And Please Feel Free (yes free, free as a bird) to check out our amazing Amazon.com page featuring "The Attack of the Absolute Zeros"
http://s1.amazon.com/exec/varzea/ts/exchange-glance/Y03Y5730685Y8432682/qid%3D943360728/103-1970537-7339053

as well as our new MP3 page. . .
http://artists.mp3s.com/artists/43/discord_aggregate.html 

by Pamela Zero

What to do for New Year’s Eve! As a member of Discord Aggregate it is my right, my privilege, my compulsion, my droit de signeur to maintain a certain dignified lunacy in the face of what is sure to be an evening of banality, bullets, and bicarb. Though I did toy with the idea of playing toreador with the traffic, in an effort to maintain life and limb I have joined the Discord Aggregate construction crew and am now all a-quiver with the thought of helping to build the 1999 -2000 Tower of Babble.

From 11:00 to 12:00 on New Year’s Eve, Discord Aggregate will be building an online Tower of Babble. And what, you may be wondering, may that be? Imagine words, thoughts, sentences, ideas – all stacked up on each other, rising into a shape of a tower, soaring to the heavens. Imagine it online. How, you may be wondering, are we planning to do this? Imagine the programming genius of one A. Molotkov creating an online form for you to submit your thoughts as we collect them into floor after floor, layer after layer. What, you may be wondering, will we write about? Well, each floor will have a theme – for example "blue dancing incognito" or "whenever possible frenzies". Your job will be to sign on, note the floor and theme, write your thoughts in the text input box provided for your comfort, and hit the submit button. Your words will be added to the Tower.

Each floor will have a limited amount of time allotted to it. Once the time is up, a new floor will be opened and filled. The height of the Tower will depend on the amount of submissions. When midnight strikes, the Tower will be formatted and all participants will be able to print out their own copy of the Tower of Babble.

So

here it is

in a nutshell…

Wait until 11:00 pm.

Pacific Standard Time

On 11/31/99.

Sign on.

Note the floor & theme.

Write your thoughts, ideas

Hopes, fears, dreams, wishes.

Submit any and all of the
above by pressing the
submit button provided.

Your screen will be refreshed

once you submit your words.

Note the new floor and theme
and start typing your new
concepts, conundrums, teases,

tantrums, and various vices.

Submit and type,
submit and type,

submit and type.

At midnight, all

will cease and desist

and you will wait,

breathlessly, hoping, praying,

that the Tower will rise, and be real,

yeah verily! And lo - there is

The Tower! And it is ready to print out – ready to

be pieced together and hung upon the wall, made into

a screen, used as a curtain, a rug, a shawl, a bonfire.

And now for some logistical info. If you have questions, ideas for floor themes, or want to reserve your space on the ToB construction crew, please e-mail me at alemap@discord-aggregate.com Please note that any input from religious loonies will be stricken from the Tower, as our goal here is not to have a 14 foot high mantra to Jesus. An online version of the Tower will be available after New Year’s Eve for those who long to caress their monitors as they read the oracle of the new year. And finally, tell your friends, your enemies, your cohorts and your crinolines. Every word builds, every thought rises, every idea cantilevers us swaying and creaking towards the heavens.

Do you think that art has changed more in the last century than it had in the preceding part of its history? If so, what changes do you predict for the next century?

Pamela Zero: Art seems to change the fastest during times of great technological advances - hence the rapid fire advances in art during the 20^th century. For the next century - perhaps we will discover new senses and therefore find a need to create art for awarenesses and sensory input that we have not even defined yet.

S.B. Reda: Art undergoes continuous change by artists who are willing to effect that change. The century is not what is important ¼ it is the artists that live through it. For example, the 20^th Century has seen some of history’s greatest artists, artists who were courageous enough to push their craft beyond the limits of their time. Conversely, there have been many "artists" that have contributed to the stagnant pool of art from which the general society extracts its entertainment. These two forces of nature have always co-existed in opposition, feeding the world its respective dishes. It is a constant struggle: a classic struggle between good and evil. Both components have functioned over time, playing their roles, rarely swapping duties.

And so it is for the future: The daring few will take art to new levels while the criminals of conscious smash it into the ground and step on it, disrespecting it, spoiling it for the rest of us. In fact, I fancy a world where we will soon be able to step into paintings depicting images of Middle-Age France and have a cup of tea with an Eskimo at the equator – on a Friday.

