Genesis P-Orridge’s Pandrogeny Manifesto

The Trans­for­ma­tion of Gen­e­sis P-Orridge and Lady Jaye.

This film fol­lows for­mer Throb­bing Gristle/Psychic TV leader, our beloved Gen­e­sis Breyer P-Orridge and his part­ner Lady Jaye through their “Pan­drog­yne” project, where they sought to become two parts of the same per­son through body mod­i­fi­ca­tion surgery. It is crazy, and amaz­ing, and a gen­uinely touch­ing por­trait of real love


Sam Buttery Plays Leigh Bowery In Taboo

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In Jan­u­ary 1985 Leigh Bow­ery started the now infa­mous poly-sexual Thurs­day disco club night “Taboo”. Orig­i­nally an under­ground ven­ture, it quickly became London’s Stu­dio 54, only much wilder, extremely more fash­ion­able, and with­out the masses of celebri­ties – although these came flock­ing in later. For every­one step­ping through the doors it was a truly unfor­get­table experience.

Mark Davies wrote a book which later became a stage musi­cal with lyrics by Boy George, and music by George and Kevan Frost.

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Set in an aban­doned Lon­don ware­house, the partly imag­ined story takes place in the loca­tion of what was the city’s most fash­ion­able night­club, the now-legendary Taboo (1985–87) of the title. Boy George is fea­tured as one of the club’s reg­u­lars. The show also focuses on George’s life prior to and after achiev­ing fame.

The show pre­miered in London’s West End at the Venue The­atre on Jan­u­ary 29, 2002. Now in Sep­tem­ber 2012, Direc­tor Christo­pher Ren­shaw revived the show in a “site spe­cific” form in Brix­ton Club­house in South Lon­don. The pro­duc­tion was based on the orig­i­nal show with book by Mark Davies, but included sev­eral changes to the orig­i­nal soryline.

In this revival, Sam But­tery plays iconic 80s per­for­mance artist Leigh Bow­ery in Taboo, the story of bill-topping per­form­ers who defined a gen­er­a­tion, includ­ing Steve Strange from Vis­age, the inde­fin­able phe­nom­e­non that was Leigh Bow­ery, the one-man entre­pre­neur extra­or­di­naire Philip Sal­lon. And then of course, there’s Boy George, trav­el­ling from squat to super-stardom  from rock to rock bot­tom. The show inter­weaves some fan­tas­ti­cal facts of the 80s with a clas­sic love story of ambi­tion, pas­sion and betrayal.

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Watch below a doc­u­men­tary about the FABULOUS Leigh Bow­ery and the orig­i­nal Taboo for your enjoy­ment. Shown dur­ing the spring of 1986 while Leigh Bow­ery was run­ning his infa­mous night­club Taboo, this doc­u­men­tary put Leigh on the map. A witty, provoca­tive and inspir­ing film that includes a Bodymap fash­ion show, rare footage of Taboo, and inter­views with Michael Clark and Lana Pil­lay, this doc­u­men­tary also reminds us what Leigh was like before he met Lucian Freud.


Brian Butler’s Magick Act

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For the Los Ange­les artist Brian But­ler, magic (or “mag­ick,” as the case may be) is as mod­ern as tech­nol­ogy. Cer­tain teach­ings may be ancient, he notes, but that doesn’t make them any less rel­e­vant. “In the mod­ern world of com­put­ers, the same ener­gies are still oper­at­ing,” he says.

But­ler was pre­mier­ing his film, “The Dove and the Ser­pent,” at the LAXART Annex in Hol­ly­wood last year, and a gritty, glam­orous crowd had gath­ered to watch a live musi­cal per­for­mance fea­tur­ing the leg­endary under­ground film­maker Ken­neth Anger.

Ini­tially drawn together by a shared inter­est in Aleis­ter Crow­ley and the occult, But­ler and Anger have worked together for more than a decade, But­ler pro­duc­ing Anger’s last few films and act­ing as cre­ative direc­tor of the trippy short he made for Missoni’s fall 2010 cam­paign. Anger appears with Vin­cent Gallo in Butler’s film “Night of Pan,” and the two also formed the band Tech­ni­color Skull.

