I’ve known Jason and Zoe from Buck Young for a while at this point. Jason and I message each other pretty frequently both about business – I carry many No Rent titles at my store – and pleasure, which mostly comes down to us discussing the United States or music. Fittingly, Buck Young combines those two things. Crumer told me that Zoe was going to handle PR this go round but that she’d reach out to me with some questions. I ended up writing the band bio for Buck Young’s second LP, which is an absolute scorcher. One of this year’s best. It also functions as a profile for the band, more or less, so I’m including it below. Congrats ya’ll!
“I was sending Jason Crumer live recordings of being on a freight train, traveling across the country, at one point.” That’s Zoe Burke, talking about the creative process behind Buck Young’s forthcoming 2LP Buck II: Where Do You Want It? A long-distance collaborative project between Burke, Crumer, Joseph Hammer, and many others, Buck Young combines classic Americana instrumentation and concepts with the avant-garde, weaving gentle, melodic guitar loops together with field recordings, samples, harsh noise, and vocalization.
While Burke was on a journey hopping intercontinental freight trains – a particularly poetic and cautioning tale of which is captured on album highlight “The Ballad of Bruce McLain” – Crumer was back in the lab both recording and processing audio with folks like Wyatt Howland of Skin Graft, Rose Rae of No Rent Fame, Vanessa Rossetto, Richard Dunn of FFH, and many more.
Buck II is an album about motion and communication – characters, real or otherwise, become attached, miscommunicate in person and via technology, head to the next town, and learning to deal with the shit hands they’ve been dealt, all the while conjuring modern interpretations of John Wayne – see humorous title track narrated by Dunn “Where Do You Want It?” or lead instrumental single “Stop Motion Mississippi,” a cinematic piece that Burke likens to “the feeling of watching time pass.”
Cinema is an important gear in the Buck Young machine. Take the song “Bell Jar of Whiskey,” a song about the unraveling female psyche, nodding to things like Cassavetes’ oeuvre, the Lana Del Rey phenomenon, or – as Burke jokes – “Jennifer Herema after all the fame dies down.” She laughs at that, but then takes the more serious path – “It’s about succumbing to an exclusively feminine weakness, then owning it, and somehow letting it cauterize into power.”
For all the damage, humor, and long-distance stem wrangling in Buck II, the album is tight and cohesive, more seamless than their debut album, brandishing a narrative arc like the best Westerns. Matter of fact, by the end of the record, you can practically see the gang riding West into the sunset.
I met Derek Rush in the flesh at Tulsa Noise Fest back in May – it was pretty clear that he had a lot going on. Rush was facilitating a set by anonymous rhythmic noise project Compactor, recording high-quality audio of each set, taking pictures, and slinging merch. If you spend enough time talking to Rush, you realize pretty quickly that underground music and subculture is his lifeblood, and he’s willing to put in work to document its happenings.
That’s just an example from one festival – Rush’s efforts go much deeper. His label Chthonic Streams has been releasing material since the late-90s, including his work as Dream Into Dust, but his creative work goes back to the early 90s.
August 2019 also sees the first Chthonic “batch drop,” which features tapes from long-running death industrial luminary Murderous Vision, a power electronics split from Pollutant and Straight Panic, and New York industrial darkwave project Octonomy, all of which are worth picking up.
He let me bend his ear about what makes him tick.
Jordan Reyes: How did you become interested in underground music – abrasive music, dark music, industrial music. What about it attracted you? What’s kept you involved?
Derek Rush: I had already been making my own weird music for a few years when I came across the RE/Search Industrial Culture Handbook, which blew my mind. I didn’t know until years later when I actually heard Throbbing Gristle, Non, SPK and the like, how similar my own recordings were to some of what they were doing. I was just making sounds that I found interesting at first.
DR: I was attracted to increasingly darker sounds and genres as I learned what was out there. It felt like a reflection of my own feelings, and a form of validation, to be able to identify with the work of others. Listening to and making such sounds is a way of exorcising those feelings. That keeps me involved as well, because I’ve grown as a person, but that part of me is always there; the part that knows so many things in the world aren’t right and wants to see that expressed.
JR: Do you have any background training in the arts? You seem to be good at basically everything haha – photography, engineering, graphic design, etc.
DR: I have a degree in Graphic Design, though by college I was more into making music. I’ve only had a few lessons on piano and recorder as a kid. I’ve never had any training in music engineering – that’s all been gleaned from reading magazines and books, using the hardware and software, and just getting better over time. As for Photography, I took one class in college, but that was old school B&W film stuff. Mostly I’ve just been shooting a lot of pictures and learning about bringing out the best in them through judicious editing.
JR: Tell me a bit about your archival efforts. A lot of what you do – photography, curation, etc – seems to be done with archiving in mind, not to mention you record so many sets. What is the importance of archiving you think? Do you feel as though it needs to be especially conscientious in underground communities?
DR: I’ve become a bit obsessed with documenting music shows in still photographs for the past few years as my abilities in that area have improved. I’m fortunate to have been born and raised in New York City, and living here provides an embarrassment of riches in terms of events happening every week. There are millions who can’t see what’s happening, and some of these artists will never make it to a lot of other places to play. Some people are doing really great things and I want everyone to know. Especially if it’s in some DIY space that maybe only 20-40 people were at.
DR: I don’t always record everyone’s sets because I don’t always have access to the main mixing board, or a lot of disk space. But at certain fests I make an effort because I’m sure the artists would want a record of what they did. It’s better to just make sure something is captured. You never know what’s going to be a classic moment until it’s passed.
JR: How did you first start making music? How has this changed over the years? Are there particular sounds or instruments you find yourself drawn to these days?
DR: As a kid, I was interested in making my own music before I understood there were genres and rules. I used an out-of-tune piano, some African drums, “bonus beats” DJ records on a kiddie turntable, and a few borrowed cheap tape recorders, which I recorded noisy experiments with. I kept upgrading the recording setup over time with each bit of money I was able to scrape together. I still record and mix in a weird way, capturing things on an old analog board, going into a hard disk recorder, and then dumping tracks to an outdated laptop to edit things. So, while the actual gear has changed, what hasn’t is that I use what I have and just deal with making it the best I can. The sounds and instruments I’m drawn to are things that have a more unique sound, and maybe have been or can be modified from their original design.
JR: What spurred you to release as a “batch” this time? Do you think there are overlapping concepts in the releases? What links them outside of simple genre lines and your engineering work?
