John Balance: In Memoriam

Almost exactly four years ago, on November 25, 2010, Peter Christopherson (aka Sleazy) passed away in his sleep. I was distraught enough to write this memorial, which primarily explained Sleazy’s greatness – he was a key member of Coil and Throbbing Gristle, as well as an accomplished artist, designer, and director – and Coil’s enormous impact on my life. When Sleazy died, he survived his partner in music, life, and love, Geoffrey Burton aka John Balance, by six years. Today is the tenth anniversary of John’s death and – though I never had the opportunity to meet either of them personally – I’m just as affected as the first time I heard the news.

John was a few years younger than Sleazy, and the two met when he was just 18 thanks to his love for Throbbing Gristle. They began an affair that would last until the late ‘90s and they officially brought Coil to life in 1982. Coil was one of the first openly gay bands in Britain (if not the world) and one of the first to cover gay themes. Through their close friendships with other musicians, John was also a member of or collaborator with Current 93, Death in June, Nurse with Wound, Psychic TV, and others. He brought so much to Coil and other musical projects, primarily his fascination of ritual and chaos magic (he had an impressive occult library, including a number of original Aleister Crowley volumes), his experiments in expanding consciousness, and his beautiful, rich, and moving vocals.

Diagnosed with schizophrenia as a child, drug and alcohol abuse plagued much of his later life. He went to rehab around 1998 and was clean for a few years, presumably until Coil began touring in 2000 (they were a studio-only band before this).  John’s death, just four years after they began touring and one of their most productive recording periods, he fell to his death in an alcohol related accident.

I’ve heard a lot of things about John from friends, other admirers, and distant acquaintances. By all accounts, he was contradictory: loving, but shy and distant, incredibly creative, intelligent, and well-read, but also crushingly self-destructive. Whatever he was lives on through his interviews and through Coil. In my teenage years, I was a little bit in love with him, or maybe I just idolized him. I always had trouble introducing friends to his and Peter’s music; you either already liked Coil, or you didn’t. The best I can offer, ten years later and in tribute, is a potential introduction.

Here is the playlist, which was nearly impossible to put together. I tried to keep it to around two hours with a mix of singles and more obscure songs. I hope this is your gateway drug and that when you fall, you fall hard.

Coil Playlist:

1. Ubu Noir (Scatology)

2. Tenderness of the Wolves (Scatology)

3. Tainted Love (Scatology)

4. The Anal Staircase (Horse Rotorvator)

5. Slur (Horse Rotorvator)

6. Circles of Mania (Horse Rotorvator)

7. Blood from the Air (Horse Rotorvator)
8. Windowpane (Love’s Secret Domain)

9. Titan Arch (Love’s Secret Domain)

10. Chaostrophy (Love’s Secret Domain)

11. Love’s Secret Domain (Love’s Secret Domain)

12. Bee Stings (Solstice and Equinox Singles)

13. Rosa Decidua (Solstice and Equinox Singles)

14. Are You Shivering? (Musick to Play in the Dark Vol. 1)

15. The Dreamer is Still Asleep (Musick to Play in the Dark Vol. 1)

16. Ether (Musick to Play in the Dark Vol. 2)

17. Sex with Sun Ra (Part One – Saturnalia) (Black Antlers)

18. Fire of the Mind (The Ape of Naples)

19. Tattooed Man (The Ape of Naples)

20. Going Up (from their final live performance in Dublin, 2004)

On I final note, I didn’t upload any of these songs, I just arranged them in a playlist, but I’m eternally grateful to those people who have – the entire official Coil discography is available on Youtube, as well as much more. There were a few individual tracks I couldn’t find but wanted to include, such as “Home to Sewage,” “Here to Here (Double Headed Secret),” or the “The Hellbound Heart”, which you can find on Unnatural History I or Unnatural History II. And if I didn’t include some albums, it’s because many of the later works, such as the excellent The Remote Viewer or …And the Ambulance Died in His Arms, function better as a single, unified work.

Blixa Bargeld Cooks Risotto

Blixa Bargeld, of Einstürzende Neubauten and Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds, is one of my favorite musicians and artists. He has a limited film career, appearing most famously in Wim Wenders' Der Himmel Über Berlin (as himself, performing in the Bad Seeds), a number of music videos and - randomly - as the shrieking-screaming-growling vocal effects for the Mummy in Stephen Sommers' action remake of The Mummy from 1999.

