I am unable to pry Amsterdam open. There is a thick wall, a thick concrete wall that stands between us. I am not good with unmalleable material. I am a soft sponge - penetrable. Sometimes trying is pointless when you are unable to try in a meaningful way. Or do you just keep going? Amsterdam is raw and humid and harsh. I can thrive and relate to raw and sharp, but not when the rawness is dull and cold. Some of the people in my program are in love with Amsterdam and all it has to offer. I am glad. I do not feel this. I want to smell and touch Amsterdam but it’s not letting me. Why won’t it let me? I can get along with every city I go to, why now, why here? There is an energy, a really pushy energy that tourists exude on it, making its residents impatient, making the city impatient but unable to say no.
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MUSIC ::: Did you know Barry Lynn, also known as Boxcutter, also known to me as one of the most phenomenal musical artists of all time has a Soundcloud and he puts new unreleased music on there for us to listen to? When I listen to Boxcutter all of the cells that make up my existence re-articulate their existence and open up to the infinite possibilites. This all sounds cliche because it is how I always describe him, because his musical output’s great vastness permeates me that much.
I was in J’s music room in 216. It was early 2006. It was really bright outside. I was sitting in his lap on his gray oversized office chair that always swung back a bit too much and I was sure we’d both die this way. He played “Mossy” and I fell to the floor on his rug, closing in on my face with both hands the way I do when I hear music that overtakes me. I started crying and demanding the song be put on lifetime repeat. It was one of those moments that everything changed, that I heard something so new and so exciting that it made me want to keep being alive so I wouldn’t miss moments like these. I have those moments. They are rare, but they occur and when they do all of pessimistic insecure me seems implausible.
Mossy is one of the songs on Oneiric, Boxcutter’s first album on Planet Mu. When I hear oneiric in my head, I remember Mary Anne Hobbes talking about it when he did an exclusive session for the Breezeblock, and I managed to get myself in on the shout out as “Miss Riot” because that’s my handle on DOA from many many years ago. It mattered to be part of that moment so much then.
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Now I am here, in the moment. I’ve been spending hours every day in front of Resolume with my Korg midi controller imagining with my own hands how all my favorite music looks like.
This weekend Toronto unwillingly hosted the G20. Although I have been physically in Amsterdam since Saturday, I have not left Toronto, glued to Twitter and the Internet reading obsessively about everything that is happening from all sides. Reasearching what the G20 actually does(n’t) do, and the history of it all, trying to figure out how easily meaningful discourse about the Summit gets obscured by hysteria from both sides. My write up on being a spectator from abroad is slowly coming to fruition. I need to take a few days to digest my interaction with the Summit almost exclusively online.
I am living with Rico, who runs IChione, and his family for the summer in their attic in Amstelveen. It is strange to have a peer that also has a 14 year old daughter. It is an interesting negotiation for me as a student but also an adult. At 23, Rico was on his way to be an ordained monk but then his daughter was conceived and he realized his way into it could not occur because he’d have to leave them both behind.
Here are some of what I saw yesterday in my new neighbourhood playing around with my UV lens. Flickr.
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MUSIC: Also, a few days ago one of my favorite music people in the world, Loops Haunt, posted a mix called Strange Fruit Vol 1. It has many wonderful old love songs on it. You should download it and have him be in your life too. OK? OH! And I just found out that he’s playing StekkerFest in Utrecht on August 14! I am there! Maybe this special person I know can come too? For his biiiiiirthday?
It’s been a few weeks and I’ve let my reaction to Bangface Weekender settle — J & I arrived in London Thursday morning and headed straight to Brighton to stay with Matt, Simon, Jeri and Jonnie (all who I feel in love with immediately), despite the volcanic ash fiasco. Air Canada fucked up and sold our seats so we ended up in executive first and on the subsequent plane with the lovely Teva and David, who were the only other crew coming to Bangface from Canada (as far as I know). Air Canada also lost our luggage for many days, and we didn’t get it until right before J’s set on Saturday night. The coordinator woman-at-large of Bangface, Fran, was also lovely and obliging, especially when it came to making sure we got our luggage when it finally arrived at Pontins. Everyone was so helpful in accommodating us with clothes, costumes, and other essentials, to a point where I thought I was in some fantasy land. I’m beginning to have a really skewed vision of Europe because every time I go my whole self is opened to kindess and sincerity (mostly! of course there was some internal conflict in another house we stayed in that managed to throw us in the middle of it, but we got out before any damage was done to us / unfulfilled egos are fragile).
the backyard of our chalet
From Brighton to Camber Sands, we took the Big Lemon bus, which runs on locally-sourced cooking oil. As soon as we were through the gates, happiness exploded. Bangface necessities excitement, and not just a weekend to get fucked up but an urgent desire to hear good music. And whilst most of us get totally mangled, even that pans out with respect I never encounter in Canada. You also have a kitschy yet cozy chalet to stay in with beds and a kitchen, which I decorated with a fruit platter and other assortments to make it seem quite wholesome.
