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by
Alexis Georgopoulos |
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Slightly
less philosophical, perhaps, were vanguard post-punk composer James
Chance’s thoughts on the subject of New Wave music. At the
dawn of the 80s, he rather dismissively observed, “New Wave records
all sound the same. With most of them, it becomes apparent [the groups]
don’t have any talent and should just quit.” Like
Godard, whose films were upfront in their exalted distaste of The
Contented Classes, Chance and his “No Wave” peers
offered their own refutation of laisser-faire America. More so,
perhaps, they
reacted to their surroundings, creating a frenetic, combustible
sound and vision that is inseparably linked to the streets of New
York. James
Siegfried, as he was known before his various incarnations as James
Chance & The Contortions, James White & The Blacks, and more
recently as James Chance & the Sardonic Symphonics, might
have been the most driven and volatile of the lot. Combining
his background
in
Free Jazz with a growing interest in repetitive Funk rhythms,
he created a thoroughly funky/unfunky blend of sound, spitting
fractured
Beefheartian
chaos over an ass-tight disco crease. He made an art of making
divergent musical phenomena shake hands. White and Black. Funk
and Noise. Performance
Art and Entertainment. Male and Female. In performance, he prowled the stage like a howling wolf about to lose
grip. He wore a monstrous sandy-blond pompadour and mastered the Jerry
Lee Lewis-like one-foot squiggle. Simultaneously, he freaked a white
noise funk, half-James Brown, half-Ornette Coleman. It was all about
overload and jolted expression. Disco
merging with jazz and the freedom after punk. Like fellow NY composer
Rhys Chatham, Chance also wasn’t averse to upping the ante,
occasionally taking to physically confronting what he saw as “blasé,
arty Soho types,” literally dragging people to their
feet and assaulting them in an attempt to get them to break
down the boundary between “Entertainer” and “The
Entertained.” Though
his influence on the theatrical, noisy and confrontational
histrionics of Black Dice, Liars and other neo-No Wavers
has been voiced somewhat obviously, lesser stated is the
fact that Chance’s
envelope-pushing wasn’t far from the conceptual rigor
of David Bowie’s Pop Performance Art. And that his
slippery persona-shifting can also be seen as a predecessor
to the
likes of the more accessible and mutable Beck. This
winter, Tiger Style will release a collection documenting Chance’s
foremost recordings and ultra-rare one-offs. He continues to play in
New York, and hopes to release his new group’s album
later this year, with a European tour to follow. A CONVERSATION WITH JAMES CHANCE
The Blow Up:
Wow. That’s crazy. The Blow Up:
So you’re a fan, I take it. The Blow Up: Right. So, I read your first musical lessons came from Nuns.
Is that right? The Blow Up: Had you been attracted to music when you were young? The Blow Up: What took you to the Alto? The Blow Up: Then you moved to New York? The Blow Up: So what made you move to New York? Was it to be a jazz player? The Blow Up: Before The Contortions, you took part in the Free Jazz Loft
scene. What was that like? The Blow Up: Did you meet John Lurie at that time? The Blow Up: Yeah, how did that happen? The Blow Up: Was your first experience outside of the free jazz scene with
TEENAGE JESUS AND THE JERKS? The Blow Up: What was your time like with Teenage Jesus? The Blow Up: So, did you decide to split apart from that? The Blow Up:
On the subject of “New Wave,” you told Kurt Loder
in 1980, “You can only listen to people who don’t know how
to play for so long. With most of them, it becomes apparent that they
don’t have any talent and should just quit.” But it seemed
like DNA and Lydia and your other, more artistic peers reveled in an
intentional naïve
musicianship. The Blow Up:
That’s interesting that you say “professional
musicians” because it’s obvious that you’re steeped
in jazz and you’ve been playing for a long time, while people like
Arto Lindsay or Ikue Mori, at first, probably didn’t like the idea
of being a “Professional
Musician.” The Blow Up:
How do you feel about the
terms
used to
describe your
music. I’m thinking of “no wave,” “punk funk,” “post-punk.” Do
you prefer one
to another? The Blow Up:
What do you think of
all
the renewed
interest
in late
70’s
New York? The Blow Up:
Early on, during The
Contortions
period, The New York
Times—-John
Rockwell if I recall correctly--attacked your stage persona, saying you “espoused
over hostility” and your “posturings were so extreme and
limiting that it’s
hard to imagine
The Contortions
will
be able to
evolve from
here.” The Blow Up: What inspired you to make confrontation part of the live experience? The Blow Up: Did the danger excite you or freak you out? The Blow Up: Did your provocations ever extend beyond the stage? On the
street? The Blow Up:
Well,
I’m
curious
about
your
views
on
violence.
Because
on
the
one
hand,
it
seems
like
being
angry
at
the
world,
in
a sense,
it
seems
that
part
of
that
anger
might
come
from
the
fact
that
the
world
is
full
of
violence.
And
so,
to
react
to
that
with
more
violence
is
kind
of
an
interesting
thing. The Blow Up:
When
you
changed
your
name
to
James
White & the
Blacks,
you
were
obviously
commenting
on
race. The Blow Up: What were your views on Disco? The
Blow Up: In many ways, your music is about juxtaposition and
contradiction. Was your approach influenced in any way by visual
artists? The Blow Up:
What film
or novels
had an
affect on
you? The Blow Up:
Regarding The
Revue approach
you developed
with James
White & The
Blacks, what
was your
attraction to
it? A
lot of
people have
claimed you
must have
a big
James Brown
influence. So
when you
did the
Tuxedo and
Pompadour thing,
was it
to emulate
James Brown
or was
it an
attraction to
the revue? The Blow Up:
Do you listen to music coming
out today? The Blow Up:
What if a band asked you
to play sax on their album? The Blow Up:
There’s a tendency to sort of group the scene in late
70’s
New York
as a
cohesive scene.
Do you
see any
of those
people around? FIN
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