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The Dove and the Ser­pent is a med­i­ta­tion on alchemy; the title ref­er­ences the Her­metic prin­ci­ple “as above, so below.” Filmed at a cas­tle in Nor­mandy, France, with some friends he rounded up dur­ing Paris fash­ion week last fall, includ­ing Dash Snow’s sis­ter Car­o­line and the cin­e­matog­ra­pher Edouard Plon­geon, whose fam­ily pro­vided the locale, the two-and-a-half minute piece is beau­ti­ful, hyp­notic and vaguely sinister.

Shad­owy fig­ures shape-shift and meld with the ele­ments, occult sym­bols flash and fade, and there is some cov­etable fash­ion on dis­play, includ­ing a Masonic robe and an ivory silk gown by the Lon­don designer Qasimi.

The Bartz­abel Work­ing is a per­for­mance based on a cer­e­mo­nial evo­ca­tion of the spirit of Mars, first writ­ten and per­formed in Lon­don in 1910 by Crow­ley, the rit­ual later became part of Los Ange­les his­tory in 1946 when Jack Par­sons con­ducted his own ver­sion of this rite with the inten­tion of plac­ing a Mar­tial curse on a pre-scientology L. Ron Hubbard.

For his rein­ter­pre­ta­tion of this his­tor­i­cal per­for­mance, But­ler con­jures Bartz­abel, the spirit of Mars, evok­ing on the site that was once home to late sci-fi author Ray Brad­bury and cur­rently com­prises L&M Gallery. And bel­low is also a lit­tle gem of a video by Mr. But­ler for The Black Lips



Chris Burden, How Can You Get On TV

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In the 1970s, Chris Bur­den pro­duced a land­mark series of late-night tele­vi­sion com­mer­cials that blurred the worlds of enter­tain­ment, adver­tis­ing and con­cep­tual art. Appear­ing as idio­syn­cratic inter­rup­tions to the station’s reg­u­lar pro­gram­ming, Burden’s some­times shock­ing, some­times dryly humor­ous adver­tise­ments reveal how eas­ily noto­ri­ety and stature can be bought, manip­u­lated, and sub­verted through pop­u­lar media.

Writes Bur­den: “Dur­ing the early sev­en­ties I con­ceived a way to break the omnipo­tent stran­gle­hold of the air­waves that broad­cast tele­vi­sion had. The solu­tion was to sim­ply pur­chase com­mer­cial adver­tis­ing time and have the sta­tions play my tapes along with their other commercials.”

In this video, Bur­den shares the moti­va­tions and logis­ti­cal com­pli­ca­tions behind his four his­tor­i­cally sig­nif­i­cant ads: Through the Night Softly (1973), Poem for L.A. (1975), Chris Bur­den Promo (1976), Full Finan­cial Dis­clo­sure (1977).

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8 BiT VoMiT’s 1° Birthday Party!

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1 YEAR ANNIVERSARY \ CYBERFEMINIST BLAST9TH OF MARCH in Berlin!

8 BiT VoMiT is a series of New Media art and music events founded by Graphic designer, DJ and artist Olya Lev­is­tova and Social Media and Pro­mo­tion enthu­si­ast Tanja Korobka. It has been cre­ated by Lon­don Chip Swarm with a mis­sion to grow chip­tune scene.

Lose your­self in explo­sive elec­tronic beats brought to you by Mind­pi­rates, 8bit Vomit, Chip swarm and DIY Church with a gath­er­ing of DJs and live acts from all over Europe. Dance your heart away and free your soul in a mix of indus­trial, noisy and loud sounds with visu­als by NZNZ, Gab­ifront, and Wario.

Meet the crea­tures of tomor­row to have a night of future fun with: COMPANY FUCK (AU / DE), MIDI MAN, Del_F64.0 & Zus­tand D. (DE), BEN BUTLER AND MOUSEPAD, SANTISIMA VIRGEN MARIA, DR. NEXUS and EYE, DJ OLIO (EE), DJ MICHAEL ANISER (noisekölln/epitaph). VIDEOGAMEZONE BY Qubodup (Joyride­labs).