A. Molotkov: Regarding the first part of the question: yes and no. Undeniably, art has undergone a lot of changes in form (this includes completely new genres such as film, video, web art – as well as drastic changes in other genres, such as a move from performed to recorded music). However, the basic role of art – to evoke emotional and intellectual response in the audience that ultimately purifies that audience and serves as a link between individuals and between times – is unchanged, and can be construed as part of the definition of art. Thematically, art also remains essentially unchanged, as the topics that interest us are based in the human existence and the world around us. Love, friendship, betrayal, responsibility and other such categories are deeply rooted in the notion or art. (Of course, not every work of art is thematic. A Kandinsky painting is not. Yet, it relies on certain objective features of a human eye to be perceived – the features that remain more or less the same throughout the centuries. And this is all I can say about this unless I choose to write a book on the subject.)

The next century will bring even more structural and stylistic changes to art. We will see new genres born: real 3D films, dream/experience recordings, instant books, etc, etc. I expect more multidisciplinary art projects enveloping several genres. As the technicality of creation is taken away from an artist’s work through the use of technology, I hope to see more and more artists utilize their free time to master new art forms (which is already becoming something of a tendency). I expect more Dali-like individuals who will convert their life itself into a work of art. Finally, I am relying on increased self-referencialism in art: you will see authors reuse their themes and characters in order to build subtle links between different works. To put it briefly: every artist should take on the approaches already employed by Discord Aggregate to make a brave leap into the future.

 

 

THE CENTER
(From The CD "The Texture Of The Sky")

An update by S.B. Reda

"Here it comes again! Watch out!"

The crowd of frightened pedestrians (who have been attracted to the peculiar noise) scatter like a school of frightened fish. The spoiled yellow light from the lamppost gives life to the frantic shadows dancing along the staircase of the building. After seven minutes, the police arrive and promptly execute the infamous Wollanosky move to perfection – four officers from the 1304^th Precinct run into the middle of the street, separate into groups of two, clasp the inner forearm of their partner, and together begin to spin in a circle so quickly that their silver badges start to evaporate! Simultaneously, the oldest officer from downtown perches himself on the rooftop of a building three blocks away and shouts "Get off my frame! You little bastards! Get the hell off my frame!" And finally, 3,000 cadets from the local military academy are deputized and called in to issue tickets to any citizen who is caught breathing. It is working! It is working!

What was only moments ago a chaotic stew of human confusion and fright is now a vacuous void of avoidable avoidances ¼ except for that peculiar noise.

The police cannot explain it; the sound seems to be emanating from the narrow white building on the corner, and yet, only a moment later, it seems to be emanating from the deli behind them ¼ and the fire hydrant in front of them ¼ and the bicycle tire next to them ¼ in fact, it is coming from all around them! "What is it?" they beg. With each moment that this question remains unanswered, a building sense of impending doom and destruction grows within the officers. A moment snapshot in the album of time ¼ a drop of sweat splashing on the pavement ¼ the sense that all would suddenly be lost ¼

The peculiar noise is a cloudless sky over the sleeping city, a sky whose texture can be heard and seen. Dramatic footage of nothingness is caught in a looping track along streets. Everything is nowhere ¼ except on the inside – in The Center!

From the inner walls of the building oozes a red sticky residue that leaps to the floor when it nears the bottom of the wall (and promptly runs across the room to the other side!) Yes, we are in a room, but its properties undergo a wild range of modifications over the course of one second. Yellow plasma flows around the legs of two chairs as it rushes towards the frame of the door.

Atop an electric chair sits one of the most diabolical creatures ever in existence! His eyes are pulled across the bleeding flesh of his face, claiming space above a belligerent smile that reaches out with a firehand to extinguish anything that gets in its way! The hysterical realization of imminent death drives the beast to orgasmic heights, screaming the end into the evil night. Insanity blackens the pupils of this menace, that is for sure.

The words "More TEXTURE!" billow from its mouth like smoke from a coughing chimney, combusting upon contact with the air. And with that, shards of volcanic glass rocket through the walls, electrifying the peculiar noise with a hissing crackle. An underlying plague of infectious tones spreads across the ears of anyone within living distance, paralyzing them instantly. Two, Three, and even Four combine, forming layers of sonic magic.

The menace that the beast has wrought is slowly beginning to come together. Pieces of ripped, rhythmic flesh slide together from incredible distances. Layers of discord gather together and form a single voice. It is the most beautiful moment that mankind has had the privilege to experience.

What’s more is the singular fact that this creation has yet to be reunited with its brethren: prehistoric yarns of a darker place, a place that is rife with the unnatural and dangerous.

This is a ticket for that journey into that unknown ¼ The Texture of The Sky

What do you think makes art last? Do you concern yourself with this as applied to your own work? If you do, what is it about your work that is likely to make it last?

