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About 429harrowroad

Music journalist for Electronic Sound and occasional press release writer for VeryRecords. Father, husband, vegan. Co-founder of Mortality Tables - mortality-tables.com

Dave Ball (2019 Interview)

Dave Ball (photo: Mike Evans)

On 9 February 2019, I had my one and only conversation with Soft Cell’s Dave Ball. The intention was to use this in a project I was working on at the time that ultimately never got finished.

On the sad occasion of Ball’s passing, I decided to revisit the conversation. I remember it was a Saturday afternoon, and took place during the halftime break of a football match he was watching on television. This was before I regularly used video conferencing for music interviews and so I just called the mobile number that his PR contact had passed over to me.

On Frank Tovey and Leeds Polytechnic

I knew Frank Tovey before he started Fad Gadget. He was a student at Leeds Poly. I was in the first year and he was in the third year. This was 1977, when I joined.

The new kids used to hang out with the older students, and I remember Frank being a performance artist and very intense guy. He was southern, from London, and there was a North-South divide among the students. That really pissed him off. I used to see him around Leeds Poly a lot. There was one performance he did called Berg, which I can vaguely remember going along to watch.

There was a small recording room at Leeds Poly. It was mostly designed for people that studied performance art to make soundtracks. Before I got a synthesiser, I used to muck about in there with a guitar and an echo chamber. And one day I was in there and there was an Crumar Compac electric piano. I thought, ‘Fucking hell, I’m going to have a fiddle around with it,’ and I put it through my effects pedals and recorded some bits and then put the piano back to how I’d found it.

Frank heard what I’d been doing and said, ‘Where did you get that keyboard sound from?’ And I said, “Oh, it was from this electric piano that was in the studio.’ And he said, ‘That’s my keyboard! You never fucking asked me if you could use it!’ He hated me for a while because of that. We didn’t really hit it off, and I imagine it was was because I’d used his electric piano.

He was probably the reason I bought a synthesiser because I thought, ‘I won’t bother using his one again!’ It pricked up my ears to messing about with electronic music.

On performance art and the origins of Soft Cell

Leeds Poly was very encouraging of people who wanted to do performance art as opposed to acting. Quite a lot of the lecturers there did performance art. I don’t know what you would call it – it was radically different theatre, using your bodies as art, almost like living human sculptures. I mean, I was never that much interested in it.

I started working with Marc Almond at Leeds just after I got my synthesiser. He’d heard me doing these bleeps and sounds, and he asked me if I do some music to go with his performances. And so, originally, I was just doing the sounds for Marc’s performance art pieces, and then that evolved into Soft Cell.

It was mostly just sounds. There were a few songs in these early performances of Marc’s. I was writing these funny little quirky songs at the time. Marc heard some, and he said, ‘Can I have a go at singing some of these?’ And I said, ‘Yeah. Why not?’

This developed, and it sounded much better with him singing than me. I wasn’t a singer. And then he said, ‘Can I write some lyrics? Some new ones?’ And I said, ‘Of course,’ so then the relationship developed as a writing partnership. And then we talked about calling it something, and it became Soft Cell. It was The Soft Cell, originally, but we decided to drop The.

On his first synth

It was a Mini Korg 800DV. I still have it. I got it just after I’d started at Leeds Poly.

Before I got it, it had belonged to the drummer out of the band Jethro Tull. It’s quite ironic, really, because Marc’s been working with Ian Anderson, the singer from Jethro Tull. I grew up in Blackpool, and Ian’s also from Blackpool. That’s where I found the synthesiser, in a music shop in Blackpool.

It cost me £400 second-hand, which was a lot of money. My dad had just died and I’d been left some money. Originally I’d played guitar but I wasn’t very good, but then I heard Kraftwerk, so I did a part exchange for this synth with my Fender Telecaster guitar. I lugged it back to Leeds and it was a it was a permanent feature in the little sound recording room. I mastered how to use that synth over the next few weeks.

On Mute Records

Apart from seeing Frank’s performance of Berg, the next thing I remember about him was a post-punk college band, and he was the singer. I can’t remember the name. There was a few of them in the band, and they were mostly the London students. They did a couple of shows. They weren’t that good. I remember saying to Frank before he went on, ‘Are you nervous?’ And he just glared at me and said, ‘Fuck off!’

Marc kept in touch with him. After he’d left Leeds, we heard that he’d put a record out with this new label called Mute. This was ‘Back To Nature’. Marc and I heard that and thought it was brilliant.

