Posts Tagged ‘Willie Mitchell’

Michael Roth interviews Stewart Home about Mandy, Charlie & Mary-Jane

Saturday, March 30th, 2013

Stewart Home is a writer, artist and filmmaker living in London, England. His latest novel, Mandy, Charlie & Mary-Jane, came out on February 26 2013. Here’s an email interview I did with Stewart about this book. Unfortunately, we did not discuss Three-sided Football, King Mob, bread dolls, Lucio Fulci or Punk rock from Finland this time around. There’s always next time.

What is Mandy, Charlie & Mary-Jane about?

Stewart Home: Among other things the book addresses delusional thinking and in this particular novel it is manifested through the narrator Charlie, who is a hack academic with a drug problem. Charlie also has an obsession with porn and likes to have sex with unconscious women. The book is very funny if you’ve got a black sense of humour, and hopefully it is unreadable and distressing to those who are uptight, po-faced, repressed and even more deluded than the narrator!

You wrote the novel over the spring and summer of 2005. What was the inspiration for the work and the characters? It’s more than a parody of the university system, as it touches on the events of 7/7 as well. Can you go into this a bit more?

SH: I began the book when I had a writer-in-residence gig at York University. So it starts by describing the office I was given there. I’m very proud not to have a BA or any post-graduate qualifications, and obviously universities are basically there to turn people into zombies – so that they can become trusted functionaries of the capitalist system. That said, we all reproduce our own alienation under capitalism, so I’m not saying that people shouldn’t attend or work in universities, just that we should be aware that they are about conformism and anyone who claims that higher education has very much to do with intellectual growth and development is either an idiot or an apologist for capitalism.

Moving on, I happened to be back home in London when the 7/7 tube bombs went off and that was a strange experience because the authorities closed down the mobile phone networks and the initial radio reports talked about fires rather than bombs, and at more places than where the explosions took place. Some people were panicking and it reminded me of 9/11 – where the repeated broadcast of film of that atrocity on TV turned viewers into zombies.

When 9/11 happened I was writing a keynote speech for a conference on punk rock and someone phoned me to tell me it was the end of the world and that I should put on the TV. I just ignored this stupid exhortation coz I had better things to do. Anyway I went to this punk conference and the academics there were even more zombified than usual coz they’d been through this psychic driving process of watching the 9/11 atrocity over and over again on TV. I watched the footage once about 10 days after it happened just to get an idea of how these academics had self-labotomised themselves sitting up all night watching the replays on the news.

So my experience of 9/11 resulted in me knowing immediately I wanted to incorporate 7/7 into the novel, and very soon after that I also wanted to attack the stupid conspiracy theories that had started swirling around about the tube bombers. But the book is also very much about 2005. It describes a bunch of exhibitions and concerts I went to, but from the perspective of a very fictional narrator. Charlie is stitched together from some of the most obnoxious academics I’ve come across over about 25 years, so he’s a complete cunt.

Why did it take so long to find a publisher? In light of your previous novels, Red London and Blow Job, which deal with mass mayhem in London, it seems odd that publishers were uncomfortable with the depiction of 7/7 in this novel?

SH: If you imagine treating 9/11 in the same way as I treated 7/7, satirically – although obviously also from the perspective of someone who opposes all terrorism as vanguardist and reactionary – then you can probably see why the bigger UK publishers didn’t go for the book immediately afterwards. I had some Print On Demand offers from small operations but I figured that if I was to go down the POD route I might as well do it myself. So I waited till I got an offer of a proper print run of the book. Actually Blow Job also hung around for a few years because the bigger publishers found that distasteful, but it didn’t take nearly as long to get published as this new book. Blow Job was written before Slow Death and Come Before Christ and Murder Love, although it was published after both of them. Publishing really is incredibly conservative and if, like me, you understand that literature is about the creation of reactionary bourgeois subjectivities and then write with the intention of destroying the novel as we know it, what you do tends to go down badly with most editors.

To my knowledge, there is no novel that deals with the events of 7/7. Do the events of 7/7 still cast a long shadow across Britain?

SH: I think we’ve got over the worst of 7/7 and the impact was not as great as 9/11 in the US, but it still casts a shadow. I’m kinda surprised there isn’t more 7/7 fiction but I guess you could call the conspiracy tracts about it fiction.

If you were unable to find a publisher, did you consider self-publishing the book?

SH: I was busy and figured I’d find someone to publish the book eventually, so I just hung on. Not that I’m against self-publishing since it demonstrates a conviction about what you do. I might have self-published eventually if nothing had come through but obviously I was prepared to wait 7 years to see this book in print; it was written before my last published novel Blood Rites of the Bourgeoisie. In fact I finished it nearly 5 years before I finished Blood Rites.

I’m a fan of conspiracy theories. Not that I actually believe them, but they make good material for fiction. There were some conspiracy theories around 7/7. Did you incorporate any of those into the narrative?

SH: I ignored the glove puppet conspiracy theories that finger the British state as being behind 7/7 and instead had Charlie convince himself that the bombings were the work of pagans. He then decides to become a suicide bomber and to attack a major Christian target, Holy Island just off the north-east coast of mainland England.

Charlie’s sexual preferences seem to highlight his need to be in control. Do you explore the relationship of sex and power any further in the novel?