Free mix­tapes, can­dyfloss, deco, and more. Sup­ported by http://www.sexclusivitaeten.de/ and MINd­PI­rates

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TV Party: The Sublimely Intolerable Show

Glenn O’Brien’s TV Party blew the dust out of New Yorker’s air ducts for four odd years from 1978 to 1982. The hour-long live, unscripted show took advan­tage of New York’s early-ish cable access world — a world man­dated by a deal that cable net­works could have their lit­tle monop­o­lies as long as the pub­lic was granted free access to a cer­tain per­cent­age of air­time. It’s a deal still going on all across Amer­ica today, and after watch­ing a lit­tle TV Party, you’d be a damn fool not to get involved. You see, TV can be fun, and you can make it! As for TV Party — essen­tially a show­case for what O’Brien and friends thought of as cool — it’s not for every­one. But those who like bizarro tele­vi­sion, the down­town New York scene of the day, or cult movies and TV with a cap­i­tal C (Liq­uid Sky or Robin Byrd’s porno talk-show, for instance) will get a seri­ous kick from this exper­i­ment in ‘social­ist TV’ — the TV show that’s a party, but it could also be a polit­i­cal party.

The Sub­limely Intol­er­a­ble Show aired Jan­u­ary 8th 1979, with O’Brien (writer, Warhol-ite and once New Wave gad­about) loosely hold­ing the reins — flog­ging the horse or let­ting it stum­ble down rocky inclines, how­ever he, his guests, audi­ence or callers saw fit. Aired in black and white, the night’s guests included Comp­ton Mad­dox and John Moses play­ing weird gui­tar tunes, Klaus Nomi singing opera, and Andy Sher­noff cov­er­ing the Beach Boys, (backed by Tish and Snooky of Manic Panic fame). Down­town direc­tor Eric Mitchell plays a clip of his movie Kid­napped while plug­ging the New Cin­ema The­ater, direc­tor David Sil­ver and Kate Simon do ‘White Peo­ple Talk About Reg­gae,’ and finally Deb­bie Harry, Chris Stein (also of Blondie and later offi­cial co-host of TV Party) and Richard Sohl help O’Brien with the viewer call-in seg­ment while pass­ing a joint.

Accord­ing to O’Brien’s TV Party web­site, David Let­ter­man once told Paul Scha­ef­fer on air that “TV Party is the great­est TV show any­where, ever,” and for those of us now corn-fed on the GMOs that are Two and a Half Men and their ilk, it’s hard to argue. The show thrives on O’Brien’s heart­felt dif­fi­dence (hard to man­age, true) and an anything-can-happen dan­ger­ous­ness that’s impos­si­ble to fake. It appears effort­less because in many ways it was, semi-professionals aided and abet­ted, and total ama­teurs did lit­tle things like; oper­ate cam­eras and run sound. In fact the first five or ten min­utes of Sub­limely Intol­er­a­ble have no sound at all, noth­ing but ran­dom pops (as peo­ple scurry to fix the prob­lem) and (also accord­ing to the TV Party web­site) Jean-Michel Basquiat typ­ing super-graphics like “Oh no! No sound! Fuck!” Top-notch scen­ester enter­tain­ment makes up for defi­cien­cies O’Brien encour­aged. Mad­dox and Moses’s pre-ironic ironic num­bers bub­ble dan­ger­ously, with O’Brien and Deb­bie Harry et al danc­ing in lab coats. Klaus Nomi’s unearthly soprano aria and equally alien demeanor are stun­ning and bizarre. Sher­noff is cool enough — while point­ing out how even the most insipid Beach Boys song comes with a super-sharp chord pro­gres­sion — and direc­tor Mitchell seems baf­fled and is baffling.