AM: It is impossible to identify what exactly makes Rumi’s poetry or Phidias' sculpture relevant to a modern person. It may have to do with the "generality" of the work – with the fact that it deals with the most essential human issues or values, not merely with those current at the times when the works in question were created. Whereas journalism is rooted in contemporary reality, art is rooted in eternity. There must be an element of chance involved too, just like with anything else.

Yes, I am concerned about my own work in this respect. Apart from the simple notion of trying to create unique art, I think it’s helpful to detach art from the time and place of its creation. This is why I always avoid any references to contemporary events or figures. Sometimes, I would replace real geographical names with fictional ones - although the events in one of my novels do take place in New York City, most of my other plots unfold "somewhere, somewhen". You won't read about my character driving a Ford – they may be driving a car or a truck, at best. I’m not going to disclose what style of hat they are wearing. I will try to leave only those details that a reader/viewer 100 years from now could possibly care about – to the best of my poor judgment of today. Will it help? Well, I might never find out.

PZ: Art lasts when it does at least one of three things: Makes the audience feel, makes the audience think or makes the audience angry. I actually don’t worry about lasting - there are enough things to focus on in the process of creation (quality, thought, structure, intensity) without having the weight of immortality as well.

The other aspect of this topic is that once you create something and send it out into the world, it has a life of its own, and all control that you think you have is pretty much gone. Whether the work lives or not on its own merits is out of your hands after a point.

SBR: Interesting people like you make art last. Unique creations will always have a lasting impact amongst the interesting people – they are celebrated works that inevitably find their beauty passed down to the next generation of interesting people. In fact, I believe it is interesting people that make art last. I know I just said that, but when have you encountered a situation where the beer-bellied fellow who has just seen the latest shoot ‘em up film was responsible for the preservation of art? Yes, this person may be interesting, but it is definitely in spite of himself.

Do I concern myself with my art’s lasting? Hopefully, I am on to the next thing soon enough that I haven’t the time to really consider that. But if I did, I wouldn’t anyway.

 

by A. Molotkov

What happens if you take a christ and split him in two?

"The Gospel According to the Christ Brothers transcribed to paper by A. Molotkov and S.B. Reda, the Prophets" (a novel considered by many respectable gods and prophets to be one of the most original works of the decade).

But why two?

The two Christs represent the duality of good and evil. However, the distribution of responsibilities between the two is purely coincidental, both good and evil being merely relative values in the Game of Chance we call life. Add to this the Olive Leaf Extract – a powerful hallucinogen that allows the Prophets to transcend space and time and to communicate with the Christ Brothers directly – and you will begin to understand what the novel is about. (But be prepared: the Leaf induces a temporary grammar impediment, affecting the style of the Prophets’ testimony.)

When we open the book, we find out the essentials: the Gospel According to the Christ Brothers (the original text written by the Christ Brothers themselves, which forms a part of the novel’s text, and to which the book owes its title) was uncovered by an archeologist. Preserved in its original biblical format, this True Gospel provides an updated account of the events that took place 2000 years ago. The Brothers tell how They crucified Each Other, and what led to the crucifixion, beginning with the very End.

Also unearthed was the Gospel According to Judas Iscariot, who, as it turns out, had a multiple personality disorder followed by the actual splitting of his persona into two, one of which betrayed the Brothers and killed himself, while the other fled the misled disciples and hid the scriptures.

After learning of this discovery, the Prophets had a revelation in which the Brothers enlisted them to spread the True Gospel. At this point enter drug-induced dreams, direct communications with the Brothers, and other unique things and non-things.

SBR: If you are reading this, then it is yours.

AM: If I were you, I would say it’s your fault, but as myself, I must state that it’s the other way around. On the other hand, if you were I, you would think that it is my fault. But who would I be then?

PZ: If fault has to be assigned (and I’m not sure that it needs to be) then I think that it should rest on the shoulders of the unassuming and the indifferent. Give fault to those who have taken no chance, no risk, gone out on no limbs, and led only lives of surety and secure, anchored breaths.

Fault has already been borne for centuries by any person willing and able to risk. Let those who have benefited from the risk carry the fault for a while. I for one could use a break.

As an edition of the Church of the Christ Brothers, the book is interlaid with advertisements revealing the magnificent specials offered by the Church, such as the Olive Leaf baptism and gardening kit, or life-size replicas of the Christ Brothers (with or without crosses). Also included is testimony provided by current believers, who reveal how their conversion has saved their chance for salvation. The book will keep you company in the shower and behind the wheel of your car – just surrender your chancemaking ambitions and accept the True Gospel!

But what is "chancemaking", you may ask.

