Friday, 13 January 2023

The Stanford Prison Experiment - The Psychology of Evil

 

In 1971, psychologist Philip Zimbardo tried to prove the existence of crowd theory, also called deindividuation, which is a version of group madness. He turned a Stanford basement into a mock prison and recruited participants for an experiment. Nine would be guards, nine would be prisoners, and six would be on call. He acted as the superintendent.  Zimbardo terminated the experiment after less than a week because the guards became too sadistic and treated the prisoners like animals. One guard, Dave Eshelman, screamed at the prisoners to “fuck the floor” and humiliated them by making them pretend to be in love with Mrs. Frankenstein. Zimbardo appeared to have proven that when people are put into an evil place (the basement included small cells, solitary confinement, and the prisoners wore chains) and surrounded by evil influences (himself and the other guards), they act in evil ways. 

Led by psychology professor Phillip Zimbardo in 1971. In one of the most controversial psychology experiments ever, college students were assigned the role of prisoner and prison guards. The Stanford Prison Experiment, led by psychology professor Phillip Zimbardo in 1971. In one of the most controversial psychology experiments ever, college students were assigned the role of prisoner and prison guards. Zimbardo and his group wanted to see whether the brutality among prison guards in American prisons was due to dispositional personalities of guards or whether it had to do with the prison environment. Zimbardo and his group chose 24 of 75 applicants who were judged the most physically and mentally stable and the least involved in antisocial behaviors. They were all paid $15 to take part in the experiment, but had no idea what the experiment was about. Prisoners were treated like criminals, being arrested from their homes and taken to a police station, and then blindfolded to go to the basement of the psychology department at Stanford, where Zimbardo set with barred doors and windows, bare walls and small cells — a prison environment to make prisoners feel deindividuated. Prisoners were not called by their names — only ID numbers to make them feel anonymous. Guards were dressed in uniforms of khakis, carrying whistles and billy club, and wore sunglasses to avoid eye contact with prisoners. Guards worked eight hour shifts and were instructed to do whatever they could to maintain law and order in the prison, but were not allowed.

They began with nine guards and nine prisoners in our jail. Three guards worked each of three eight-hour shifts, while three prisoners occupied each of the three barren cells around the clock. The remaining guards and prisoners from our sample of 24 were on call in case they were needed. The cells were so small that there was room for only three cots on which the prisoners slept or sat, with room for little else. Zimbardo and his group wanted to see whether the brutality among prison guards in American prisons was due to dispositional personalities of guards or whether it had to do with the prison environment.

In fact, this wasn’t the case. Dave Eshelman nicknamed 'John Wayne' after his swaggering, macho attitude, was the only guard who appeared to suffer from madness, group madness or otherwise. When speaking to Ronson, Eshelman admitted that he’d been faking his loss of control because the experiment was going nowhere in the early days and Eshelman was concerned that Zimbardo wasn’t going to get good results. He acted evil—channeling the sadistic prison warden in Cool Hand Luke—to get the experiment started.  The fact that Eshelman was acting doesn’t invalidate what happened—Eshelman chose to act in the way that he did for some psychological reason, and the prisoners still experienced brutality regardless of its sincerity. However, the fact that Eshelman was motivated by wanting to help Zimbardo is the opposite of group madness—Eshelman wasn’t corrupted by an environment; he was trying to do “something good.” 

The prisoners even nicknamed the most macho and brutal guard in our study "John Wayne." Later, we learned that the most notorious guard in a Nazi prison near Buchenwald was named "Tom Mix" – the John Wayne of an earlier generation – because of his "Wild West" cowboy macho image in abusing camp inmates. Where had our "John Wayne" learned to become such a guard? How could he and others move so readily into that role? How could intelligent, mentally healthy, "ordinary" men become perpetrators of evil so quickly? These were questions we were forced to ask.

Because the first day passed without incident, everyone was surprised and totally unprepared for the rebellion which broke out on the morning of the second day. The prisoners removed their stocking caps, ripped off their numbers, and barricaded themselves inside the cells by putting their beds against the door. And now the problem was, what were the guards going to do about this rebellion? The guards were very much angered and frustrated because the prisoners also began to taunt and curse them. When the morning shift of guards came on, they became upset at the night shift who, they felt, must have been too lenient. The guards had to handle the rebellion themselves, and what they did was fascinating for the staff to behold.

Guards sprayed fire exstinguishers into the cells when they resisted. The three back up guards were even called in to regain control cose it was going so wrong. Sleep interuption, the prisoners were striped naked, they were not allowed to shower, paper bags were put over their heads, they had to do exercises even at 2am, ritualistic humiliation was now all on the cards. All these mind games quickly escalated. The prisoners were later forced to choose between keeping their blanketsor letting a fellowe prisoner out The Hole from solitary confinement. Dave Eshelman aka 'John Wayne' was the one who also made them do push up when they couldnt remember their new given numbers. He was extremely inventive with his cruelty. Arbitrarily subjecting them to embarrassing sexual innuendo, solitary confinement for little mistakes.

An ex-convict consultants later informed the staff that a similar tactic is used by real guards in real prisons to break prisoner alliances. For example, racism is used to pit Blacks, Chicanos, and Anglos against each other. In fact, in a real prison the greatest threat to any prisoner's life comes from fellow prisoners. By dividing and conquering in this way, guards promote aggression among inmates, thereby deflecting it from themselves. The prisoners' rebellion also played an important role in producing greater solidarity among the guards. Now, suddenly, it was no longer just an experiment, no longer a simple simulation. Instead, the guards saw the prisoners as troublemakers who were out to get them, who might really cause them some harm. In response to this threat, the guards began stepping up their control, surveillance, and aggression. The guards were especially tough on the ringleader of the rebellion, Prisoner #5401. He was a heavy smoker, and they controlled him by regulating his opportunity to smoke. We later learned, while censoring the prisoners' mail, that he was a self-styled radical activist. He had volunteered in order to "expose" our study, which he mistakenly thought was an establishment tool to find ways to control student radicals. In fact, he had planned to sell the story to an underground newspaper when the experiment was over! However, even he fell so completely into the role of prisoner that he was proud to be elected leader of the Stanford County Jail Grievance Committee, as revealed in a letter to his girlfriend.


Prisoner #8612 wad the first to crack. Less than 36 hours into the experiment, he began suffering from acute emotional disturbance, disorganized thinking, uncontrollable crying, and rage. In spite of all of this, we had already come to think so much like prison authorities that we thought he was trying to "con" us – to fool us into releasing him. When our primary prison consultant interviewed Prisoner #8612, the consultant chided him for being so weak, and told him what kind of abuse he could expect from the guards and the prisoners if he were in San Quentin Prison. He had a full blown breakdown, even trying to act crazy but in the end he completely lost it. Dr Zimbardo even tried to make #8612 a snitch to calm him down.  During the next count, Prisoner #8612 told other prisoners, "You can't leave. You can't quit." That sent a chilling message and heightened their sense of really being imprisoned. #8612 then began to act "crazy," to scream, to curse, to go into a rage that seemed out of control. in the end he was asked to leave. 

At first the prisoners showed solidarity by refusing to eat the special privilidge foods, or by refusing to leave The Hole if the matresses weren't returned to the other prisoners. In retaliation the guards made them do slow push up's, sit up's and jumping Jack's. Going to the toilet was soon denied after their 10pm curfew so each cell was given a bucket which wasnt allowed to be emptied so by morning the cells started to smell. On visiting day (day 3) families were allowed to see their sons. Worried that when the parents saw the state of our jail, they might insist on taking their sons home. To counter this, staff manipulated both the situation and the visitors by making the prison environment seem pleasant and benign. They washed, shaved, and groomed the prisoners, had them clean and polish their cells, fed them a big dinner, played music on the intercom, and even had an attractive former Stanford cheerleader, Susie Phillips, greet the visitors at the registration desk. Before any parents could enter the visiting area, they also had to discuss their son's case with the Warden. Of course, parents complained about these arbitrary rules, but remarkably, they complied with them. And so they, too, became bit players in the prison drama, being good middle-class adults. When one mother said she had never seen her son looking so bad, they responded by shifting the blame from the situation to her son. "What's the matter with your boy? Doesn't he sleep well?" Then they asked the father, "Don't you think your boy can handle this?" He bristled, "Of course he can – he's a real tough kid, a leader." Turning to the mother, he said, "Come on Honey, we've wasted enough time already." And to the staff, "See you again at the next visiting time.