White Peo­ple Talk About Reg­gae rides a dan­ger­ous edge; the audi­ence mocks, Simon and Sil­ver seem defen­sive talk­ing about the ‘music of uplift­ment,’ and then a joint starts mak­ing the rounds. The joint stays for the ‘viewer call-in’ seg­ment which always closed the show. It’s emblem­atic of the off-the-rails genius of the show. Sure, the tech­no­log­i­cal aspects are junk, and per­for­mances or inter­views hit-or-miss, but let­ting uncen­sored live callers on the air is pure gold. O’Brien and crew are unas­sum­ing in their great­ness — they’re the cool kids at school who’ll actu­ally accept you (even though you know you’re a total geek) just because they’re self-secure — shin­ing as they wade through call after call ques­tion­ing their sex­ual prac­tices and eth­nic­ity. This stuff is not for the eas­ily offended, but it’s a tes­ta­ment to the power of a slick hand will­ing to let the chips fall wherever.

The first 10% of this show sums up what we don’t get on TV any­more. Tech­ni­cal dif­fi­cul­ties. TV Party was live and impro­vised, and this meant casual dis­as­ter. This early episode gets off to an artis­ti­cally ago­niz­ing start–the sound per­son is late, over­dos­ing on drugs or both. Or it was the bro­ken down equip­ment. Once the sound kicks in the show gets lively. Comp­ton Mad­dux, a droll singer song­writer, is backed up by Deb­bie Harry and Glenn; the unique futur­ist soprano Klaus Nomi does one of his post-modern arias; Adny Sher­noff, of the Dic­ta­tors, plays the Beach Boys’ “Be True to Your School” backed up by pom pom girls Tish and Snooky, the Manic Panic design­ers. Down­town leg­end direc­tor Eric Mitchell announces the open­ing of the now famous New Cin­ema the­ater and shows a clip from his film “Kid­napped” with Arto Lind­say, Dun­can Smith and Anya Phillips. Brit direc­tor David Sil­ver and pho­tog­ra­pher Kate Simon do the “white peo­ple talk about reg­gae” seg­ment. Blondie’s Chris Stein and Deb­bie Harry and the Patti Smith Group’s Richard Sohl drop in to smoke a reefer and take calls from all the cra­zies in cable land. Chris explains all this isn’t chaos, it’s art.


Genesis Breyer P-Orridge and Aaron Dilloway

WEDNESDAY 2/20/2013 10pm-4am
WIERD is proud to present a live per­for­mance by
Gen­e­sis Breyer P-Orridge and Aaron Dil­loway
With DJs Anarexia, Tesco Jane, Frankie Teardrop
Home Sweet Home 131 Chrystie St. @ Delancey NY

Aaron Dil­loway has been releas­ing and record­ing music since the age of 16. He was a mem­ber of exper­i­men­tal bands Couch, Galen and Uni­ver­sal Indi­ans. He is a for­mer gui­tarist and tape manip­u­la­tor for the exper­i­men­tal band Wolf Eyes, which he left in 2005 to live most of that year in Kath­mandu, Nepal. While his wife did her grad­u­ate work there, he roamed the streets record­ing every sound he could, many of which are used in his recent record­ings and performances.

Cur­rently he runs the noise record label, record store and mailorder Han­son Records, which he began in Brighton, Michi­gan in 1994. Han­son then moved to Ann Arbor, Michi­gan for sev­eral years, before finally set­tling in Ober­lin, Ohio, after a brief return to Ann Arbor. He per­forms solo using eight track tapes and vocal sounds, and records mod­u­lar syn­the­sizer music as Spine Scav­enger. Recently, he has played with an ever-changing cast of sound artists under the name The Nevari Butch­ers. — hansonrecords.net/

Gen­e­sis Breyer P-Orridge (b. Neil Meg­son) is a musi­cian and artist whose career began in Hull, Eng­land in 1969. She was a found­ing mem­ber of the hugely influ­en­tial bands Throb­bing Gris­tle (founders of Indus­trial music) and Psy­chic TV.