SH: I think Charlie’s fetish for sex with unconscious women is indicative of capitalist alienation, subjects become objects and vice versa. Sex should, of course, be about human interaction but Charlie wants to do away with that – just as capitalist power tries to abolish all human relationships too. I think the intention is pretty explicit and I don’t flesh it out with too much theory, but obviously Marx is one place to pursue that.

Charlie has a wild syllabus that focuses on obscure horror films and music. I would definitely sign up for his class. Of course, it’s not something you would expect to find in an academic setting, which is part of the joke. Can you talk a bit on why you used these references and how they fit into the story? Also, what would your own course syllabus look like?

SH: Writers looking for mainstream success reward their contemporary readers with things most will instantly recognise – which means references to cultural icons like The Beatles or James Bond – because rather than writing for individuals they’re writing for an undifferentiated mass. I wanted to subvert that and deliberately use material that wouldn’t appeal to editors and publishers looking for a bestseller. And I guess I also used what I used because it interests me. I certainly enjoy a good Eurosleaze movie!

When I’m teaching my syllabus tends to be dictated by the fact that on the whole kids wanting to do so-called creative writing haven’t been taught the history of modernism. So you have to run them through dada, surrealism, fluxus, psychogeography, sound poetry, visual poetry, even the beats. If at the end of it they still want to write conventional realist prose, this will at least be a conscious decision (even if I’d view it as a bad one), rather than because they don’t know anything else. Obviously the cultural references fit easily into the novel because the narrator teaches cultural studies so he’s talking about films and music day in and day out.

You have a running joke where the students seem unaware of any music outside of Coldplay or of horror movies beyond mainstream works. They seem to lack any historical context of what they are studying. Do you think this is true? That many studying/working in cultural studies (including artists and academics) do not realize the history of works of art, writing or film, mainstream or otherwise? Do you think that the history of underground art is slowly being forgotten in academic circles in favor of mainstream and less challenging works?

SH: Unfortunately my experience of having writer and artist-in-residence gigs at a number of universities has led me to the conclusion that students – and especially those in English departments, the art schools are a little better – really know very little outside of canonical and absolutely mainstream contemporary culture. So the majority really do tell me their favorite music is like Dylan, The Beatles, Coldplay and U2. They also get taught in modules so they have huge chunks of history missing from what has been drummed into them. All in all this is completely depressing and most academics aren’t much better.

Obviously since I don’t have academic qualifications I can’t get academic posts, I can only go into universities as a practicing writer or artist. But the way most university education narrows horizons really is appalling. University students are fed the delusion that they belong to some kind of elite, so they often think they know it all and don’t realise that there are huge gaps in their very limited knowledge. Universities also encourage absolutely ridiculous specialisation, particularly at post-graduate level. The ultimate effect of higher education is to retard social development and the growth of knowledge in a way that is analogous to the church in the middle ages. So that’s something I’m trying to put across in the novel, although obviously both the capitalist media and the universities themselves tend to view this rather banal and obvious fact as completely counter-intuitive.

Does the behavior of the characters reflect the drugs associated with their names – Charlie = cocaine, Mary-Jane = marijuana, Mandy = Mandrax?

SH: Charlie is definitely in a cocaine and crack la la land. I was talking to a recovering crackhead about the book recently and he could totally see Charlie in his own behavior on drugs. He started telling me about how he’d fast forward through porn videos looking for certain acts when he’d been on the pipe. It was kind of unnerving to hear how close his behavior had been to Charlie’s – since I’ve never been into crack or coke myself, although I’ve been around plenty of people who were. So Charlie is me drawing on my observations of people using crack and coke, I’m not drawing on my own personal experiences. I’ve also noticed that coke tends to be popular with academics – or at least the ones I meet. Personally I view psychedelics as a lot more fun. Because Charlie is the drug-addled narrator and he’s talking out of his arse most of the time, Mandy and Mary-Jane are a little more mixed-up drug wise and can be swapped around in terms of substance effects.

Through the novel, we can see Charlie is becoming slowly unhinged. Is Charlie a reliable narrator?

SH: He’s a complete fantasist. I wouldn’t believe a word he says. In the last two chapters he claims to be in hell, but it sounds more like Kensington in west London. So by the end of the book he’s coming on like a cross between mystic charlatan T. Lobsang Rampa and the end of Jim Thompson’s The Getaway. Cyril Henry Hoskin, more popularly known as Tuesday Lobsang Rampa, was a writer who claimed to have been a lama in Tibet before spending the second part of his life in the body of a British man. This is of course complete bollocks. And having said I wouldn’t believe a word Charlie says, I wouldn’t believe much of what most real life academics say either.

If Charlie is the main character, why is his name second in the title?

SH: Among other things the title was meant to reference the Russ Meyer movie Cherry, Harry & Raquel! So in that movie title the male name is placed in the middle, which is why I did the same thing. Also the name placement reflects the narrator being completely drug-fucked and not knowing who he is, as well as constantly mixing up his wife and his mistress!

What else are you working on?

SH: My own delusions of grandeur mostly – since you can’t let those slip if you promote yourself as ‘an ego-maniac on a world historical scale’, as I do. I’ve also a couple of novels in the pipeline, one The Nine Lives Of Ray The Cat Jones is finished and ready to go to print when some lucky publisher scoops it up. I completed that book last year – so it hasn’t hung around as long as Mandy yet!