There used to be a punk club in Leeds called The Warehouse, where loads of really amazing bands used to play and I saw tons of stuff there. Frank did a gig as Fad Gadget. He’d totally gone away from the New Wave band he’d been singing with at Leeds. He had his keyboard, and he was wearing what looked like a karate outfit. He had this microphone which was plugged into a length of grey plastic drain pipe. He was shouting into it and he was jumping up and down on his keyboard and throwing himself around. He was like an electronic Iggy Pop. He was quite wiry, and tall, and sinewy, so he was very agile, and very fit. And that was a great performance. That was one of his first gigs in Leeds as Fad Gadget. It was the only time I ever saw him live.

Marc had given Frank a Soft Cell demo, and asked if he could pass it on to Daniel Miller at Mute. We’d heard his single as The Normal, and then we’d heard ‘Back To Nature’. He did ‘Ricky’s Hand’ with Frank, and then Daniel had done the Silicon Teens album. We thought, ‘This guy sounds fantastic!’

It was just before Depeche Mode signed to Mute. So we said to Some Bizarre, who we were working with, ‘Can we get Daniel to produce Soft Cell?’ And because of that we did end up working with Daniel. We did ‘Memorabilia’, our first proper single, with Daniel. And the original demo of ‘Tainted Love’ was done with him. We did a load of backing tracks with with him for our live shows at the time, which people probably didn’t know he’d worked on with us.

When we signed to Phonogram, they decided they wanted to get a different producer in, which was Mike Thorne. Daniel was great, but I think he was a bit too techno for us at the time, with the benefit of hindsight. His style was suited to Depeche Mode with that sequenced techno-pop sound. Whereas with Soft Cell, it was still meant to sound like a group – it was just a group that was made up from synthesisers.

I don’t know – our sound was, I don’t like using the word, but more organic. The Human League were using Roland Micro Composer. Daniel was using an ARP sequencer. They were very machine-driven productions. We used a drum machine, but I just used to have to play it as tight as possible. You can hear it. It’s very tight, but I still had to play it by hand. It’s like having a bass player playing the bass, but instead of playing a guitar, they’re playing the bass on the keyboard, and still using their hands.

In memory of Dave Ball, 3 May 1959 – 22 October 2025.

With thanks to Debbie, Barbara and Paul.

Interview: Mat Smith

(c) 2019 – 2025 Documentary Evidence

Depeche Mode: M (Clash review)

Depeche Mode: M poster

Last night, I attended a London screening of Depeche Mode: M, the new Fernando Frias film surveying the three nights that Depeche Mode played at Foro Sol, Mexico City in 2023.

Read my review for Clash here.

Words: Mat Smith

(c) 2025 Mat Smith / Documentary Evidence for Clash

Sketching Venus – lvu (Edvard Graham Lewis Venursion)

One of the great pleasures of my Mortality Tables collaborative projects is being able to collaborate with artists who’ve released material through Mute. So far I’ve worked with Vince Clarke, Simon Fisher Turner, Gareth Jones and Maps, and there are several more collaborations in the works.

Yesterday, I released a new / old release which included a completely new version by Edvard Graham Lewis (Wire / He Said / Dome etc).

Full press release details below.

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In 2000, I made an album under the alias Sketching Venus. Hardly anyone heard it, and that’s how it should probably stay.

While revisiting and archiving old files, I came upon one track from the album, ‘lvu’, which stood out, and which I felt like I needed to do something with. It is unique, in the sense that it is the only song where you’ll hear me singing. It is also unique within the sound pieces that I’ve made over the years, in that every highly processed sound was made with a guitar.

Specifically, it was my ex-girlfriend’s guitar who I’d messily broken up with during the Millennium celebrations. ‘lvu’ was made at the very start of a new relationship, with my future wife. I think of it as a reflection on endings and beginnings.

Around this time, I was listening to a lot of Wire. My lyrics and vocals were a crude attempt to channel the band’s songwriter, bassist and occasional vocalist Edvard Graham Lewis, who has created a new version of ‘lvu’ that includes his own vocals.

The single is rounded out by a hypnotic remix by frequent Mortality Tables collaborator Rupert Lally.

