Professional Documents
Culture Documents
Pathways
We should note before we begin that there are at least two other
pathways through a history of Australian electronic music that we
shall only gesture towards. The first pathway is a history that
follows what can only be called serious electronic music. This
would be a history following the experiments and compositions
using electronic instruments by the likes of
composers/musicians/instrument inventors Warren Burt, Greg
Schiemer, Carl Vine, Ros Bandt, Rik Rue, Rainer Linz, Jon Rose and
many more. It might also discuss artists who use electronic audio
in a significant and innovative way in their work (artists such as
Joan Brassil, Nigel Helyer, Joyce Hinterding, David Haines, Philip
Samartzis and many others). Indeed, there is much crossover
between serious electronic music, the electronic arts, and the
music that interests us here. For example, Severed Heads Tom
Ellard has always been more interested in the experimental
development of electronic music than its dancibility (despite
international success with the latter). The most noteworthy
example of such a crossover between serious electronic music
and its other is probably David Chesworth, formerly of the
Melbourne experimental pop group Essendon Airport.
From Gilles Deleuze and Flix Guattari we take the related idea of
the interweaving of musical and existential refrains (Deleuze and
Guattari 1987: 310ff., Stivale 2003, Murphie 1996, Tagg 1994). In
this context, a refrain is "any kind of rhythmic pattern any
repetition, musical or otherwise that stakes out a territory"
(Bogue 2003: 17). Refrains and the mixing of refrains not
only produce new musics but at the same moment produce new
cultural territories, holding them together (or dismantling old
ones). We shall return to these ideas at the end of this chapter.
Wherever it came from, the punk ethic was liberating. This was in
part because the rejection of overly slick production methods
which had the advantage of taking popular music out of the
hands of the record companies and "their" bands (who could
afford the studios). At the same time, the situation was more
complex than this suggests. Punk did play a significant role in
Australia via bands such as The Saints, The Boys Next Door,
Radio Birdman and many other groups that emerged in the late
1970s in reaction to the stilted nature of the rock establishment.
Yet the events of the late 1970s in Australia were much more
diverse than this particular punk reaction.
Other mutant musics and structural innovations were also
emerging. All these together lay the ground for what was to
come. So it is important to note that punk was accompanied by
several other emergent musics. One of these musics was found in
rap and hip hop (which in Australia found purchase early, if
somewhat invisibly, away from the inner cities, radio playlists and
recording contracts). Punk was also accompanied by the
beginnings of another, very different version of the do-it-yourself
music ethic electronica. Indeed, punk, hip hop and electronica
were mutually enabling at a structural level. They shared an ethic
of DIY self-production that could be turned towards musical
experimentation by those able to create their own electronic
devices and sounds in a manner not premised on traditional
musical abilities. They opened popular music more to the joy of
playing with "noise". They often worked against the mainstream
reception (and use) of popular music in favour of diverse minority
groups or simply the disaffected. Again, the significant role
that punk did play for these other musics was that it made a
break with major labels possible. This allowed the development of
'independent labels more able to release local and experimental
deviations from mainstream music. Bruce Milne's Au Go Go label
in Melbourne, Phantom Records, and Steven Stavrakis's
Waterfront Records in Sydney were among the most successful.
As we shall see, significant early electronic labels such as
Innocent Records in Melbourne and Volition in Sydney provided
the model for producing and selling electronica that has
proliferated into the present. That the late 1970s contained all
these tendencies is perhaps best seen in post-punk's immediate
embrace of excess even if in a somewhat ironic manner in
groups such as Essendon Airport, Makers Of The Dead Travel Fast,
Tch Tch Tch, and Scattered Order. Indeed, this was the moment
when electronic music (that is, music that began to foreground
synthetic sounds) made its first incursions into mainstream and
alternative rock in Australia via many bands, such as Not
Drowning Waving, the Reels, INXS and Brendan Perry's Marching
Girls (and later Dead Can Dance).
From the outset, Severed Heads made and sold their material
independently, and (like many in the early 1980s and indeed
many in the present), showed no interest in the trappings of
major record labels, fancy studios and expensive equipment.
Their brash and noisy musical offerings were, in Ellard's opinion,
made palatable for the music industry that distributed their work
"not because we were experimental, but because the record
company could get a dance single out of us" (Harley 1994: 62).
Although Ellard used pretty much the same gear that techno
outfits started to utilise in the 1990s (an old 808 drum machine,
an SH-1 sequencer, a Prophet-1 and an old Korg polysynth), the
music created by the Severed Heads was far from easily-
consumable electro-pop. Like the music of groups associated with
the M-Squared label (eg Scattered Order and Makers of the Dead
Travel Fast), the "progressive" qualities of the music were about
advancing the aesthetics, style and purpose of contemporary
music.
The identity of the band was from this point on strongly grounded
in a visual culture that was produced and managed by the group.
The work of Stephen Jones in live performances ensured that the
videographic image was more than ambient wallpaper. There was
an inherent relationship between the architecture of the sound
and the shape of the kinetic image. The pulse, tone, colour,
rhythm and design of the live video mixing created an electronic
performance style that would soon become almost ubiquitous in
the club scene (which was beginning to be spurned by the rise of
dance music and electronica in the more mainstream venues). In
collaboration with other important experimental
videomaker/musicians such as Gary Bradbury and Jason Gee,
Severed Heads videos gained notoriety for their often audacious
(and always playful) use of the music video format. Volition label-
mates such as Vision Four Five (founded by Tim Gruchy, who
earlier had worked on many RAT parties) were also part of this
same trajectory, as were a number of other key figures from this
period who continue to experiment with the cutting, mixing and
collision of audio and video in challenging works. Ian Andrews
cross-media performances and scratch-video work with
Subvertigo and later Clan Analogue represents another trajectory
in the use of electro image/sound. The image sound work of Philip
Brophy and Ian Haig also stand as important early examples of
experimental audio-visual works that employ electronically
produced sounds and images at live performances and for
distribution on disc or tape. Many of the strategies and
experiments in mixing live video with electronically produced
sounds have been adapted for broader cultural contexts such as
dance parties, raves and clubs that came to the fore in the 1980s.