A rumour circulated that #6812 would come back to rescue the remaining prisoners so the guards had to move the prison from the basement into an upstairs department floor. When prisoner #819 was about to be sent home the guards made the other prisoners shout ''#819 is a bad prisoner.'' The guards also sprayed fire exstinguishers into the cells when the prisoners barricaded themselves inside the cells with their matresses. The guards then used psychologicals tactics such as offering special privilidge meals to three of the prisoners, they ate while the other prisoners watched, were allowed to wash and brush their teeth, and to wear their uniforms in the ''good cell''. After 12 hours they were sent back into the regular cell that lacked beds.

At this point in the study, a Catholic priest who had been a prison chaplain to evaluate how realistic the prison situation was, and the result was truly Kafkaesque. The chaplain interviewed each prisoner individually, and in amazement half the prisoners introduced themselves by number rather than name. After some small talk, he popped the key question: "Son, what are you doing to get out of here?" When the prisoners responded with puzzlement, he explained that the only way to get out of prison was with the help of a lawyer. He then volunteered to contact their parents to get legal aid if they wanted him to, and some of the prisoners accepted his offer.

The priest's visit further blurred the line between role-playing and reality. In daily life this man was a real priest, but he had learned to play a stereotyped, programmed role so well – talking in a certain way, folding his hands in a prescribed manner – that he seemed more like a movie version of a priest than a real priest, thereby adding to the uncertainty they were all feeling about where our roles ended and our personal identities began.


The only prisoner who did not want to speak to the priest was Prisoner #819, who was feeling sick, had refused to eat, and wanted to see a doctor rather than a priest. Eventually he was persuaded to come out of his cell and talk to the priest and superintendent so we could see what kind of a doctor he needed. While talking to them, he broke down and began to cry hysterically, just as had the other two boys we released earlier. They took the chain off his foot, the cap off his head, and told him to go and rest in a room that was adjacent to the prison yard. He was given some food and then taken to see a doctor.

The next day, all prisoners who thought they had grounds for being paroled were chained together and individually brought before the Parole Board. The Board was composed mainly of people who were strangers to the prisoners (departmental secretaries and graduate students) and was headed by the top prison consultant. Several remarkable things occurred during these parole hearings. First, when they asked prisoners whether they would forfeit the money they had earned up to that time if they were to parole them, most said yes. Then, when they ended the hearings by telling prisoners to go back to their cells while they considered their requests, every prisoner obeyed, even though they could have obtained the same result by simply quitting the experiment. Why did they obey? Because they felt powerless to resist. Their sense of reality had shifted, and they no longer perceived their imprisonment as an experiment. In the psychological prison they had created, only the correctional staff had the power to grant paroles. During the parole hearings they also witnessed an unexpected metamorphosis of our prison consultant as he adopted the role of head of the Parole Board. He literally became the most hated authoritarian official imaginable, so much so that when it was over he felt sick at who he had become – his own tormentor who had previously rejected his annual parole requests for 16 years when he was a prisoner.


By day #4 the guards were angry about wasting their time dissasembling the prison and even missed their lunch. Now prisoners were made to do longer push up's and made to clean toilets with their bare hands and polish the guards shoes.

When the new prisoner #416 went on a hunger strike the guards made the prisoners do push up's while #416 sang Amazing Grace. Prisoners coped with their feelings of frustration and powerlessness in a variety of ways. At first, some prisoners rebelled or fought with the guards. Four prisoners reacted by breaking down emotionally as a way to escape the situation. One prisoner developed a psychosomatic rash over his entire body when he learned that his parole request had been turned down. Others tried to cope by being good prisoners, doing everything the guards wanted them to do. Prisoner #2093 was nicknamed 'Sarge' for being a model prisoner. There were 3 types of guards: the nice one who felt sorry for the prisoners and did little favours, the tough but fair guard, and the sadistic guard John Wayne who constantly degraded and humiliated the prisoners. He even put the prisoners blankets in nettles so it would take them hours to remove them if they wanted to sleep.

By day 5 the guards had total control and even dictated a letter to the prisoners to write to their families: 

''Dear mom & dad, Im having a marvelous time, food is great and there is always a lot of fun & games. The officers have treated me well, they are all swell guys, you would like them. No need to visit because its 7th heaven. - Yours always #7258''

John Wayne would also force the prisoners to repeat things: 

''In the future you do the work when you're told 

Thank you Mr Correctional Officer 

Say it again! 

Thank you Mr Correctional Officer 

Say bless you Mr Correctional Officer 

Bless you Mr Correctional Officer''

Even Sarge was abused:

''Why do you try and be obedient so much? 

I dont know its my nature to be obedient correctional officer. 

You're a liar, you're a stinking liar. 

If you say so Mr correctional officer. 

What if I told u to get down on the floor, and fuck the floor? What would you do then. 

I would say I didnt know how Mr Correctional officer.''

Prisoner #416 kept up his hunger strike and was thrown in the hole holding the sausages that he refused to eat. John Wayne even hit him in the face with a sausage. The guards threaten to cancel visiting hours if #416 didnt eat his sausages. #416 refused again. The guards then had the prisoners express their anger at #416 while he was sitting in the hole behind the door in total darkness ''thank you #416''. He was kept in solitary confinement for 3hr even though 1hr was the limit.


John Wayne then made #416 put his hands in the air then role play being Frankenstein to walk over to another prisoner pretending to be the Bride of Frankenstein and say ''i love you #2093''. He then yelled at #416 to ' walk like Frankenstein', I didnt tell you to walk like you!" and to hug and kiss. "Get up close''. When #2093 refused to kiss he was made to do push up's.

#416 once again refused to eat his sausages. By now he was dirty from being on the floor so much. John Wayne decided to give the prisoners a choice:

''Now theres a couple of ways we can do this depending on what you wanna do. If #416 does not wanna eat his sausages then you can give me the blanket and sleep on your mattress or you can keep you blanket and #416 will stay in another day, now what will it be?.'' ''Im gonna keep my blanket''. ''You boys need to come to some sort of a decision.'' ''We got 3 against 1. Ok keep your blankets, #416 your gonna be in there for a while so just get used to it.''

The prisoners displayed 3 types of behaviour. At first they rebelled and faught the guards, then by day 4 they became passive, and 4 prisoners broke down and cried, while others became model prisoners.

"After the first day I noticed nothing was happening. It was a bit of a bore, so I made the decision I would take on the persona of a very cruel prison guard," said Dave Eshleman, one of the wardens who took a lead role. 


At the same time the prisoners, referred to only by their numbers and treated harshly, rebelled and blockaded themselves inside their cells. The guards saw this as a challenge to their authority, broke up the demonstration and began to impose their will. "Suddenly, the whole dynamic changed as they believed they were dealing with dangerous prisoners, and at that point it was no longer an experiment," said Prof Zimbardo. It began by stripping them naked, putting bags over their heads, making them do press-ups or other exercises and humiliating them. "The most effective thing they did was simply interrupt sleep, which is a known torture technique," said Clay Ramsey, one of the prisoners. "What was demanded of me physically was way too much and I also felt that there was really nobody rational at the wheel of this thing so I started refusing food."

"It was rapidly spiralling out of control," said prison guard Mr Eshleman who hid behind his mirrored sunglasses and a southern US accent. "I kept looking for the limits - at what point would they stop me and say 'No, this is only an experiment and I have had enough', but I don't think I ever reached that point."