Available at  mortalitytables.bandcamp.com

[1] lvu (Original Version)
[2] lvu (Rupert Lally Remix)
[3] lvu (Edvard Graham Lewis Venursion)

‘lvu’ originally appeared on the mostly unavailable Sketching Venus album svUTLD01abm (NominalMusics, 2000).

released March 28 2025 

[1] Written and produced by Mat Smith (2000) 
[2} Additional production and remix by Rupert Lally (2024) 
[3] Additional production and vocals by Edvard Graham Lewis (2025). Edvard Graham Lewis appears courtesy of Upp Records. 

Mastered by James Edward Armstrong 

Original photography by unknown photographer, Orlando, FL on 5 September 2001 

[1] Design and image processing by alka 
[2 + 3] Design and image processing by Andrew Brenza 
[3] Image re-processing by alka 

A Mortality Tables Product 
MTP38

Words: Mat Smith

(c) 2025 Mortality Tables / Documentary Evidende

I’m Dreaming Of A Mute Christmas

It’s that special time of the year where the sounds of well-worn Christmas hits from yesteryear fill playlists and people begin to debate whether ‘Fairytale Of New York’ really is the best Christmas song of all time.

With some help from my good friend and Mute afficionado Jorge Punaro, I here present a trawl through the back catalogues of Mute artists past and present to deliver an alternative compilation of seasonal songs; songs that range from the traditional, the just plain festive and on to the downright tenuous. Jorge has meticulously prepared a Spotify playlist containing everything we could get our hands on (and many more songs than I’ve covered here). For your optimal listening experience, Jorge’s should be listened to while drinking one of the cocktails from Erasure’s Snow Globe box set.

I often think of Erasure at Christmas, mostly because I remember receiving a 7″ of ‘You Surround Me’ in 1989 in my stocking. The year before, Vince Clarke and Andy Bell narrowly missed securing the coveted Christmas number one slot with Crackers International, an EP which led with ‘Stop!’ but also included the moving ‘She Won’t Be Home’ (renamed ‘Lonely Christmas’ on the slightly dubious The Erasure Christmas Gift 7″); elsewhere on the EP, the duo delivered a spooky version of the traditional carol ‘God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen’ complete with authentic choir-boy vocals from Bell, while two years before the pair did a relatively throwaway take on ‘Silent Night’ for the US Yulesville promo LP (the same year that Clarke’s former Yazoo band mate Alison Moyet had contributed ‘The Coventry Carol’ to the compilation A Very Special Christmas). The limited formats of Erasure’s ‘Am I Right’ EP (1991) featured a festive Me Company design of Christmas trees with a photo of a young boy holding presents, while Andy Bell co-hosted Channel 4’s Camp Christmas in 1993, with musical accompaniment from Vince. Andy also featured in a short film called I Hate Christmas as a market stall worker.

2013 was the year that Erasure went all-out Christmas with the celebrated release of Snow Globe. The album collected a number of classic Christmas songs, including ‘Silent Night’ and ‘God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen’ in updated splendour, as well as some of Vince and Andy’s own tracks. The limited-edition box – or should I say the obligatory limited-edition box, since if Mute did one thing in 2013 it was to ensure that their avid fans went without their turkey after spending out a small country’s GDP on ever more elaborate and expensive box sets – included a bauble, balloon, a packet of sweets and some Erasure-themed cocktail recipes. 

Other artists who’ve covered Christmas songs include Echoboy, who released a special split EP with Six By Seven for a Christmas show in Nottingham in 1999 which included a very alternative version of ‘Silent Night’. Richard Hawley also delivered a very easy listening take on ‘Silent Night’ for a special one-track CD given away to people who attended his show in Sheffield in December 2006, a track that was also included on his 2008 live album Live At The Devil’s Arse; during winter gigs and on radio Hawley has also covered ‘Blue Christmas’, made famous by Elvis Presley, but I haven’t heard a recording of that yet (if anyone feels charitable enough at this time of giving to send me one in the name of research, please get in touch).

In the wake of their 2008 album Seventh TreeGoldfrapp found time to record a beautifully jaunty version of ‘Winter Wonderland’ for a US Starbucks compilation, while former Blast First act Sonic Youth recorded a sketchy and somewhat unpleasant version of Martin Mull’s ‘Santa Doesn’t Cop Out On Dope’ for a 1996 compilation, which is definitely one for completists only. 