Is there anything (music, films, books, etc) that you are really grooving to right now?

SH: As far as printed books go what I read is mostly non-fiction. However I have read the most recent (in English) novels by Peter Plate and Wu Ming recently and they both grooved me. Musically I’ve been blasting out a lot of breakbeat by DJ Balli but that may also have something to do with the fact that he gave me a bunch of his stuff when I was in Bologna a couple of weeks ago! I listen to a lot of old soul records too – right now My Love is Getting Stronger by Cliff Nobles and Treat Me Like A Lady by P.P. Arnold are really doing it for me. I also like Eddie Bo, Eddie Harris and Willie Mitchell a lot!

And for those process nerds, what is your writing process? What tools, programs, etc. do you use in your writing? Do you write longhand first or do you dump it straight onto the computer?

SH: I learnt to touch type when I was 16 and I just bang my fiction straight out on my computer keyboard. I can type a lot quicker than I can write by hand. I believe in writing fast and then sorting out the edits when you’ve completed the book. After all you won’t know exactly how the first sentence should read until you’ve completed the last. That said I have got slower recently. My unpublished novel The Nine Lives Of Ray The Cat Jones took two years to write because it entailed a lot of research which can slow things down. My earlier books I mostly wrote in a couple of months – a month for the first draft and a month for a couple of revisions. However, my earlier books were also shorter, around sixty thousand words, whereas Mandy and Ray are both about eighty thousand words long.

This interview originally appeared here on Opsonic Index.

And while you’re at it don’t forget to check – www.stewarthomesociety.org – you know it makes (no) sense!

Get Down On It: Stewart Home interviewed by Jaime Casas

Friday, April 20th, 2012

I did this interview for a Spanish newspaper El Pais a few weeks ago and figured I might as well run it here in the original English. The Spanish publication of Memphis Underground has been generating a lot of interest there….

Jaime Casas: I see many different genres in Memphis Underground: from autobiography to meta-literature, but above all there is a sense of passion in everything said and done by the characters. It is a very a nondescript book it seems, and an experiment. But, I guess there are some ideas and intentions, what are they?

Stewart Home: At the most basic level I’m saying there are many new ways in which we can write, and by analogy many new ways in which we could organise the world. My writing varies from book to book, but very often I sample a lot of other writers (and correct them too of course), so that what I do becomes a collective authorial practice. Actually Memphis Underground has less of this sampling than many of my other books but it is still an attempt to move away from the ideas of possessive individualism and character (or what I view as bourgeois subjectivity) that characterises the reactionary literature of the capitalist ruling class. Most successful writers subscribe to the backward world-view of the bourgeoisie because they are more interested in being celebrities than in writing worthwhile books. Time will judge them very harshly – or to put it another way, they will very quickly be completely forgotten.

Moving from the macro to the micro level of the book, I’m dealing with how large sections of the working class has been forced out of London through the process of gentrification. Unlike in much of Spain, the property bubble has yet to burst in London but there is also a debate to be had here on how we can be more proactive rather than just waiting for the next crisis of capitalism.

Jaime Casas: Anyway, I’d say the protagonist Jack Johnson, has a lot of you in him, and yet many other modern characters too. It seems that he is some sort of collective consciousness…

Stewart Home: John Johnson is feisty like the boxer Jack Johnson – and he has some of me and some of a lot of other people in him. He’s a kind of (post)-modern everyman figure… We’re all unique in that we’re different people but actually the similarities between us far out-weight the differences – and so I’m not into creating the kind of generic but supposedly unique ‘characters’ you find in bourgeois fiction. As a consequence I’m able to think of John Johnson as my pet rock… so it doesn’t really matter whether or not I remember to give him food and water… he’ll just keep on keepin’ on right to the end of the book.

Jaime Casas: So he is not an alter-ego although you have described yourself as “an egomaniac on a world historical scale”; but is he still a platform from which you provide people with a different perception of yourself as an artist, writer, or whatever you consider yourself…?

Stewart Home: The protagonists in my books could never be identical with me even if I wanted them to be – and this definitely isn’t my intention anyway. When I call myself an egomaniac on a world historical scale this is intended to be humorous – and obviously I’m invoking Hegel in particular and to a degree Marx too. However, humour should be like an iceberg. The laughs are the ten percent visible above the water but the real matter lies below.

Historical changes in how egomania is perceived and what it means are certainly worth considering here. Max Nordau in his infamously reactionary late-nineteenth book Degeneration used the concept of egomania to attack the avant-garde of the fin de siècle as criminals and madmen. I wouldn’t want to defend politically all of those Nordau savages – including Wilde, Ibsen, Wagner and Nietzsche – but at the same time I’d want to resist his line of attack. And because many people still use the term egomaniac in the moralistic and negative sense Nordau deployed it, I think it is worth adopting as a form of self-description for humorous purposes.

That said, I would also reject the more recent positive use of the term to describe the quest for success and celebrity by the likes of businessman Donald Trump. A business celebrity like Trump is a superficial egomaniac who doesn’t take the concept seriously enough to make it worthwhile pursuing. Trump doesn’t want to change the world we find ourselves living in today, he just wants to sit on top of the stinking capitalist heap. There’s not much ambition in that – which is why I would distinguish world historical proletarian egomaniacs like myself from the half-hearted capitalist egomania of Trump. My ambitions aren’t focused on the world we live in but on one we’ve yet to create – which is why I (like all self-conscious proletarians) am genuinely ambitious and tossers like Trump aren’t worthy of our consideration.