In 1993, P-Orridge began the art/life project of becom­ing a sin­gle pan­drog­y­nous entity along with her (now late) wife Lady Jaye Breyer P-Orridge. — genesisbreyerporridge.com


TV Party The Documentary

In 1978, two rev­o­lu­tion­ary trends emerged in New York City, pub­lic access cable TV and punk rock.

These two phe­nom­ena came together spec­tac­u­larly in Glenn O’Brien’s TV Party. O’Brien recruited his pal Chris Stein, the gui­tarist of Blondie, as his co-host, fel­low Fac­tory kid Wal­ter Ste­d­ing as leader of The TV Party Orches­tra, and under­ground film direc­tor Amos Poe as direc­tor and the rest, as you’ll see, was history.

Hip­sters tuned in to fol­low the antics of the TV Party gang and such guests as Iggy Pop, David Bowie, P-Funk’s George Clin­ton, The Clash’s Mick Jones, Kid Cre­ole, Klaus Nomi, as well as per­for­mances from acts like Tuxedo Moon, the Brides of Funken­stein, Alex Chilton, and more.


Klaus Nomi

Klaus Nomi was a leg­end in the New Wave scene in New York in the late 70s. He was an incred­i­ble show­man with a stun­ning, oper­atic countertenor.

After intro­duc­ing him­self to the scene in New York, he played the punk and new wave clubs around the city with vary­ing bands.

In 1979, when David Bowie came to New York to per­form on Sat­ur­day Night Live, he asked Klaus Nomi to be a backup singer.

For the next three years, Klaus was what you’d expect from an avant garde, new wave, pop opera per­former: cel­e­brated and well respected in the under­ground scene and more pop­u­lar in France, Ger­many and Japan than in the US.

He put on incred­i­ble shows and did TV appear­ances that were unfor­get­table to the few peo­ple who saw them, but there was some­thing wrong.

Klaus prob­a­bly felt sick more often than he should, had trou­ble keep­ing any weight, and prob­a­bly felt con­stant fatigue.

In 1983, Klaus’ ill­ness caught up to him. He was one of the early vic­tims of AIDS.


The Rest Is Noise — The Soundtrack To The 20th Century

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Why did the Holo­caust change the course of music for­ever? How did Amer­ica, through the CIA, become the biggest fun­der of avant-garde composers?

In 2007 Alex Ross wrote the sem­i­nal book The Rest Is Noise – lis­ten­ing to the Twen­ti­eth Cen­tury. Through­out 2013 the Londo’s South­bank Cen­tre brings the book alive, with nearly 100 con­certs, per­for­mances, films, talks and debates.

We take you on a chrono­log­i­cal jour­ney through the most impor­tant music of the 20th cen­tury and drama­tise the century’s mas­sive polit­i­cal and social upheavals. The Lon­don Phil­har­monic Orches­tra, with over 30 con­certs, is the back­bone of this fes­ti­val, which reveals the sto­ries behind the rich, exhil­a­rat­ing and some­times con­tro­ver­sial com­po­si­tions that have changed the way we lis­ten forever.’

The Rest Is Noise views 20th-century music through the prism of his­tory with its rev­o­lu­tions and counter-revolutions, its major moral and philo­soph­i­cal upheavals around race, gen­der, faith, polit­i­cal credo and paci­fism – and its new rela­tion­ship to tech­nol­ogy and artis­tic democracy.

Over the year, The Rest Is Noise turns the spot­light on 12 parts of the cen­tury. In the first half of the fes­ti­val, from Jan­u­ary to June 2013, we move from Richard Strauss and the break­down of the old world to the influ­ence of Stalin and Hitler on music via the cos­mopoli­tan glam­our of inter-war Paris. In autumn 2013 visit the 1960s, Hol­ly­wood and Down­town New York and look at artists behind the Iron Curtain.

Through lis­ten­ing to this extra­or­di­nary, rich and eclec­tic reper­toire and hear­ing about the events that shaped its com­po­si­tion, we hope to bring a com­pletely new dimen­sion of under­stand­ing and enjoy­ment to the audience.

If you’re new to 20th-century music, then this is your time to start explor­ing. There has never been a fes­ti­val like this.