Parties and raves from the late-1980s to 1995
There are still large dance events, yet as early as 1990, the
death of the dance party was being proclaimed. Prominent DJs
of the time such as Tim Ritchie declared in that year that they
really stopped being riveting a year ago (Murphie and Scheer
1992: 179) and governments at all levels began to re-regulate
venues in an attempt to reign in the dance events (174).
However, the parties continued to grow in Sydney and
Melbourne, especially with the rise of techno music (where
promoters included Richie Rich) until at least 1995. However,
with the sad death of party-goer Anna Wood in 1995 at Sydneys
Phoenician Club (Homan 2003: 137), the State government
stepped in, and the subsequent mess culminated in a police
baton charge at a dance event at Sydney Park in 1995. This
changed the scene in Sydney once and for all. However, as
Sebastian Chan comments (Mittmann and Flavell 2003), it also
freed things up a little. Some electronica groups split up and
moved on elsewhere (notably to Byron Bay where a new
electronica scene was to develop). It is also perhaps the case that
Sydney (and maybe Melbourne to a lesser extent) lost their
significance as the Australian centres of electronica
especially as the popularisation of the World Wide Web was
starting to allow for new forms of virtual community (which were
often very friendly to cultural forms such as electronica).
Techno was indeed the dominant music in the early 1990s, but
perhaps the most novel local style of music that clearly has
emerged from the progeny of these large events more recently
has been doof (see Luckman in this book, St John 2001). Doof's
uniqueness perhaps arises via a particular conjunction of musical,
cultural and environmental refrains and rhythms. Their setting is
often outdoors. They have an even more ritual nature than
usual, and they are often attached to several unique sub-cultures,
and, most significantly, to environmental politics. Other notable
high profile events such the experimental music stage, E.A.R.,
presented as part of the annual Big day Out Festival (organised
by Gary Bradbury) have also provided an ongoing venue for local
electronica artists.
Like now, theres virtually nothing on, but theres heaps and
heaps of people making tracks (Seb Chan, 2003 [in
Mittmann and Flavell 2003])
The last ten years may have been difficult for proponents of the
various kinds of electronicas that have emerged in Australia, but
this time has also seen the successful establishment of new
networks of production, distribution, and debate and
communication. Largely enabled by web-based technologies,
individual artists and small independent labels have begun to find
new audiences at both the local and international levels. Many of
these websites are run by small but dedicated groups, who have
an interest in making available a wide range of material produced
by significant (and not so well-known) figures in the local scene.
Though these small businesses do not make much money (for
either the distributors or the artists), they have solved some of
the problems of distribution that have often plagued the
independents.
Secondly, there is the idea of the "refrain, taken from the work
of French philosophers Deleuze and Guattari. A refrain is
something we repeat in order to build up our own (individual or
collective) existential territory. This is a territory, perhaps at odds
with the chaos that surrounds it, in which we can exist more
successfully and perhaps also find our own little freedoms. As an
idea, the refrain explains several things: why the links between
electronicas music and electronica's culture territories are so
tight; why a dynamic and responsive form of repetition (that is
one able to maintain states while incorporating variations) is so
important to electronica both musically and culturally, and why
electronicas music is so tightly tied to the movement of the body.
There are three moves to the refrain, which are in fact never
quite separate. First, there are the beginnings. The example they
give is when "a child, gripped with fear" makes themselves feel a
little better by singing a little song as they walk along. Here the
refrain involves a jump "from chaos to the beginnings of order in
chaos and is in danger of breaking apart at any moment"
(Deleuze and Guattari 1987: 310). We could see this as the
beginning of electronica or new moment in electronica, the
formation of new musics such as that of Severed Heads and
Essendon Airport, or unusual takes on electronica such as that of
B(if)tek, Clan Analogue, or Lawrence English. It also might
describe the fragility of new machines, especially those home-
grown and often hacked machines of music and visuals found in
much of the early electronica scenes, or new labels such as Room
40, Couchblip, Crispy Disc or Psy-Harmonics. Perhaps more
insistently, it describes those moments when one begins to dance
to electronic music, to take it on oneself in order to cut out ones
own little bit of existential territory. In the second move of the
refrain "we are at home" (a common sentiment describing the
feeling of being at a party or rave). But as Deleuze and Guattari
point out, "home does not preexist" the refrain, "it was necessary
to draw a circle around that uncertain and fragile center, to
organize a limited space" (1987: 310). Here the refrain is
powerful but closed, exactly perhaps as at a rave, or, historically,
as in the late 1980s to mid-1990s peak of a confident rave
culture, or perhaps as when a new label finds some ground, or
the composition of electronic musics with refrains takes hold. In
the third move of the refrain, "one opens the circle a crack, opens
it all the way, lets someone in, calls someone, or else goes out
oneself, launches forth". The rave scene may break down but as
it fragments it becomes so much else launched into the world. Or,
new labels take their local strengths into a global market. Or the
refrains of electronic music allow for new political movements
(see Gibson 1999, Luckman 2003, St John 2001, Poschardt 1998:
340ff.).