DR: In the past, I’ve mainly released very short runs of specially-packaged albums that are to some degree handmade. That’s enjoyable, but also exhausting. The copies also sell out fairly quickly and then it’s basically done, after all that work. I’ve noticed other small labels seeming to have success with batches of releases, so I wanted to try that. I definitely chose these three albums to be released together very carefully. Chthonic Streams has never been about one particular sound or genre, but a series of related sounds, flowing together from different sources. I can’t really speak for the artists in terms of similar concepts, I feel we’d have to have a roundtable with all of them to see what they think. But from my point of view, besides what you mentioned, there is a definite anti-establishment streak in all of us as people, that comes out in the work.
Photos left to right: Murderous Vision by Pauline Lombardo, Octonomy by John Rohrer, Pollutant, Straight Panic
JR: How did you become in contact with the folks who you’re releasing for this batch?
DR: I’ve known Stephen Petrus over the internet for over 20 years, since the days of the Malignant Records e-list. We finally met for a show in 2001 and have been involved in a few projects together. We’ve been fans of each other’s work for a long time, so it was kind of inevitable that we’d work more closely on a Murderous Vision release.
DR: Heidi Lorenz also lives in Brooklyn, and we’ve booked each other’s projects for shows before. We have several mutual friends and frequently end up at the same places. I could hear what she was doing was pretty incredible, but I didn’t see a lot out there as far as definitive recordings, so I wanted to help.
DR: I first started hearing of Thomas Boettner when he was still living in Alaska and working under the alias Fire Island, AK. I finally met him when Straight Panic first played New Orleans in late 2016, and we’ve been in touch a lot ever since, meeting up at various noise fests around the country. I’ve never met E.N. of Pollutant, but when Thomas offered the split material to me, and talked about its themes, I could tell this was quality stuff I could get behind.
JR: What all is in the future for Derek Rush and Chthonic Streams?
DR: I want Chthonic Streams to continue to be about curating great underground dark sounds, representing them in live events, on releases, and in photographs. There are a few albums in the pipeline for the future by Wilt, Morher, Turing Heat, and the long-delayed official release of my collaboration project with the late John Binder (Arkanau, Exhuma) called Mortuary Womb. I’ve been helping edit, arrange, and add instruments to the upcoming Theologian album ‘Contrapasso’ which will hopefully finally be out in 2020. I’ve also been working on mixing tracks for STCLVR, and have been approached by a few others to do the same for them. I continue to work as SysAdmin for Compactor, and there are a few live shifts coming up, most notably Northeast Noise Fest, NorCal Noisefest, Sustain/Decay 48-Hour Drone Fest, and Peaked Signals. New Compactor documents are forthcoming on Sonic Terror and Ohm Resistance, which I’m pretty excited about.
JR: Anything else you’d like to say?
DR: If underground music means something to you, please support it. Everyone may do this for love or other non-monetary reasons, but we live in a real world where things cost money, from instruments to merch to the rent for venues. Beer is great, but if you want to keep having places to hang out with good people and drink it while experiencing good music, make sure to save a few bucks for those who make that happen.
2020 will be the 10th anniversary of New Forces, the carefully curated noise label run by Stefan Aune. For nearly a decade, Aune has delivered harsh sonic artifacts from artists across the world – Japanoise legends like Killer Bug find a home alongside contemporary American greats like Shredded Nerve, Interracial Sex, and Striations. So far in 2019, New Forces has put out more than ten releases, including tapes by Limbs Bin, Serration, Jackson-Pratt, and a 2LP reissue of The Rita’s masterful Magazine.
In addition to his work on the label front, Aune has been making noise since the label’s inception – at first under the monikers Breaking the Will and The Sun Turns Black, but these days his electroacoustic project Kjostad seems to take a lot of his creative bandwith. Combining nature-based field recordings with abrasive textures and processing, Kjostad both rewards patience and indulges your inner harsh head.
Stefan and I talked about nature, personal creative pathways, and more.
Jordan Reyes: Has nature always been an important part of your life personally?
Stefan Aune: I was born in Northern Minnesota into a family for whom outdoor activities such as fishing, hunting, and cross country skiing were important. When I was little we moved down to the Twin Cities (Minneapolis / St. Paul) so the north woods were less immediate but I’ve always spent lots of time up north visiting family. I eventually discovered hardcore music and the vegan straightedge, so hunting and fishing haven’t been something of interest for awhile, but I still love to spend time in the woods or on the lake. Hiking, kayaking, canoeing, getting away from people and enjoying some solitude are all very important to me. Without dropping too hard of a “lecture” on your readers I’d also argue that “nature” is important for everyone. It doesn’t matter if you live in rural Minnesota or the middle of Brooklyn, ecology, plants, animals… these are part of your day to day life and you should consider your relationship to them. To paraphrase an environmental historian named Bill Cronon, one of the problems with ideas like “wilderness” is that people imagine wilderness or nature as distant, far away… places you visit. In fact, nature is something you have a day-to-day relationship with and humans seem to get in trouble when they forget about that reality.
JR: Can you remember some of the first natural sounds you heard that you thought you should record?
SA: I’m not sure I’ve got an interesting answer for this one. My initial forays into noise music were driven by the artists I was around at the time (Baculum, Wince, Gnawed, Wilt, Juhyo), great harsh noise and PE artists that seemed to be doing really interesting things with these tables full of devices. After observing those artists my thought process was: “if I get these pedals I can make these sounds,” which I think is the thought process many noise artists start with. There’s nothing wrong with that approach, but I think it can sometimes give artists a ceiling on their own potential if it’s all about gear. I don’t like to see performances that just feel like a gear showcase of whatever devices they’ve purchased in the last 3 months. Gear is a tool for making music and I want to see what you are doing with the gear. What has been really valuable with my Kjostad project is turning that formula on its head and giving all priority to the sounds sources, trimming away effects where possible, and really trying to start with interesting sounds. This has bled into my other projects such as Breaking The Will and Form Hunter, in that I try to assemble collections of good source material that can then be played through some sort of electronic system or assemblage of gear.
JR: What is your process for field recording? What do you use? Do you go to any specific places?
SA: No set process, but one of the cornerstones of Kjostad is that most (but not all) of the sounds are recorded literally at Kjostad Lake, which is a small lake in northern Minnesota about 15-20 minutes from the Canadian border. It’s where I go when I go home to visit family, and it’s been artistically invigorating to really explore localized, place-based field recording as the impetus for music. I usually use a Zoom H4n which is a nice hand-held recording device. I need something portable as much of my field recording involves just walking around the woods. The thing about making field recordings in a forest is that 90% of the audible sounds are wind and birds. 9% is squirrels and chipmunks, and usually the other 1% is the engine on a boat or truck, or maybe one of my younger relatives yelling as they jump into the lake. You’ll hear all of those things in Kjostad recordings, but you’re gonna hear all kinds of other sounds that won’t be immediately recognizable. It’s not just me passively recording the environment – I may rub the microphone against a piece of birch bark, or grab an interesting rock and scrape it against a deer skull laying on the forest floor. Field recording is definitely an active process, in which I’m sometimes quietly recording the forest, and sometimes “playing” the forest in different ways. Additionally, part of my process is just recording everything and finding interesting moments later on. I probably make just as many tape loops out of sounds that were unintentional accidents as I do of sounds that I intentionally set out to capture. You have to leave yourself open to happy accidents, but I think that’s true with any kind of experimental music.
