Anarchists are party animals. True liberation is watching Chomsky chug a libation.
Alas, the matter at hand extends beyond mere riot tourism. Failure to televise the revolution is no excuse to disenfranchise leisure. Dissent - veritable, vociferous, and venerable in violence - must never imply silent subjugation to solitary entertainment. Needlessly wordy sentences are another matter entirely.
So raise a black party flag with passion! Oppose boredom in earnest! But most importantly: be a good host. Extend the black hand towards wallflowers. And remember: put aside any and all debate as to how real mixologists prepare the best molotov cocktails.
It was the renown revolutionary Mikhail Bakunin, after all, that wrote, "The urge to destroy is a create urge too." Thus was born the subtitle to one of the 20th century's greatest raves: God and the State.
Another case in point is Montreal's Babiaudi. Artist by trade - French Canadian and female by birth - real name Melissa Gagne makes up half of the gently named, and inoffensive by all means, collective Institutional Prostitution. With a punk attitude and a vibrato that shakes like African jello, their aesthetic is uncompromising and the result is is two-fold. First, Institutional Prostitution undoubtedly makes outsider music. Short of declaring an avant-garde coup, though, this duo experiments with musical standards. Second, each one of the group's track's is criticism by way of performance; comparisons to Nils Frykdahl and Carla Kihlstedt seem entirely plausible. Music is, after all, not unlike birds singing at dawn: independent sounds, devoid of meaning, but possessing purpose, make up a unique whole. Any other expectations are purely nurtured.
As a solo artist, Gagne also creates audio kindling. Gagne's music is a flammable byproduct of incendiary materials. So it seems only appropriate to describe Babiaudi with her own words, "WORLD BEAUTIFUL TINY BEDROOM FOOT BATH PARTY MUSIC FOR TINY SECRET ANARCHIST READING CLUB."
What follows is no exception. Scored and directed by Babiaudi, "Prairie Pole" is equal parts song and video. Two-minutes in length, the visual experience begins with a panning down from the heavens towards the earth. A scene is established. As the expansive field is shown, a bass drum marks four beats. The sound of cicadas (synthetic or otherwise) drones. Flowers, once harmlessly existing, are picked-up from a state of rest. The woman approaches this floral scent as the parishioner a prayer bench when suddenly, a close-up changes everything. If the audience needs a cue as to the abnormality of the scene at hand - beyond the presence pole amidst green acres, that is - a dutch angle follows. An exotic dance begins; as nature is the performer's witness. No shot, though, implies the female is an object. Instead, the camera observes from varying distances; with the model's knowledge, it is to be understood, as she looks into the recording more than once. The only close-ups, as a matter of fact, are done from a upward angle, providing an air of awe.
Social commentary and amateurish film criticism aside, the audio is also fascinating; and just as much a collage. Contrary to the incredibly titled "Sex Racism," "Prairie Pole" has nearly no percussion. The song, however, is exceptionally diverse. As has been heard before, vocal samples - of which at least three can be heard - are modulated beyond recognition. Texture now provided, the bass and synth take charge of tone tone. As a result, "Prairie Pole," resembles a techno nightterror. Drums might be lacking but syncopation is certainly present. The track's most noteworthy accomplishment proves to be its use various static sounds in more than one capacity.
All animals are equal, but anarchists still party better than the rest of the farm
Pole Prairie from Novembre Magazine on Vimeo.
- John Noggle
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