COSEY FANNI TUTTI - ART SEX MUSIC (Faber & Faber 2017)

This is the autobiography of Cosey Fanni Tutti (born Christine Newby in Hull U.K in 1951). Music fans will probably only know her as being the guitarist in Throbbing Gristle (the original 'industrial' band, active from 1976- 81). Perhaps those with more knowledge of obscure music will be aware that, with her partner Chris Carter, she has released a wealth of recordings over the last few decades that are seen as groundbreaking in the field of electronic music. Those who have researched further might also know that from 1969 - 1976 she was a key member of the performance art group Coum Transmissions.

However, not being very aware of her career since TG, I was astonished to learn from this book that she has produced an incredible amount of art in so many mediums (installation, performances, actions, lectures, paintings, collages etc), & is highly regarded in the art world, regularly receiving invites to exhibit in prestigious galleries & art spaces all over the world. She has had no formal art training, but has got to the point she's at through total devotion to being creative, constant hard work, genuine talent & original ideas.

This book is the story of someone with a real artist's spirit & passion. She has produced such an immense body of quality work that reviewing this book is a daunting task. There's just so much ground covered in the story, unlike many other art & music biographies where entire chapters are just taken up with people loafing about,getting off their face on drugs, or doing next to nothing. Cosey has been constantly creative since 1969 (with only a few short breaks due to illness), & the narrative moves at a fast pace in order to keep up with all the projects she's working on at any one point. Every page is full of her creative projects. As well as all that, she also manages to write about her feelings, ideas, relationships, key points in her life etc. I have read dozens of artist's biographies, but I have never come across one that just has so much in it as this one.

As all good biographies should, it starts with childhood (earliest memories etc), & works comprehensively through that in a well-ordered chronological way. This was the only part of the book that I found slow-going, as it seems she had a very uneventful childhood (normal working class background) & showed no signs of the incredible outpouring of creativity that would happen later. What this part of this book does establish though is the fraught relationship she had with her strict & domineering father (after Coum Transmissions notorious 'Prostitution' exhibition at The ICA in 1976, & the resulting tabloid furore, Cosey's father cut her out of his life, & she lost all contact with her parents).

Her late teenage years were probably typical of many young people of that era (going to see bands, some experiments with LSD etc). Then in 1969, she met Genesis P-Orridge, moved into a commune with him, & started the Coum Transmissions project. The story of Coum Transmissions is worthy of an entire book in itself (read Simon Ford's 'Wreckers Of Civilisation' book for a comprehensive history of Coum Transmissions & TG). Active from 1969 -1976, they started as a witty, bohemian, hippy street theatre & improvised music group, then moved into getting Arts Council grants, becoming 'accepted' in the performance art world, and even representing Britain in international arts events all round the world.

What's notable in Coum's early commune days is how much old-fashioned sexism still existed, no matter how 'liberal' & 'progressive' the hippies claimed to be. Cosey went out & worked at a full time job to fund their activities, then came home & did all the cooking & cleaning. Meanwhile, the menfolk sat on their backsides all day, pontificating & being 'artists'.

Most journalists who write about Coum Transmissions focus only on their final few years, when their performances had become really 'transgressive' (& at that point I do have to wonder, despite the intellectual rationalisations, if it was really just shock for the sake of shock). However, in the early 1970s Coum Transmissions were producing some wonderful pieces of performance art, that must have been amazing to witness.

The true story of Coum Transmissions is difficult to unpick now, as Genesis P-Orridge (being the shameless self-publicist that he is) now wants to claim that everything about Coum was his idea. However, Coum Transmissions was a collective, involving many people, & despite all the meticulous research Simon Ford put into his 'Wreckers Of Civilisation' book, many key members of Coum don't get mentioned & weren't interviewed (some research. I have done revealed that many ideas that GPO claimed as his own actually came from other members).

Though not overtly stated in her book, I end up feeling that Cosey was a far more important figure in the development of Coum than GPO is prepared to give her credit for. I think she provided that essentially female / instinctive approach that came to characterise a lot of Coum's performances.