This video of him cooking risotto is one of the most romantic things I have ever seen.

VAMPYR with a live score by Steven Severin

Carl Theodor Dreyer, 1932

Starring: Julian West, Sybille Schmitz, Maurice Schutz, Rena Mandel, Jan Hieronimko

Based loosely on Irish writer Sheridan Le Fanu’s short story collection In a Glass Darkly (famous for the story, “Carmilla”), Dreyer’s powerful, if difficult film has taken a backseat to other vampire classics from the period, like Tod Browning’s Dracula and F.W. Murnau’s Nosferatu, but it is a completely different sort of animal. 

Allan Gray rents a room at an inn in the village of Courtempierre, but is awakened by an old man, who creeps into his room and leaves behind a small package with a note that it should be opened after his death. Gray finds his way to an old, possibly haunted castle and then a manor, where he witnesses, through a window, the old man being murdered. Servants let him into the house, but they are all too late to save the old man. Gray is invited to stay the night and meets Giséle, the man’s daughter. Her sister, Léone, is very ill, but they see her walking outside and find her unconscious and with bite wounds. During the night, Gray opens the package, which contains a book about vampires. He reads it and learns that Léone is probably a vampire’s victim. He suspects that her doctor is under the vampire’s thrall. When the doctor tries to poison Léone and kidnaps Giséle, Gray goes after him, back to the haunted castle, where he has some very disturbing visions. He rescues Giséle and he and an old servant find the grave of the vampire and drive a stake through her heart, and then kill the doctor. 

This French and German coproduction remained neglected for many years. Its initial release in Germany was marked by almost uniformly negative reactions, incredibly including a riot in Vienna. In later years it has fortunately been recognized as an important, evocative film, one that marks the triumph of style and technique over substance. The production underwent a number of challenges. This was Dreyer’s first sound film and had to be recorded in three languages, which resulted in the minimal dialogue and title cards. The cast is primarily non-professional, including lead actor Julian West, who bears an odd resemblance to H.P. Lovecraft. While West is not the most versatile actor, his dreamy, mesmerized performance suits the tone of the film. 

West is actually the screen name for Baron Nicolas de Gunzburg, a banker, socialite, magazine editor and fashion icon. Gunzberg had a fascinating life story and his involvement in Vampyr is simply another chapter of a long and interesting life. A French nobleman, Gunzburg was part of the scene in Paris in the 1920s and ‘30s, where he become known for his elaborate parties. Here he met Dreyer and helped finance and starred in Vampyr. In the ‘30s he sought refuge in New York City, where he found work as an editor at home and fashion magazines like Harper's Bazaar and Vogue, where he became senior fashion editor. His sense of style and inimitable personality influenced major designers like Oscar de la Renta and Calvin Klein. Another notable personality to appear in the film is troubled German actress Sybille Schmitz (Diary of a Lost Girl), whose life of drug and alcohol abuse, depression, suicide attempts and ultimately her suicide is the basis for Rainer Werner Fassbinder’s Veronika Voss. 

With little dialogue, no strict narrative structure and purposefully washed out cinematography, this is one of Dreyer’s more subversive films and is one of the most original early attempts at horror. Everything works to make the film surreal, eerie and disorienting. There is little sex or violence, but Vampyr is one of the few films that still has the power to make me uneasy. The film is steeped in hysteria and many of its plot elements would still work if the vampire aspect was replaced with domestic abuse. Though Gray is the protagonist, the film has always been about the sisters for me. Léone is ill, but it is psychological as well as physical. She longs for death. Images of her face, before we think she is about to die, are similar to Dreyer’s The Passion of Joan of Arc. Léone’s suffering and endurance makes her pale, crazed face appear on the edge of martyrdom. Her sister, the depressed, anxious Giséle, is ultimately kidnapped and left tied up. Though the monster in this film is a female vampire (surprisingly aged), the real villain is the abusive, manipulative doctor. 

The real power of Vampyr is the power of suggestion. The film is mostly made up of dreams, visions and impressions. Both Gray and the audience are unsure what is happening, though the sense of dread is palpable. Gray’s vision of his own death and burial is one of the most claustrophobic, disturbing scenes in the film. It is also one of the most confusing and sums up why this film will be difficult for many viewers. Like the later works of Jean Rollin, Vampyr is concerned with mood rather than plot. Shadows, reflections and mirror images work to dizzy and confuse us. Gray, the protagonist we loosely identify with, is also oddly framed in the film, suggesting he is viewing another world. 