For Can completists, the veteran Krautrockers put out an ultra-twee take on ‘Silent Night’ way back in 1976 on Virgin in the UK. The Residents launched their audacious avant-garde music career with Santa Dog in 1972, a double 7″ single mailed out to various people featuring four tracks by various pseudonymous artists, all of whom were actually The Residents themselves (whoever they are). The band have released several other versions of Santa Dog since 1972 – in 1978, 1998, 1992 (‘Show Us Your Ugly’), 1999 (Refused), 2006, 2012 (SD12) and a fiftieth anniversary version in 2022. Way back in 1956, occasional Blast First artist Sun Ra co-opted the alias The Qualities and issued the doo wop 7-inch ‘It’s Christmas Time’. Backed with the sincere blues of ‘Happy New Year To You!’ this curiosity remains one of the most surprisingly accessible pop releases in the expansive Ra catalogue, and proof that they celebrate the holidays on Saturn just like they do here on Ra’s adopted home.

Einstürzende Neubauten stalwart F.M. Einheit and Caspar Brötzmann recorded an album called Merry Christmas which Paul Smith‘s label put out in 1994, but it isn’t at all festive and, besides, it was released in May that year. Still, the album’s sleeve of a hand-drawn tank reminds me of troops putting down arms during World War II, so maybe there’s a connection to the festive season somewhere on this album after all. Mute US duo The Knife recorded a song called ‘Reindeer’ for their eponymous album in 2001; as if the song wasn’t festive enough already with its lyrics about Santa, The Knife issued a version with Christmas bells (renamed ‘Christmas Reindeer’) in 2006 as a free download. In 2023, The Knife’s Karin Dreijer (Fever Ray) released a new album, Radical Romantics, featuring the track ‘North’. Jorge and I like to think she was referring to the North Pole.

Holger Hiller’s eponymous last album for Mute in 2000 included the track ‘Once I Built A Snowman’, while Ben Frost’s 2017 album Music From Fortitude opened with ‘This Is Not Christmas’. Andreas Dorau, he of one-time Mute group Die Doraus Und Die Marinas, has recorded two Christmas songs. ‘Weihnachten Ist Auch Nicht Mehr Das Was Es Mal War’ is a bouncy electropop track that appeared on Staatsakt’s Santo Klaus sampler in 2016, and just over ten years earlier, he released the track ‘Weihnachten Im Wald’ as a limited-edition of 100 CDs for a Carhartt jeans promotion.

The Jon Spencer Blues Explosion‘s 1992 Sub Pop Singles Club 7-inch paired together two excellent tracks – the wild rockabilly gestures of ‘Big Yule Log Boogie’ and the ‘Blue Christmas’-esque ‘My Christmas Wish’. Josh T. Pearson became the first Mute artist to deliver a whole EP of Christmas songs, with his maudlin Rough Trade Bonus disc getting released in 2011 as a Rough Trade shop exclusive accompanying his Mute debut, Last Of The Country Gentlemen. This year, Pearson issued a new song, ‘2020’s Silent Night Hindsight’ straight to YouTube, and a more perfectly cynical take on a shit year you will be hard-pressed to find.

In 2012, Canada’s Ladan Hussein, variously known as Al Spx and later Cold Specks covered Mary Margaret O’Hara’s ‘Christmas Evermore’ for a Christmas compilation, complete with brass and obligatory messages of peace and hope and a bit of Diamanda Galás-esque tremulous wailing. The debut Cold Specks album, I Predict A Beautiful Expulsion (2012) also features the stirring track ‘Winter Solstice’.

Looper‘s 2003 album The Snare features the haunting and evocative ‘New York Snow’, while the ‘Intro’ track on M83‘s Hurry Up, We’re Dreaming has dreamy lyrics about walking in snow. Way back in 1982, Yazoo’s Upstairs At Eric‘s included the sparse ‘Winter Kills’ and an orchestral version of ‘Only You’ was used in a Boots TV ad in 2017. A year before Upstairs At Eric’s, future Mute artists A Certain Ratio recorded the irrepressable long-form funk track ‘Winter Hill’ for their To Each album, while, some twenty years later, Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds released the wintery ‘Fifteen Feet Of Pure White Snow’ in 2001, regrettably the closest the songwriter has yet come to recording a seasonal song. Surely there’s a Christmas album in St. Nick somewhere? Moby‘s never officially done a Christmas track either, though he did remix the late arch-crooner Tony Bennett’s ‘I’m Coming Home For Christmas’ in 2007, but the track was only ever released as a promo.