From the beginning of Coum Transmissions, Cosey starts keeping a diary, & has written a daily diary ever since. From that point, the diary forms the basis of this book's format. Every few pages there's a brief excerpt from her diary, followed by her extrapolating on the events mentioned. The fact that she has scrupulously written everything down means that her memory is untainted, and isn't subject to the historical 'revision' that other players in this story are guilty of.

After Coum, the book moves on to the original incarnation of Throbbing Gristle. This only takes up a small section of the book, and I commend it for that. Cashing in on the corpse of TG always guarantees an audience & big money, & it's to her credit that Cosey hasn't taken this easy route, & made TG the major selling point of her book. TG have been written about, discussed, analysed & intellectualised to death now, and after Simon Ford's 'Wreckers Of Civiisation' book, no more pretentious waffle is necessary.

What Cosey does provide (that's severely lacking in other versions of the TG tale) is a very human & personal account.

At this point, one needs to mention Cosey & GPO's relationship, as despite the nonsense GPO regurgitates about the 'reasons' why TG split up, the real reason was Cosey leaving him to start a relationship with Chris Carter, on top of which were all the tantrums & insufferable behaviour that GPO inflicted on the other band members until they could stand it no more.

What is striking right from the start of their relationship is how it bears all the hallmarks of an abusive relationship. A lot of it is more subtle in the beginning - psychological manipulation, guilt-tripping, tantrums, & mental bullying. It's only at the very end of their relationship (after she's told GPO that she's leaving him) that the violence starts, but when it does it's very extreme - trying to strangle her, coming at her with a knife (thankfully he was disarmed by a member of Coum Transmissions), & at one point even throwing a concrete block at her head.
As is symptomatic of many abusive relationships, Cosey (in her original diary excerpts) feels guilty & blames herself for his terrible outbursts.

Throughout the TG years (& for some years following) Cosey worked as a porn model & striptease artist. Her reasons for this were not just financial, but also to challenge herself, and to use her magazine photos as a basis for her art. Some people have been cynical about the artistic 'rationalisation' for her porn work, but she has always been thoroughly consistent & coherent in her explanations of this, & has since used these magazine photos as the basis for many art exhibitions throughout the world. Back in the 1970s, doing this kind of work was seen by feminists as 'colluding with the enemy', whereas today's third wave 'sex positive' feminists have embraced Cosey's work.
The sections in which she writes about her work as a porn model & stripper are a fascinating insight into the behind the scenes world of the 1970s British porn industry. It was run on a much smaller scale (& seems much more innocent) than the global hyper-corporate porn industry of today.

After the 1981 TG breakup, Cosey continued to be creative, either solo or in collaboration with Chris Carter. The amount of musical, visual & performance projects she was involved in is astonishing.

Finally, we have the reformed TG (active from 2003 -2010). This wasn't a full time project, as the members were living in different parts of the world & had their own projects going. However, they did sporadically get together to play gigs, record albums, make installations etc.
This section of the story is infuriating, as GPO consistently screws everybody about, breaking contracts, cancelling gigs, making outrageous demands at the last minute, throwing tantrums, not turning up at recording sessions etc. It's all very 'Spinal Tap', except it isn't funny. Unlike the first incarnation of TG when they were a self-managed cottage industry, this time round they're having to deal with big business & 'proper' management, where these kind of childish actions can result in lawsuits for breach of contract.

You are left wondering why the other three put up with him (after all, he certainly wasn't the 'talent' in the band). At times, you wonder if his only intention in getting involved was to sabotage it for the other three members (due to some petty vendetta he's never got over).

Actually, it seems GPO's only motivation was money. He wasn't prepared to put any work into the project, but just wanted to collect the cheque at the end (& was constantly conniving to demand more money). All the workload fell on the other three members. They would work in the studio for months & Gen would hardly ever turn up. At one point, a TG project was instigated, involving building a huge interactive sound sculpture. Chris, Cosey & Sleazy worked on this for months. Gen's 'contribution' took only 5 minutes of his time (reading out a lyric written by somebody else). As TG work as a democratic collective, this meant that he got an equal share of the profits, for doing next to nothing.