After languishing in obscurity for years, there are finally two wonderful DVD releases. First and foremost is the excellent Criterion double-disc set. The restored print is still grainy and aged, but it is the best available so far and has new, improved English subtitles. There are also a ton of extras, including a commentary from film scholar Tony Rayns, a documentary, Carl Th. Dreyer, from Jørgen Roos, a visual essay from scholar Casper Tybjerg about Dreyer’s influences and a radio broadcast with Dreyer. An impressive booklet includes essays from Mark Le Fanu, writer Kim Newman, and print restorer Martin Koerber. There is also an interview with producer and star Nicolas de Gunzburg, a copy of Dreyer and Christen Jul’s original screenplay and a copy of Sheridan Le Fanu story “Carmilla.”

Eureka’s Masters of Cinema label also released a special edition DVD. The restored print is not as cleaned up as the Criterion, but this version includes new special features. In addition to the Tony Rayns commentary, there is one from director Guillermo del Toro, deleted scenes, and a documentary, The Baron, about Nicolas de Gunzburg. The Dreyer documentary from Jøgen Roos and Casper Tyberg’s visual essay are also included. The booklet contains a partial reproduction of the original Danish film program, an essay on Dreyer from Jean and Dale Drum, another essay from Tom Milne, and the restoration notes from Martin Koerber. 

I own the lovely Criterion set, but it is difficult to say which release is superior. The Criterion print is better, but the Eureka special features are more extensive. Collectors should buy both. 

I recently saw Vampyr screened in Philadelphia at PhilaMOCA, accompanied by a textured, brooding, synth-driven live score from Steven Severin. The subtle, occasionally droning score is a perfect accompaniment to Dreyer’s dreamy, disturbing film. It’s one of those scores that becomes part of the film and you simply forget that you’re listening to something composed well after the film’s production. There are lighter moments with reoccurring bells and jarring sections that reflect music being played or listened to by characters in the film. Severin also uses silence to his advantage, eschewing everything about the classically-driven original score meant to mimic the scores of silent horror films like Nosferatu. Severin has spent part of 2012 touring with his Vampyr score in the U.K. and the East and West coasts of the U.S. Check out the score here. 

Severin got his start as the bassist and co-founder of Siouxsie and the Banshees, but went on to work with The Cure’s Robert Smith in their side project The Glove, and also with Marc Almond, Lydia Lunch, The Tiger Lillies, etc. In recent years, he began his own label, RE, has produced a number of solo albums, and has been writing scores for a number of unusual films, including Visions of Ecstasy (Nigel Wingrove, 1989), London Voodoo (Robert Pratten, 2003), The Purifiers (Richard Jobson, 2004), Delphinium: A Childhood Portrait of Derek Jarman (Matthew Mishory, 2009), Blood of a Poet (Jean Cocteau, 1930), The Seashell and the Clergyman (Germaine Dulac, 1928, based on a script by Antonin Artaud) and more. Severin has also written a number of theatrical scores, such as Maldoror (for a Brazilian adaptation of Lautremont’s Les Chants de Maldoror) and Women in the Dunes (which features The Swans’ Jarboe). Visit his site to learn more. 

The Valerie Project

The Museum of Modern Art, New York City, NY
October 28, 2007

Bizarre construct of film screening and live music performance, The Valerie Project is one of the most beautiful experiences I have had in a long time and if I could go back and see it every week I would die happy.

The Film:
From the moment I saw Czech film Valerie and Her Week of Wonders (Valerie a tyden divu, 1970), it catapulted itself up into the list of my favorite movies. It is is magical, beautiful, erotic, sad, and transformative. And, in my opinion, absolutely perfect. I flat out refuse to say anything about the plot, other than that it is about the young Valerie and a very surreal week where she realizes her family is not what they seem. In the style of horror influenced “adult” fairy-tales like Lemora: A Child's Tale of the Supernatural and The Company of Wolves, Valerie is the queen of them all. Directed by Jaromil Jires and based on surrealist Czech writer Vítezslav Nezval’s book of the same name, this is a one of kind, new-wave, surrealist experience. The film is available on Region 1 in a serviceable release by Facets, but it was also finally re-released in by Second Run. It comes with a much needed new digital transfer, new subtitles and a really cool booklet that includes an essay by my friend Joseph from Exhumed Films/Diabolik DVD.

