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HOLDING THE FORT: An overview of Brighton's experimental music scenes


In back rooms of pubs, new scenes are popping up all over Brighton exploring brand new genres.

But how do you tell the difference between noise and music? BNDIY sat down with experiemental musicians and promoters, Geoff Cheesemaster, Al Strachan and Daniel Mackenzie to discuss forts, funding and 200KG bell in Newhaven.

For many passers by, Sonic Youth's dissonant afternoon performance on Brighton beach in 1985 was a confusing racket. But for a young Geoff Cheesemaster (real name Geoff Reader), it was a glimpse into a new world. That year, Geoff also witnessed New York noise mongers, Swans’ infamous show at Brighton’s Zap Club. With a maximum capacity of 240, legend has it the gig was so loud the venue suffered structural damage as a result. But for Geoff it left a different legacy: “Swans had Pink Floyd's PA at the time. In a club that small people were vomiting on the seafront because of the volume. For me, it was a legendary tour. Just pummelling loud noise which has stayed with me ever since,” he recalls. But it wasn't just an appreciation for dense walls of noise that came as a revelation to him: “All those things at the Zap weren’t booked by the club, but by a guy called Andy. When he left, I said to myself: ‘somebody should be doing this’ for six months and then I thought, actually it’s me. I’m the one saying it, so ultimately I need to do it.”

This eventually led Geoff to run the city's long running Spirit of Gravity nights. These started as a platform for live electronic music at a time when DJ culture and backwards-looking guitar bands were ubiquitous. SPIRIT OF GRAVITY & THE SAFE HOUSE

Under Geoff’s stewardship these events embraced a broader range of performers. Now electronic experimentalists like Inwards rub shoulders with speed jazz group Dead Neanderthals and meditative contrabassoon player, Thomas Stone.

But where do Brighton’s out there musicians come form? Is it just one big group of friends? A mixture of individual collectives doing different things? Or people making noise in cupboards under staircases?

“Its all those things. There are dozens of scenes and I'm finding new ones constantly. Pick up a dustbin lid and there’s a scene inside it. There are presumably people in their 20s doing things I have yet to discover.” A monthly forum for these experimental musicians is Safe House at the Good Companions. For £3, anyone can venture upstairs, pick up an instrument and compose a short piece of music with strangers in front of a live audience. For Brighton sound artist Daniel Mackenzie, this open door policy both defines Brighton’s experimental music culture and explains its eclecticism. “I think it has that effect punk did where you don’t need to do anything academic or learned to get involved. If the mood takes you, you just make noise with something. There’s a crop of people I’ve become friends with who’ve seen what’s going on and think: ‘I could do that too’ which doesn’t happen with other music scenes.” But this inclusive, supportive creativity comes at a price. First is the problem of most gigs being short notice affairs:

"The lead times for local listing magazines were ridiculous. Underground scenes are so dynamic and constantly moving and things coming up at the last minute," says Geoff. This led him to set up the Brighton Eyeball, an online calendar of upcoming events as soon as he hears about them. The second problem is money. Most events are small scale with shifting boudaries between the roles of promoter and performer. “It’s a hard thing, people think [us] promoters make money from this stuff but at the level we’re working at a lot of the time the promoter is putting something on he wants to see. The thing you work on is: ‘how much, really, do I want to see this?’ ‘How much would I pay myself to go?’” says Goeff. But is there a criteria for a promoter to distinguish between pretentious cacophony and something worth putting on? “I don’t think there is. It just has to be anything interesting. Stuff that’s thrilling or makes me laugh. Anyone who is conforming to some kind of genre, or convention is probably not going to go down well unless they’ve invented their own and are defining it down to the finest thing. But it’s an open approach. I don’t know what my taste is anymore,” he adds.