I think the whole purpose of revolutionary activity is to overcome capitalist canalisation. Rather than being one thing we should all be many things. So I can take on the role of artist, writer, egomaniac etc. But what I want to avoid above all else is being ‘myself’ – accepting a limited identity which is exactly what capitalism encourages us to do. Instead, the proletariat does much better by working through in practice the theoretical implications of the slogan: “I am nothing therefore I must become everything….” And so one minute I am a comedian and the next I am a lover… and I consider one of my greatest accomplishments to be the fact that I can make my lovers laugh at the same time as they have an orgasm…. Which is, of course, one of the many reasons why I’m sexy, seductive and smart!

Jaime Casas: The paradoxical relationship between the hero and the anti-hero is perhaps an integral  part of this book?

Stewart Home: In this fractured world we must leave for a better one we’ll create collectively, we’re all as imperfect as each other… we need to do away with the notion of heroes and the anti-hero can play a role in that…. The important thing is not to get too caught up in any role, including that of the anti-hero.

Jaime Casas: As a free form expression, it seems that this novel is a complaint against the British high culture, or at least that kind of literature covered by this concept…

Stewart Home: The conventional novel is the most favoured and privileged cultural vehicle of bourgeois ideology – although obviously it would be pretty useless were it not backed up by the army and the police force. The emphasis on character in the novel reflects the bourgeois conception of the individual as the sole proprietor of his or her skills and as owing nothing to society. These skills (and those of others) are presented to the reader as a commodity to be bought and sold on the open market in a society where a solipsistic and unending thirst for consumption is considered the crucial core of human nature. These ideas found their clearest articulation in the non-fiction of liberal political writers such as Hobbes, Harrington and Locke; but they have also formed the bedrock of bourgeois literary fiction for the past few hundred years.

Jaime Casas: The language that you use in this book is very direct, very in your face and spoken as if you were a tough or a hoodlum; is this related to the narrative or just the way you like to use language.

Stewart Home: I prefer to use direct language so that my meaning is clear. I say what I want to say as simply as possible – that said a complex idea requires more complex expression. In other words it is easier to say ‘fuck off’ than it is to articulate a critique of commodity production and capitalist alienation. Nonetheless, I try to keep things straightforward and at the minimum necessary level of complexity for what I want to say. Literary writers do the opposite, their defences of bourgeois society are really very simple and not at all convincing, which is why they try to dress them up in unnecessarily mannered and complex language. In this and all other senses literature is decadent. And it is also why in the long run literature stands no chance against those who – like me – have learnt the collective strength ‘secrets’ of the proletarian superwomen.

Jaime Casas: I know that you are not the biggest fan of most well-know English writers, people such Martin Amis. Do they represent an idea if England that goes against yours? Or is just that they are in your opinion “bad writers”?

Stewart Home: Bourgeois writers like Martin Amis represent a world I want to leave behind. I am against nation states and have no time for the idea of England; whereas these hacks want to deny the power of the international working class and thus are very often fixated on national differences. Their bad writing follows on from their reactionary political views and vice versa – each flows from the other. Those that want to defend a discredited capitalist system can’t write well, they have to obfuscate.

Jaime Casas: As you said when we interviewed you in London, capitalism has led to an individualised culture and this is weaker than one that is created collectively. How we can stop this process and recover some kind of common creativity?

Stewart Home: I think the answer to this problem can only be found collectively, and in a continual reforging of the passage between theory and practice. This is not something that one person can resolve in isolation. It requires mass movements and we’re beginning to see these becoming more effective in the face of the ongoing crisis of capitalism. Movements like Occupy Wall Street and the indignant ones (indignados) provide a great starting point – but things need to be taken much further.

Jaime Casas: In a society that has overcome any postmodern considerations and is no longer affected by anything, it seems impossible provoke any commotion in the audience, but you still do. In a way, we live in a hyperbolic reality, where we accept everything without questioning anything. We accept everything in the a context of hyperreal simulation, as theorised by Baudrillard. But provocation seems to be an essential part of your work!

Stewart Home: It is interesting to go back to Baudrillard’s earlier work of the 1960s and look at his attempts to break with Marxism; and when you do this his whole project and critique becomes much clearer. I’m thinking of books like Mirror of Production and For A Critique of the Political Economy of the Sign. Those are his better works, but if you think of Baudrillard’s later writing in relation to Marx then you can see that rather than breaking with Marx, what Baudrillard did with his notions of the silent majority, the destiny of objects and simulation was invert him. So in the critique of alienation where through the process of commoditisation subjects appear to become objects and vice versa, Baudrillard is simply celebrating what Marx condemns. Rather than seeing alienation as a bad thing, Baudrillard argues the masses taking on what he calls ‘the destiny of objects’ is something positive. Once you understand matters such as this you can see that post-modernism is a continuation of modernism rather than a break with it. The basic nature of capitalist alienation has not changed and yes, what I write provokes those who wish to defend the global capitalist system because I am able to focus on this rather than being distracted by irrelevancies. Obviously to claim that society and/or the masses are not effected by anything is both ideological and untrue. Right now you can see the effects of the banking crisis everywhere in Europe.