Maps, known to his parents as James Chapman, kicked off his pre-Mute career as Short Break Operator, including the haunting ‘Some Winter Song’ as the first track on his debut EP from 2003. In fact, of all the Mute roster, Maps is easily the most prolific Christmas-loving artists. He recorded the frosty ‘Sparks In The Snow’ for his second single, went on to cover East 17’s ‘Stay Another Day’ for a promo CDr and released ‘Merry Christmas (My Friend)’ straight to Soundcloud in 2013, which is among the most atmospheric things Chapman has ever recorded. (Shameless plug: in 2024, I wrote a short story inspired by ‘Sparks In The Snow’. You can find that here.)

Later still, 2016 Chapman’s collaboration with former Mute artist Polly Scattergood, On Dead Waves, yielded two Christmas songs in the form of a cover of ‘In The Bleak Midwinter’ and the track ‘Winter’s Child’ that closed the duo’s only album together. In 2022, Polly Scattergood released her own Christmas track, ‘Snowburden’, which followed this year’s career-defining and intensely personal album In This Moment. The new song found the singer somewhere between Laurie Anderson-esque sound art and sensitive balladeering.

In 2020, one of Mute’s longest-serving sons, David Baker – one half of I Start Counting, Fortran 5 and Komputer – released ‘The Lights Of The Pub’, a charity single under his Joanna-tinkling alias Dave The Keys in aid of his local London boozer, The Lamb on Holloway Road. Dave (now working as lonelyklown) unwrapped another Christmas treat in 2022 with the emotive ‘Winter In London’, and in 2023 popped ‘I Believe In Snow’ under your burgeoning Mute Christmas tree. For 2024, Baker offered the rather lovely ‘Solstice Song’. With his seasonal deliveries, Baker is fast becoming as dependable at Christmas as Quality Street, speeches from the Monarch and really nasty hangovers.

Speaking of charity, here’s a shameless plug: in 2012, Documentary Evidence compiled MuteResponse, a double download charity compilation album intended as a tribute to Mute’s legacy, and also to rule off the first ten years of writing this very site. On MuteResponse #1, I was able to include one-time Credible Sexy Units act Vic Twenty‘s ‘Christmas In Korea (New Year In Japan)’. Angela ‘Piney Gir’ Penhaligon and Adrian Morris recorded the track years ago but it was never officially released until the MuteResponse compilation. I first heard this track years ago during an interview with Morris, and I always wanted to make sure that others would get to hear it, and so I was delighted to let the song see the light of day. Incidentally, Piney’s done plenty of other Christmas songs, one of my personal favourites being the lovely ‘For The Love Of Others’ in 2009. You can find MuteResponse over at Bandcamp.

So we’ve surveyed the traditional and the festive – what about the tenuous? Look no further than Mute’s most bankable act, Depeche Mode, whose only obvious Christmas connection was Dave Gahan delivering a festive message on the aforementioned Yulesville compilation. However, a year earlier, Depeche’s Alan Wilder and Martin Gore penned the track ‘Christmas Island’ as the B-side to ‘A Question Of Lust’; it isn’t remotely festive, it was released in May that year, it’s named after an island in the Indian Ocean, but it’s got the word Christmas in the title and so, dubious though it is, onto the Dreaming Of A Mute Christmas playlist it goes. Sticking with the theme of tenuousness, former Depeche member Alan Wilder (Recoil) included a track called ‘Freeze’ on 1992’ s Bloodline. And what do you know? Vocals on that track were provided by Moby. In 2024, Jorge added ‘Life On The Line’ by first Mute signing Fad Gadget. If you are wondering why, check out the outro of the track, where, if you use a bit of imagination, that twee little synth hook sounds a lot like ‘Jingle Bells’. I’m advised by a very reliable source that it was a little accidental, hence including it here in the tenuous section…

Another member of the extended Mute alumni family, Beth Jeans Houghton (Du Blonde) dropped the misanthropic ‘It’s Christmas And I’m Crying’ in 2023, a track that even Ebenezer Scrooge would find miserable. But hey! Christmas is supposed to be fun, and so here’s a version of The Normal’s ‘Warm Leatherette’ by The Bombshelter Brigade, re-titled ‘Merry Christmas’ and taken from the 1988 compilation Christmas At The Bombshelter.

In 2024, Mute delivered two festive treats in the form of Laibach‘s collaboration with Silence, ‘White Christmas’ (backed with ‘Silence Night’; LOL). It seems remarkable – but strangely fitting – that a band that have been disrupting convention since 1980 should finally offer their characteristically obtuse take on a Christmas classic. In what represented a bumper year for Mute acts offering up – er – festive cheer, A Certain Ratio landed their second place in the playlist with a seasonal EP, Christmasville UK.