JR: What equipment do you use for Kjostad? Is there a difference live versus recorded? Does it change based on the tour you’ve planned out?
SA: A whole variety of things. As I said, sound sources are key, so it’s devices like tape players and samplers supported with a few effects or other electronics and a contact mic or two. The best pedal is the Boss Bass Overdrive ODB-3 so you’ll usually see a few of those on my table. For both recordings and live sets I try to assemble a collection of sources and tracks that I’ve already composed and sort of play them like a conductor, using shorter vignettes or compositions and merging them into a larger track that has a narrative or flow to it. I use a lot of stereo panning and try to create a wall of sound that is dense but still has recognizable parts embedded in it. Like I said, once I press record, or begin a live set, there has been a lot of work beforehand to collect sounds sources, some of which will be featured “raw,” but many of which have been composed into larger tracks or embedded on tape and fashioned into loops. You still need to leave room for performative spontaneity, however. I don’t want to just sit up there and push play on a sampler.
JR: Tell me a bit about the ending to your description of the first Form Hunter tape – noise being a blast of euphoria. Is that how you experience harsh noise? Is that what it provides you?
SA: Definitely, these sorts of loud sounds feel really good to me, and a well executed harsh noise performance is going to give me a rush or surge of adrenaline. It’s hard to describe, but noise can really take over all your senses.
JR: There’s a recurring motif in a lot of your work of artillery and military. How did this become important to you? Do you use it conscientiously in your work? Why?
SA: These motifs are born out of a general interest in war and violence as integral parts of human history. I work as an academic historian and one of my areas of focus is the history of colonialism, imperialism, and warfare. I’m not trying to produce a pedantic “protest” aesthetic, but rather highlight the fact that an incredible degree of militarization literally structures our day-to-day lives in the United States, in often invisible ways. It’s very much in the industrial tradition of saying “look at this, how are you going to deal with this??” – as opposed to the more punk rock tradition or simply screaming “I don’t like this!!!”
JR: You’re straight edge, too. Does that play any role in your work? What does straight edge mean to you? How has it benefited you?
SA: It plays a role in my life generally speaking, so of course it impacts my work in some way, but none of my projects are defined by any effort to emphasize the straight edge thematically speaking. The one exception is the X Means Not Welcome compilation on FTAM, which was a fun chance to slam together the iconography of harsh noise and youthxcrew hardcore. Honestly, attending noise shows, particularly festivals, just emphasizes that I’m definitely making the right choices relative to intoxication.
JR: What else is in the future for Stefan Aune? Anything else you’d like to say?
SA: Thanks for the interview! Nothing I said is a rigid template. Learn by doing, develop your own process. I’m just making this up as I go – everyone is. Plenty in the works from my label New Forces, which you can keep track of at newforces.bigcartel.com as well as @newforcesnoise on Instagram. Look for an upcoming Kjostad full-length CD on Chondritic Sound titled “Extinctionist,” an LP from my duo Form Hunter on Found Remains, and some renewed activity from my project Breaking The Will. 2020 also marks the ten-year anniversary of New Forces, and I’ve got some really exciting stuff in the works to celebrate, including releases and performances.
I’m just going to say it – Cygnus by Pale Spring is one of my favorite records so far this year. It’s a tightly-composed, eight-song collection by the sultry, trip hop – and husband/wife – duo Emily Harper Scott and Drew Scott. From the outset, it’s clear that a lot of thought has gone into the vocal melodies and hooks on the album, and, veritably, each song has strong stuck-in-the-head capacity. From the dance floor ready “Happening” to the more hip hop influenced “Guilt Trip,” Cygnus brings together many forms of beat-based music, all masterfully swirling under Emily’s gentle but powerful croon.
Recently released on the great Doom Trip Records, you can stream (and should really buy) the album from the embed, and check an interview I did over the phone with Emily and Drew below the jump.
Jordan Reyes: Are you guys both from the Atlantic Seaboard originally?
Emily Harper Scott: Yeah, I was raised in Baltimore City and never moved until just moving to L.A.
Drew Scott: I grew up in Maryland and New Jersey.
JR: And what were ya’ll’s experiences growing up in terms of music? Did you have music playing a lot in your childhood homes? Was it encouraged?
EHS: For me, definitely – my great great uncle played for the New York Philharmonic, and he later taught my grandfather how to play jazz trumpet at Juilliard. My great uncle was a middle school music teacher his entire life. I was forced into piano lessons, musical theater, clarinet lessons from about age five on.
JR: Wow – what about you, Drew?
DS: My grandfather was amateur musician who sang in a doo-wop group in Philly when he was younger, but he was always putting instruments in my hands. I didn’t really get into making music until later.
JR: Did you begin with a band or immediately with electronics?
DS: I started making rap beats basically – I taught myself how to sample, and then I started to meet rappers, and make beats for these people. This was before computer programs, back when lo-fi chill beats weren’t really a thing – this was just what we used.
JR: You used a Tascam?
DS: It was like a Boss 16-track, and eventually computers made things a lot easier. I still use a Roland SP-404 and a Maschine Mikro II.
JR: Did you get into Fruity Loops at all?
DS: You know, I never got into Fruity Loops, but a lot of my friends did.
JR: I’ll be darned.
JR: Everyone I knew who was getting into hip hop production with computers started with fruity loops.
DS: I used something else pre-fruity loops, actually. The first thing that changed my life, though, was the Korg Triton. I got that, and that is basically what I used for melodies and sequences. I stopped using computers so much after getting it. It was a synth, a sampler, everything.
JR: Do you use it on the record?
EHS: No! He sold it before I even met him, and I’m mad about it! (Laughs). It’s an amazing piece of technology. For the record we used a microkorg, which we sold before moving to Los Angeles, before we got into midi. We were doing everything line-in, so we had to replay things until they were perfect – you can’t quantize it, really. We used the Maschine Mikro II for sampling and beats, did some glitching on the SP-404, I use a vocal pedal, and then I play the guitar on top of some of the songs.
JR: So it’s all played live?
EHS: No – usually we record like a synth line and then loop it – so we’d record a bar or so, then edit in post-production. The guitar is played live, of course, but then the Maschine Mikro II uses midi, which we can quantize, so it’s much easier.
JR: And were you using Ableton for recording?
EHS: No! This is an anti-Ableton household (laughs). No – whatever works for you works for you, but we use Pro-Tools. I think our method of doing things is a little different than most people, but I don’t know – he taught me how to make beats.