On the eve of some European gigs, Gen throws one final tantrum & leaves TG. dumping all the contractual obligations (& resulting financial losses) on the remaining three members. Cosey, Chris & Sleazy carry on as X-TG, but this comes to a halt later in the year after Sleazy's death.
Cosey & Chris work to create a memorial album for him by continuing a recording project the three of them had started as X-TG. It was Sleazy's idea to cover Nico's 'Desertshore' album, with different guest vocalists on all the tracks. Despite their overwhelming sadness at the loss of a loved friend, Cosey & Chris work to finish the project, as a tribute to Sleazy. As it nears completion, Gen then tries to sabotage it's release, making all sorts of false claims, & getting solicitors involved.

The only thing that's positive throughout the whole infuriating reformed TG saga is to read of the warmth & friendship between Cosey, Chris & Sleazy. There's a real love & ability to create together between these three people, sadly ruined so many times by GPO's selfish & destructive behaviour.

However, what shines through in this book is that, despite whatever hardships & frustrations, Cosey is always creating, always coming up with new ideas, & never resting on her laurels. It's rare to read of somebody who is such a pure artist.

Her writing style is clear, straightforward & engaging. When writing of the motivations behind her art, it's refreshingly simple & doesn't require a degree in 'art bollocks' to understand it. She never references highbrow theories or name-checks obscure artists that only the 'learned' have heard of. What she creates is based simply on instinct, emotion, & personal experience, & explanations are given succinctly in plain english.

This is an amazing book that has been a joy to read (& leaves my head buzzing with creative ideas & possibilities).





  

KAWABATA MAKOTO - INUI 3 (C.D) (VHF, 2000)

I have fallen in love with this C.D. How did this happen ? There is no simple answer. Music & love contain elements of mystery that we can never explain. The process of falling in love is always an enigma. Sometimes it occurs instantaneously. At other times, it blossoms slowly & imperceptibly, before eventually coming to conscious awareness. In the case of this C.D, it was the latter. It took a number of listens till it worked it began to work its magic on me & I could really feel the power of this music. The more I listened, the more it resonated with something deep in me.

On the first few plays, it came across only as pleasant, albeit very strange, 'background music'. As I had yet to tune in to it's structures, the music seemed formless & undemanding (perfectly matching the idea of 'ambient music') -  something I could have on whilst reading a book or doing some household task. The music didn't grab my attention. Instead, it was just 'there', & was hard even to focus my attention on. However, after each play, I would find myself wanting to play it once more straight away. There was something in me that desired to keep listening to it over & over again.

After a few more listens, I began to 'get' it, & start to feel the astonishing magic of this music. It slowly changed from being mere 'background sound' to being something that I could immerse myself in, & be transported by. With each subsequent listen, the music felt more & more powerful.

I have sometimes wondered why I didn't fully 'get' it on the first few listens. Of course, that doesn't really matter, as many music lovers will have had the experience of growing to love an album that didn't fully register with them on the first few plays, or that somehow sounded or felt 'different' at first.

Perhaps there were a number of surprises I had to get over before I could really feel the power of this music. The first surprise was the length of this C.D. When I stuck it in my player, I was gobsmacked it was only 39 minutes (about the length of an old fashioned vinyl L.P), as Kawabata usually utilises the maximum length afforded by C.D technology, every other C.D I've heard from him being about 70 minutes long.

On playing, time itself seemed to be going at a different rate. The 4th track especially, at 14 minutes, never seemed to be as long as that. This is of course, a testament to the power of the music. Nothing drags, or gets boring, and even a long piece can appear to go by quickly, as you are transported into some eternal present time & the normal passage of minutes & seconds ceases to exist.

The second surprise was the variety of musical textures. Even though I'm familiar with Kawabata's recordings, there is a lot of sounds on this that I haven't heard on any of his other recordings, such as kemenje (a traditional turkish bowed instrument), zurna (a wind instrument from Eurasia), bowed sitar, & even 'water'. One track features a striking use of space & silence (as counterpoint to the instrumental sounds) - space & silence being two elements that I haven't come across on any other Kawabata release.

