I don’t think that the previous outing to some sort of experimental music thang was properly documented, if at all. thisisalloneword and his old man headed off down town and into an evening of weirdness which involved three performers showcasing there work.
The first was a bagpipe and drums outfit, although the drums were made of wet cardboard and therefore made little sound. Occassionally people from the audience would dance and hit the drums, one being my dad. I wasn’t all that impressed.
The second act used some sort of video display, a real ‘doors of perception’ thing going on – there were no performers but on stage was a series of diamonds which would glow in different colours when making a sound. All very trippy and I was shown bizarre landscapes and transported into weird realms by this stuff.
Thirdly was a women making music by pouring water onto pot plants and recording and amplifying the sounds. I poured water away and listened to the quiet, distorted sounds that were made…
But that was all weeks ago. Last night thisisalloneword found himself with friends and some artist freak with a wild large beard and lost eyes who will go by the name of Martin. We were waiting for the bands to start in some east London gallery room but what they were playing was minimal quiet and Martin was finding the whole thing very boring. I think some guy from Tortoise was up on stage. OK it was boring. It was plodding, unthreatening, staid, lifeless stuff.
Goths came in from the cobbled streets to annoy the band. They unplugged equipment and wanted to hear some goth rock stuff. Martin said enough of this crap and he somehow got me to agree that we could overthrow this lot and play some stuff ourselves. I agree and then realise that this is only half of what he has planned. He headbutts the lead goth and I tell the others to piss off and promise that their friend wont be too worse for wear. Martin takes him somewhere… the dull band play on and then Martin returns and starts smashing stuff up and is looking to put a few tables through the large windows that front onto the street. This is all going wrong wrong wrong.
I leave and go check on the lead goth to make sure he is not battered. I walk south down the streets and walk up old stone walled wide stairs to what can only be described as battlements. Up here above the city are the metal hoards. Fans of rock, goth, metal, black-metal, doom, extreme, thrash and so on. They are making cats cradels which when pulled out form 2D pentagrams and then 3D pentagrams. I saw that they should keep on moving up through the dimensions but this doesn’t happen.
I find lead goth bloke who isn’t too bruised or battered and doesn’t bear a grudge and then we rally these troops to get them down to the gallery to listen to some loud experimental free playing. That is if Martin hasn’t been carted away yet.
Not sure what happend next…