DS: My friends definitely call me an old man, but it works. I like limitations when I make music basically.
JR: So how long did it take for you guys to write the songs for CYGNUS? Did you write all of them, Emily?
EHS: I wrote all of them except for “Belongings.” “Old Sounds” is the oldest song, and I seriously cannot remember for the life of me when I recorded it, but I want to say the end of 2016 or early 2017. The album has been written for over a year because we finished writing in June of 2018, and then production and recording stretched into September. I didn’t get the final masters to Zac until Mid-October of 2018. “Belongings” was written by my friend Chris Taylor – he’s kind of famous in the DC hardcore/post-hardcore scene. He was in a band called pageninetynine – they toured all over the place. When I released the first Pale Spring EP, he found me on Twitter and hit me up saying he loved my album, and I was like “We should make music together!” I had “Old Sounds” written at that point. It took a full year, but in March 2018, he came over and stayed for a weekend, and wrote the second half of “Old Sounds,” which we finished together, and then he was like “Hey, I have this song I’m working on – I can’t sing it the way it’s meant to come off. Do you want to try singing it?” I had never tried anything like that, and it was fun since there wasn’t as much pressure.
JR: So how did you team up with/meet Zac from Doom Trip?
EHS: So after EP 2 maybe in April or May of 2018, I was like “Okay, me just cold-emailing people isn’t going to go anywhere, I should build some social media relationships with smaller labels because these are people doing good work for artists, and that might be a good way to make connections.” I started finding indie labels on twitter that I liked, followed them, started corresponding a little bit. I guess timing worked perfectly, and I added Zac on Twitter while he was on Twitter, and so he followed me back immediately, then checked out my EP. I got an email within days. He was working on the 3rd Doom Trip comp, and he said “Hey, are you working on any new music? I’d love to have you on this comp” so I finagled my way in there. I said “Hey, I’d love to – also I’m trying to shop my album around that I’ve almost finished.” At first he was a bit apprehensive because he curates his label so well and he gets so many submissions, but we liked the way we communicated with each other. He gave me really good advice about my demos when they came through and finally when I had the masters he thought they were perfect. I wouldn’t have it any other way. He’s awesome, and puts in so much work.
JR: Yeah he’s one of my favorite people to correspond with – we’ve become good buds. Did that factor to you going out to Los Angeles?
EHS: No – we actually had been planning on going out to LA for like two-and-a-half years. It was going to be either LA or New Orleans. But…if we went to New Orleans, there was the chance we’d become alcoholics, and it’s more humid than Baltimore – I don’t know if we could have survived that. Maybe one day, though. Truthfully, we just wanted a change of life, and I don’t think we even had a conscientious rationale, but now that we’re here, it’s like “Oh, yeah – we’re out here for music – duh!”
JR: Were there any specific events that triggered the lyrical content on CYNGUS?
EHS: Yeah…I had a super depressing childhood, and I’m not going to get into it, but I did a lot of trauma therapy in my adulthood, so a lot of the lyrics are about coping with this bleak, desolate past in a subconscious, dreamlike way as an adult. Also, I’ve struggled with sleep paralysis and nightmares for my whole entire life. I used to be on a medication for how bad my nightmares were – a lot of my writing comes from dreams. “Quarantines” was directly from a dream I had – I almost feel like it was a past life of mine, but I had a dream that I was a young woman living on a prairie, and my house was burning down.
JR: Do you keep a dream journal?
EHS: I did! Oh my god – I did. I used to come down in the morning from bed, and I’d tell my roommates that we needed to talk about the fucked up dream I had just had, and they’d be like “What the fuck? You need to write this down in a dream journal.” Some of them are so funny, and some of them are so dark and weird. I had a dream that my best friend’s mom sawed off my foot with a chainsaw once.
JR: Wow – that one doesn’t sound all that much like a Pale Spring song, I have to admit.
JR: So once you have the dream, do you immediately contextualize it as a song?
EHS: No – so the way I write music is stream-of-consciousness. The instrumental always comes first. I’ll have an idea for a beat and explain it to Drew, and we’ll either sit down together and make it, or he’ll start it alone sometimes. Or – for instance – “Happening” was a beat that he already had. He showed it to me, and I was like “No, that is not a Pale Spring song – I am not singing to that,” but he wanted me to try, and I wrote the song in like twenty minutes. It always starts with the instrumental. Once we have the shell of a beat, I’ll pull out the scratch mic, and try some mumbo jumbo over top, but after that, I sit with the song and try to visualize myself, which frequently goes back to a dream I’ve had, and then I come up with the lyrics that way.
JR: When you play live, what’s the arrangements like?
DS: I just use the SP-404 and Emily has a mic. I will glitch the tracks a little bit, but not too much so it doesn’t fuck up Emily. I don’t think we’ve thought about it that much, but the live experience is really just the beat and us – kind of how it would be at home, how we make music.
EHS: He just sits with the sampler on his lap on the stage, and I stand on the floor. I typically prefer to play on the floor rather than on a stage to connect at an eye level. I don’t like singing at people.
JR: I also prefer playing on the floor.
EHS: It’s less pressure, and I think you get your emotional message across more.
JR: I agree – I also think it becomes this thing where you are telling people to witness your humanity, too. It’s all about that transmigration of feeling between one another. You get something from the audience and vice versa.
EHS: Yeah that duality is very important.
JR: Do you all have plans to tour any time soon?
EHS: Yeah we’re partnering up with our friend Lauren Lakis for a West Coast tour for early September. We’re in the planning stages.
JR: Cool – well, what else do you all have coming down the pipe?
EHS: We’re writing some songs – don’t know what it will turn into, but we’re definitely writing a collection of songs. I’ve been going on hikes out here into nature, so that’s influencing my writing quite a bit, and we know that once we have the shells of the songs written, we’re going to either try and record the demos or finals in ideally an earth dome house in New Mexico in the middle of nowhere.
I met Alex Ford, Deathbed Tapes head honcho, at Dayton’s Skeleton Dust Records back in early January of this year – I was coming through on a Reverent tour and Luke Tandy who runs the store hooked me up with a gig. Though – according to many – Ohio is for harsh noise, my all-vocal industrial blues project went pretty well among those who attended. Mike Shifflet and Total Deceit – a harsh collab between Wes Gibbons and Rusty Remus – also played. After the show, Ford – who operates the projects Death Cult Ritual and Begravd – came up to me to purchase a Reverent tape, and a couple other things I can’t remember right now. He gave me a Death Cult Ritual tape, and we struck up a near constant online chat soon after.