Even the two tracks that were underpinned by drones (drones being a common musical tool Kawabata uses) seemed very different to other tracks I've heard by him. After a few more listens, those two tracks seemed less strange (& fitted more neatly into Kawabata's overall musical output), but at first they sounded remarkably different to anything else I'd heard by him.

The first track - 'Mou' (9.56) is built atop a simple electronic drone, which subtly changes in timbre, tone, & emphasis. Violin, kerenje & zurna are added. Whilst the playing of each of these instruments is very rudimentary, I see this piece as an exploration of different musical textures. Each of these instruments has a very different sound, and the contrast between them results in none of them clashing, or fighting for the same sonic 'space'. Instead, each instrument can be focused on individually by the listener. This awareness of musical 'colour' is one of Kawabata's great skills, & this can be compared to a great piece of abstract painting in which, even though there may be no obvious 'form', the interplay of the various elements (in terms of colour & shape) is very complimentary & satisfying.

The second track - 'Meii' (11.02) features sarangi, percussive drum & gong sounds, some occasional faint electronic tones, & apparently 'water' (though I can't hear it, but I presume it's being used somehow). The use of space & silence in this track is masterful, reminding me of both Japanese painting, & also a few pieces by Nurse With Wound (who are also masters of the use of space & silence). Even though this track is very freeform. that incredible use of space & silence really marks this out as a musical masterpiece.

The third track - 'Shi' (3.46) just consists of a simple plucked bouzouki motif (apparently backed by cello, organ & vibe, but all so faint you can hardly hear them). Despite it's simplicity & brevity, this is a gorgeous piece, that feels profoundly emotional & heartfelt.

Finally, the fourth track - Kan' (14.09). Even though I love the last three tracks, this final track takes the music to an even higher level. This is an astonishing piece which feels to me like some kind of musical nirvana.
The track starts with a very pleasant buzzing noise, with occasional faint 'chirpings' in the background. This continues confidently for a few minutes, then atop of it sweeps in a beautiful multi harmonic wall of bowed sitar tones. There are so many harmonic layers to this that the mind can't simultaneously take them all in. There even appears to be a deep bass layer that sounds a bit like bagpipes. Despite this being more or less one constant tone / note, these different harmonic layers seem to gently change in individual emphasis. Whether this is down to mixing, or down to just the inevitable results of trying to hold a constant tone on an acoustic instrument, I don't know. However, those with an ear for subtleties of tone will notice these very gentle shifts.
Despite this track being 14 minutes long, it just seems to fly by. This is a truly astonishing piece of music, and is the best solo piece I've heard from Kawabata so far. Listening to this, I am taken out of my everyday existence, and transported to some beautiful other world. It feels very earthy & primal, yet when I listen my mind conjures up images of distant nebulas & the vastness of space.

Overall, this is an amazing album, on which I can't fault a single second or single note. This is as close to musical 'perfection' as perhaps it's possible to get.

ADVENTURES IN RECORD BUYING No 1 - THE PSYCHOMETRY OF VINYL DAMAGE

One of the numerous problems with the 'Rare Record Price Guide' grading system (adopted as a universal 'standard' by all U.K sellers & record lovers) is that it works from the assumption that the deterioration in condition of any records always occurs in an incremental way (first of all you get very faint surface marks from general handling - taking it out of the sleeve & placing it on the record deck; then more noticeable surface marks build up from repeated plays; then after even more plays the record starts to get scratches - first light ones that cause faint distortion, then heavier ones that cause clicks & pops: then it starts to get severe scratches & deep scores that cause jumps; then finally the dog bites a whole chunk out of the record, leaving it totally trashed).

The assumption is that the damage to vinyl  always fallows that set incremental pattern, & that ultimately, given enough plays, all records will deteriorate from Mint to dog-bitten in the same predictable way. According to this theory, the grading of any record can be accurately given as a fixed point somewhere along the scale.

However, in reality there are just far too many variables - the way individuals treat their records, whether or not the equipment they use (stylus etc) damages the record, & patterns of playing (e.g - the difference between people who play each side from start to finish, as opposed to people who jump about from track to track, often knocking the needle in the process). Some people can trash a record within three or four plays, whereas other owners can play an album a hundred times, & other than some inevitable handling marks, there won't be a single scratch.