The abusive prison guard, Mr Eshleman, also felt he gained something from the experiment. "I learned that in a particular situation I'm probably capable of doing things I will look back on with some shame later on," he said. "When I saw the pictures coming from Abu Ghraib in Iraq, it immediately struck me as being very familiar to me and I knew immediately they were probably just very ordinary people and not the bad apples the defence department tried to paint them as. "I did some horrible things, so if I ever had the chance to repeat the experiment I wouldn't do it." 


On the fifth night, some visiting parents asked to contact a lawyer in order to get their son out of prison. They said a Catholic priest had called to tell them they should get a lawyer or public defender if they wanted to bail their son out! A lawyer was called as requested, and he came the next day to interview the prisoners with a standard set of legal questions, even though he, too, knew it was just an experiment. At this point it became clear that they had to end the study. They had created an overwhelmingly powerful situation – a situation in which prisoners were withdrawing and behaving in pathological ways, and in which some of the guards were behaving sadistically. Even the "good" guards felt helpless to intervene, and none of the guards quit while the study was in progress. Indeed, it should be noted that no guard ever came late for his shift, called in sick, left early, or demanded extra pay for overtime work.

On the last day, a series of encounter sessions were held, first with all the guards, then with all the prisoners (including those who had been released earlier), and finally with the guards, prisoners, and staff together. They did this in order to get everyone's feelings out in the open, to recount what they had observed in each other and ourselves, and to share our experiences, which to each of us had been quite profound. They also tried to make this a time for moral reeducation by discussing the conflicts posed by this simulation and our behavior. For example, they reviewed the moral alternatives that had been available to us, so that they would be better equipped to behave morally in future real-life situations, avoiding or opposing situations that might transform ordinary individuals into willing perpetrators or victims of evil.























Thursday, 3 November 2022

The Society of the Spectacle

 

Spectacle is capital accumulated to such a degree that it becomes an image, and in societies where modern production prevail all of life presents itself as an immense accumulation spectacle.

Spectacle can take on many forms before it reaches its absolute realization. Image as a blissful social unification through consumption. Disillusionment with life is the life-source for the spectacle carrying on. Whether its is a lifestyle, military, capitalistic, or image spectacle. 

Its a mix of a treadmill dynamic and the economic foundation of capitalism created the ideology of the spectacle. Through philosophical speculation and a Marxist politics approach the spectacle has now become a boring dystopia. Philosophically it shows that we lead a boring in-authentic life, just passive phony spectators. From a philosophical stand point it is our alienation, merely observers in a world of objects, to the point that we have become objects. An army of consumers who have become what they have consumed,  similar to the movie Terminal Man.

The French radical theorist Guy Debord wrote about boredom in the 20th century during a pseudo-cyclical time and how time is a marketable commodity, pointing at tourism, theme parks and subscriptions to what he called cultural consumption as examples. How life is kept at a distance as if behind glass, without intimacy and awareness. People congregating with strangers in order to experience the world as a series of mere images. Condemned to a pseudo & hyper reality. The feeling of endless repetition is contradicted by the linear time that defines capitalism production. These constant innovations are not echoed in consumption, which presents nothing but an expanded repetition of the past. Because dead labour continues to dominate living labour in spectacular time, the past continues to dominate the present. Stuck in an eternal present, stuck in an unchanging world. For Debord the material aspects of capitalism is a material realm, but the real of exploitation and production is real and really does move. Innovation occurs in the factory and in studios, in a way that it never occurs in our personal lives. 

Situationist Techniques  

*Dérives -  ''It is an unplanned journey through a landscape, usually urban, in which participants drop their everyday relations and "let themselves be drawn by the attractions of the terrain and the encounters they find there"  

*Détournement - The cut up, collage, montage, juxtaposition, the refusal of original creation, everything has already been created just put it into new creations 

*Unitari-Urbanism - integrated city creations, games played on urban sites *psycho-geography - play as free and creative activity

Lettrism or ‘letters’ in French was an art movement founded in the 1940’s by Isidore Isou in Paris, influenced by the theories of Dada and Surrealism, Isidore Isou’s aim was to rewrite all of human knowledge. In order to accomplish this rewriting of all human knowledge he believed that transforming the letter and creating a new language to abolish all others would complete this. His idea of a language consisted of letters and symbols, creating a visual art. He aimed his work at all fields of knowledge including theatre, art, cinema, economics and law. His paintings including his self-portrait were covered in a layer of symbols and letters. 

The movement soon expanded by attracting numerous creative people, such as Gabriel Pomerand, Maurice Lemaître and Gil J Wolman.  Isou is argued to have had a connection with ideals of Futurism within his ideas. One of his main areas to deconstruct was poetry. He saw that many aspects of society including poetry, music and painting had been created with a blue print. In the case of poetry, he saw that Homer had created the blue print of poetry and that poets had simply built upon this blue print instead of creating original work. Isou wanted to be the man who radically changed the blue prints of society and become the original. He believed that deconstructing this idea through re-writing poems using symbols and letters would destroy the idea of the poem and therefore create a new Lettrism poem. 

He further tried to deconstruct film and cinema by making his own film ‘Le Traité de bave et d’éternté / Treatise on Venom and Eternity (1951) where Isou destroys the concept of the classical image by using scraps of film found in trash bins, scratching graffiti on these images to make them unrecognizable. He goes even further in radically disassociating the sound and the image, viewed as two totally independent channels.  The Lettrist ideals carried on into the 1990’s until Isou died in 2000. His friend Lemaitre continues to pursue the theories of Lettrism, however these techniques are on a much smaller scale than they were in the 1940’s and 1950’s. 

Hurlements en faveur de Sade (English: Howlings for Sade) is a 1952 French avant-garde film directed by Guy Debord. Devoid of any images, the film was an early work of Lettrist cinema. The image track of Hurlements en faveur de Sade contains no actual images, only solid white or solid black frames. It follows the sound track such that when there is speech the screen is white, and when there is silence the screen is black. The sound track uses text détourned from Isidore Isou's book Esthétique du cinéma, John Ford's film Rio Grande, work by James Joyce, and the French Civil Code. The time between speeches becomes increasingly long throughout the film, and it ends with a 24-minute sequence of silence and darkness. 

Debord wrote the original script for Hurlements en faveur de Sade during the winter of 1951–1952. His notes outlined a combination of original scenes and found footage. Debord planned to use newsreel footage, images of himself and other Lettrists, painted film stock, and sequences of solid black. For the film's soundtrack, his notes included Lettrist poetry, text by Guillaume Apollinaire, and music by Antonio Vivaldi. In April 1952 Debord published his original scenario in Ion magazine along with a preface titled "Prolégomènes à tout cinéma futur" (English: "Prolegomena to Any Future Cinema"). Debord abandoned most of his original plan for the film and instead used no images at all. He used speeches delivered by himself, Gil J. Wolman, Isidore Isou, Serge Berna [fr], and Barbara Rosenthal. Hurlements en faveur de Sade premiered 30 June 1952 at the Ciné-Club Avant-Garde 52 in the Musée de l'Homme. The audience became unruly, and the screening was stopped after twenty minutes. The film had its UK premiere in 1957 at the Institute of Contemporary Arts in London.

Orson Welles once remarked that “everything that’s been called directing is one big bluff. Editing is the only time when you can be in complete control of a film.” 

Critique of Separation (1961), as should be most obvious, takes this mark as its point of critical departure, and, in more ways that one, Society of the Spectacle picks up where the former had left off, further dissecting “the official language of universal separation”, voiced here (and consequently détourned) by appearances of French government ministers and union bureaucrats integral to the restoration of spectacular order following May ’68. Here, the political leaders of spectacular society attain an unprecedented star status, and their citizenry consequently becomes reduced to passive spectatorship; images of rulers institute a one-way, top-down communicative model wherein the constituent has no autonomous voice, no means of talking back.

