VITAL SIGNS

M. John Harrison started as a key figure in the new British Science Fiction scene, before growing dissatisfied with his own work in the late-1970s, scaling back his writing and moving North to work in a book shop and obsessively climb things.

Since the mid-1980s, and his full return to writing, his best work has been characterised by a mix of documentary realism and fantastic mysticism. The characters in his stories do normal, even banal things in the shadow of something bigger and much weirder than their everyday lives: occult ritual gone wrong, alien invasion, ancient forces lurking in the depths of urban waterways...

In Signs Of Life (1997) he gives us a detailed story about four interconnected (socially, professionally, romantically) people underpinned by sub-plots about medical waste, genetic experimentation, foreign espionage and the varying fortunes of entrepreneurs in a fluctuating economy. As I re-read the book the other day I was struck by three passages that, to me, summed up just how interesting and brilliant Harrison's writing is. I present them here without context (or subtext), I just think they're cool.

'...someone who looked as if he used to run Butlins was interviewing someone who looked as if he used to run Bulgaria.'

'The girl watched, puzzled as a Martian, then said: 'They're thick and they love it. It's such a revenge for being alive, isn't it? To be thick and in the way.'

'...until I lost her I was always moving from moment to moment, incident to incident, in a kind of warm, seamless daze. I never wanted anything until Isobel. I've not really wanted much since.'

I have no idea if any of this will resonate with anybody else, but they reverberate with me, I think they are extraordinary. 

A SERIES OF ENJOYABLE DISAPPOINTMENTS

I very much enjoy Mexican wrestling movies, and I've watched a lot, but but they tend to suffer from pacing issues, repetition, and a lack of ambition. Take Santo & Blue Demon Versus The Monsters from 1970, for instance - the two most famous masked wrestlers in the world take on history's most incredible monsters: on paper it looks sensational; onscreen, however, the results are only occasionally interesting (Franquestain is very much a Mexican take on Mary Shelley's deathless monster - he has a droopy moustache).

That said, I find that these films are more of a mood than a genre, i.e. dull and daft as they can be, sometimes nothing else will do. Luckily, Santo made over 50 films, and Blue Demon 25 (including 10 together), so it's fairly easy to scratch that particular itch when it occurs, even if doing so never fully satisfies the urge.

A SCENARIO FOR A ROBOT PLAY

THEY CAME FROM THE SUN

Written and performed by twelve‑ and thirteen‑year‑olds at The Stationers’ Company’s School*

One day a red glow was seen by an Astronomer flying past a lighthouse.

The Astronomer’s name was Brian Gromley. He telephoned the police and waited until they arrived. It was about 10 minutes before the police came.

Immediately Mr Gromley showed them on a map where he had seen IT land. They went to the spot where IT had landed, with dogs and ammunition. The police officer who was in charge was called PC Maguba. He said: “Be careful men – this craft may be dangerous.”

One police officer approached the craft too close and suddenly a red line hit him. All the others couldn’t bear to look as the policeman disintegrated into red dust.

The officer in charge said: “Get back men, this is a job for the Army.” So he walked up to the car and called the Army.

It was about one hour before the Army arrived with tanks and machine guns and about 1,000 men.

Then, suddenly the doors of the spacecraft opened. Out of it came three robots. One by one they positioned themselves around the spacecraft as if they were guarding it. Then, one of the soldiers thought that the robots were going to attack them so he shot at one of them but the bullet just rebounded off the robot. At this point the robots fired at every soldier that could be seen and there and then they all disintegrated into red dust. Then suddenly one of the robots said: “We do not want to harm you, and we only attack when somebody shoots at us!”

They started to walk in the direction of the town. The officer said: “Where are you going?”, and the robot replied: “We are going to the SPECIAL WAR ARTILLERY DEPARTMENT.” When they arrived they began to steal the artillery and nobody could do anything about it.

More robots came over the hill and destroyed them. But nobody knew where they came from. Then they disappeared into thin air and nobody saw them again.

The Astronomer said it would probably be about 100,000 years before they would return.

* A comprehensive school in Hornsey, North London, with 1220 pupils and 80 teachers. The project was carried out by a student at the Institute of Education of the London University, Tim Brown.

The children were photographed, making the costumes and performing the play, by Brian Shuel, London.

From Robots: Fact, Fiction + Prediction (Jasia Reichardt, 1978)

HIATUS

 

I'm taking a break, see you in October!

ROAR POWER

I love everything about this early 60s sound effects EP, the work of F.C Judd, a largely unsung hero of early British electronic music. I have loads of his records, so he'll be back.

KINESIOLOGY

 

Bodies at rest and in motion, from Movement, Awareness & Creativity, by Leah Bartal & Nira Ne'eman (1975)

THE MIND EXPANDING UNIVERSE OF BIG LEZ

A couple of months ago, my friend Scott asked if I'd ever watched Big Lez. I confirmed that not only had I not seen it, I had absolutely no awareness of it whatsoever. He didn't give too much away, other than to say that I should watch it because I'd like it. He was absolutely right.