As a result, so many second records I buy just don't easily fit into any of the gradings, as the damage to them hasn't followed the set pattern. There are albums where the vinyl is still incredibly shiny & there's next to no surface marks (indicating that it's probably only been played three or four times). However, there's long thin scratches running across several tracks, suggesting that on the few times it has been played, somebody's been extremely careless & knocked the needle, sending it flying across the vinyl surface. There's albums where one track has obviously been played to death, but every other track has been left almost untouched (or perhaps one side has been played far more than the other - this is more noticeable with singles). There's albums that are almost Mint, but have one really bad deep scratch (suggesting a possible accident on it's first playing, after which the owner decided never to play it again).

There are even albums that have unique, & completely unclassifiable forms of damage (such as a U.K Subs album I picked up, which was in lovely condition, except for the fact that the last track on one side had a wavy 'up & down' scratch running around the entire circumference, as if the owner hated that track so much that they'd deliberately scored it with a sharp object to render it unplayable).

A wise record dealer once said (in an article in 'Record Collector' magazine) that buyers should be wary of  anybody selling records who resorts to such easy one or two word gradings (e.g - 'Excellent', 'Very Good' etc) because, as I have already pointed out, the condition of so many records just doesn't neatly fit into any of these incremental gradings. His suggestion was that a good dealer should be able to give you a more detailed description of condition (e.g - 'Side One has a lot of light surface marks, but no noticeable noise on playing. Side Two  looks excellent, other than a 1 centimetre scratch on the second track, which causes a bit of crackle & an occasional loud pop').

However, the point of this article is not so much to find fault with the RRPG grading system (or to suggest an alternative). Instead, moving on from my observations that so many records don't fit any easy grading categories, I want to suggest that, after decades of obsessively hunting down & buying second hand records, a form of psychometry comes into play, where one can  guess what sort of person owned the record, based on the type of damage to the vinyl.

Several categories I have come up with are as follows ~

(1) THE FIDGETER  The Fidgeter bought a lot of indie & dance music albums back in the 1990s. Apart from when he first bought a new album, he could never play an entire album's side from start to finish. Instead, he would constantly be leaping up (especially when he was stoned & had his mates round) going "No. That's not the track I want.. There's a better one. Hold on ...".  Then he would try to lift the needle onto another track. However, given the fact that he didn't have a lever to lift the needle up properly, & given that he was stoned & excited, the needle would invariably go flying across the vinyl surface (with that excruciating scratch noise that those of us who spent time with any Fidgeters back in the 1990s grew to expect every two minutes).
The Fidgeter had a lot of records though (he was, after all, a big music lover), so no individual album was played more than perhaps a dozen times. As a result, all his albums remained shiny with not too many surface marks. However, every single one of them is scarred with these long thin scratches caused by knocking the needle in a fit of marijuana induced excitement.

(2) THE OLD MAN. The Old Man collected easy listening records back in the late 1960s / early 1970s (often on the Studio 2 Stereo label). To his credit, The Old Man took exceptional care of his records (unlike The Fidgeter, he probably played  each side straight through without jumping up & sending the needle flying). He never put his fingers on the vinyl. and probably had a state of the art record deck & good stylus. As a result, his albums are all in immaculate condition.
However, he had an obsessive need to 'catalogue' his records, & often in the top right hand corner of the front cover, he's added a large sticker on which he's written a number, or even worse, used one of these 1970s 'label makers' that printed sticky labels on thick plastic with raised lettering (which are impossible to get off without severely damaging the record cover). He may also have written in biro pen (in very small neat writing) notes on individual tracks on the back cover ('Fast Tempo', 'Slow Tempo' etc).