The spectacle, Debord argues, thrives on the repetition of commodity form, reinvesting the structure with seemingly new products and images. By compiling image after image of the commodification of life by consumer capitalism (female bodies, political figures, product advertisements, popular films, and so on), his films expose this oppressive repetition and artificial sense of the new, and, as if to help along one of the most problematic concepts in Marx’s work, Society of the Spectacle (1973) ponders the commodity’s “metaphysical subtleties” while sequentially imaging automobile showrooms and naked cover girls.

In 1951, Isou released his first movie, the experimental film Traité de bave et d'éternité (Treatise on Venom And Eternity), whose premiere took place at the Cannes Film Festival. Although the film was not officially entered in the festival, it was widely publicized in the press and its screening constituted one of the festival's fringe events. While threatening to form his own jury to judge the film, Isou went door to door, harassing the administrators of the festival until they agreed to grant him a small, peripheral exhibition. The film consisted of "four and a half hours of 'discordant' images, enhanced with scratches, shaky footage running upside down or in reverse, blank frames, stock shots and a soundtrack consisting of monologues and onomatopoeic poetry". In addition, the celluloid on which the film was recorded was attacked with destructive techniques such as scratches and bleaching.

In one of the film's voiceovers, Isou states his opinion on the medium:  "I believe firstly that the cinema is too rich. It is obese. It has reached its limits, its maximum. With the first movement of widening which it will outline, the cinema will burst! Under the blow of a congestion, this greased pig will tear into a thousand pieces. I announce the destruction of the cinema, the first apocalyptic sign of disjunction, of rupture, of this corpulent and bloated organization which calls itself film."

Following its screening, the work was deemed revolting by many critics present at the premiere. The film was booed and hissed from the start, but after the first section was completed and the screen went completely blank with the audio still going, the audience was furious and the screening had to be stopped. It was, nonetheless, celebrated by Cannes jury member Jean Cocteau, who called it “the most beautiful scandal of the entire festival”and handed Isou a hastily concocted “Prix de spectateurs d’avant-garde”. Including a reflexive discourse on the making of a new cinema, Isou's film became a virtual Lettriste manifesto. Following the scandal after the film's showing at the 1951 Cannes Film Festival, it was later imported into the United States, where it influenced avant-garde film makers such as Stan Brakhage, who corresponded with Isou directly afterward and let it change his approach to the medium and to narrative entirely.  In the early 1950s, one segment of Orson Welles' film journal, which was entitled Le Letrrisme est la Poesie en Vogue, included an interview with Isou and Maurice Lemaître.




Elvis & Colonel Tom Parker: Conman or Genius

 

According to last year's "The Inner Elvis," written by psychologist Peter Whitmer, Presley's problems with Parker were rooted in his desperate mama's-boy relationship with Gladys Presley. According to Whitmer, Parker was "a perfect psychological amalgam of an idealized mother. . . . After Gladys' death in 1958, Tom Parker became Gladys Presley," with whom he shared such physical attributes as a rotund body and a round face with double chin. Whitmer also writes that Gladys and the Colonel were both "masters of passive-aggressive manipulation {who} used subtle set-pieces of controlling behaviour with which they could coax and entice, rather than shout or push, to make their point. . . . Forever supplicant before those he perceived as authoritarian, in this regard Elvis was like a weather vane in a strong wind." My Boy Elvis: The Colonel Tom Parker Story is another great book on Parker, which you also learn about his favourite movie 'Nightmare Alley' (1947) about a scheming carnival barker.

And Tom Parker was a hurricane, one who first touched down on American shores in Hoboken, N.J., in 1927, after having stowed away on a ship. Soon after, Andres Cornelius van Kuijk became Thomas Parker and joined the Army ("Colonel" was an honorary title bestowed many years later by Louisiana Gov. Jimmie Davis, writer and first singer of "You Are My Sunshine").  After the Army, Parker gravitated to Florida, America's circus capital, and began honing the skills that would serve him so well with Presley. For a while he was an advance man for a traveling circus, slipping into a town to slap up posters, goad the local media and generally stir things up. It was a process he never abandoned, and sometimes you could find traces of that, as when Parker hired a troupe of midgets to parade around Los Angeles, provoking boat loads of copy about the Elvis Presley Midget Fan Club. Even at the height of Presley's fame, Parker himself would sometimes hawk programs, photos and buttons to fans waiting to get into a venue.  That aggressive attitude was a metaphor for the Colonel's stance after Aug. 15, 1955, when Presley signed a usurious contract naming Parker his "sole and exclusive adviser, personal representative and manager." The standard manager's fee then (as now) was 10 to 15 percent, but Parker started at 25 percent. In 1966, he jacked it up to an unheard-of 50 percent.

When Col. Tom Parker passed away Tuesday at the age of 87, it marked the death of a super-salesman whose one and only product -- Elvis Presley -- became the catalyst for a worldwide cultural revolution. Parker, a onetime carnival barker, never had a clue about Presley's sociological impact, didn't particularly care for rock-and-roll, and certainly didn't care for the fans. They were just marks. He couldn't have cared much for Presley, either. When the singer died in August 1977, the first thing Parker told an associate was: "This won't change anything." And even as Presley was undergoing an autopsy in Memphis, Parker was putting the finishing touches on a souvenir merchandise deal, the final chapter in his client's transformation from cultural oddity to commercial commodity. Parker and Presley represent the convergence of two characters from carnival culture: the poor country boy who grabs the brass ring and the mysterious stranger who fleeces the innocent. The Colonel was often described as a cross between P.T. Barnum and W.C. Fields; in the King's court, he was combination court jester, Svengali and Robin Hood. For Parker, success was never measured by creative achievement, only by financial payoff, understandable since the bigger the pot, the bigger his portion. When million-dollar offers would come in for a concert or some other project, Parker would smile and say, "That's plenty for me, but what about my boy?" And he wasn't joking. 

Everything had its price, including Parker, who offered himself for interviews at $25,000 for small talk, $100,000 for long conversation. Neither situation promised anything resembling truth, of course. Admittedly, the Colonel was a character -- fat, oblivious to fashion, possessed of a strange, unexplained accent. But he was a cipher, as well. It wasn't until Albert Goldman's 1981 Presley biography that the world learned Col. Tom Parker was really Andres van Kuijk of the Netherlands. By that time, he'd been an illegal alien here for half a century, as well as an inadvertent cultural revolutionary by proxy. And just as Presley's greatest fear was that everything would suddenly disappear, fear of discovery and deportation kept Parker from ever fully enjoying the fruits of his client's labors. Parker was the world's highest-paid manager. And since he demanded additional payments as adviser, consultant, technical director and so on, he actually made more in commissions and consultancies on some films than Presley did.

About the same time as the RCA deal, Parker formed Boxcar Enterprises to handle Elvis merchandising, with Presley getting only 15 percent.  Eventually, of course, the dancing chickens came home to roost. During an estate hearing in 1980, an alert Memphis judge questioned Parker's 50-percent commission as well as other elements of his contract and appointed a lawyer to represent and defend the interests of Lisa Marie Presley, then 13. The court subsequently declared Parker "guilty of self-dealing and overreaching" and said he had "handled affairs not in Elvis's but his own interest." Calling Elvis "naive, shy and unassertive" and Parker "aggressive, shrewd and tough," it closed the book on any further dealings between him and the estate.  After being exposed in Goldman's Presley book and sued by the Presley estate, the Colonel proved wily as ever. He filed legal papers suggesting that since he'd served in the U.S. Army without permission from the Dutch government, he had automatically forfeited his citizenship there. Since he had never applied for U.S. citizenship, he was essentially a man without a country and no one had jurisdiction over him. Such tactics delayed resolution so long that the Presley estate finally settled with Parker, and he received a $2 million settlement from RCA Records. That was the last money he made from Elvis. 