The Music:
The Valerie Project’s band doesn’t really have an independent name; rather they are a collective of ten musicians from the Philadelphia area. Fronted by Greg Weeks, the members are from such Philly bands as Espers, Fern Knight, and Fursaxa. Though the musicians seem to consider themselves indie and/or folk, the Valerie soundtrack is none of these things. With strange and seemingly organic sounds, Weeks and his companions forged the music of Valerie out of cellos, flutes, harps, a variety of bells, subtle female vocals, and more conventional electric instruments. It is a beautiful soundtrack to accompany a beautiful film and I think Weeks was successful in every way with this composition. There is a touch of classical, folk, actual soundtrack style sounds and a big dollop of the surreal. The CD and double LP were released by Drag City.

The Performance:
I had seen Valerie once before at the International House in Philadelphia, but the Museum of Modern Art’s production put that screening to shame. The music was crisper, louder, and in a more acoustically appropriate venue. The print of was flown in especially from the Czech Republic and looked brand new. The only thing I can complain about is the audience. The theater was packed and many people were standing, but the New York audience was definitely not as receptive to The Valerie Project or as captivated by the film as the Philadelphia audience. Some of the people around me laughed uncomfortably during more surreal parts of the film, which I found idiotic and immature. There was also a good deal of whispering and cell phone checking. What gives, New York? There was also a crowded after party featuring free food, drinks, and music, as well as a lovely numbered print by Tracy Nakayama whose artwork graces the posters, flyers, and CDs.

I hope I get to see this again at some point!

DOGS IN SPACE

Richard Lowenstein, 1986
Starring: Michael Hutchence, Saskia Post, Nique Needles, Chris Haywood, Deanna Bond, Tony Helou

The timing for me to finally see this film couldn't have been more perfect. Not only am I in the middle of reading Please Kill Me: The Uncensored Oral History of Punk, but the venue, Media Bureau, is a beautiful, adapted house with a makeshift bar, screening room, and a practice space for bands. In other words, the perfect place for any punk-inspired film.

Though for awhile I thought it was a documentary, Dogs in Space is a fictional feature film based on the Australian punk scene, particularly writer/director Lowenstein's experience living in a house with Sam Sejavka and his band The Ears. Apparently much of the screenplay is based on real-life experiences, with Nique Needles' character Tim standing in for Lowenstein and Michael Hutchence (of INXS) starring as Sam. What a beautiful, beautiful man.

There isn't much of a plot, not that it matters. Dogs in Space, a local punk band, share a house in Melbourne with a number of other misfits. They go on adventures, play a few shows, and get into trouble at their squalid home. A large portion of the film revolves around the tempestuous relationship between Sam and Anna (Saskia Post). She is passionately in love, but has to battle with Sam's drug use, occasional infidelity, and general selfishness. There is also a young, homeless girl who comes to live with them, essentially learning how to be an adult under their tutelage. The film is full of punk music, party scenes, and drug use.

Lowenstein has written, produced, and directed a handful of films, but is probably best known as a director of music videos, which is obvious with Dogs in Space. It's a stylized film, with several sequences that could pass as music videos. With other directors this might be annoying, but here it works. I think it is a successful film that, despite it's vignette-like quality, captures an interesting moment in Australian music history, while also managing to present characters with depth. Plus it's fun as hell and will surely be loved by anyone who grew up listening to punk and feeling like they were born a few decades too late.

In a piece of trivia, the house in the film is apparently the same house they lived in. What are the odds of that? There is also a great soundtrack that comes highly recommended. The film and soundtrack have inevitable references to Nick Cave and the Birthday Party with a great cover of "Shivers," a song from the pre-Birthday Party band, the Boys Next Door.

A note about Media Bureau: it is located at 725 4th St in Northern Liberties (the warehouse across the street from Honey's, if you know the area). There is no real webpage and, as far as I can tell, no advertising. I can't wait to go back for more screenings as soon as I can figure out what the hell the calendar/schedule is. I'm kind of in love with this place.

Though I saw Dogs in Space as part of the Philly FM festival, it is available on DVD. There is a shitty, out of print UK release from Midnite Movies. There is also a much superior, 2-disc Australian edition from Umbrella, which I have my eye on. Luckily my friends over at Diabolik DVD carry it.