The first Soundscapes' show at The Bottom Line, NY, on December 13th. 1997, is hovering behind me. This is the show where a flash went off in my face and, shocked out of playing, I left the stage. The gentleman who took the photograph sent me an apology afterwards, on his business card. He was "unaware" that the flash might interrupt the performance.
Before I ponder the advice and deliberations of posters not known to me, whose considered suggestions might possibly alter the trajectory of my life, perhaps they would forgive me if I hesitate: I would rather look in their eyes and see that which shines from within. Then, with a better sense of the informed presence from which the commentary springs, respond as best I may.
There is a suggestion, recently renewed in the DGM Guestbook, that The True Raging Horror "punishes" an audience by leaving the stage in response to photography. This illustrates the experiential distance between myself as a performer and posting audients; perhaps, a difference in aim; possibly, that "The Punisher" suggestion / argument is not the subject of much reflection.
This is rather like saying Fripp punished the audience by leaving - just because someone punched him in the face! I walk onstage to engage with the audience, not to protect myself from them. The audience has reasonable expections of the musician, but what may I hope for from an audience?
The "Punisher" notion demonstrates an assumption:
The performer, in addition to meeting their responsibilities as a player, should / must absorb the negativity, ill-mannered, aggressive and / or inappropriate behaviour of the audience, jointly or severally. I find this, implicit argument, inconsiderate and unreasonable. Nor would many listening practices, in a variety of cultures, support it. But it would make a great movie - perhaps with Dolph Lundgren as the guitar player?
Why leave the stage? To absorb:
i) The shock of violation;
ii) The knowledge that I was unable to trust the audience to behave consensually;
iii) The knowledge that the performance of music itself was insufficient to the event, even peripheral, for some.
Meanwhile, if any potential RF audient wants photography / autography to be part of their musical experience, there are performers who are happy to provide opportunities. Please go to them, without any concern that my life as a musician will suffer from the loss of your patronage.
Otherwise we all lose, but the guitarist loses more than anyone:
i) He has travelled further;
ii) It has cost more for him to be there, transporting equipment and two engineers, than anyone in the audience;
iii) He has a professional reputation to sustain (his personal reputation as a despicable person now irreversible).
iv) This is the focus of his life.
The act is non-consensual, known as such, and the displayed notices are not left over by mistake from last night's performance. No one has yet offered any convincing argument or rationale to justify & legitimise a non-consensual act.
A key issue is the effect of intentionality. An intentional act changes the process of which it is a part, even when that act seems to be "invisible". An "unintentionally intentional" act is an intentional act in ignorance of its repercussions. Intentional actions, seemingly unseen in the basement, affect the higher floors.
But haven't we been through this before?
David, Tets and Diane at World Central
A (late) report on our Thursday afternoon at World Central: DGM was visited by Tets Maruo of Pony Canyon, our distributors in Japan. Tets wants me to visit Tokyo for interviews in February. Apparently, there is confusion in the media over KC's fractalising.
My last batch of interviewing in Tokyo killed the willingness to undertake a visit such as this. If you subject an interviewee to braindeath, you don't get any more interviews; at least until enough time has passed for the growth of new brain cells, or for forgetfulness to cast its healing balm.
In Japan there is an aversion to press conferences: each journalist likes to feel they are receiving personal answers to their questions, although each journalist asks the same questions as the one before and the one after.
There are usually two or three translators available, who go on rotation after two or three interviews. The interviewee does not rotate, although sometimes they spin, through eight hours of interrogation and photography on three consecutive days and three hours on the fourth.
All writers, even where goodwill is involved, in presenting their understanding of an interview present a translation of what is said. In the instance of English interviewers between 1969-84 (at least, and in my experience), in the absence of goodwill the presentation is tainted. Generally, the subject is an excuse for the writer to write about themselves and, in England, this meant anger & politics. Of interest, many of the English music journalists of the period had degrees in English literature rather than music.