"Chancemaking" is a conscious effort to influence the course of one’s non-life (formerly referred to as "life"), which amounts to active participation in the Game of Chances. Needless to say, only those who abstain from chancemaking receive their Perfect Chance.

What is the Perfect Chance then?

Read on.

While the Prophets undergo training, they accompany the Brothers to places ranging from a barren desert to the Christ Brothers Universal Circus (a surreal control room of all existence). Travels to the Christ Brothers Laws of Nature Garden and the Christ Brothers Final Art Gallery enhance the experience of the chosen two, as they approach the act of initiation. They learn of God’s Ultimate Sin – the Sin of Creation, which must be expiated (the only way to do so is through the True Gospel). The Prophets reveal some of these breathtaking experiences in "The Gospel according to S.B. Reda" and "The Gospel According to A. Molotkov".

In a unique interview with God (the entire transcript is included), the Prophets find out His opinions on existence, the purpose of being, and His guilt. He explains why his Two Sons had to crucify Each Other, and expresses His determination to correct the mistakes He has made.

Theory and practice, deduction and revelation – everything a hungry mind should need – is offered in this book. We turn the last page truly equipped to face our non-lives. The secret of the non-afterlife becomes revealed.

What is "the non-afterlife", you may ask.

Read on.

http://www.discord-aggregate.com/gospel

http://www.discord-aggregate.com/ArtStore

What is the purpose of art?

PZ: Right now, the purpose seems to create more creation, to stimulate and engage the creative process within the audience, to manifest a cycle of endless ripples of creative thought and discourse.

Of course, this is what is true today. Ask me again tomorrow.

SBR: To provide a direct link between my imagination and you.

AM: See my answer to question 1.

(hey – psssssst - look at what you’re looking at!)
http://www.discord-aggregate.com/artstore
http://www.discord-aggregate.com
http://www.discord-aggregate.com/info/new.htm

 

CLEAN LAUNDRY, FEAR OF UNFINISHING AND EXPERIENCES I HAVE NEVER HAD.

by Pamela Zero

Ah the glory of completion! When last we met, I was rattling on about the hows and whys of the songs on my latest CD. At last, here are the final 3 songs, with the copious details that I know you have been staying up late at night wishing for. . .

Endless: Triggered by an image in a dream of placing my hand on someone’s chest over and over and over. They were wearing a spotless shirt, blazing white, and I can still see the slo-mo visual of my hand arching down and coming to rest against the perfect cloth. The rest of the song came bit by bit after I woke up, when I started thinking about what came before and after the image I was looped into. Recording it was a breeze; one of those songs that just flies out of your face. I played around a lot on the background voices, trying to time the silences so that we could use reverb in the mix to fill the spaces and create some movement. I think it came out fairly well - you can check out a sample at http://www.discord-aggregate.com/pamela/musicresume/samples.html

The Journey Home: This song just showed up whole. I was sitting in a movie theater in Santa Barbara, watching "The Secret of Roan Inish". There’s a scene where the Grandparent (sob) is in a tiny, tiny boat (gasp) and frantically rowing to shore (oooh!) to rescue the small child (awwwww) before a storm hits and blows them all away. Well, the scene was done so well and I bought into it so completely that I missed the rest of the movie because I was thinking so fiercely about how to catch the feeling of desperate, intense, focus that the scene created. By the time the movie ended and I got to my car, the song was done. I’ve kept it simple and the arrangement light - just your basic sea chantey.

How do I, a mere mortal, create art myself?

AM: First, decide what art form you wish to begin with. It helps to become familiar with other works in the genre. Then, identify what, in your opinion, is missing in all of them. Your job is to create the missing parts (or at least some of them). Next, examine your lifestyle to see what you can give up to find time for art. Finally, get to work. Of course, you can do all of the above in a different order, or not at all. As an artist, one creates one’s own destiny: create yours now! Once you have become an artist, you are no longer a mere mortal, so the question will no longer apply.

PZ: Stop waiting for permission.

SBR: Have the courage to expose your innermost naked thoughts, transcribe them on paper, canvass, film, or any other recordable media without any concern for anyone else’s opinions. And don’t worry about labels; just be true to yourself and your imagination (your two best friends).