Like the good Mute elf that he is, Jorge has done an exemplary job of fattening the Christmas turkey in 2024 with tracks we’d missed from Andreas Dorau (‘Mein englischer Winter’ from 2023), Ben Frost (‘Thundersnow’ from 2018; heck, with that surname, his whole catalogue should be in this playlist!) and my all-time favourite anonymous art punks The Residents, whose full 1995 Gingerbread Man album could have been added here; instead, Jorge opted for ‘The Gingerbread Man’ from the Icky Flix OST.

Next year, if you’re very good and very friendly children, we might include Throbbing Gristle‘s Christmas Eve Eve concert from Derek Jarman’s Butler’s Wharf pad on 23 December 1979. After all, that set featured ‘The First Noel’ and concluded with ‘Throbbing Gristlemas’. Who says TG lacked a sense of humour?

Happy Christmas to Mute fans everywhere. 

Words: Mat Smith 
Spotify playlist and Mute Navidad nous: Jorge Punaro 

(c) 2023 Documentary Evidence & Jorge Punaro. Earlier versions of this feature were published in 2012, 2013, 2020, 2022, 2023 and 2024. If we’ve missed anything let us know and we’ll get them added in.

Maps – Sparks In The Snow (Short Story, 2024)

It’s been a while, but I’ve written another short story inspired by the music and songwriting of Maps (James Chapman). As I’ve said before, there’s something indefinable in the emotional dynamics of James’s music that really inspires me to write short fiction. This time the track is ‘Sparks In The Snow’, the B-side of his second single ‘Lost My Soul’.

This is the fourth of these I’ve written, and when completed, the collection will be published as A Small Book Of Maps through my Mortality Tables collaborative project.

It is bundled with a collaboration with Maps that kicked off the Mortality Tables releases for 2024, ‘LF15 / A 4’33” Walk To Woburn Sands Station’. This formed part of Season 02 of the LIFEFILES series, where artists respond to my extremely basic lo-fi field recordings. In this case it was the sounds of the walk from my house to my local station, a walk that coincidentally takes 4’33”. I spoke to James about his versions of the John Cage piece for my other Mute blog, stumm433.com. You can read that interview here.

‘Sparks In The Snow’ is available through the Mortality Tables Bandcamp site here.

(c) 2024 Mat Smith / Mortality Tables

A Tale Of Two T-shirts

24 May 2018, evening.

I walked south from my hotel on W57 Street in Manhattan. I was wearing a Jason Laurits-designed t-shirt from his Paste gallery. It carried a print of the outline of a t-shirt emblazoned with the ubiquitous I Heart NY logo. A t-shirt, with a print of a t-shirt.

My destination was Chelsea Market, where I’d bought the t-shirt the year before. My route took me through Times Square. I tried desperately to make out the drones of Max Neuhaus’s sub-sidewalk installation beneath the louder drone of tourism and commerce, but failed. I’d visited Neuhaus’ ‘Times Square’ early one morning with my friend Reed the previous year. Coincidentally, I was walking downtown to watch Reed & Caroline, Reed’s duo with Caroline Schutz, perform at Pianos on Ludlow Street in the Lower East Side.

At Chelsea Market, I ate a vegan burger from Creamline and, with time to kill, wandered into the Posman book store. I bought a copy of ‘Howl’ by Allen Ginsberg and Jonathan Lethem’s survey of Talking Heads’ Fear Of Music.

“Neat shirt,” said the cashier. “Where did you buy that from?”

“At a shop on the ground floor,” I replied. I think I may have made a downward pointing gesture as if trying to make her see the Paste gallery that was literally below where she was standing.

“Neat,” she said again. “That’s so meta.”

I had no idea what she meant.

I mulled this over while walking to a sports bar a couple of doors down from Pianos, where I met V for a couple of pints of Stella before the gig. The lady behind the bar pouring our drinks was wearing the same grey Muppets t-shirt that I’d bought from Walt Disney World on a family vacation maybe a couple of years before. I contemplated saying, “Nice shirt,” but decided that maybe that would be perceived as flirtatious.

V and I went down the street to Pianos. I offered him a drink, noting that the bar served Stella.

“The Stella’s not good here,” he said. “It tastes sort of soapy.”

We had a pint each anyway.

After the gig, V and I helped Reed pack his equipment into an Uber. While Reed went back inside to grab his cello, I asked V if he ever got recognised at gigs like this.