It was during that January tour on the East Coast that I began recording for Spring Break. Prior to the project’s existence, Jim Haras of Fusty C*** and Deterge and I had been texting a bunch about our views regarding power electronics and industrial music, and one thing led to another – I expressed interest in trying my hand at PE, and Jim said he’d be interested in releasing it, so long as I didn’t fuck things up. A few other friends were incredibly encouraging, and excited on the material – Antonio Olivieri from Angst, Rusty Kelley at Breathing Problem, Sam Stoxen at Phage, and many more.
Alex Ford took things to another level. When he released Sic Semper Tyrannis, I had already submitted final mixes to two tapes at Fusty C***, the 2CS Scared Little White Boys at Phage, and Gatekeeper at Breathing Problem, but Sic Semper Tyrannis came out first. It was freakish. I literally turned in mixes one night at like midnight or 1 AM, Ford flipped out, said he wanted to do it, and next day the tape was released, art included. My jaw still drops thinking about it.
Here’s the thing – Alex Ford is a maniac. He works harder than most, has a curatorial prowess that beats many, and a true vision for his label. He’s released tapes by underground luminaries like Controlled Death, Autoerotichrist, Richard Ramirez, Vomir, and many more. Frankly, all signs point to things continuing to ramp up. You’ve seen the teaser for the 7 Deadly Sins comp? Fuck, dude. Take no prisoners, for real. I asked him to tell me how he does it, and here’s what he said.
Jordan Reyes: So let’s start with an easy one – why did you begin Deathbed Tapes?
Alex Ford: I had some recordings that I felt deserved a cassette release, but no one wanted to release them..
JR: How did you come up with the art design for those recordings?
AF: Before I started the label, I spent about a year experimenting with different collage and xerox techniques as a hobby. Some of the early Deathbed covers are recycled pieces that I just added text to. The design for the Subklinik tape, which feels somewhat iconic now, was a piece I made a year before with plans to use it on one of my personal projects. Now it’s hard to go to a noise show without seeing someone wearing that shirt!
JR: Haha – what about the Deathbed Tapes logo?
AF: In January 2018, which was pre-Deathbed Tapes, I started a visual project using photos of World War I facial reconstruction surgery patients. I cut out maybe 100 different faces and glued them onto paper in a grid. One of the faces I used was Henry Lumley. When I decided to start the label, I flipped through my file of old artwork and Henry’s face was sitting there loose, so I took it as a sign.
JR: Very cool. Tell me a little bit about how you got into noise and industrial music in the first place.
AF: I started going on 4chan’s music board in 2010, which got me into bands like Throbbing Gristle, Coil, SPK, Masonna, Plague Mother, Breathing Problem, Jason Crumer, Aaron Dilloway, Black Leather Jesus, Whitehouse, etc.
JR: And what about making noise? When and how did that start for you?
AF: I had fooled around with making feedback loops with my guitar pedals over the years, but never considered recording anything. When Skeleton Dust opened in Dayton, I built up like $300 in store credit and spent it all on noise tapes. Luke Tandy said I should start a project, so I came up with ‘begravd’, which is a Swedish translation of the word ‘buried. I chose a Swedish word because I wanted the project to be more mysterious but after playing some live shows, it was pretty obvious where I was from.
JR: Haha! Amazing! Can you tell me a little bit about the importance of death in your curation and creative output?
AF: My obsession with death goes back further than I can remember. I remember as a kid drawing the same skulls over and over – I would get excited to find a new picture of a skull to draw. I got my first copy of Photoshop at eleven, and by thirteen I was designing band logos with skulls in them for my friends. There was never any question about it – the theme of the label was going to be death, and the only thing I had to figure out was which “death” word to use as the name. It was almost Deathwatch Tapes or Deathblow Tapes…
AF: I typically reach out to noise artists that deal with heavier themes, and sometimes tell people to “make it deathy.” I also actively look for projects with the word in their title such as Controlled Death, Death Dedication, Death Cult Ritual, Dead Man Walking, Christ is Black Death, Unsignified Death, etc.
JR: Oh interesting – I didn’t realize that was conscientious, but makes total sense now. How about the sonic curation? Are there types of noise that you’re more particularly drawn to?
AF: While there are noise projects based on ducks, anime, Dr. Quinn Medicine Woman, or feet, this kind of extreme music typically deals with a more extreme subjects, so it’s pretty easy for me to find tons of projects focusing on death, hell, crime, rape, catastrophic events, etc.
JR: Can you talk a little bit about the growth in Deathbed? You’re releasing basically a tape a week now.
AF: It quickly got to the point that I was working on four or five tapes at a time, which gets really stressful, and I decided that working on one at a time, and one per week would work best for me. I have about fourteen releases ready, about thirty more in the works, and I’m constantly planning more. It feels like I’ll never catch up, so I’ve started doing bonus releases on some weeks – this week’s will come out on Thursday – it’s Christ Is Black Death, a Richard Ramirez project that I’m really excited about.
JR: Can you tell me about the idea of using deluxe packaging in your work?
AF: I try to put out releases that I as a consumer would want to buy. Some of the items in the box sets have been gimp masks, leather collars, rope, human remains and grave dirt, antique Last Will and Testaments, hand-painted model skulls, military-issue ski masks, anal lube with plastic baby Jesus with a tampon string around his neck. I’m currently planning some really cool ones that I haven’t announced yet…
JR: What all is in the future for Deathbed Tapes and Alex Ford?
AF: I’m gonna keep doing the once a week schedule as long as I can. I have some huge things planned, but nothing I can really talk about yet… maybe a Deathbed Fest?
JR: Hot dog! You heard it here first! Anything else you’d like to say?
I’m not shocked by gun violence anymore – isn’t that a shame? Last weekend in Chicago, fifty people were shot. Ten were fatalities. It barely registers. Summertime in Chicago? Of course there’s going to be gun violence. This is what we do. Every year Memorial Day Weekend sparks a meteoric rise in shootings – many rationalize it by saying it’s confined to specific areas of the city, which is true by and large, but can be a veiled nod to our city’s abhorrent history of segregation – the South and West sides, specifically. You’ve no doubt heard the linguistic crystallization – “Chi-raq” or “Killinois.” A dark fog rolls through the city, and the obscuration is likely to remain for the foreseeable future.
The way of Chicago is symptomatic of a much larger issue – American gun violence. You can’t miss it. It’s as American as apple pie. As American as privatized healthcare. The only thing worse than it is perhaps the polemic behind gun rights activism. Even a cursory look through the National Rifle Association’s website is terrifying. Spend a few hours on NRA TV, and you’ll be met with hysteria, paranoia, and lies. The threat of background checks slowly transforms into rhetoric from The Turner Diaries – I think of the book’s beginning where Earl Turner recounts the government coming after guns he and his group have hidden in the walls of their house. The lefty government is coming after you!