Present Tense: I’m going to use this one as my theme song should I ever have a need for one. I don’t know of any other piece except perhaps "Mercy" that comes as close to accurately reflecting who I am. I wrote the song in an effort to explain to a group of strangers why they should support the arts. I had won an award for composition and had to perform both "Ghosts" (which won the award) and one other piece in front of all the benefactors and donors who had made the award possible. Lots of press presence and old money. Since there was barely enough time to teach the choir "Ghosts" (let alone another song) I knew I had to do a solo, a-cappella number as my second piece. Unfortunately, as of the night before the performance, I actually didn’t have a solo, a-cappella number. So in an effort to try and come up with something, I imagined explaining to the leading benefactor (a Countess, nonetheless), exactly why she should give money to the arts. What came out was so garbled, abstract, non-linear, and random that I knew immediately that it was a song. The next day, after I sang "Ghosts" with The Random Choir I remained on the stage age after the choir left. The audience murmured in confusion and adjusted their ties and jewelry. I can remember standing alone on a bare stage, singing "Present Tense", blazing lights in my eyes, holding out the note on the word "creation" as the entire audience stopped breathing…

Oh, what a glorious life.

If you get a chance, check out the samples of "Living Backwards" at http://www.discord-aggregate.com/pamela/musicresume/samples.html And afterwards, or before, or in the meanwhile, feel free to e-mail me at alemap@discord-aggregate.com You know the only way I’m going to believe we exist is via the proof of electronic missives.

If we redefine the structure of art, would we get new art? I.e. if we redefine colors, do we get new paintings?

SBR: No – we still get art. The means may be different, but the result is the same. Some art will really suck and do nothing to stretch your imagination. And then again, there will be art that will leave you with a dizzying sense of excitement and hope, a feeling that what you had just experienced was created by your fellow beast. Either way, art will continue to inspire – either to demolish the current standards or to create new ones.

AM: A lot of new art has been derived from redefining the structure of art. As I have mentioned, the content of art is undergoing very little change, so it must be the structure that is the primary vehicle of art’s progress. With colors, it’s a bit different, because their nature is objective, and their perception physiologically based. Also, some colors are firmly associated with certain notions, like blue with blood or red with sky. If we redefine colors, we will most certainly get new paintings, as long as we can convince our eyes that the colors have really changed. And we can't do it unless we are really good at what we do.

PZ: This ties into the idea of new senses. We are limited in our art right now by established structures - the top three being that we have an established structure of shape and what it means, an established structure of color and what it means and an established structure of sound and what it means.

I think that these structures limit us. Not only do we not use our tools (colors, sounds) outside of the structure, but we make no effort to create new tools. Music has been the bravest so far, with 12 tone scales and created sounds, but we are still limited by the sense of hearing being attached to music. What if we attached speakers to peoples bodies and had them "listen" to the music via the vibrations through their bodies? What kind of structure would you need to create then in order to convey thoughts and emotions?

Just starting down this road- would love to hear anyone’s ideas about this.

 

by S.B. Reda

QUESTION FROM ELDERLY MALE INTERVIEWER: NON-SBR, could you explain the concept behind your next musical project, the CD entitled "Music That Invalids Can Dance To"?

NON-SBR: "Thank you. And thank you very much for not calling me Tim. "Music that Invalids can Dance To" has been a dream of mine for quite sometime. (In fact, I am asleep and dreaming about it right now!) Ever since I was a young person, I could tell that the general populace moved according to the same rhythm; they shuffled along the gray, dying sidewalk, synchronously swaying their arms as though they were fastened to the same spoke. Sure, there were occasions when something would fall out of synch – I was especially interested when this happened – but for the most part, it was all the same. At times, this improvised reality was symphonic, but I soon became weary of it and longed for something more. That was when I was about 203 years old – barely old enough to talk! So I thought about it and determined that I needed to create some type of device or mechanism that would "trip" the world while it was walking by.

So how to do this? It was a dubious task indeed – it didn’t take long to come to the conclusion that it had to be done, but it took much longer to create the means to do it! Initially, I toyed with an earthquake simulator, but this was too costly and only affected a localized portion of the earth. I didn’t want to change part of the world – I wanted to upend the entire thing! So what to do, so what to do! The possibility of installing conveyor belts to move in the opposite direction of whatever is happening at the moment was a little costly and would probably involve burglarizing all the major airports of the world! I could release a chemical agent into the world’s water supply, but I could not guarantee that I would be immune to it (nor could I convince my rabbit of this particular plan, and he has a lot of influence on my decisions)!

Nothing was clear other than the fact that the need to solve this dilemma was driving me insane. I became so immersed in the puzzle that I began eating buses for breakfast and riding my toast to work! One night, while thinking of my quest to alter the motion of the world, I lost hold of my senses until I was detached into another reality. I was ‘no more’ on this earth – I was in it!