LOST PROPERTY & FORT PROCESS

Last year, Geoff and Daniel got together with Safe House organiser and local trumpet player Al Strachan and others to form Lost Property. The project brings together Brighton’s experimental musicians, modern classical composers and artists to offer paid gigs for everyone involved. Their landmark achievement was last September’s Fort Process. A one-day festival set within the tunnels and bunkers of an abandoned fort in Newhaven. Built in the 1870s amid fears of French invasion, the site was about to be sold off by East Sussex County Council. The event took 18 months to put together and presented more than its fair share of logistical challenges: “One of the sound art installations involved a 200KG bell which we hired form one of the oldest foundries in the UK. But actually getting it into to the tunnel was quite an adventure. We had to hack away at a load of brambles and trees and create a path to the base of the fort which comes out at the bottom of a cliff,” says Al. With a line up featuring electric guitars struck by mallets, instruments directly controlled by brainwaves and the giant bell, tickets quickly sold out. It was a critical success too. The fort has a capacity of 450 people. To break even, everyone would have had to pay over £100 each. So how did Geoff, Daniel and Al get round this? “God bless them, the Arts Council. We were very appreciative of them stumping up money for it," says Geoff. For Al, the experience of opening the envelope sheathing the good news left him: “flopping about on the living room floor like a beached seal.”

Newhaven is one of the most deprived parts of East Sussex. In some areas, 60% of its population ive in poverty. It has also been affected by the Calais migrant crisis as steps are taken to boost security. Increasing numbers of teenage Iraqi and Syrian refugees are now entering the UK by smuggling themselves onto ferries which arrive from Dieppe.

The festival recieved a grant of £25,000. When divided amongst everyone who attended, this works out at £56 a head. Or a week’s jobseekers allowance for someone under 25. In an age defined by deficit, should public money to be used on niche events that attract small, mostly middle class audiences?

Andy Sylvester, campaigns manager at the Taxpayer’s Alliance doesn’t think so. He views Fort Process as an example of reckless, unsustainable state subsidy: “Art existed before the Arts Council. There are huge numbers of experimental music venues across the country. There are a huge numbers of music festivals, which are commercially successful and able to stand on their own two feet. Frankly, if art is good enough people will come and see it." Unsurprisingly, its organisers disagree. They point out that following the event, one of the artists relocated to Newhaven and continues to work there today. For Geoff and Al, the festival was more about culture than economics. Specifically to inspire people in the town in a similar way Geoff was inspired by Sonic Youth and Swans. But what feedback did they get from residents? “We sent out letters to locals living around the fort saying there will be some strange noises emanating from this place and we got some positive responses in that there was something unusual happening in their vicinity. There wasn’t a single negative one. Everyone was pleasantly surprised,” says Al.

Listen to Geoff explain the unusual musical properties of Newhaven Fort. Article continues below.

A RAINBOW IN CURVED AIR

Lost Property failed to get funding to organise a follow-up. Undeterred, they assembled a 25-piece ensemble to perform a concert at London Road’s One Church celebrating minimalist composer, Terry Riley’s recent 80th birthday.

Riley might not be a household name, but his use of repitition and sampling of pop songs in the 1960s changed modern music. Just like Geoff’s experience talking to promoters outside the Zap Club there is another aspect of Terry Riley which is important to Lost Property: “I’d say Riley’s whole approach is one we identify with because he’s really open to experimentation and wasn’t confined to just putting on concerts in classical environments. For instance, he did a cut up of the soul song, You’re No Good which was commissioned by a disco in San Francisco. In C was first performed in an old fire house. We’re into that. You should be taking music to unusual places and not just having it in refined classical environments,” says Al. Both Fort Process and the Terry Riley concert were relatively large scale successes for everyone involved. But the DIY essence of regular Splitting The Atom all-dayers at the Green Door Store illustrates the the scenes' perennial double-edged sword:

"I had a very surreal time at the last one. There was a dance music promoter from Bermondsey who was trying to convice us that the noise scene in Brighton should join forces with the club scene there. It ended fairly amicably when he realised we weren’t interested in changing things to the point when we would start to make lots of money. He had no grasp why we put on the things we do which is beucase they're the kind of things we love to see. Constantly worrying about whether a show is going to sell as well as the last one is a fence that holds you back from experimenting," concludes Geoff.

Spirit of Gravity Safe House Splitting the Atom Arts Council England Taxpayers Alliance BNDIY is not responsible for the content of external links

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