Jaime Casas: The transmedia narrative brings new meanings with changes in technology but I think you are also drawing from older forms – from pulp fiction to avant-garde literature, and even many influences from music. What are the main reason that you have used these things and how do you see the evolution of transmedia narrative after the irruption of technology?

Stewart Home: Again the problem I see here is a failure to think historically and an over emphasis on what is alleged to be unique now. Technology has been transforming the world for hundreds of years. One could compare the introduction of the internet to the introduction of the railways. Both transformed society and have had a massive impact on everyday life. The railways made it possible to commute long distances to work and led to a process of suburbanisation; in theory the internet should act to bring this process of suburbanisation to a logical conclusion with home working – but in practice we’ve yet to see it have much impact in this area.

One can look at the avant-garde and transmedia practices without over emphasising the distinction between them. These are often grossly overstated anyway, given the ongoing blurring of lines between them. For example, when I checked it just now, Wikipedia (in English) defines flarf poetry as ‘an avant-garde poetry movement of the early 21st century’ – and obviously flarf poetry would not exist without the internet (since it is generated through the deployment of search engines among other things). Likewise all culture today exists partly in and through the internet. Once cannot escape the implications of this – which is why in my last anti-novel published in English – Blood Rites of the Bourgeoisie – I incorporated a huge amount of penis enlargement spam.

Likewise it is not a matter of doing away with the culture of the past in its entirety – but rather of bringing selected parts of it back into play. In many ways so much has now been written that all we need to do is plunder and rewrite what’s already online – and this is in many ways the basis of new movements in the arts such as conceptual literature. It is no longer a question of writing but of editing – and editing with a complete disregard for the logic and narrative structure of the texts we plunder. As the Lettrists declared back in the 1950s, the cultural heritage of mankind is to be cut-up and used for partisan political purposes.

Jaime Casas: New technology and the internet has created new ways to consume culture. Its seems to have created a new passion for music and all kinds of old pop manifestations, from you side, how do you watch that new phenomenon?

Stewart Home: The internet has meant that there is a greater accessibility to pop culture. For example, for years I had been hearing rumours about a film called Bruce Lee Vs Gay Power, but many people doubted it existed. Now it is possible to view the whole of that film online and discover that the English translation from Portuguese is not exactly accurate (the film itself is not available in English dub or with English subtitles). The original title of this Brazilian film is Kung Fu Contra as Bonecas – and when I saw it I immediately understood that it was a mid-seventies parody of the popular Brazilian genre of bandit films, and that the kung fu comedy element within it has more to do with David Carradine than Bruce Lee. I don’t speak Portuguese but whether the film has anything to do with ‘gay power’ is also something people are still arguing about online.

On the one hand it is possible to have instant access to all sorts of things online… and to me this is great because it demystifies and devalues them. When I was teenage I would hear about films and bands and would sometimes have to wait months or even years to see or hear them. That meant when I did get access to something that had really captured my imagination I paid it a great deal of attention. Among those of us with instant access on the web neither I – nor those who are still teenage – tend to give what we’re accessing nearly the same amount of thought. One day I’ll discover an incredible cover of the song Gloria by US sixties act Robb London and the Rogues, and the next I’ll have forgotten about it because I’m trying to locate a streamed online copy of Official Exterminator 3: Joy of the Living Dead. Right now Official Exterminator 3 is holding my attention because I can’t even find a single scene from it uploaded online – but once someone makes the whole film accessible to me my interest in it will no doubt wane.

The profits to be made from films, books and music have declined greatly with the rise of the internet. This is a good thing because it has resulted in such pursuits being of less interest to those who merely wish to make money and/or become celebrities. Those of us wanting to develop proletarian culture into something even more revolutionary will keep doing what we’ve always been doing and we’ll become even more effective at it.

Jaime Casas: Is passion the ultimate appeal of pop culture?

Stewart Home: Pop culture and high culture produce and mediate each other. If I had to choose one then of course I’d take pop culture. But I don’t have to accept class society and so my aim is instead to overthrow all capitalist canalisation including the division between high and low culture. While there is still more passion in pop culture than art, I don’t think there is much real passion left in either and our passion should be directed towards overthrowing both of them.

Jaime Casas: What does the term post-capitalism means for you? (I ask after listening to your words in our video)

Stewart Home: Post-capitalism will be a world in which money, commodities, nation states and classes have been abolished. It will be characterised by the free movement of vast majorities – and exactly how it operates will be decided by those vast majorities from moment to moment without interference from so called leaders or states.

Jaime Casas: In Memphis Underground music plays a strong role. You write about a very concrete period of the music history but without any sense of nostalgia of the past, and I think that’s the difference. Would you agree?

Stewart Home: I personally like the sounds of the 1960s and 1970s best because that is the music I encountered as a child and which had the greatest immediate impact on me. I had less to judge the music against then but if I was 8 years old now I’d probably be knocked out by Lady Gaga rather than Marc Bolan and T.Rex. That said, in the eighties I was massively into everything from early hip hop to go go to techno; and in the nineties I remained impressed by a great deal of minimal techno and breakbeat. I have seen fewer musical innovations in the past ten years but while I love music it is not the only thing I live for, so there is no reason to be nostalgic about the past. Some things are better and some things are worse than 50 years ago – and we can be sure we are closer to overthrowing capitalist social relations now rather than then. I certainly wouldn’t want to revisit London in the 1960s or 1970s for the food, which was terrible then and is much better now!