The wheels of humanity spinning in the same direction, powered by the monotony of the endless mechanized walking legs – here it was, the core of the world’s rhythm! The legs moved to the beat of a single drum – a drum that I moved to disrupt. Over and over again, the predictable "thump" pounded into the skin – it was a safe pace, no one is going to get hurt or knocked off track when moving at this speed. As I approached, the sound of the drum became louder and louder, and the stomp of the legs became tighter and tighter, until all sounds sounded and moves moved as one.

I was almost upon them ¼ between drumbeats, I unleashed a spasm of handclaps and foot stomps, hoping to throw the mechanized walking legs off. It was a struggle – a cacophony of beats splashed the walls and bounced off the ceiling . . . it was happening! Slowly but surely, some of the mechanized walking legs lost the beat, and were now stepping out of sequence with the other legs. Above me, I could hear that my efforts were being rewarded. Car tires screeched, women screeched, record needles screeched, decaying fingernails screeched ¼

As I frantically worked to poison the synchronicity, images from my lost reality began to come back into focus. The canvass of that world from which I could claim victory began to wash away in favor of the one with which I was more familiar. I found myself wrestling with a torn newspaper alongside a weather drain on the west side of town; it was a cold land that I was thrown back into, but not one that could beat me – I knew that I could win!

Instantly, my ears were filled with the strains of disjointed notes, lightning crashes, and cymbal splashes. At once, dogs began to bark, sirens went off, voices echoed. And then it was clear – music would be the mechanism that would bring the world to its knees, knocking it off its quarter-note march!

But what would the songs be about, now that I have the structure of off-time, cut-time, double-time music in place? Emotionally, I am easily moved; what may have a minor effect on you could have a significant effect on me. And not necessarily in a negative way – I can be moved to humor as quickly I am to anger. So those two extremes (and everything in between) are represented here. They are reactions to things I see, things I hear, and things I see and hear.

Every year, it seems as though the standards in art have dropped even lower. What does this do to you and how do you find having to exist in the same world with it?

PZ: I’m lucky in that artistic standards have little or nothing to do with my work. I keep on flailing alone out here, now and then bumping into a Discord Aggregate project, but on the whole, current standards don’t really impact what I do.

SBR: There have been moments during the day when I was overwhelmed by the urge to crush the skull of the person standing next to me. And it is not because I don’t like them or they looked at me in a funny way. It is because I just saw a billboard for the new Martin Lawrence film (The Number 1 film of the Year!) pass by me on a bus. How does this guy (and the person that directed him, and the person that produced it, and the moron that paid to view it) get a chance to use air that is more wisely consumed by the intelligent faction among the world’s population?

In other words, I remain unaffected by the lowering of artistic standards.

AM: I’m not sure what the word "standard" implies. Personally, I don’t know if we have enough information to make a statement like this. I suspect that an overwhelming majority of all that is classified as art has always been and will always be mediocre. True, in today’s society the production and distribution of mediocre art (read: garbage) has been placed on a conveyer line, and film companies, book publishers etc. etc. keep spitting out mountains of trash. But this has nothing to do with art. There must be people out there who create "real" art, but it many cases, it will take them a while to find their audience. As their contemporaries, we may have no idea about them yet. It’s true: the level of indifference that faces serious art is astounding – yet how do we know that the situation is any worse than 300 years ago?

As to existing in the same world with the aforementioned garbage – I find it both annoying and reassuring. Annoying for obvious reasons, and reassuring because it helps me appreciate the value of what I myself am trying to do as an artist.

Lyrics and music have been worked out (preliminary) for ¾ of the titles listed below. Rehearsals will begin in March of 2000 with a June recording planned. See www.discord-aggregate.com/sbreda for updates!

The titles (with description):

I’m Dying (Over You) – When I look around, I lament over how people have lost their individuality. Now, I am not making accusations here; there is no "the corporate world has raped society of its soul" or "he is lazy". I am just talking about "in general" – what would the world be like if people were individuals and not the clones that they have turned out to be. The music is led by piano and guitar – a simple chord structure driven by heavy percussion. Vocally, this will be the closest thing to a ballad on the CD. (read: lamentation)

McCarthy-Era Food – This is not about food – it is about an ideology. It is a leap of faith when you aren’t aware that you are taking one. A generation of large people with high blood pressure, hardening arteries, and cardiac arrests – isn’t that swell? Watch them – it’s funny. They never take the stairs, they never have just one cigarette. Look, you really have a great opportunity to observe lifestyles and behaviors that should be confined to the walls of a very special hospital. I am just setting their heavy-footedness to music. In this spirit, the tune is going to be very thick and fattening – for an appetizer, start with large, aggressive bass lines. For seconds, enjoy the flabby slap of a tuned-down cocktail drum, buttered with greasy vocals and high-protein guitar.