The clincher at Bangface 2008 was that I was exposed to so much new music, “I got to lose myself in artists I have loved for years but never saw live, artists I knew of but had no idea they were that phenomenal, all in a small seaside town in England.” In 2010 the same happened, unexpectedly, because I knew most of the artists playing, or was not really interested. What really blew me away and what I should have prepared for was the world premiere of Urban Tribe live: KENNY DIXON JR + DJ STINGRAY+ ANTHONY ‘SHAKE’ SHAKIR all up there so serious on stage, as if this is it, this is the world ending. WTF WTF WTF, is all I kept repeating and still do.
Everyone performing at Bangface is so hungry. And we are all so hungry too, knowing how to feed ourselves and the others. Everyone puts in so much energy to be present, to give to the vibe (a guy made foam 303′s to give away). This designer girl even lent me her subtle yet Bangfaced themed green costume jumper to wear and lent J a one piece to match me for our performance! The four other performances I was really anticipating: Loops Haunt, A Guy Called Gerald, Plaid and Luke Vibert exceeded my fucking brains out. My only complaint is that the curation was not as solid this year in terms of coordinating artists. The timing was disheveled (and many agreed). Squire of Gothos following Jimmy Edgar on the Saturday night? Gah! Plaid’s futurist performance that had me convinced I was flying through space on a wing of an airplane prior to Killa Kela’s clown circus before the totally un-rave and straight-laced Orb? Orb was a mistake altogether in my opinion, dudes standing up on stage barely moving is NOT rave. I remember leaving part way through their set, being ridiculous repeating how colonial their tunes were in their use of ‘ethnic crooning vocals’ to create ambiance. If anything Luke Vibert for a tertiary performance to end it all off!
If you know me, you know I have an unabashed hard-on for vocoders, so Jimmy Edgar‘s live set should have gone on for hours. I discovered Loops Haunt in Brighton on our three day bender last year on Red’s laptop and there he was and just like that it happened. There’s always so much happening at Bangface. Seeing Scott preform live was like, yes, yes, this is how it should be. Like the Urban Tribe set, it was just so realized, even though he said it was some of him just trying out new things. I could insert some music journalist words here to describe his sounds, but not now, just listen.
A Guy Called Gerald did a live show using Reason (!), pulling out drum n bass that reminded me why drum n bass will always be my #1 love forever and ever. From beginning to end – heart thumps and footwork madness. If you know anywhere I can find videos, clips and/or MP3′s of this newest incarnation of his live performance, please send them to me! Equinox, who I’m a giant fanboy of, cos no one does amen choppage like him, except maybe his mentor Bizzy B, played a bit of a one-note set, but to his defense, he was first on and the technical shit was all still being worked on. Luke Vibert followed and pulled out the most intricate acid set I’ve seen from him (that includes jungle and all that goodness too! of course!), footwork footwork footwork! Walked in on him during his second set on Saturday, playing an oldskool garage track I had on a mixtape from 2001 in the Queen Vic room, in which he proceded to play all genres in only the way Luke Vibert knows how. Who the fuck loves to play music as much as this guy and has been around, and done all the genres so so well?
I had missed many performers (Joker, Bizzy B, Ratpack, Cooh, Murderbot, u ziq and some others) on the Saturday night preparing for my VJ set for J’s LIVE PA, which was so exciting to finally see as a whole. The Queen Vic had sweat pouring from the ceiling. Everyone was bouncing. Matt told us later he threw out his back from all the amen time stretching. Europe desires J so much, in this beautiful vulnerable way Canada never will. As for the VJ’ing, I was assured the projector and screen was set up properly and even though I went and asked three times, I should have actually tested it myself, because it was all out of focus and totally skewed. I had to play a very limited clips that could work in such circumstances. Lesson learned. After that, everything went 100% rave.
We had the most well-suited team in our chalet // Jimmy, Scott, J and I // we spent much of the Weekender together drinking Nescafe Extra Gold Instant Coffee.
At one point I took over Scott’s MacbookPro to judge him on his music taste and found a missing part of myself, a piece that I fell into but am now emotionally unable to make peace with. It came on and instantly I fell and fell and fell for three minutes and 22 seconds into the deepest well Murakami wrote about. “Rewind on that one.” I yelled from outside our chalet where I danced until I rushed back in to play it again. “Good call,” they all said. At that moment, I felt so much love. Fuck. Later the next night, everything was really intense and sharp (my heart is racing now!) I had to listen to it again. The stereo wasn’t hooked up properly and J + Scott managed to hook it up in no less than 30 minutes with full effort. “So I’m in a room with two music geniuses yet y’all cannot get a stereo hooked up to a laptop?!” And then it worked and then I found the deep well again. There was movement inside all of me, movement I hadn’t felt in a really long time. I was being opened and aired out (and yes, causing me to let it all out on the Monday early morning). I guess yeah, the song changed my life. Actually. It was the first song Warwick recorded in 1964 and the lyrics, as it usually is with these things, couldn’t have come at a better time.