Jaime Casas: The northern soul period, the punk and the rave music explosion (from Madchester to Summer of love and the pirate radios scene from the 90)… all of that music movement were assertive. Is there any new genre, movement or ideas that could do the same now?

Stewart Home: I think the things that have come closest recently seem to have emerged from south London (where I was born) in the form of grime and dubstep. But maybe something even better has emerged more recently and it just hasn’t come to my attention yet…

Jaime Casas: What kind of music do you listen now?

Stewart Home: I listen to many different things but soul, jazz and funk from the 1960s and 1970s more than anything else. Willie Mitchell, Eddie Bo and Eddie Harris, number among my favourites.

Jaime Casas: Do you think that is possible to break the boundaries between the art and the politics? What do you think about the new protest movements (Occupy WST, 11-M, Arab Spring)?

Stewart Home: I find it incredibly exciting to see and participate in such movements. I was lucky in that I was in New York for some of the highlights of OWS, but was also close to the Occupy movement in London. Close up one can make many criticisms of these manifestations, but from a distance they are a massive inspiration to many across the world – and I think that for now that inspiration is more important than the criticisms one could make of the politics connected to these mass mobilisations. Of course, they need to go much further but then that’s something we all need to participate in to make taking these movements further a reality.

And as I’ve said, what I’m interested in is overcoming capitalist canalisation, so of course the distinctions between art and politics need to disappear into a revolutionary praxis.

Jaime Casas: There is a formal critique in your work of the gentrification of the cities, but London has the strongest role, of course. Do you think that this is a irreversible process?

Stewart Home: The gentrification of London and New York in particular has been horrific, but this could still be reversed even under the capitalist system – and may well be depending on what happens economically. Of course, in a post-capitalist world there will be no gentrification since private property will be abolished and this is the solution we should really be aiming for.

Jaime Casas: We met at William Blake’s tomb and there is a quote from him in your book. The “greatest artist that UK has had”, as someone said. Could you tell me something about him?

Stewart Home: What I like most about Blake is the way the City of London dislikes him and the fact that his tomb is in the City of London. Much more than his poetry and art work, his real value lies in the way he is perceived as a threat by financial self-interests…. Blake serves us well as an example of the proletarian flood that must sweep over the over-cultivated planes of capitalism. The City of London can celebrate republican leaders like Cromwell (there is a tower block in The Barbican complex named after Cromwell), but those who stand fundamentally against the idea of leadership like Blake are anathema to them.

And yes there are even more interviews around the publication of Memphis Underground in Spain that I may or may not post in English on this blog in due course…..

And while you’re at it don’t forget to check – www.stewarthomesociety.org – you know it makes (no) sense!

Stewart Home answers 38 questions from Catalonia

Sunday, July 26th, 2009

5 years ago Kiko Amat wrote a big feature on me for  La Vanguardia, Spain’s biggest selling paper.  A couple of days ago he emailed me 38 questions saying: “…we’ve started a new series of Q&A to people we like or we feel inspired by. It’s a very simple Q&A, very Guardian Weekend like, but we find it very telling. And amusing too.” Since my answers will be published in translation, I thought I’d share them with English speaking readers here.

Q. When were you happiest?
A. This morning.

Q. What is your greatest fear?
A. The US hardcore punk band Fear – I’m not a huge hardcore fan but I do like Fear’s I Don’t Care About You and I Love Living In The City. The only thing to fear is fear itself.

Q. What is your earliest memory?
A. Being on a ferry boat going to The Isle of Wight in 1964 when I was 2 years old. It was raining and there was a striped awning over the passenger deck. This may not be my earliest memory, I have a lot of memories of central London from the same period, but this stands out because I often went on the tube into central London as a small child, but going on a boat was more unusual.

Q. Which living person do you most admire and why?
A. Myself. Everyone should admire themselves most…

Q. What is the trait you most deplore in yourself?
A. My modesty.

Q. What is the trait you most deplore in others?
A. No sense of humour.

Q. Where would you like to live?
A. London in the 1960s.

Q. In what historical time would you have liked to have lived?
A. 1960s/70s London but as an adult so I could have seen bands like The Who and The Creation at small clubs in the mid-1960s.

Q. What would your superpower be?
A. Bullshitting but since I already got that one, maybe I could get to sing as good as Aretha Franklin too!

Q. What makes you depressed?
A. Ignorance and stupidity.

Q. Ever been in a fight?
A. Lots of them when I was teenage. But the best fighters don’t need to fight, as Bruce Lee demonstrates early on in Enter The Dragon; I’m a real fan of the art of fighting without fighting.

Q. Would you kill?
A. I’d prefer not to kill, but there are circumstance in which it could be unavoidable. I’m vegetarian but not a pacifist.

Q. Who would play you in the biopic of your life?
A. Pamela Anderson.

Q. Make a list of 4 or 5 favorite books.
A. Tainted Love, 69 Things To Do With A Dead Princess, Slow Death and Blood Rites of the Bourgeoisie (published next year); all by me, of course!

Q. Make a list of 4 or 5 favorite records.
A. The Electrifying Eddie Harris; Link Wray, Walking With Link; Lee Perry, Scratch The Upsetters Again; Willie Mitchell, Ooh Baby, You Turn Me On; The Real Kids, The Real Kids. All albums.