Josie Sings the Blues – Josie is a proud girl. She does what she thinks is right. When someone calls, she comes. When she is left to her thoughts, she always takes a nap. Sometimes, she doesn’t have the energy to move, even if you want her to get up. One look into those eyes, and everything in the world makes sense: Josie has the blues. Since she is not going to be singing it for you (and I think her story is very important), I will convey her life to you in this ode to Josie. As implied by the title, it will follow your typical 12-bar blues structure, with a few catches: alternate tunings, alternate percussion, etc. Josie has the blues so bad that I cry when I recite the lyrics.

Where have all the Italian surfers gone? – I could have called this "Where have all the Haitian gymnasts gone", but that subject wouldn’t trouble me as much as the absence of these aquatic adventurers. While walking down the beach one afternoon, I polled 132 surfers: not one Italian! In fact, these surfers didn’t know there was a country behind the word Italian – they thought it referred to a type of salad dressing. There was even an Aleutian surfer present and she never heard of Italy! What is going on? If there is a rogue, underground group of Italian surfers out there, please make yourself known – we are waiting for you! And if you need to be coerced out of the woodworks, let this be your anthem, a tune in which Joan Baez meets The Beach Boys.

Bus Hands – This is what I end up with every time I go out in public. I am so frightened to touch anything that I have been forced to develop tools that allows me to do things that normal people would do (use an ATM, make a phone call, eat lunch, etc.) I was in favor of sterilizing things that I was going to use by burning them, but I realized that this might not be practical when preparing to use an elevator. It is a dirty song, but someone has to write it.

The kind of snake that chases you – One morning I awoke from a terrible dream. My girlfriend (who was woken up by my twitching) asked me what I had dreamt about. I told her that I was being chased by a snake. She asked me what type of snake. I replied "the kind of snake that chases you". And that was it. It really didn’t make one difference whether this was an Anaconda or a Boa; the fact of the matter was that it was chasing me. This song is the soundtrack to that dream – a slithery, chaotic run through the weeds in the latter half of my sub-conscious morning.

Functional Bag – A delivery from God. I was standing on the corner, trying to manage many different items that I had been carrying with me at once. I was doing really poorly (dropped everything), when out of nowhere, this bag appeared before me. A golden halo illuminated this black beauty as though it had really been sent from heaven. Quickly, I checked the label to confirm my suspicions – Made in Mexico. But whatever! It was still the greatest thing that I had ever seen. 818 pockets line the interior of the main chamber, another 249 stitched into the surface. It was truly a dream. And this tune represents the bag and its essence. The metallic majesty of its zipper, the regal royalty of its rope. An endless surprise of space jumps out at me when I look at the bag, and so too do the surprises jump from the song.

7^th Standard Road – If you ever feel like things are not going away, express it by saying that you have just been down 7^th Standard Road. Yes my friends, this is the dregs. The dilapidated pavement is lined by unkempt yards that lead to weather-beaten homes (or at least they were once homes - only dead people live there now). Once you have reached the end, you suddenly realize that you are right back at the beginning – caught in a loop. Get off 7^th Standard Road – this is not the Road to Assyria! (and watch out for the looping themes!)

Seven crackers and a mint - An elegant piece – a classical dish of modern man served up just for you, the listener. Actually, it accurately represents my economic condition – there is enough money to live but never enough to afford me the time to do the things I want to do. Some people have a lot of money and waste it. Others have nothing at all. I have to eat through seven crackers in order to get to that mint. But when I do, it is the most succulent thing that I have ever tasted! Music? Think "dry crooner on a hot day in the Sahara desert preparing to enter an oasis" and this is what you get.

Discord Aggregate has been together for three years. What is left to conquer?

AM: Everything else. Art is unpredictable. Both individually and together, Discord Aggregate members continue their work in a number of genres. Artists don't really know what they are about to conquer until the conquest has occurred. This question can never be answered.

PZ: Ourselves. On one hand, it’s great to have at least a few other people on a path towards innovation and creation - on the other hand, there’s usually a steep learning curve and very different time frames and definitions of commitment.

Right now, technology & time are our limitations. There are CD’s to mix, films to shoot, concepts to elaborate upon, and tons of writing, but there is only so much time and equipment and we are constantly battling the demons of how to get things done.

And I’m not even going to get started about the web site.

SBR: The world – twice!

 

by A. Molotkov

I’ve always had a strange relationship with poetry. When I started writing, I was certain that poetry would never be on my menu. Why? Go back in time and ask me! Perhaps I didn't feel that I would make a good poet?

