Languor, absurdities…

Barn’s reflection on Supernormal

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Barn’s responses

These are verbatim. Barn writes like this. Mmm.

Credit to Sarah BB

Photo by Sarah BB

yo tried to write something, wrote this series of floating notes
instead. didn’t really get to ay sort of crux of anything.
couple of paragraphs about hákarl’s communion –
the communion was at the end of one of my longest periods without respite.
2,000 mile round trip to somewhere near Ystad, by way of Brugge,
Bremmen, Kolding, Othense, Malmo, Copenhagen, Bremmen again, Hamburg,
Amsterdam, and Antwerp.
longest period of driving during this event was 8 hours (many
services bratwurst).
next day, gardened intensely
tuned a piano
raised some cash.
packed to brimming small van belonging to Ben Pollock
all of my stuff.
my girlfriend couldn’t fit in and had to get the train. that makes me
sound like an asshole, right?
had big ideas about the 36 hours
wished i used the time more productively
experiments i wanted to try. for eg,
even brought scanner and printer;
small piano, with the idea to tune it (i’ve never got time to tune my
own piano, so i thought, well, 36 hours?) and turn into an infinite
sustain instrument using feedback resonance (or try to);
improv dance music pieces (for a laff);
large cardboard boxes, lots of gaffa, some speakers and a couple of
baseball bats (don’t ask);
and these are just the most shit examples.
after 4 maybe 6 hours, all of this went out the window. figuratively.
most lamed out regretful time: the rest of the communion are
responding to me as conductor, spontaneously. the million conduction
experiments i’ve had in my head for years dry up, and i manage a ‘low,
high’ about twice.
my brain, i blame my brain, and its terminal tiredness at the time.
brain-tired from doing. brain tiredness restricting creative impulses
and memory, but results are protentially interesting nontheless.
endurance/performance. i made an effort to engage whenever i was
playing. i am not a twelve-tonal artist. i enjoy the sound, but am not
notionally spectral in the same way. i prefer manipulating commoner
knowns. where a person predicts where it might go. then, you have
something to play with.
playing drums mainly; playing guitar; feedingback fx pedals and pd
example patches; a little bit of singing; piano; oh yeah, that
infernal bass.
playing a fair amount of what i’d potentially call ‘good stuff’,
having detached myself from my own likes and dislikes; played a very
small amount of what i’d call ‘good stuff’ if i were myself lots; and
playing one hell of a lot of what i’d probably just shrug at. the
pluralism of our selves reigned in my playing style comparitively?
drums: played lots more groove than i’d anticipated. reached some cool
places internally (narf)
fully enjoyed playing with the other communion members. what a boring
and flat statement.
could not hear everyone all that well, although this is normal.
strange mix of instruments, almost untried mix of styles?
i felt that note-manipulators could approach noise a little more, and
those with more timbral concerns could stretch a hand back, meeting in
the middle. perhpas there was alcak of common ground amongst us.
honestly: its really difficult to write about: in trying to remember
the music, i can only come up wth criticisms.
i like cultural one-offs. i’m listening to an album i was given by a
danish conspiracy theorist and former student of shrila bhakitivedanta
narayan maharaj: the school of braja, a collection of indian
devotional music performed by the californian students of a school run
by Krishna devotees. i’m interested in the squeak of a gate because
it’s the result of a specific history, for christ’s sake! so of course
i’m interested in the specifics of sound resulting from 6 strange
young men.
were there many (specifics of sound)? i’d also like to ask the others:
do you reckon you ‘got somewhere’ musically (whatever that means)?
getting to play drums that much was, at the end of the day, awesome.
the difficulty of playing music improvisationally with people one
either does not know or have never played with before, or both
incomplete recall: friday night, suggestions of a crowd listening,
enoying itself, night, projectors shining directly into my eye,
wasted, that fast-slow feeling from exertion, enjoying playing the
drums in a big way, working out, working on searching for a style that
i’m always trying to find, but feeling like i was nailing it a bit
more, classic cat-n-mouse with kev and jamie, jazz influence i guess, some
audience member coming up to read poetry, out of kev’s book i believe,
using him as an opportuity to try and do something cheesy in an
authentic (not cheesy) way (the original way?), nearly losing it
randomly feedingback pd for a bassline, random kid dylan who played
the drums all day saturday layin’ down uselessly fluid beats, some
woman sat near enough to hear is accepting us as acceptable background
music to her coffee and paper, i show the kid how to use the computer,
he says we’re losing our crowd, i need to get back on the beats, they
love the beats
not going to go on about this, but well done kev, and sorry, re: crazy
people. crazy people: we don’t care about you, get over it.
my first bout of childish frustration, smacking shit out of the kit
shouting ‘you’re not doing anything i want to play along with!!!’,
friday night, not sure if anyone noticed anyway
no structure
went to bed early – half 4 sunday morning? – because was stropping
about not being allowed to play the drums
in general, pleased with it as an event that happened within my life.
didn’t really know what to expect, and nothing i expected happened. i
want to hear it now.


Written by Hákarl

November 13, 2011 at 8:15 pm

Posted in Uncategorized

One Response

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  1. […] Barn: “playing a fair amount of what I’d potentially call ‘good stuff’, having detached myself from my own likes and dislikes; played a very small amount of what I’d call ‘good stuff’ if I were myself lots; and playing one hell of a lot of what I’d probably just shrug at. The pluralism of our selves reigned in my playing style comparatively?” (full text) […]

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