“Nah,” he said.

Moments later, someone tapped him on the shoulder with a pile of records to sign with a Sharpie. Perhaps fearing that another fan would collar him for autographs, we walked back down to the sports bar, leaving Reed to wonder where his assistants had disappeared to. We had another drink at exactly the same spot where we’d stood before Reed & Caroline’s set. The lady with the Muppets t-shirt was still serving behind the bar. I don’t think she had even noticed we’d left.

V’s Uber arrived and I headed back uptown on the Subway, still a little confused by what the cashier in the bookstore had meant by her assertion that my t-shirt was “meta”.

At the hotel bar, I took a stool and ordered an Old Fashioned, and then a second, and then a third. The third one tasted weird – not soapy, just weird – and I asked the server to check it. It turned out that she had made it with iced tea instead of whiskey. I ordered a fourth one, even though I really shouldn’t have. I sank that just as a massive crowd came in, and went to my room.

After opening the door, my room promptly span violently and I vomited into the toilet. For some reason, in that moment while I was bent over the toilet, my dad’s Alzheimer’s diagnosis forced itself into the forefront of my thoughts. He had been diagnosed in the January of that year but I realised, there and then, that I hadn’t accepted it, or even begun to process it, or remotely acknowledged what it meant. The journey to come to terms with it all began in that hotel bathroom, in New York, there and then.

Whenever I see either that Jason Laurits or grey Muppets t-shirt in my wardrobe, I’m reminded of that night.

Both t-shirts mentioned in this piece form part of ‘All The T-Shirts I Wore In Lockdown’, a Mortality Tables collaboration with the superpolar Taïps label and anonymous sound artist Xqui.

Available on limited edition cassette single from superpolar.bandcamp.com, with digital editions from mortalitytables.bandcamp.com and xqui.bandcamp.com

All proceeds from sales of this release will go to CALM – the Campaign Against Living Miserably – and Kölner Tafel.

Words: Mat Smith

(c) 2023 Documentary Evidence

Maps – Lack Of Sleep (Short Story, 2023)

To coincide with the release of Counter Melodies by Maps earlier this year. I wrote a short story inspired by the track ‘Lack Of Sleep’. You can read this here.

This is the third short story I’ve written inspired by Maps tracks, following ‘Sophia’ (2019) and ‘A.M.A.’ (2013).

‘Lack Of Sleep’ refers to a storm which adds to the insomnia that the narrator experiences. This was Storm Eunice. In parallel to writing the story, I made some field recordings of the storm, initially from the top floor of our house and then as I repaired the damage to our shed in its aftermath.

These recordings, along with several others, were then used as the basis for The Naming Of Storms by Audio Obscura (Neil Stringfellow).

This is the 11th release in the LIFEFILES series, part of the Mortality Tables collaborative project that I began in 2019. The LIFEFILES series has also included four pieces from Mute artist Simon Fisher Turner.

The Naming Of Storms by Audio Obscura was released September 15 2023. Listen, download and follow Mortality Tables at mortality-tables.com

(c) 2023 Documentary Evidence

Tunnels Of Āh – The Smeared Cloth (2012 – 2018 Unearthed)

The Smeared Cloth collates together previously unreleased material from Stephen Āh Burroughs’s Tunnels Of Āh. Burroughs was formerly a founding member of Blast First unit Head Of David, a group that grew out of the Comicide duo.

Like those other projects, Tunnels Of Āh is brooding and impenetrable. My first play of this was through earphones on a crowded Northern Line train on a busy Monday morning; its sinister, grainy textures and harsh, enveloping blanket of dirty, primal sound left me looking at the world around me in a manifestly different way. It was almost as if these pieces allowed me to see through the veil of cheerful optimism that my fellow commuters had shrouded themselves with, revealing instead a swirling mass of uncertainty, paranoia and fear.

With the possible exception of the final track, ‘White Distribution’, which has a sort of springy euphoria to its unpredictable clusters of electronic echoes, this is a uniformly dark collection. I was reluctant to draw comparisons with anything I’d heard before, but I was unintentionally reminded of Coil here, specifically their unused work for Clive Barker’s Hellraiser. Pieces like ‘Aceldama’ and ‘To The Paschal Victim’ share a similarly ritualistic edge to the unused Coil cues, brutally forcing you to stare deeply into an abyss of swirling, tempting, unending darkness. These pieces find Burroughs intoning mysterious, oblique verse over undulating drones, intense, head-cleaning bass, scratchy percussion and hissing, sibilant sounds that seem to gnaw away at you ceaselessly. One of the highlights, ‘Multi-Storey’, occupies an interstitial zone of high-pitched whining, gravelly distortion, slowly-fluttering metallic drones and muted, crashing sounds. Taken together, these interventions feel like the macroscopic, slowed-down exploration of a car crashing headlong into the concrete wall of an abandoned, dimly-lit inner city carpark.