Big Lez is Australian in origin, an animated web show launched in 2012. The majority of the work is credited to Jarrard Wright, who conceived and scripts the show, draws and animates it, provides most of the voices and does the music. An initially crude but brilliantly DIY affair, Wright drew and coloured the show in (of all things) Microsoft Paint and then animates the frames. At the beginning, he even used a free laptop provided by the Australian government when they were trying to promote greater computer literacy. Refinements in technology have progressively made the presentation smoother and more sophisticated, but it remains rambunctiously rough and ready in a slick and seamless world. Indeed, that rudimentary quality is an important part of its appeal.

The Big Lez Show (and the Big Lez Universe - there have been five spin off series so far) centres around Brown Town, a quintessentially rural coastal place that is home not only to hard living Aussie blokes (there are virtually no women in the series) but also to aliens and ancient interdimensional beings, mainly Anthropoidipes Ameriborealis, i.e. Sasquatches. They all live together in raucous and mutually supportive harmony. A massive amount of drugs are consumed. I mean, all of the time. Side quests include an ongoing war with crazed invasive mutants, skateboarding, surfing and sugar gliding tournaments, and lots of gun play. It's preposterous, surreal, violent, foul mouthed - but also good-natured and extremely funny.

If you want a gentle wade into the warm waters of Big Lez, try Donny & Clarence. It will surprise you just how quickly you stop wondering why a balding Sasquatch and a green guy with a head like a jacket potato are doing in the Outback, let alone running a convenience store where everything costs $50. Just go with it, it will more than repay your suspension of disbelief.

If you want to just dive in at the deep end, start with Sassy The Sasquatch. This series provides an origin story to one of the Big Lez Universes best loved characters, an immortal, permanently stoned Big Foot who moves aimlessly through time and space for millions of years before finding a home in Brown Town. This series is both hilarious and genuinely profound - like all great mythologies, it is hugely entertaining but also says something important about the human condition. 

I've been totally converted, and now I'm obsessed enough to start tapping on doors and spreading the word. Next chance you get, investigate further, you'll be doing yourself a big, hairy favour.

IT ANTICS

From the 1975 demonstrational film Finite Elements, made by the Atlas Computer Library with graphic and music by the ANTICS computer system. 

JAZZ BLOWS

 

American jazz flautist and saxophonist Paul Horn had a long and interesting career in music, beginning in various West Coast cool jazz combos in the 1950s. After becoming a convert to Transcendental Meditation in 1968 (he was at the Maharishis Indian ashram with The Beatles) he became a proponent of New Age Music, and travelled the world playing with interesting people and in interesting places, including inside the Taj Mahal and The Great Pyramid. 

In 1972, he was in Sealand of the Pacific, an aquarium in British Colombia, Canada, where he recorded a jam session with a young male Killer Whale called Haida. The results are interesting, even moving, although it should be noted that Haida was a prisoner and unable to consent to being recorded. The contention in the sleeve notes that 'Haida loved Paul's music and became his biggest fan' should also be treated with an element of scepticism.

THREE RECENT EXAMPLES OF ABSTRACT GUITAR MUSIC

I'm not in love with the guitar as a thing, but it has done a lot of heavy lifting in much of the music I've been listening to for the last fifty years. I recently came across a trio of guitar releases on Bandcamp with enough analogous elements that, if I worked for the NME in the 1990s I'd probably stick a flag in them and call it a microgenre. 

Cyrus Pireh has been described as 'the best guitarist in the world (not by me, I don't believe in those sort of absolutes). On Thank You Guitar, he ably demonstrates his virtuosity with a set that provides a series of complex, delicate insectoid structures. My favourite track? Infinite Shred, the heaviest offering, which is only marred by not being several billion minutes longer*.

From Portland, where a disproportionate amount of the music I buy now seems to originate from, Guitar For Deaf Dumb and Blind provide what, under other circumstances, could be a suite of pleasant, ambient noodling. However, it's all off-kilter: too loud, too sharp, too distorted, too much - so it is absolutely impossible to relax to. This is not a problem for me, as I haven't really had any downtime since 1980. Favourite Track? Guitar One, an experiment in slowly and deliberately pushing something into the red.

On the same label (Bud Tapes) and also based in Portand, Elli Ott is, by day, a member of  semi-psychedelic drone experimentalists, Skunk Ape. When it gets dark, he apparently sits on his porch (all Americans have sittable porches, right?) and strums, thumps, scrapes, thrashes and generally mistreats his guitar to fascinating and disorienting effect. My favourite track? Meditation On Little Black Cat: alien muzak for a haunted house.

So, what would I call this microgenre, and what are its antecedents? Doesn't matter, does it? I find that just liking something is enough these days, there's no need to over-complicate it.

* Update: at the time of writing this blog entry, I hadn't received my vinyl copy of the Cyrus Pireh album. I am pleased to report that, on the actual record, 'Infinite Shred' ends in a locked groove, so it could, technically, go on forever - or at least until the next power cut or when my family smash my record player up and then set fire to the bits.