(3) THE SAMPLE HUNTER. The Sample Hunter is a D.J or dance music 'producer', who buys loads of cheap second hand L.Ps from many eclectic genres, in a search for 'samples' & 'breaks'. In theory, records owned by The Sample Hunter might be very hard to spot, as with him buying second hand albums (& not really caring about condition), this means that a lot of albums that pass through his hands might already have had a lot of wear & damage.
However, those of us with a keen eye, & knowledge of vinyl, will be able to spot the difference between any original wear on the vinyl, & that inflicted on it by The Sample Hunter. The Sample Hunter will have a top range record deck, with a very sharp thin stylus. Therefore, any scratches  he inflicts will be thinner & finer looker than any scratches that may have existed prior to him getting the album (especially with 1960s / 70s albums, when people used thick & heavy styluses).
The Sample Hunter buys cheap albums in bulk (at car boots & charity shops), & has no respect for them. He gets home, throws them on his record deck, and in his impatient hunt for 'samples' & 'breaks', can't listen to an album all the way through. Instead, just like The Fidgeter, as soon as he gets bored, he'll just knock the needle forward, leaving the same kind of long thin scratches as The Fidgeter does. Having just picked up several dozen L.Ps at a car boot, he isn't going to devote the requisite forty minutes listening to each one. It's really a quick 'skim over' in each case, then on to the next one.
Another telltale sign of The Sample Hunter is circular scratches (i.e - white scratches that follow the circumference of a record). This is obviously where they've played one segment over & over again, or tried some D.J 'scratching' on it. No matter how trashed a record is, it is only The Sample Hunter who puts these kind of scratches into a record.
Once they've searched for samples, The Sample Hunter will sell all these records on to a second hand record shop. Heaven forbid that they should actually clean them first (as in their attempts as 'scratching' & their general disrespect for the vinyl. they tend to cover the record surface with grubby fingerprints). Apart from top D.Js, most dance music record buyers seem to have no knowledge about cleaning vinyl (or just the fact that touching the vinyl leaves dirty fingermarks). Dirty fingermarks are also a sign that an album has been 'got at' by The Sample Hunter.

(4) THE INDIAN FAMILY. Obviously this only applies to Indian albums. Whereas Indian Classical albums usually are in immaculate condition, Bollywood albums from the 1960s /70s are often in very poor condition (something you get used to as a Bollywood collector, though occasionally old Bollywood do turn up in beautiful condition). I imagine this is a combination of having really cheap record decks back in the day, and just loving the music - playing it again & again, while the children danced up & down, making the needle jump.
Interestingly, no matter how trashed a Bollywood album is, they're always devoid of dirty fingermarks. Either Indian families had extremely clean hands, or else they at least knew enough about vinyl to not put their fingers on it.

(5) DODGY DEALINGS ? This is one I've never worked out what the story is. With a lot of the better end of easy listening albums from the late 1960s /early 70s, a lot of records I've picked up in that genre will be in more or less Mint condition, apart from one very straight thin scratch right across the first track on Side One (& ending abruptly right at the end of the track)
Apparently, back in those days, record shops would often deliberately damage stock they couldn't sell, then return it to the supplier for a refund. Given that I've come across so many albums from that era that have that same precise scratch on the first track, I wonder if it is a result of record shops deliberately damaging albums ?

(6) WHAT THE HELL HAVE YOU DONE TO THIS ? Like the previous entry, this one also is an enigma. There are some records that are in such bad condition, that you are left wondering what the owner could possibly have done to have got it like that. Even if I'd spent 6 months daily throwing it like a frisbee for my dog to fetch, it wouldn't have ended up as trashed.
The ne plus ultra of this came with a bunch of 1970s singles (Mungo Jerry etc) that I picked up dirt cheap from a charity shop. They smelled a bit funny, & on cleaning them I noticed that a thick brown substance was coming off onto the cleaning cloth. I did genuinely wonder if somebody had once had a shit on these records, and then rubbed it  deep into the vinyl surface.

(7) THE 1970S PARTY GOER. This applies mainly to 7" singles from the early 1970s (& interestingly, primarily reggae hits from the early 1970s). Worried that they records they brought to a party might get muddled up with other people's records, the owner wrote their name on the label (in the same universal 'girly' handwriting).
The name on the label is always 'Sharon' or 'Stacey', leading me to conclude that either Sharon or Stacey were very common girl's names back then, or else there was one Sharon / Stacey who owned millions of records (& multiple copies of each single).
Sadly, because these records were brought to parties, they're often trashed, as I imagine people jumped up & down, making the records jump, and / or records were quickly & clumsily pulled off in order to put on the next one.