The Colonel had a bag of tricks that went all the way back to his carny days such as:

  • Selling Elvis to Hollywood ''I dont want to read the script cose I cant read and write but how much are you going to pay me? We'll give you $25k. -That is exactly what I wanted, but how much are you going to pay Elvis?
  • Never letting Elvis play to venues that aren't overflowing with people out onto the street.
  • Telling promoters that they can have Elvis for $12k when other promoters are paying $10k for him.
  • In the circus the Colonel had a dancing chicken act. The chicken danced because it was standing on a hot plate.
  • Only released a limited number of records per year not to saturate the market.
  • Invented an exclusive club called the Snowmens League Of America to keep people loyal. It was free to join but $1k to leave. The club celebrated the art of the con trick. ''We've never lost a member yet.''
  •  He would get his watch out and hypnotise members of the Memphis Mafia and make them pretend to be a dog.
  • He would solicit donations for dogs, and also charge people to bury their dogs, charge grieving people if they wanted flowers, and also providing mini tombstones.
  • To check if Elvis wasnt too fat for his next movie he would have girls hug his waist to see if he'd put in extra weight.
  • Made Elvis pretend to be single so women would think he was available.
  • Used TV commercials with the only word being ELVIS!
  • Threatened the Presley family after Elvis died, that he was gonna build an Elvis museum, complete with a massive parking lot. The Presley family settled in buying the whole of the Colonels memorabilia museum for $1million. The biggest snow job he did.
  • Sold advertising space in his unpublished/unwritten autobiography book 'How Much Does It Cost If It's Free.' 
  • While working at a hotdog booth in Florida, to make extra money he would cut out the middle bit on the foot long hot dog, fill the middle with sauerkraut and just have the meat sticking out at both ends. If someone complained he would say that they must have dropped it. 
  • He made ends meet by painting sparrows yellow and selling them as canaries.
  • If Elvis wore his own clothes in a movie he was entitled to an extra $10k, even if he was only wearing a watch.
  • In 1973 he organized a live world satellite telecast. He got the idea after watching Nixon's live broadcast from China.
  • Sold 'I Hate Elvis' badges.
  • He considered his artists his main passion, ''you're my hobby''.
  • He invented the patent medicine Hadacol drink which included alcohol.
  • Sensing a marketing opportunity that no music manager had every considered before, Colonel Parker signed a deal with a Beverly Hills  movie merchandiser for $40,000. 
  • In just a few months, over 50 different Elvis-themed products were produced, from charm bracelets and necklaces, to scarves, teddy bear perfume, Topps bubble gum cards, and sneakers... to record players, hats, and lipsticks in "Heartbreak Pink" and "Hound Dog Orange" - sold with the slogan, "Keep Me Always On Your Lips."
  •  When asked about the deal between him and Elvis, the Colonel responded: “That’s not true at all. He takes 50 per cent of everything I earn.”
  • He'd say ''this is probably gonna be Elvis' last film so we should double the price.''
  • Even after his death, Parker continued business as usual: 'Elvis didn't die,' he said, 'The body did.' 
  • The Snowmen's League Of America booklet only had two written pages then all the other pages were blank. ''A real Snowman reads between the lines.''
  • He liked to rub peoples curly hair and say ''now you can tell people the Colonel rubbed your head, you're gonna be a star!''
  • Gradually, Parker eased out competition to become the gyrating teen's 'sole and exclusive adviser, personal representative and manager.' So read their ironclad contract. 
  • He used to say, 'You don't have to be nice to people on the way up if you're not coming back down.'
  • He sold 500 spare penmamt sticks as ''Elvis special Pearl Harbour Day special: Teddy Bear Toothpicks'' to the Vegas hotel's Japanese tourists.  
  • One of his fav saying was ''I'll be very happy if you buy something.''
  • To build credit with Las Vegas casino managers he would send someone to borrow $500, he'd than put it in an evelope in his desk, not touch it, and at the end of the Las Vegas residency give it back.
  • He would send his assistant Kenny Wynn on a 4 hour flight from Vegas to Palm Springs to pick up some catfish in his fridge and then fly back to Vegas.
  • He had a very unusual mind. Most people have one voice of inner dialogue. It's our inner thought. We think all the time, words are formulated in our minds. That's our thinking process. Colonel had multi levels of inner dialogue.
  • Parker had total recall. Colonel never made notes. He carried everything in his mind. And when someone would ask him a question about something that occurred maybe six months ago, or 20 years ago, his replay invariably was, 'Let me run my tapes'. And he would sit for a minute, and then he would bring the answer out.
  • He bought 900 pairs of binoculars from Army surplus for 90 cents a pair and sold them at a dollar each (10 cent profit) at the back of the auditorium. 'They had just plain glass in them, but they looked good' he admitted.
  • During his carnival days he gypped rube carnival goers with a quarter glued to the side of his ring.
  • When he was a dog catcher in order to give the dogs new homes he would hild contests for people to win a dog.
  • He also had a Flower Contract and people would pay him to put fresh flowers on peoples graves. Only he would go at night to different florists and get the old flowers for free. When people complained that the flowers didnt look good he would say '' well you should have been here yesteday they looked wonderful.''


Monday, 24 October 2022

The Weirdest Record Ever Made: The Sounds of American Doomsday Cults

Isn’t it weird? How do they do that with their voices [ululates manically]? There’s a really good documentary called Death Cults or something, and it shows you them digging this enormous bunker, and [Elizabeth Clare Prophet] says: “The world is going to end on this date with a nuclear war”. The bunker’s not finished on time, but they go down anyway, come back out about a week later and the world hasn’t changed [laughs]. She says the master’s order wasn’t right, and that the world will actually be in four or five months. So they all go back down, and it doesn’t happen. It turns out she has brain tumours, which probably explains the entire cult, and then she dies. But it’s still going! They interviewed them a few years later. The women all look like Elizabeth Clare, with their suburban haircuts and clothes, and big smiles! There’s one piece on the album where they’re cursing pop music, and it’s just stunning. Hilarious. We play them at the beginning when we DJ!



“Together,” a man's voice intones. And then an onslaught of voices. Two are in front, a man and a woman; if they’re actually saying words, they're impossible to decipher. It's just syllables rolling together, the sound of lips flapping and tongues rolling over a single note. There’s something insectine about it, its nasality and its density, like a fog of cicadas descending. Occasionally—every few minutes or so—both of the leads stop to take a breath. You can really hear the congregation then: hundreds, maybe thousands of voices droning in a cavernous room, every tone and pitch in the musical spectrum. It is a great, heaving cloud of voices.

I’ve heard mantras and chants before but this sounds different. It’s insistent, for one thing. The energy is turned outward, instead of inward. And the intensity jacks upward every five minutes or so, the voices all become louder together and raise pitch a half-step, like a phalanx of semi trucks shifting up at the same time. After 27 minutes of these intensifications, the chanting is fast, high-pitched, the kind of thing that makes your eyeballs want to jump out of their sockets. The image in the mind is a congregation in the thousands, knelt down, eyes rolled back, filling their lungs with their intentions. What are they asking for? Then, abruptly, it stops. “Please be seated,” says the woman.

I looked it up right after the first time I heard it—on a late night show on WFMU, New York’s venerable free-form radio station—and located it online right away. It’s an old recording of the Church Universal and Triumphant, from an album entitled Sounds of American Doomsday Cults, Vol 14, released by a mysterious imprint called Faithways International. The cover, which had been copied and posted online along with mp3 files, is austere, an obvious homage to the old Smithsonian Folkways releases—a picture of a lighthouse, lime green and pink background. As far as anyone on the internet knew, there were no Sounds of American Doomsday Cults Volumes 1 through 13. The label, according to the internet, had only one other release to its name: a collection of original tunes by Aum Shinrikyo, the cult that killed 12 Japanese subway commuters in a terrorist attack in 1995. History and half-researched mythology blend together in the internet’s accounting of the Church Universal and Triumphant recording’s origins. CUT was a group in rural Montana that was at one time centered around Elizabeth Clare Prophet, who believed herself a reincarnation of Marie Antoinette and Guinevere who could channel a pantheon of saints that included Jesus, Hercules, and Shiva. Pictures show a woman with a perm and a dead-eyed grin—perhaps the most homespun-looking doomsday cult leader of all time. It was Prophet's voice I’d heard leading the chant. The recording originated sometime in the mid-80s. No one knew who had made the recording. No one knew who Faithways International was. No one knew where Sounds of American Doomsday Cults, Vol. 14 had come from. I reached out to the DJ who’d played it on his show—they were just some mp3s he’d found online a few years ago, he said.