Naturally, it took me just a year or two to change my mind completely. In college, writing poetry became my main involvement as I was trying to keep myself awake. (No wonder I soon gave up a career in mathematics.)

Eventually, poems began to come in spells. Sometimes I would write a few of them daily, other times I could stay away from this form of self-expression for months or even years. Following one such poetryless period, I suddenly decided to write a book of poetry. This was in the spring on 1998. A slave of my decisions that I am, I had no choice but to comply. This is how "Not From Around Now" started.

The path was more or less clear: I was to write 100 poems or more, and to make them into a book. However, I wasn't interested in merely putting together a collection of unrelated poems. Instead, I was looking for a conceptual approach that would become a distinguishable mark. This is how I embarked upon the notion of writing a poetry book for a choir. The texts would be performed by a real or imaginary group of voices. To make this requirement visually accessible, I organized the distinct voices horizontally (whereas the vertical dimension – top to bottom – can be naturally perceived as a timeline).

But what would the poems taste like? I realized that I was interested in writing something really ambiguous, something symbolic and mysterious, something that leaves a lot of room for interpretation. The poems also had to be very laconic: I find myself disenchanted by poetic epics.

With these premises in mind, I started writing. Only a few steps into it, I found another brick that became part of the book’s foundation. Some poems seemed to convey a different emotion or thought if part of the text was removed. This is how poems-doppelgangers came to be. There is a good amount of these sprinkled throughout the book – as you continue reading, you find an extension of a familiar theme, revealing a new point of view.

By August 1998, I had enough poems to put the book together – and so I did. This is when I realized that there was still a large amount of free space on the pages. Not that it would harm anyone – but what if I were to use the space for something else? What would "Not From Around Now" look like as an illustrated book?

I realized it would be impossible to provide artwork directly related to each poem. The poetry is too abstract to lend itself to a direct visual rendition. Besides, I can't even draw a recognizable circle, so I had to start with existing images. Following the purchase of a digital camera, I began building a collection of source files. The choice of content was only partially my own: since my traveling time is very limited, I had to take pictures of objects that were easily accessible along the customary paths of my life. Besides, it seemed interesting to use limited material to create something that is more. Somehow, images of buildings became predominant – perhaps due to the fact that many buildings satisfy two principles: they are complex shapes with many angles to choose from, and they have a distinct identity.

What next? I had to rely on Photoshop and other tools to guide me. A little digital tweaking – and the pictures looked nothing like the original images. Merging several photographs into one also proved to be a worthwhile method. And certainly there is nothing quite like a good old collage. Eventually, I developed a number of approaches to making images into new images. Things began to look good (in the literal sense).

When the time came to place pictures on the pages, I made intuitive selections based on the mood conveyed by each particular poem. This is why, although the images are not related to the poetry, they are related (even though their relationship is not a straightforward one).

Today (over a year later), I’m only a few weeks away from completion. A few more images, a couple more adjustments – and this second edition will be finished: a delight for those who delight in delights.

Will "Not From Around Now" have any more incarnations? Possibly, as I am contemplating a CD based on the poetry. But this is a project that belongs to the future. And the future takes time to give up its possessions. For now, you are invited to http://www.discord-aggregate.com/literature/amolotkov (select "Not From Around Now" in the combo box when you get there) to acquaint your inner self with some of the flavors. The first, unillustrated edition of the book is available from Discord Aggregate Art Store at http://www.discord-aggregate.com/ArtStore , the second edition will join it there once finished. And as a bonus snack, munch on the poetry S.B. Reda and I used in our video "Glass Air": http://www.discord-aggregate.com/literature.

I was invited to a carnival, but this is a secret for now.

From where do you draw your inspiration?

SBR: There is no longer a place where I cannot find inspiration. Whether sleeping or awake, I have been fortunate enough to be inspired by every thing that I see – some things obviously have a greater effect than others. Ultimately though, I find myself as inspired by an amazing work of art as I do by a seat buckle on an old jeep.

AM: Just about anything. Things that happen in my life or in the lives of people I know. Existing art. Accidental words I hear on the bus. A glimpse of another reality I see through an open window. A flash of whoknowswhat somehow originating in my brain. And, most significantly, smoked beluga.

PZ: Sometimes a word, or a phrase that rings, or something I see, or a gesture or the sound of a voice, or a tree moving, or a child, or sometimes something rises in me from the deep and breaches into my conscious mind demanding to be heard, or a moment in a film that moves me past words, or someone touches me, or a cat, or exquisite music, or a dream, or that slow motion happening that occurs without reason when the light is a certain way and my mind is still.

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