The reality is that very few people who advocate for gun control advocate for the dissolution of guns. And to be clear – I’m not for it, either, especially where it concerns hunting equipment. In my book, hunting animals for sport – as long as they’re also consumed – is way more ethically sound than the majority of ways we get food. I am, however, all on board for background checks and scrutinized handgun regulation.
The NRA is opportunistic and vampiric. One of the most disturbing parts of David Cullen’s excellent book Columbine is seeing that the NRA descends en masse upon the territory after the spree shooting, almost like they’re doing damage control. It ties my stomach in knots. Hadn’t that area been through enough? Then to hear Heston talking about “From My Cold Dead Hands…” I can only imagine living through that. They should be ashamed for that episode alone, but it gets worse. I likely don’t have to point out more specific instances to you.
The cassette From My Cold Dead Hands was written and recorded in one night back in March or April – I can’t remember. I had just finished reading the book I linked above – Columbine – and had finished Sic Semper Tyrannis a week or two before. My best work vomits out of me – it’s like I can’t stop it. I get all this disgust built up in my stomach, and it spills out. I feel strongly about this release – I think the closing song “The Conqueror Worm” is perhaps the best track I’ve recorded as Spring Break, and the one that most clearly illustrates the childishness of gun rights rhetoric. It’s also a very sad song because there is a movement towards the tragic in this dialectic as much as there is inevitability.
At any rate, I’d like to thank Alex Ford for his belief in my vision and his support.
Tulsa Noise Fest starts before Tulsa Noise Fest starts. Months before the lineup is public, the noisy side of social media begins sharing posts and excitement about what’s to come. Artists who’ve performed historically are tagged, memes of absurd instruments and situations abound, and eventually the schedule and roster begins to trickle out. In 2019, sixty-six artists performed at Tulsa Noise Fest from the queer, introspective RAGK to the trauma-soaked Ritual Chair to performative titans Pedestrian Deposit to harsh noise veteran The Rita to even yours truly. Put together by Tulsa’s Nathan Young and Stilwell’s Matt Hex, and with the assistance of the Tulsa Artist Fellowship, Tulsa Noise Fest was a lot of – well – a lot.
I had met both Young and Hex while playing Tulsa last September. I was playing as Reverent, and Hex played as Bonemagic, a seething combination of black metal, synth-wave, and noise. Young was in attendance, which is how we first bonded over our mutual love for Japanese music. A couple months later, I profiled Bonemagic on Bandcamp, talking with Hex about noise, growing up in Stilwell, and personal trauma as creative catalyst.
A couple weeks before Tulsa Noise Fest 2019, Young reached out to see if I’d be interested in doing a write up on the event, saying the fellowship could put me up at a hotel in exchange for writing a piece. I was coming through on a twelve-day solo tour under my own name, so I told him that unfortunately I would only be in town for a day – Saturday of the event – but after ten days of being alone on the road and driving three thousand miles, a hotel room would be pretty nice. The exhaustion you get from touring alone is unlike anything else – psychedelic and emaciating, an asymptotic relationship to complete absolution. Good for your discipline and character, bad for your health.
The Tulsa Artist Fellowship put me up about a block away at the Fairfield Inn, but I parked in the lot dedicated to the Fest since I had my store in tow. The fest is as much a meetup as a series of performances – most folks who attend are artists, many from out of town. Noise is a fragmented but deeply connected circle. Even small towns commonly have a resident noise artist jacked into the DIY network. This is something I’ve discovered both from touring extensively and from doing way too much mailorder. There are people all over the globe – read: in the most remote corners of the globe – who go crazy for this shit.
Tulsa Noise Fest functions as a convergence, mostly of North American noise practitioners. People come from Miami, California, Washington, New York, Illinois, and so many more locales. All of this is to say that as soon as I stepped out of my car, I ran into about fifteen people I knew and more that I had connected with from the internet. Within minutes, I had met many with whom I had corresponded for months if not years online – Derek Rush of Compactor and Johnny Cash of Breakdancing Ronald Reagan, to name a couple.
Saturday’s festivities began at 5PM and lasted past 1AM. Whitey Alabastard set things off with one of the more kinetic, absurd sets of the night, beginning upright and concentrated, and ending flailing on the ground with a contact mic in his pants. Following that, Rush Falknor laid it down with a varied set oscillating between the controlled and the chaotic. For this gig, he broke out his reel-to-reel, adding a rich sonic element to the frenetic performance.
An early stand-out was the Developer vs. Human Fluid Rot set. Robbie Brantley from HFR has been a good friend of mine since I lived in Miami. One of the most entertaining and enthusiastic performers around, and a fantastic human being. The face-off with Developer lived up to every expectation, wild, loud, and theatrical. As is custom for a Human Fluid Rot set, the audience interaction got rowdy, and eventually the crowd had lifted the table up above the performers’ heads amongst the bellowing static. The sound ended, Brantley yelled “Fuck you! Fuck you!” looking truly anguished, then broke out into a smile and started hugging people.
Another highlight was Misery Ritual’s physical, self-flagellating performance. Almost church-like, it had Kyle Ferguson performing with a contact mic in the mouth, rallying a crowd around his noise table before pummeling his back with chains. The Culled and Pyramid Dust sets were very, very fun. I’ve got to admit, I don’t listen to much cut-up or harsh noise at home, but when it’s done right in the live sphere, there’s nothing like it, and Culled are two of the best. Eric and Dan are having such a blast when they play, it’s contagious, and they never wear out their welcome, playing short, sweet sets.
Everyone crowded around for Bonemagic later – in some capacity, Hex knows basically everyone on the bill, doing a lot of the outreach for the festival, and when he plays in front of noise-heads, it’s like that bloodbath rave scene in Blade. I mean – no one’s dying, but vibe’s similar – heavy rhythms and synth swirls. Oh, and there is blood. During his set, Hex shattered two of the lightbulbs he was using as props and rubbed the broken shards into his forearms. Hex’s commitment to performance is inspiring, even when it’s self-destructive – if something will make for a better show, he will consider it, if not do it.
Ritual Chair AKA Hailey Magdeleno is making some of the most important noise these days, up-front about her experiences as a survivor. Her performance was profound and moving. She began sobbing even before uttering the first words, starting with looped electronics before climbing atop a wheeled table and testifying before the audience. Up to this point, chatter was a given, but everyone was quiet for Magdeleno.
Following Ritual Chair were most of the headliners – Crank Sturgeon, The Rita, and Sickness, each of whom performed in markedly different capacities. Sturgeon’s “shitty” performance was all about toilet paper, puns, and choreography – unsure if anyone would call the physicality of his show a dance, but it’s what came to my mind as I watched him. At one point, all that could be heard was a high-pitch, and Sturgeon nodded to the great composer and academic Pauline Oliveros, calling it the deep listening section. Towards the end he cried “You better lift me up” to the crowd, as he began surfing through the audience. He yelled “shit, shit, shit” as the set came to an end.