I downloaded them. The entire recording is plainly amazing. Sitting through the entire 27-minute chant is a rush, consuming and burying, like being swallowed up by human voices. It has a touch of the supernatural; it exists somewhere beyond music. It’s thoroughly of its own making, science fictional. The rest of the recording is maybe even more fascinating: an entire Church Universal and Triumphant service dedicated to “the tackling of the beast and the dragon—the momentum of rock ‘n’ roll.” Mostly, it’s Prophet’s voice, preaching about the sexual perversion of rock music, saying outrageous things that are both hilarious and truly inspired. Chanting alone, she prays for those “subverted by the syncopated rhythm of the fallen ones and the misuse of the 4/4 time.” She “calls on the electronic solar rings of the great central sun.” She plays the music video for Tina Turner’s “Better Be Good to Me." The man, when it’s his turn, "calls forth the sacred fire” in nasally solemnity on a list of 71 contemporary rock and roll celebrities including Michael Jackson, Kenny Loggins, the Alan Parsons Project, “Cyndi Looper,” and “Scooby Dooby Doo." I felt like I’d found a buried amulet. There was something slightly morbid and voyeuristic about my interest—these are, after all, real people’s prayers. I wanted to know what I was hearing; what the room looked like; what they were saying. And who was this shady Faithways International label that put the album out? With slightly nosy intentions—like flipping through the pages of someone else’s family bible—I tried to find where it had come from.

I was joining a group of curious listeners, sound artists, and avant garde music obsessives who have been fascinated by the recordings for decades. The spoken parts of the album—the parts about Tina Turner and Cyndi Looper—had been a hit for years with underground DJs and experimental composers. Genesis P-Orridge of Throbbing Gristle once said they brought it with them every time they DJed. Negativland, dissident sound collagists and copyright crusaders who’d once thrown down with U2, sampled the “sacred fire” rock ‘n’ roll-call on a piece called “Michael Jackson” way back in 1987. Fatboy Slim sampled it in 1996 and also called his piece “Michael Jackson.” Negativland's Mark Hosler said they found the original tape of the Church Universal and Triumphant service back in the mid-80s. It was titled “Rock ’n’ Roll Exposé #1,” copyright Church Universal and Triumphant, Inc. This wasn’t the Sounds of American Doomsday Cults CD, but the source material.

"It sure wowed us back then,” Hosler told me. “[It] cried out to be used.” But it wasn’t Hosler who found the tape—he said it was either band members Ian Allen or Don Joyce. Could either of them have been behind Faithways International? We might never know—they both sadly passed away earlier this year—though it doesn’t seem likely. A hard copy of Sounds of American Doomsday Cults, Vol. 14, which was issued by Faithways in 2000, is not easy to find. It’s out of print; every once in awhile, someone puts a CD or vinyl copy of it on sale for $100 (outside my writerly budget). I called Aquarius Records, the oldest record store in San Francisco, the city where everyone who discovered the recording seemed to have found it. But since the CD is out of print, the store doesn’t carry it anymore. And none of the people I talked to there knew where it came from (though one clerk said he still subscribes to new recordings from the church—they still put them out on CD-R and ship through the US Postal Service—because “they’re awesome”).

I eventually found a copy on the internet’s back pages—a guy named Earl Kuck was selling them on his website, Tedium House. He told me he bought a box of the CDs at a record fair in San Francisco ten years ago. He sent it to me in a package along with a wooden snake, the last page of an angry hand-written note, and a copy of Le Carillon by the Autumns. The packaging of the CD is simple—a pink booklet with two reprint news articles about the cult and nothing in the way of credits. Kuck said he didn’t know where the CDs he bought had come from, but he thought someone in Australia had made them. He connected me with another San Francisco friend, a guy named “Seymour Glass” who’d reviewed the “Rock ’n’ Roll Exposé” version of the tape for his underground zine Bananafish. “Glass" had an experience similar to mine when he heard it. “The first time I listened to the tape, I sat staring at my stereo with mouth agape for the duration,” he wrote. “I returned to the bookstore and bought every copy they had. I’ve made more recordings of this tape than any other.” I managed to get a hold of “Glass” (the name on his email was “Maria Estevez”) who confirmed he found the tape at a since-shuttered bookshop in San Francisco, which led him to lament "the plague of start-ups and luxury condos” in the city. "I have a long history of exploiting (I guess you could say) these recordings I love,” he wrote me, "and have been told numerous times that I am suspected as, if not assumed to be, the disc's midwife. It's nice to be remembered."

Now, I had it on background that “Glass" and Kuck are the same person and that neither name (surprise!) is real. It would make sense that they/he were the one/s who put together the Doomsday Cults CD from the original tape. Both claimed they didn’t know its origins, which was, of course, in keeping with the tone and tenor of this whole affair. I became convinced—and still am— these merry pranksters were, in fact, the “midwives” of the CD; that they'd taken the old tape and cleverly repackaging it. But they’d never tell me if they did, so I kept poking around for good measure. (I told Kuck I had heard him and "Glass" had never been seen together in the same room. He replied: "He and I are in the same room together frequently. People just aren't observant enough to notice.") Brian Turner was, as far as I could tell, the first WFMU DJ to spin Doomsday Cults 15 years ago, when it was first released by Faithways. He’s also the music director. I was sure he would have some insight. He didn’t know where it came from, but he said that when it first came out in 2000, he’d gotten his own copy in the mail. That’s not that weird for him—he’s the music director at a radio station, after all—but when he opened the package, he was startled to find he was thanked by name in the credits. He ventured a couple guesses about who put it out. "Elizabeth Clare Prophet has been touted by weird sound connoisseurs like [Gregg] Turkington, [Germs and Ariel Pink drummer] Don Bolles, and the ilk,” Turner told me. Otherwise, he had no clue.

Gregg Turkington is famous in the comedy world for creating the Neil Hamburger anti-comedian character. He’s also Australian. I felt like I might have been on the right track. I reached out to him right away, but got only a brief message in reply: "I had nothing to do with that record,” he wrote. “I have no idea who actually was behind it… though if I recall correctly, I'm thanked in the liner notes.” I got a reply back from Don Bolles right after. “No,” he wrote. “But my name was on it.” Elizabeth Clare Prophet laughed at us from beyond the grave.

In 1875, a Russian immigrant in New York City named Helena Blavatsky formed the Theosophical Society with her friends. Blavatsky claimed to communicate with a host of spirits, including Jesus. The society sought to unite world religions into a single belief system, and by the time she died in 1891—of influenza, at the top of a growing organization, besieged with accusations of fraud—she’d launched Theosophical Society enclaves in India, Europe, and Russia. Forty years later, Theosophy had made headway in America—including to Chicago, where Guy Ballard, a Blavatsky acolyte, founded the I AM movement in the early 30s with his wife Edna. Ballard, like Blavatsky, believed he could communicate with a spiritual dream team, whom he referred to as the Ascended Masters and expanded to include Buddha, Confucius, and the Virgin Mary. (He believed himself to be the reincarnation of George Washington.) The Ballards led their growing membership through marathon “decrees”—composed prayers shouted out loud by the entire congregation during services. In 1939, Ballard died suddenly, and immediately afterward, Edna and their son Don were both indicted by the federal government for mail fraud (which they fought and won before the Supreme Court in 1946). The I AM movement, like the Theosophy Society, had sprouted many groups of followers.

