of my curiosity in working with them was to simply come together and see what would happen.  I allowed for space within the process to see what ideas would emerge.  Most rehearsals began with an open improvisation, which served as a general warm-up but also as a way for me to find movement or sound qualities that informed the larger context of the work. I wanted the form of this dance to be simple with two dance solos and some intersecting duets as well as space for a solo from Holland.  Within each solo, I allowed for sections of improvisation and even the moments of set choreography were a little different every night.  The three of us became very connected and I appreciated and trusted in Holland and Allies ability to make skilled choices.   

You have quite a large body of work at this point. How do your past projects inform new ideas? Is there ever a sense of self competition?

Each project feels like it begins with an echo of the last project. A work doesn’t ever feel complete yet I’m thankful for the deadlines, which certainly push me into a polishing phase. Once I get near the premiere I almost always feel like there isn’t enough time to realize everything. Certainly with each work there are things that I view as not being strong or clear enough or fully actualized and unfortunately most of my shows only happen for a weekend so there isn’t the added benefit of revisiting it after an audience has informed the work. I suppose there is a bit of self-competition because with each project I’m learning and I want to carry that momentum into the next project. Yet, it’s not as much the competition but more a necessity to press against my own containers and ask questions and from that inevitably a new project emerges.

After having worked with so many talented people is it difficult not to cast past collaborators in a production that requires so few performers? 

Each project has its own needs and demands and I wanted this project to feel simple and paired down. So, it wasn’t difficult to make that choice this time around. Although, it’s true I have been fortunate to work with many talented artists.

Are certain stylistic expectations placed on you from people who know your work? 

 Personally, this work felt different to me because it’s the first piece in quite sometime that I wasn’t collaborating with my partner David Stein. He usually brings a strong visual element to the work and this piece is quite simple. I feel lucky to be supported by people that have followed my evolution and seemed genuinely interested in what I’ve been making and how it has been changing. I guess I try not to worry about others expectations because I’m trying so hard to deconstruct my own.

Do you feel any sort of responsibility for how an audience perceives your work?  

There are too many variables to take responsibility for the audience’s perception. I haven’t done a great job at inviting conversations with the audience around my work. I always intend to do talk back sessions or more work in progress showings to hear from the audience but with all of the other demands around a premiere I often miss the opportunity.

There is a fairly high degree of athleticism in your performances, but it seems to serve a purpose. Is it challenging to present skillful movement as a means of expression rather than a display of technique?

It’s interesting how we develop an aesthetic. I’ve spent a fair amount time improvising and some things have continued to be curious and intriguing. If bodies are a container of memories then moving around can certainly feel very emotional. While setting material it can be tricky to have the movement serve the greater context of the work because what felt honest in improvisation can get lost when trying to layer some sort of meaning on it. I try to create movement that can be evocative without the dancer having to feel theatrical. I’ve really appreciated working with technically trained performers and I like to push a bit into exhaustion as a tool to be surprised and genuine.

What do you have planned next? Will you take some time to regroup or are you already thinking of another project? 

I’m hoping to perform Leading Light again in a couple of other cities so I’m engaged with that also I value having a regular dance practice so I’ll be in the studio and we’ll see what happens next…

All photos: Meghann Gilligan

Saturday, November 28, 2015

I am addicted to this world and its wonders draw me in. Possibilities chirp and beg for attention. I feed them my time, my food, and the money from my pockets, but they are still hungry for more. I watch them multiply but rarely grow or take definite shape. They gather, these blurry little shape-shifters. They draw closer and start nipping at my toes when I have nothing left to feed them. Guilt follows me in my actions, everything that I do represents the neglect of something else. But not today. Today I am sick on the couch. Today I am happy to neglect everything and drink tea.

Saturday, July 5, 2014


These songs are pretty well known to Nick Cave fans, so calling them underrated is not entirely accurate. They are in no particular order and are not comprehensive by any means. The list below barely scratches the surface of the Bad Seeds catalogue and does not include anything from the Birthday Party (most of which is underrated). Enjoy, and please feel free to post your own picks.


The picture painted here is a vast kaleidoscope view of the world. It is the story of an observer who's mind is jumping from one subject to the next and the result is that the listener is taken in multiple directions as well. It is sort of a fragile song that seems in danger of sinking from the ambitious but fragmented lyrics. Instead it somehow floats along and works perfectly.


While "The Mercy Seat" was a clear highlight of the Tender Prey album, another standout is the menacing "Sugar, Sugar, Sugar". Cave's vocals are guttural and malicious while Blixa Bargeld's guitar borders on discordant and threatens to derail the whole affair. Instead it just adds to the tightly wound mood and horror movie suspense as the music chugs along with foreboding intensity.

WHAT I KNOW (Grinderman)

Part of the purpose of Grinderman was that they were louder and messier than Bad Seeds of recent years. However, the quieter songs are some of the best moments of the band. "What I Know" has a bare bones repetitive quality that reminds me a little of a Suicide song like "Che". The lyrics are some of Cave's most candid since the The Boatman's call and it is perhaps the first glimpse of what the next Bad Seeds album (Push The Sky Away) would sound like.


Another of Caves most interesting narratives...... John Finns Wife is dramatic and engrossing. Apparently, the Henry's Dream album was sort of poisoned for the band by a bad experience with a producer. However, the quality of the songs and dynamics of the band remain in tact and come across very well.


By offering only part of the story in this fragmented narrative, it ignites the imagination and leaves huge gaps for interpretation and possibility. A strange and eerily beautiful song originally included in the Wim Wenders film of the same name (which offers no further clues to the mysterious lyrics).  

MAN IN THE MOON (Grinderman)

A break from traditional song structure with little lyrical repetition. At barely over 2 minutes, this one passes by pretty quickly. It could have been expanded upon, but part of the effectiveness is that it is pared down to its essential elements. Gets better with each listen.


The Firstborn is Dead is often considered to be the Bad Seeds "Blues" album......sometimes to the point of criticism. While there is an obvious reference to Blues music in both style and subject matter, the album maintains a strong identity of its own. This is the Bad Seeds record that I most enjoy listening to from start to finish. It is easy to become immersed in the world portrayed in Knockin' on Joe. It slinks along at varied tempos and is completely engrossing.


While Warren Ellis' looping plays a strong role on the recent album, Push the Sky Away, it is never more apparent than the addictive droning clatter of the B-side, Lightning Bolts.  Caves spoken Lyrics are symbolic and imaginative, referencing subject matters that range from mythology to parenting. The closing line "We are mostly lost" gives a sense of being marooned in modern society. This is an unusual offering for the Bad Seeds and hopefully a hint at their future direction.


Supposedly about PJ harvey, West Country Girl is carried by a thumping heartbeat bass and minimal drums while the guitar and violin sail around in unison. Perhaps the most rhythmic offering on the Boatman's Call album, and also the shortest. While it is a well known track, there are at least three others on the album that are usually mentioned first. Lyrically, it is a descriptive and visual love song that is both human and otherworldly.


In the course of 14 and a half minutes we pay witness to a small town killing spree that could be easily turned into a full length movie. Often this song is mentioned for its dark humor and high body count, but it is perhaps overlooked in being one of Cave's most complex character studies and complete narratives.  While there is humor at work here, the protagonist's sense of justification and egotistic self reflection is somehow believable and scary. Because of the structure, subject matter and long run time O'Mally's Bar may not be a song that you listen to on a daily basis, but it is still one of Cave's best.