Many people stopped by our chalet. Here is Jason being all serious with Dinn, pointing to his Reaktor Patch. Chrissy Murderbot also managed to keep close and cause a shit load of ruckus when HE BROUGHT HIS MOM AND PROCEEDED TO LOSE HER AT BANGFACE!! You know we’re totally making a teeshirt, “I lost my mum at Bangface.” At some point on Sunday night, so you can imagine my state at that point, Chris challenged me to a game of table hockey , but did I ever school him in how to be a winner. Despite never having played before, my Canadianness eclipsed his tenacious Americanness.
The Countryside Alliance Crew practices for their performance, including their closing anthem Super Sheep Shearer, a very very special rendition of Super Sharp Shooter.
Wassim, of Centrifuge Agency, one of my new heros, has already retired from academia as a post-doc at 29, fed us balloons and took us to the beach.
Camber Sands is a typical gaudy seaside town in England where most houses have crocheted curtains, fitting the festival of RAVE so well.
You cannot see the giant sandstorm that scratched our eyes out in this serene photograph though.
coda: Just like in 2008, I cried so much when it was all over. It was so perfect, so musical, so giving, and I was able to be more outgoing and not just hide on the dancefloor or in my room. J said he noticed such a difference in me, an openness that seldom comes out. Usually, in new situations I retreat and my actions are perceived as bitchiness but they’re just social anxiety, fear of loss and misanthropy really. The inspiration this time was different, it was concrete, it was like, hello Magda, you are doing shit so don’t stop, don’t be so insecure, and just do it, you know you have to. Until 2011. Bangface is the best thing that could ever happen to life. Everyone I talk to agree. Did you go?
Toutes portes ouvertes
En plein courant d’air
Je suis une maison vide
Sans toi, sans toi.
Comme une île déserte
Que recouvre la mer
Mes plages se devident
Sans toi, sans toi.
Belle, en pure perte
Nue au coeur de l’hiver
Je suis un corps avide
Sans toi, sans toi.
Rongée par le cafard
Morte, au cercueil de verre
Je me couvre de rides
Sans toi, sans toi.
Et si tu viens trop tard
On m’ aura mise en terre
Seule, laide et livide
Sans toi, sans toi,
Sans toi.
^ ^ ^
I want to stick white fluffy stuff all over my walls and pretend it is clouds. Then I want to build boats and make people out of all of my love. All the love I have, I want to just expel into making a small village of little people that will swim in a boat from cloud to cloud on my wall. I watched ‘The Science of Sleep’ and it made think of this, plus I need to let out some of this stuff in my heart.
From May 30, 2005: XIU XIU does things to me physically & mentally that I was totally unprepared for. It makes me want to pick at my skin & tear little pieces one by one until I reach the inside & blood gets all over my fingertips in that LSD kind of way but more hurtful. It makes me touch my face and lips to make sure I’m ok while waiting for the bus.
President Roslin, who is dying of cancer sits with a dying woman, Emily, who is at the last stages of her own terminal cancer in the hospital quarters.
“Those are the gods you believe in? Capricious? Vindictive?”
“They are not to be taken literally. They are metaphors.”
“I don’t need metaphors, I need answers.”
I believe in metaphor, thus I believe in God. I don’t need answers or reassurance, because they’re in me already.
I don’t think I was ever truly an atheist. The anagram of my name spells A Mad Angel.
I want to explore what it means to be me (how cliché is that?), what it means to be allowed to experience everything. Sitting in front of my laptop playing Solitaire isn’t getting me anywhere, but it’s what I do. I’m stressed out. Solitaire. Finished a part of an application. Solitaire. Being told what to do at work while someone else makes the decisions isn’t working me out. It’s wearing me out. Being in the same city since I was a preteen isn’t conducive to risk. But I’ve never been a risk taker, so what do I do? I have these projects lining up in front of me, but I cower. I take them on, on, on but not with all of me. Never with all of me. Where is the exploration in a desk? I don’t want to be no armchair archeologist. I think I’m starting to grow old because I think about my mortality in a different way. In a way that things are changing, moving so fast that all I have time to do is go through the motions. Sometimes I feel because J is such a dreamer, I have to be the one to induce practicality in our lives. He is the one living out his dreams as an artist. I can’t let myself.
This song is from my favorite downtempo house album of all time, A View from the Heights. My ex introduced me to them. I don’t even recall how and when. I wish I remember the story of how he came across them. I found a copy of the album in some small shop on a corner in downtown Paris. I also bought Cassius’ 1999 and Feeling for You for 5 euros each. This was 2002 and the euro was just taking over, all the prices were still in franks too. This lovely blonde woman worked there. She kept talking to me and I pretended to know more French than I truly did. She found it pleasant that such a young girl was backpacking and still had the will to buy vinyl to carry around so she gave me some French house record. I felt so cool. I didn’t feel so cool when I was sweating buckets in June carrying heaps of records from the different cities I visited, but at that age, the struggle feels less. Always.