One of those followers, Mark L. Prophet (his honest-to-God birth name) founded the Summit Lighthouse in 1958. Like Ballard, Prophet claimed to communicate with venerable ghosts (he adds Hercules and Shakespeare and many more to the list). Like Ballard, claimed to have been reincarnated (in his case, Sir Lancelot and Henry Wadsworth Longfellow); and, like Ballard, Prophet's wife Elizabeth Clare could chat with Ascended Masters, too. The New Age movement of the 70s provided a glut of washed out and disenchanted hippies that swelled the Summit Lighthouse's membership rolls. Like the Ballards before them, the Prophets wrote decrees for the congregation to chant, but with less shouting and more of a controlled drone. During services, the Prophets would specify an intention—for example, the judgment and destruction of rock music—and the congregation believed their decrees, if they were forceful enough, could make the intentions come true. They could turn the tides of history without going outside the walls of their sanctuary. (In other words, what I’d heard as music, church members considered serious prayer.) Sometimes, while the congregation decreed, Elizabeth would swing an actual steel sword over her head, sometimes for hours. The faithful called her “Guru Ma." When Mark Prophet died in 1973, Elizabeth moved the church to Los Angeles and renamed it Church Universal and Triumphant. In 1986, as she amassed members and money, she moved again, to a 30,000 acre ranch just north of Yellowstone National Park she bought from Malcolm Forbes.

In these days, Elizabeth Clare Prophet is on fire. She’s built the Church Universal and Triumphant into a religion with something like 30,000 adherents. She’s leading marathon services to 2,000-or-so believers who live with her in Montana. And she’s starting to get messages from the Ascended Masters about doomsday. She shifts the church into full-on prepper mode. The church commenced building underground fallout shelters big enough to house 750 people, started stocking weapons, and stored thousands of gallons of gas in giant tanks. In the early 1990s, she told followers that Soviet nuclear missiles would fall on the United States at midnight on March 15. Local pharmacies reported being sold out of medicine, Band-Aids, bottles of water; banks said customers were lining up to close their savings accounts. "It's bizarre,” a bank official told the Los Angeles Times in March. "They don't want to wait, they want it now, and they want it in cash."

One night near the apocalypse, one of the church’s members, packing up his things, had his own kind of religious epiphany. It centered on the band Rush. 25-year-old Sean Prophet, only son of Elizabeth and Mark, often helped his mother spread her anti-rock and roll propaganda, but he nursed a secret: He loved prog rock. That night, Sean impulsively put on his headphones and listened to Power Windows—for research, he told himself—and was surprised to find himself moved to tears. He listened to at least five more Rush albums that night. Later, he wrote, "the idea that such talented musicians could be 'fallen ones' as the church taught just didn’t add up. They felt like brothers to me.” The experience changed him. He decided he’d stick around to see if the world did in fact end (never hurts to hedge your bets) and if it didn’t, he was out.

On the night of March 15, hundreds of adherents crouched in the cult’s homemade shelters, amid fetid buckets of human waste (the plumbing wasn’t finished yet). The sun set on the compound that night and (surprise!) rose again the next morning. Devotees started to pack up and go home. Sean and his family cut their final ties with the cult in 1993. (Incidentally, one of Sean's sons, Chris, grew up to play drums in Horse the Band.) In 1999, Elizabeth stepped down from the church—she’d developed Alzheimer’s—and died in 2009. The Church Universal and Triumphant does still exist, albeit diminished both in its scale and mission. I like Sean. He’s affable, doesn’t mind digging into the details of the church, and seems as inspired now, as a radical free-thinker, as he ever could have been the child of a cult leader. We talk about growing up in the cult. I couldn’t wait to ask him about the decrees. “I haven’t talked to anyone about this in years,” he told me. It turns out, Sean is the one who recorded the “Rock ’n’ Roll Exposé #1” tape—the one that Seymour Glass and Ian and Don from Negativland found at local junk stores. The one that someone out there had released as Sounds of American Doomsday Cults, Vol 14. In the 80s, Sean had headed a 25-person team that made audio and video tapes to mail to devotees scattered around the world. The team cranked out tapes like “Rock ’n’ Roll Exposé" on a weekly basis.

these old tapes—it’s tapping into a world I know nothing about, extracting a 27-minute sample, and burying myself in it like it’s any old experimental recording. There’s a world beyond the recording I'll never grasp; a web of believers who were (and perhaps still are) enraptured, mislead, and manipulated. I feel in some way that it’s unfair to dig into the recording without fully appreciating its origins. It’s a door I’m not ready to open. But I can’t just stop my fascination with the tape, either.

I think back on the conversation I had with Mark Hosler of Negativland—a pioneer of this tape, in a weird way as much an expert as anyone. Hosler and other artists are able to appreciate these sounds as wholly independent—as much a product of the geeks who’ve dubbed it thousands of times as it is of a secluded doomsday cult in Montana. “We have a true love and tender appreciation for all the weird things we have collaged in our work over the last 35 years, this tape included,” Hosler told me. "It's never a patronizing or sneering or hateful thing, though perhaps some listeners mistakenly guess otherwise. It's more like amazement and stunned admiration that humans being can be so incredibly odd and unusual."




Monday, 17 October 2022

Ian Curtis & his disturbing 'Epileptic Dance'

 

Ian Curtis the demonic ring master, a man possessed and electrified by his own scowling intense music, lost in his own world as he marches back and forth like a crazed Wehrmacht sentry, rhythmically clutching at imaginary ghosts. Peer closer, and his eyes are glazed and haunted. It's as if he's seeing something we cant. Maybe he was.

After watching all the video's of his performances cult filmmaker Fabrizio Federico noticed that ''the audiences loved him because he made them gape with astonishment with his unique cataclysmic dancing. His brooding haunting vocal delivery was the icying on the cake. Ian was a crooner from a black hole in the underworld, the voice of a dark lord from a terrifying void from centuries past. The phenomenal vacancy and desolation in his eyes as he loses himself to the music is astounding. You can feel the power of the music going through him, but he's not excited, he's terrified. His dancing showed us what the music looked like. There was desperation, anger, honesty and fear in his dancing, with the weight of the world on his shoulders as he danced like a lost marionette. He was mesmerizing and trying to escape from his body, like a helpless puppet on some strings. This style of dancing can be traced back to David Bowie performing Stay on the Dinah Shore TV show. His impulsive, choppy dancing is a strange counter-balance to his lifless eyes.'' 

Ian was possessed by some very strong powers onstage, while his band created emotional, icy magic, his soul-searching performances made him vulnerable and immolated, like he was in another world, appearing both very powerful and very fragile. He'd come onstage looking very shy and quiet, and then he would go inside and take command, as if he was pluged into a huge electrical voltage, twitching and jerking. This tranced out symbol of a human being. When he shook himself into a frenzy you didnt know where it was gonna take you, like a performance artist who sacrificed a part of them selves. He treated each show as a laboratory experiment, performing each show as if it were his last. With his dancing Ian had tapped into unknown dark forces that lurked beneath the surface of everyday life. 

Ian Curtis had the room and the support to take centre stage, to calibrate to the room, and then launch himself into the void. At the 1979 Plan K gig, by the second song "Wilderness", from the album Unknown Pleasures, Curtis begins with his characteristic "dead fly" dance partially derived from northern soul moves. Although he is loose-limbed, he holds himself erect and stiff. The effect, whether intentional or not, is paradoxical: he is seeking escape, if not transcendence, yet his whole body language indicates that this is impossible. Transported by amplified electricity, he enacts his visionary words with lightning fast, jack-knife movements. As the camera closes in, he shows an open face, with watery eyes, that is all emotion.


Through his lyrics he had powerful psychic abilities, he was a channel for the Gestalt. A lightning conductor. Haunted by the spirits of the past like in the song Dead Souls. Here Ian cast a spell that felt more like an invocation as he spelled it out: ''Someone take these dreams away, that point me to another day.'' It went beyond aesthetics into something undeniable, making the hairs stand up on the back of your neck. There were forces that lurked beneath the surface of everyday life, and Ian had tapped into them.