The Rita’s set was more static, though there was a physical element as well. The Rita is a project about obsession – sharks, stockings, and dancers being some of the recurring motifs in Sam McKinlay’s work. As music played, at times melodic samples, and at times harsh and static, McKinlay hung a poster showing legs in stockings and dragged a contact mic along it, both laying bare his obsession and cheekily alluding to its ubiquity in his work – in the top right corner it said “The Rita.” McKinlay’s low end was powerful, and made for a physical listening experience. I’ve rarely been so impacted by harsh noise, but the Rita’s was like taking a bath, getting a massage, or slowly shaving off your dead skin.
This was the final night of the three-night festival, and people were dog tired by the end of it, but ecstatic. As everyone retreated back to their beds or bottles or buys, it was easy to hear plans for next year getting formulated.
Additionally, Frataxin has just released a new cassette on the mighty No Rent Records. Check it out!
Jordan Reyes: Tell me about how you got into noise, industrial culture, and transgressive art? What about it drew you in? When did you begin creating within that realm?
Joe Satkowski: I started with noise, sort of glazing over industrial. Now that I’m older, I realize how foolish that was: I’ve been trying to get into industrial a bit more at this point certainly. My first proper noise album was Ejaculation Generator by Masonna, which really made me fall in love with harsh noise, although admittedly it took a few listens for my teenage mind to really grasp the album properly. Then Merzbow of course, C.C.C.C. and other Japanese noise at a young age really got me heavily into the culture. Whitehouse is responsible for drawing me in to the realm of transgression through confrontation. They were certainly the first, but watching videos of Con-Dom live and listening to his work more or less non-stop for a few months really kicked my ass ideologically: I knew this was something I had to pursue to my own end. I was in a noise rock/generally fucking weird band with my cousin for a few years. I wanted to take the sound more in the vein of Power Electronics, but she did not agree. We parted ways, and I started Frataxin in the summer of 2015.
JR: Can you explain a bit about your disorder Friedreich’s Ataxia – how it progressed over the course of your life, and how it has affected you?
JS: Friedreich’s Ataxia is a neurodegenerative, genetic, life-shortening condition, namely characterized by severe gait disturbance, imbalance of the trunk, severe Scoliosis, fatigue, and urinary incontinency, along with hundreds of other smaller symptoms. To put it simply, I am unable to walk unassisted. I use a wheelchair to get around more easily in public, but I am able to get out of the chair and remain mobile, with assistance of course, to get into a booth at a restaurant, for example. I was born with this condition. I am 25 now, and was only properly diagnosed at 16. I started to notice walking was becoming more difficult after my first spinal fusion when I was 13, I’ve had two more of those surgeries since then. I saw pretty much every neurologist in the tristate area (NJ/NY/PA) and all of them, in NJ and NY at least, misdiagnosed me at least five times. A neurologist in PA finally got it right, and I had my diagnosis.
JR: Why did you decide to call your project Frataxin? It’s an overt reference to your disorder – did you want people to have to wrestle with that?
JS: I was looking for a fairly original one-word name for the act, and thus Frataxin was born. It is an overt reference to my condition, yes. At first, I think I wanted people to grapple with a cripple screaming about past and present personal trauma. Now, my goal is to speak from a sort of Fascist body politic perspective: that is to say, Frataxin (or FXN) is the main mitochondrial enzyme that I am deficient in. Let’s say a normal person has 500 million of these enzymes, someone like me has less than 100. In essence, Frataxin has turned into this pompous neurological bully of a character, a Fascist-type supporting eugenics and anything to revolt against the inclusivity of disabled people in the modern world.
JS: To be clear, I don’t intend to support any political ideology with this project. I just find it funny that if a vast majority of people were truly honest with themselves, they’d admit that disabled people are not worthy of belonging in normative society.
JR: How do you write your lyrics? They’re very personal, and I know that I have personally been moved by them. What goes into the words, and what do you hope comes out of hearing them?
JS: Lyrics really just come to me. I’ll think of a concept, a framework of what I want the track to deal with. As I said above, earlier on the lyrics were more inwardly focused, now they’re more outwardly focused, attempting to produce more of a mirror for society. I want them to make people think.
JR: Can you tell me a bit about your label Uninvited Records? When did you begin the label and why? What goes into determining whether a release fits onto the label?
JS: My involvement in the label started as a partnership with several other people. The label was previously based in Queens, but my friend was having trouble getting to the Post Office regularly, and handed the distribution and creative control over to Kayla and I four years ago. We started the label with the hopes of releasing our own material and that of friends. As long as Kayla and I like the material, we’ll usually release it.
JR: What’s up with gorenoise?
JS: Good question. I understand that it’s not for everyone, and I like that I can do smaller editions of those tapes. It’s just a perfect blend of all the stupid shit I’m into: namely goregrind and noisecore though. Thematically, it really interests me, because it promotes a degrading medical reductionism, it’s also ignorant and disgusting.
JR: What’s it like working with a partner on the label aspect? How do you guys divide up the responsibilities? Does Kayla make music, too?
JS: I enjoy working as a partner on label stuff. Kayla does a little bit of everything, but she’s mainly responsible for the visual side of things. Kayla doesn’t currently make music.
JR: You’re a pretty big reader, something we’ve talked about at length – what are some of your favorite books? You’ve been on a little bit of a gothic kick lately, right? With Dr. Jekyll & Mr. Hyde and Island of Dr. Moreau (two of my all-time favorites, I’ll admit!).
JS: Some of the best books I’ve read in the past few years are The Monk by Matthew Lewis, Thirteen Girls by Mikita Brottman, The Willowbrook Wars by David J. Rothman, The Undiscovered Self by Carl Jung, and The Sluts by Dennis Cooper. I’ve been finishing up some course work for a class on Gothic literature, not such a big fan of the earlier stuff (with the exception of The Monk) but after some of the more overtly romantic novels, it interests me more certainly.
JR: What all is in the future for Joe Satkowski and Uninvited?
JS: I would like to continue recording regularly for Frataxin, as I’ve finally found a good studio space to record at: I want to continue playing shows, but it’s nice to release material that I’ve had written for a while with no effective means of recording. As for the label, I just hope people remain interested.
“It’s a little bit of a conversation with myself,” says Philadelphia’s Ben Rosenbach, the person behind electronic post-rock project Our Alarm Clock. It’s a solo endeavor he’s had for nearly a decade, although he’s written music since he was a teenager. He spent much of his formative years listening to and playing in Christian rock bands with his best friend, even before he became a Christian at 19. Faith and music have always been central to Rosenbach’s identity. In Our Alarm Clock, Rosenbach wrangles the ecstasy of worship-oriented music into a chimera of ambient music, pop, and post-rock – his new LP Time flies. Suns rise and shadows fall. Let time go by. Love is forever over all. is the crystallized result.