Q. Vinyl, CD or MP3?
A. Vinyl for dub reggae and heavy dance grooves that depend on the bass, CDs for pop & rock & Motown, MP3 for convenience (but non-proprietorial OGG format is better than MP3, if only everyone would use it).

Q. Make a list of 4 or 5 favorite films.
A. At Midnight I’ll Take Your Soul (Coffin Joe), Last Year At Marienbad (Alain Resnais), Female Prisoner 701 Scorpion: Beast Stable (Shunya Ito), Persona (Ingmar Bergman), Succubus (Jess Franco).

Q. What is your favorite smell?
A. Coffee.

Q. What is your favorite food?
A. Curry.

Q. What is your favorite drink?
A. Coffee, espresso naturally.

Q. Where do you stand politically?
A. Left.

Q. What do you most dislike about your appearance?
A. My nose (could be smaller – scaled to the same level as my ego would be great – but I guess it ain’t all bad, coz you know what they say about men with big noses and big feet….).

Q. What is your guiltiest pleasure?
A. Seeing my name in print.

Q. What do you owe your parents?
A. I got my good looks and sharp mind from my mother…

Q. Who would you invite to your dream party?
Pamela Anderson, Naomi Campbell, Carmen Electra, Angela Mao, Jennifer Lopez, Meiko Kaji… and Soledad Miranda if she could be brought back to life looking as beautiful as she did on 17 August 1970.

Q. Which words or phrases do you most overuse?
A. A groove sensation…

Q. If you could edit your past, what would you change?
A. A few bad decisions about which bands to go and see when I was still at school in 1976/1977 and didn’t have enough money to get in to all the gigs I wanted. Around May 1977 I should have gone to see The Ramones rather than The Stranglers…. But I saw both bands other times. Also I’d change getting turned away from gigs in 1976/1977 for being under 18 and would have seen the shows I missed, which  included one by The Stranglers in January 1977. Being pissed off over getting turned away from that Stranglers show was what made me decide to go and see them and not The Ramones in May 1977.

Q. When did you last cry, and why?
A. When I got these questions coz it made me so happy knowing I’d see my name in print again in Catalonia!

Q. How do you relax?
A. With coffee or a work out!

Q. What is the closest you’ve come to death?
A. I had a near death experience in the Bethnal Green Museum of Childhood in the winter of 1984. I went in there to rest from the cold coz I didn’t have a regular place to live and was staying with different friends. It felt like I was propelled out of my body on this silver chord into a lot of golden light. I thought I was dying and it was a very happy experience. But then a museum guard shook me and asked if I was alright. It took a while to ground myself after that.

Q. What do you consider your greatest achievement?
Leaving the Bethnal Green Musuem of Childhood alive, despite croaking seeming like such a great option when I had that near death experience there in 1984.

Q. What keeps you awake at night?
A. Coffee.

Q. What song or songs would you like played at your funeral?
A. Burn, Baby, Burn by Mel Williams and Disco Inferno by The Trammps.

Q. Where would you most like to be right now?
A. Riba-roja d’Ebre.

Q. What is your most treasured possession?
A. My mother’s fashion model portfolio photographs and press clippings.

Q. How would you describe yourself?
A. A groove sensation!

Q. How would you like to be remembered?
A. As the first man to commit adultery on Mars (but I’d have to get married to do that and marriage ain’t really my thing).

And while you’re at it don’t forget to check – www.stewarthomesociety.org - you know it makes (no) sense!

People let’s freak out!

Tuesday, March 10th, 2009

Saturday night (7 March 2009) in the city of the dead and I’m part of the small team organising Fiona’s Shoe; an evening of music, poetry and film at the South London Gallery. We’d obviously created a buzz coz we’d sold out three days before the event and on the night we were turning people away. Those that got in found themselves in a darkened room with a large DVD projection of a Jud Yalkut snippet. Next up was a 16mm print of Wholly Communion directed by Peter Whitehead, a half-hour documentary about the International Poetry Incarnation at the Albert Hall in 1965.

This was followed by a recreation of John Latham’s Juliet & Romeo, a piece of expanded cinema he’d intended to debut at the International Poetry Incarnation but didn’t because he passed out and missed his cue.  The work takes the form of a battle between two figures, dressed head to toe in books and printed papers, to represent the Apollonian and the Dionysian, the classical and the romantic, hardback and softback books.  The action takes place before a backdrop of two of Latham’s Force Field (1963–1967) – or blind – paintings. It begins with Latham’s film Unedited Material from the Star (1960) projected over the two figures and this backdrop. The work was performed once at the Theatre Royal, Stratford East towards the end of 1965, then twice during the Destruction in Art Symposium of 1966. Its final presentation during Latham’s life was at the Exprmntl 4 festival of expanded cinema in Knokke-Le-Zoute, Belgium, over New Year 1967-8.

Tom Marshman and Clare Thornton took the Apollonian and Dionysian roles at the South London Gallery and the piece still looked fresh and contemporary more than 40 years on from its last public airing. It’s a slow ballet, with each figure stripping the other, resulting in body painted nudity. Under the books, Marshman had been rendered in blue and Thornton red. Finally, Thornton  decapitated Marshman, or at least his hardback headdress.  The two figures then exited the stage and the abstract short Unedited Material from the Star ran again. The event was largely silent except for the rustle of paper, a loud pop when a balloon burst, and at the end some vicious amplified clicks from a pair of scissors. The movements of the figures were exaggeratedly male and female, with a subtle erotic charge between them. Much of the audience was mesmerised, a few seemed unsure what to make of it, and Richard DeDomenici told me he  “was disappointed not to see Tom Marshman’s cock.”