Someone take these dreams awayThat point me to another dayA duel of personalitiesThat stretch all true realities
That keep calling meThey keep calling meKeep on calling meThey keep calling me
Where figures from the past stand tallAnd mocking voices ring the hallsImperialistic house of prayerConquistadors who took their share

Or when he alluded to having been reincarnated through many different times, like in the song Wilderness. Other topics featured: guilt, fear, rage, claustrophobia, disgust, self-hatred, and fatalism. Darkside immersion also included: mass murders, summary violence, radical right wing politics, and Nazism inspired by J.G Ballard, Burroughs, Kafka etc... ''A lot of people think he was on drugs. He wasn’t on any drugs at all. That was just him losing himself in the music.” So said Ian Curtis’ former Joy Division bandmate, Stephen Morris, of his extraordinary dancing. On May 18th 1980, Ian Curtis lost his battle with depression at the age of just 23. 

Ian's expressive, confused vocals croon over recurring musical patterms which themselves mock any idea of escape. Possessed by demons as he danced spastically and with lightning speed, winding and unwinding as the rigid metal music folds and unfolds over him. In his short life, he released two seminal albums, and cultivated one of the most captivating live performance styles of all time. Dubbed, perhaps a little insensitively, his “epilepsy dance” (Curtis suffered from epilepsy, as did the subject of his song ‘She's Lost Control’), Curtis’ twitchy, possessed dance moves are inimitable. 

“When we rehearsed he used to literally just sit in the corner mumbling into a microphone,” said Morris, "and then you’d do a gig with him and he’d turn into this… dervish thing.”

Curtis had held a keen interest in music since the age of 12, and this interest developed greatly in his teenage years, with artists such as Jim Morrison and David Bowie being particular favourites of his, and thus influencing his poetry and art. Curtis could seldom afford to purchase records, leading him to frequently steal them from local shops. By his mid-teens, Curtis had also developed a reputation among his peers as a strong-willed individual, with a keen interest in fashion. Despite gaining nine O-levels at King’s School, and briefly studying A-Levels in History and Divinity at St. John’s College, Curtis soon became disenchanted with academic life, and abandoned his studies to commit himself to finding employment. Despite abandoning his studies at St. John’s College, Curtis continued to focus on the pursuit of art, literature and music, and would gradually draw lyrical and conceptual inspiration from ever more insidious subjects.

Joy Division a name that will live in infamy. This moniker was derived from the 1955 novel The House of Dolls, writen by Ka-Tsetnik 135633, born Yehiel Feiner, which featured a Nazi concentration camp with a sexual slavery wing called the “Joy Division”. The cover of the band’s first EP depicted a drawing of a Hitler Youth beating a drum and the A-side contained a song, “Warsaw”, which was a musical retelling of the life of Nazi leader Rudolf Hess.

While performing with Joy Division, Curtis became known for his quiet and awkward demeanour, and a unique dancing style often reminiscent of the epileptic seizures he began experiencing in late 1978. If you watch the Apollo performance the opener Dead Souls, with its progressive, intense build up, it allowes Ian to position himself and read the audiences atmosphere as the band lock in behind him, so he can calibrate himself to see how far he wants to travel in his trance.

Throughout Joy Division’s live performances in 1979 & 1980, Curtis collapsed several times while performing and had to be carried off stage. To minimise any possibility of Curtis having epileptic seizures, flashing lights were prohibited at Joy Division gigs; despite these measures, Bernard Sumner later stated that certain percussion effects would cause Curtis to suffer a seizure. In April 1980, Terry Mason was appointed as a minder to ensure Curtis took his prescribed medications, avoided alcohol consumption, and got sufficient sleep. Regarding the choreography of Curtis’s stage performances, Greil Marcus in The History of Rock ‘n’ Roll in Ten Songs quotes Jon Savage from Melody Maker: “Ian’s mesmeric style mirrored the ever more frequent epileptic spasms that Deborah Curtis had to cope with at home.” Marcus remarked that Curtis’s performance “might also have been a matter of intentionally replicating fits, re-enacting them, using them as a form of energy and a form of music.” Curtis’s final live performance with Joy Division was on 2 May 1980. This performance was at the High Hall of Birmingham University, and included Joy Division’s first and only performance of “Ceremony”, later recorded by New Order and released as their debut single. The final song Curtis performed on stage with Joy Division prior to his death was “Digital”.

In West Hampstead to honour their commitment to perform a second gig in one evening at this location, although some 25 minutes into this second gig, Curtis’s “dancing started to lose its rhythmic sense and change into something else entirely” before he collapsed to the floor and experienced the most violent seizure he had endured to date.

According to Tony Wilson, prior to his suicide, Curtis had watched Werner Herzog’s 1977 film Stroszek and listened to Iggy Pop’s album The Idiot. His wife recollected that he had taken photographs of their wedding and their baby daughter off the walls, apparently to view as he composed his suicide note.

It was the band’s performances that got the press going, particularly due to the transparent movements of frontman Ian Curtis. He was like a pale phantom. A dark cloud of sweat starting out small and then moving south along his button-down shirts. His movements on stage were chaotic and unpredictable: a moment of stillness followed by a windmill of rapid arm movements, or his body, twisting and turning into a brief and uncontrolled tornado before settling into abrupt calm again. There are videos online – compilations of these moments that people can watch and marvel at. Through the grainy black and white footage, the small fists of Curtis cut through the darknesses, like he’s fighting some invisible demon, circling the stage. The sight of Ian trembling and alone onstage singing ''dance, dance, dance to the radio...'' is one of the truly iconic sights of the post-punk era. If you watch the Facrory video Here Are The Young Men you can see how Ian could physically wind the music to new levels of intensity. When Ian danced Joy Division became a better band. Flicking his wrists, violent swaying, nodding his head, a backwards shimmy, standing on his tip-toes. No dance instructor would recognize his ferocious movements.


Joy Division’s Ian Curtis’ favourite 32 books:

  • Adrian Henri, Environments And Happenings
  • Aldous Huxley, Brave New World
  • Anthony Burgess, A Clockwork Orange
  • Antonin Artaud, The Theatre And Its Double
  • Arthur Rimbaud, A Season In Hell
  • Arthur Rimbaud, Illuminations
  • Dawn Ades, Dada And Surrealism
  • Franz Kafka, In The Penal Colony
  • Franz Kafka, The Castle
  • Friedrich Nietzsche, The Antichrist
  • Friedrich Nietzsche, Thus Spoke Zarathustra
  • Friedrich Nietzsche, Twilight Of The Idols
  • Fyodor Dostoyevsky, Great Short Works Of Fyodor Dostoevsky
  • Fyodor Dostoyevsky, Notes From Underground
  • Fyodor Dostoyevsky, The Idiot
  • Hermann Hesse, Steppenwolf
  • Hermann Hesse, The Glass Bead Game
  • J.G. Ballard, High–rise
  • J.G. Ballard, The Atrocity Exhibition
  • Jean–paul Sartre, Nausea
  • John Heartfield, Photomontages Of The Nazi Period
  • John Wilcock, The Autobiography And Sex Life Of Andy Warhol
  • Ka–tzetnik 135633 [Yehiel De–nur], The House Of Dolls
  • Michael Green, The Art Of Coarse Acting
  • New Worlds [British Science Fiction Magazine] Nik Cohn, Rock Dreams: Under The Boardwalk
  • Nikolai Gogol, Dead Souls
  • Oscar Wilde, The Complete Works Of Oscar Wilde
  • Selected Poems By Thom Gunn & Ted Hughes
  • Various, A Century Of Thrillers: From Poe To Arlen
  • William S. Burroughs, Naked Lunch
  • William S. Burroughs, The Third Mind
  • William S. Burroughs, The Wild Boys