If the album’s title sounds like it came out of a fortune cookie, that’s because it did. Rosenbach laughs about that, musing on how these ideas come from the strangest places. That ethos carries over to his music – he’ll hear a riff or melody course through his head even at inopportune moments, and he’ll have to either frantically sing it into his phone, or run home to record it. A rushed lo-fi vocal recording soon becomes soaring synths and lush guitar work, surrounded by steady rhythms.
Well, maybe “soon” is an overstatement. Time flies… has been on Rosenbach’s mind for a few years at this point, and he’s methodically tweaked the stems until they’ve become precise and profound. Take lead single “A Sealed Up Secret Wish” for example, which begins as a meandering synthpop nugget that grows to titanic size, climaxing with explosive guitars and pummeling drums. When the wave eventually rolls back, the listener is left with the original piano riff that inspired the song.
When he mentions conversing with himself, Rosenbach’s specifically talking about “Sunrise,” one of the three tracks on the LP with vocals. The image is funny for a predominantly instrumental album, but it works, and applies to its thematic foundation – learning balance. “The words in the chorus on ‘Sunrise’ are existential,” he says, cheekily mentioning that he’s not trying to sound too much like a deep fourteen-year-old. At the end of the song, he responds with a plea to “stay and watch the sunrise.”
Much of Our Alarm Clock’s music has focused on finding balance and rest. Thirty-two years old and a father, Rosenbach explores a different landscape on Time Flies… than when the project began. By the time the final song rolls around, the listener has been taken through sublime peaks and more pacifying passages, never becoming obnoxiously nihilist or naively optimistic, instead stumbling upon its resting place somewhere realistic.
Like many, I hadn’t heard the term “incel” until April 23, 2018 when twenty-five year old Alek Minassian drove a rental van onto a Toronto sidewalk, killing ten and injuring sixteen others. He had no prior convictions or run-ins with the law, and was frequently described as being quiet, although socially awkward. In a Telegraph article, a secondary school colleague said Minassian’s behavior was “usually quite strange…. [He] made people feel uneasy around him,” but “never noticed anything violent.” A college acquaintance said Minassian was “extremely bright,” and he “couldn’t imagine him doing something like this.”
Shortly before Minassian acted, he posted a cryptic message to Facebook, a post that would beguile many, and send journalists to 4chan, Reddit, and incel forums: “Private (Recruit) Minassian Infantry 00010, wishing to speak to Sgt 4chan please. C23249161. The Incel Rebellion has already begun! We will overthrow all the Chads and Stacys! All hail the Supreme Gentleman Elliot Rodger!” In a few sentences – lines, really – Minassian revealed yet another seething, scary internet underbelly to an unsuspecting public.
There’s a lot to unpack in Minassian’s message, so let’s start with the most basic – something you may already know. “Incel” stands for involuntarily celibate, and refers to a segment of the male population who not only are unable to find themselves a romantic or sexual partner despite their desire for one, but believe that it is caused by factors they cannot control. “Chads” are sexually active men and “Stacys” are sexually active women, though if you spend more than a handful of hours on incel forums (There are a LOT of them, but incels.me and lookism.net were two preeminent ones), you’re sure to find much more detailed information – a lot of it reads like phrenology, the pseudoscience used in eugenics and as a means to rationalize slavery. “Chads” and “Stacys” are despised, largely responsible for the plight of incels.
There are hundreds of technical terms used by incels to unpack their existence – what caused it, what defines it. Incels frame their misfortunes through anatomical mistakes like their “canthal tilt” or “the angle of the lateral canthus (outside corner of eye) in relation to the medial canthus (inside corner of eye),” the shape of their chin, their weight, the presence – of lack thereof – of hair. Anything is fair game, as long as it keeps you from getting laid.
As upsetting as it is that incel culture creeps from the computer screen into North American streets, it never stops being tragic. It is utterly sad. Immediately following Minassian’s arrest, there was an influx of articles – most featuring bewildered writers and cultural critics unable to comprehend, many of which dehumanized the subculture, and quite frankly incensed them. These articles reinforced the fact that mainstream North Americans had nothing but hatred towards them – something incels have known all along.
One particular Vice article did something different – they spoke with an incel. Yeah, in general DEFINITELY take Vice with a grain of salt, but for some reason, they are very good at infiltrating right wing and reactionary groups. Elle Reeve from Vice went to an incel’s apartment after meeting through a chatroom and spent a day talking and getting to understand incel culture. From my experience, and by the article’s words, Joey is on the more manageable side of incels – he’s not sexually active, but his issues seem to stem more from simply loving digital life more than real life, whatever that means. He apologizes for the misogynistic jokes that the reporter sees on the chat forums – he feels bad that she is being attacked. Online, perhaps he will say and do one thing, but when faced with human beings, he is entirely different.
That seems fairly consistent with incels at large – that’s why when violence occurs from this segment, people are surprised. By and large, the rhetoric spewed by incels is just that – rhetoric. The big personalities in inceldom – and there is a social hierarchy in inceldom, trust me, the ironies don’t stop there – don’t end up violently attacking innocents, but there is this competitive circle jerk aspect to the movement. It’s like leg touching. Someone mentions a violent act in digital fantasy. Maybe it’s a rape. Maybe it’s murder. Maybe it’s mass murder. It begins as a joke, and people start dogpiling. Someone thinks this is a tacit affirmation of their fantasy. They take it into the physical realm, and people start dying.
Male rage has existed as long as males have existed, and there are many, many forms of it. With the advent of modern communication – the ease to rent a car, the ease to buy a gun in the U.S. – it has never been easier for males to enact their rage. Historically, this hasn’t bled into the realm of the beta male or, in the case of incels, the omega male. But technology changes everything. When swords were made, you could rely less on brute strength. When guns were made, you could rely less on reach and reflexes. When bombs were made, you could rely less on accuracy. When drones were made, well…you get the point.
It has never been easier to kill someone, and there have been many waiting for their chance. And even if incels at large are not murderers, it only takes one to cause permanent damage.
There’s a chilling note at the end of the Telegraph article on Minassian. 42-year old survivor Panna Patel recounts the attacker’s behavior as being “like he was playing a video game, trying to kill as many people as possible. He was looking people directly in the eye, making eye contact, it was so scary. He wasn’t remorseful at all.” There’s an obvious parallel between being behind the windshield of a car and being behind the screen of a computer. But in one scenario, the effect is wallowing in misery while riling up an agitated body, and in another, people are dying. At some point, the froth boils over from one into the other. I’ll let you determine which way that goes.