The evening proceeded in an informal manner precisely because I didn’t want Latham’s work to come across as a museum piece. Works were not introduced, they simply unfolded. The audience had notes to assist them identify the pieces, but no running order or schedule. They could come and go but didn’t know what they’d see or miss if they chose to do that. A reading from an abridgement of the 1704 text The Battle of the Books by Jonathan Swift followed Juliet and Romeo. The text is a satire on post-Renaissance disputes about the relative merits of ancient and modern authors. It was read by actress Birgit Ludwig who had difficulty projecting to the large crowd, who nonetheless listened attentively despite the unsuitability of her breathy presentation to the acoustics of the space. I’d asked for a professional actress to read the piece because I’d wanted clarity; and I’d assumed that an actress would adapt what they did to the audience and the night. Ludwig trooped valiantly to the end of the text without altering her unsuitability ethereal approach to the space. It was impossible to follow the satire and many audience members assumed they were being bombarded with thirty minutes of random words as a demonstration of John Latham’s theory that the most basic component of reality is not the particle – as in classical physics – but the least-event.  So although the performance was a failure from the perspective of what I’d wanted, it successfully kept to the spirit of the night.

Towards the end of Ludwig’s reading, free jazz legend Lol Coxhill came in underneath her on saxophone. He continued when she finished. The lights dimmed and Jud Yalkut’s 21 minute 8mm film diary of the Exprmntl 4 festival was screened from DVD. This included footage of a previous performance of Juliet & Romeo in 1967, and various audience members commented that from it they could see that our recreation of the piece was remarkably true to the original; this was down to hard work, with all available photos, film and and text consulted – alongside personal coaching for Thornton and Marshman from Latham’s partner Barbara Steveni, who’d performed the piece in the 60s. Our setting was informal and only a few chairs were scattered about the South London Gallery. To see the Yalkut film diary which was screened on a side wall, many members of the audience had to move from their previous positions. As they did so, some started talking. The intention had been for Coxhill to play throughout the film, and then continue on his own when the lights came up, with Ulli Freer eventually joining him for a combination of sax and poetry. Instead Coxhill announced it was pointless for him to play while people were talking. I was at the other end of the room from Coxhill but could hear him well enough despite the noise, and I wasn’t the only one listening, so it was a shame he stopped.

After the event one audience member emailed the following observation, which is fairly typical of what I heard from others: “really enjoyed last night, despite truncated Lol C set,  was talking on the way home about how unmediated events, i.e. not MC’d, can create really good atmosphere of uncertainty and excitement. It felt very  relevant to these times, nice one. The Whitehead film was beautifully presented with big sound. Maybe Mr Coxhill ain’t hip to his texting acronym type first name: laugh out loud, yeah but not while I’m playing…” That said, Coxhill’s reactions beautifully mirrored poet Harry Fainlight’s difficulties with the crowd at the International Poetry Incarnation as documented in Wholly Communion, so despite the fact he didn’t play for nearly as long as I’d have liked, his decision to throw in the towel did carry with it a sense of repetitive and ontological right-onness.

Coxhill did come back on with Ulli Freer after the Yalkut diary film, playing a few notes but mainly sitting with his sax across his knees. Freer impressed the predominantly art crowd both with both his conviction and the content of his poetry. He understood that to get across in the space he had to be loud and put a lot of work into projecting himself. That said, his use of words is actually very subtle! By this time the free drinks were all gone but we were still giving out free bagels. After Freer, the lights went down and the shorts Towers Open Fire (1963) and The Cut-Ups (1966) directed by Antony Balch and starring beat writer William Burroughs (who’d contributed a tape piece to the International Poetry Incarnation) were screened from DVD.

The last  screening of the night was a 16mm projection of John Latham’s extraordinary coloured-disc animation Speak (1962), which anticipates the psychedelics of the high sixties. It is an 11 minute retinal assault with a circular saw soundtrack. Whenever I’d seen the film projected before the sound had been too low, but we had it jacked right up for maximum effect and the experience of watching it this way was a real groove sensation! The night ended with music from a CD I’d burnt of some of my favourite soul tunes of the 1960s: All Of A Sudden by The Incredibles, So Far Away by Hank Jacobs, New Breed by Ike Turner & His Kings Of Rhythm, At The Woodchoppers Ball by Willie Mitchell, Everybody’s Going To A Love In by Bob Brady & The Conchords, Karate Boogaloo by Jerry O, Think About The Good Times by The Soul Sisters etc. etc.

Aside from the above, there were a few other things going on during the night, like Brion Gysin Dream Machines in a back room for further drugless hallucinogenic highs. So all in all I was extremely pleased with the night. While not everything went as planned, that is in the nature of type of event I’d set out to create, within which discrete pieces also become an integral part of a larger ‘happening’. So to finish off, a big shout out to Elisa Kay and Anne-Sophie Dinant who invited me in to organise the night with them.

And while you’re at it don’t forget to check – www.stewarthomescociety.org – you know it makes (no) sense.