Other pieces like ‘Amorphophallus’ and ‘Fountains Of Light’ might, at least nominally, fall into a dark ambient category, but it is an uneasy and uncomfortable association. Dark ambient is often characterised by a feeling of foreboding and tension, whereas these pieces feel like that tension has abruptly snapped, replaced by a sort of clawing, incessant acquiescence and surrender.

In case it wasn’t obvious, this is not an easy listen, and one that definitely isn’t for the feint-hearted. These tunnels that Burroughs has constructed bore deep into sinister, uncomfortable territory, pathways to a twisted, savage part of our collective psyches that we rarely choose to acknowledge. When the first passengers took to the nascent, smoke-clogged Tube in London, they felt like they were being confronted with a hellish inversion of Victorian progress. Perhaps Tunnels Of Āh’s music was always there in those tight, constrained pathways beneath the surface, waiting for the right moment to be drawn out from behind their blackened and grimy brick walls.

The Smeared Cloth (2012 – 2018 Unearthed) by Tunnels Of Āh was released 16 June 2023 by Cruel Nature and Zoharum. Thanks to Steve.

Words: Mat Smith

(c) 2023 Documentary Evidence

Alison Goldfrapp – HERE at Outernet, London 18.05.2023

Photo: Justin Gliddon

Following the release of The Love Invention, her debut solo album, Alison Goldfrapp played HERE at Outernet in London’s redeveloped Charing Cross / Tottenham Court Road quarter. A mix of tracks from the album and favourites from her time working with Will Gregory as Goldfrapp, the set was a mix of glitz and hits, full of the irrepressible energy that’s made The Love Invention such an impactful album.

Read my review of The Love Invention for Clash here.

Set list

Hotel
Love Invention
Believer
Digging Deeper
Electric Blue
NeverStop
Number 1
Beat Divine
Impossible
Anymore
SloFlo
Gatto Gelato
Strict Machine
Rocket

Encore

So Hard So Hot
Ride A White Horse
Fever

Photo: Justin Gliddon
Photo: Justin Gliddon
Photo: Justin Gliddon
Photo: Justin Gliddon
Photo: Andy Sturmey

Thanks to Justin, Andy and Chris. Sorry to have missed you Shaun.

(c) 2023 Documentary Evidence

Miss Grit – Lafayette, London 04.04.2023

Miss Grit (New York’s Margaret Sohn) played a set at Lafayette in London’s Kings Cross, supporting Bartees Strange.

Consisting of tracks taken from the excellent debut Miss Grit album for Mute, Follow The Cyborg, Sohn seems to embody a certain captivating impassivity in their performance. It’s almost as if Sohn is playing the cyborg character that dominates the theming of their album: movements are scant, they cradle their white guitar like it’s another limb and there is a sort of emotionlessness etched on their face, even as the music on a track like ‘Follow The Cyborg’ reaches a climactic, feverish intensity.

Watching their guitar playing on ‘Like You’ is utterly mesmerising. Sohn is adept at affixing big, snarling riffs onto their songs in a style not dissimilar to Robert Fripp’s work on Bowie’s ‘Fashion’. These riffs arrive with an abruptness and intensity that’s often at odds with either Sohn’s vocals or their electronic arrangements, much as their smile at the end of a piece seemed incompatible with the detachment of the performance itself, or the philosophical gravity of the lyrics. The movements of Sohn’s hands along the neck of their guitar on ‘Like You’ was subtle, robotic almost, in spite of the noisy, grubby distorted blast of all-encompassing noise it produced.

The set concluded with ‘Syncing’, one of the many highlights from Follow The Cyborg. Here it was imbued with heavy emotion in spite of its stateliness and subtlety, the phrase ‘people change twice a year’ seeming to hang in the atmosphere of Lafayette like both a reassuring salve and futile acknowledgment of human weakness.

Thanks to Zoe and Paul.

Words: Mat Smith

(c) 2023 Documentary Evidence