Interview with Nicholas Bullen
Adolescents in Birmingham during the Thatcher-era may not be obvious musical visionaries. But when Nicholas Bullen and his friends in Napalm Death took punk and metal into an even more extreme landscape, they sketched up a map for the grindcore genre.
The music consisted of breathtakingly fast paced drums (later known as ”blast beats”), frenetic fuzzguitars and basslines. The lyrics were spat from guttural screams of such depths that the listener was unable catch the meaning of the words. The songs barely lasted a minute. But Napalm Death is only the beginning of Bullens musical journey. Throughout the years he has been involved in a range of experimental projects such s Final, Scorn, Black Galxy, Migrant, and Alienist. Today he is one of Britians most interesting sound artists. With anarcho punk and political activism as important coming of age-references, it may not come as a surprise that words such as authority, subversion, control, and truth informs Bullens current artistic practice. At the Ultima festival 2009, Bullen will give a lecture called ”Voices Silenced” and do a performance called ”Voiced”. But before I ask him what’s so special about the human voice, I wonder why he quit Napalm Death at such an early stage in their career.
By Torgny Amdam (TA)
August, 2009
TA: You quit halfway through Napalm Death’s first album. What was your artistic vision with Napalm Death? And what are your thoughts on how that band has progressed?
NB: The direction and impetus of Napalm Death was – of course – informed by the collective, by the group of individuals operating in a social sphere, and the creativity within that entity reflected this social construction.
On a personal level, I was interested in aspects of sound which consistently moved towards boundary territory and sought a fusion of elements which seemed to have correlative similarities in tone or approach. This included the aggression and velocity of Hardcore Punk and Extreme Metal, the abstractions of Industrial music and Power Electronics, the driving monotony of No Wave, the atonality of modern composition, and the political and social engagement of Folk music, alongside aspects such as the energy released by “amateur musicianship” and the minimalist approach to language of the political slogan.
My dissatisfaction with the artistic direction of the group Napalm Death was due – in large part – to an overpowering awareness that the possibility for expression was becoming restricted as the focus of the group (in terms of composition and iconography) became more reductive. Circumstance also played a part as I was increasingly interested in concentrating on other areas of study at the time (in particular, literature and philosophy).
Napalm Death have continued to progress by a refinement of a particular focus: perhaps more importantly, they are expressing themselves.
If anything, the personal “artistic vision” which informed my work in Napalm Death is the very same aspiration which I have attempted to strive towards in all of my work: that is, an openness in terms of exploration and expression (which is also united with a politically engaged concern).
TA: What politically enganged concern?
NB: When I speak of a “politically engaged concern”, I am acknowledging that nothing exists in isolation, that all actions and events have an import which may be experienced on many levels (including the political and the social). If we are speaking of my own politics, I would suggest that my concerns lie at the extreme left of the spectrum.
TA: Crass sold over two million records in their career and was an important cultural (anti-) force in the Thatcher era. Is there any critical potential left in DIY punk or has it become a sort nostalgic reproduction of well-known positions (musically, visually and ideologically)?
NB: It is relatively hard for me to comment on D.I.Y. Punk as it exists today because my engagement with it is (at present) minimal.
Subjectively, there may indeed be considerable critical potential residing in the D.I.Y. Punk subculture, primarily in notions of availability, in the presentation and exploration of a politicised perspective, and in the utilisation of a mode of operation which exists (as much as is possible) outside of the dominant culture. There is always critical potential in any art-form: whether this potential is realised is another matter.
However, there is an element of nostalgia in many music-based subcultures which can intensify the process of ossification (in both compositional and visual terms) and lead to the imposition (self-imposed) of rigid frameworks for expression. In some respects, this process seems to be a logical conclusion for many music-based subcultures, as if the only way forwards is backwards
TA: Looking back at the scene you grew up in, what did it amount to as far as realising its critical potential and being an inventor of new musical expression?
NB: In the wider context, the developments of the period between 1965 and 1985 certainly have repercussions in the present. They helped to further the availability of approaches towards composition and sound itself (especially when operating within a popular music format), and to foster a freer and more non-hierarchical approach to self-expression which (in many cases) circumvented traditional routes.
Grindcore itself may indeed have been the inventor of a new musical expression, one in which traditional and received notions of composition and tonality were subverted. However, this position may require qualification by the recognition that Rock music (along with other forms of popular music) has a tendency to moves towards the extreme, towards (and beyond, perhaps) boundaries. What may result may not represent a new musical expression but the apogee and logical conclusion of an existing momentum.
In retrospect, there are inevitably hesitations about ascribing value. It may be true to suggest that Grindcore did not fully realise its critical potential or the invention of new musical expression, in part due to the development of restrictive styles and tropes and in part due to the rejection of the more radical possibilities which informed its initial development (both of which led backwards to the more traditional aspects of “Rock ‘n’ Roll”).
However, there is always the potential for the unexpected in any experiment, and I am uncertain in any case about whether notions of success and failure are necessarily pertinent.
TA: How did you develop from anarcho-punk / grindcorepunk to sound artist? Was there a natural progression along the same line or more of a paradigm shift?
NB: I feel very lucky that my early exposure to “music” (between the years 1979 and 1984) occurred during a period of great creativity which allowed me to be exposed to a wide range of sounds. The excitement I felt about sound (combined with my relatively young age) meant that I gave equal weight to a wide range of seemingly disparate approaches: as a result, the influence of “Cassette Culture” (which encompassed everything from tape loop experiments to Improvisation and composition on home-made instruments as part of its D.I.Y. ethic) was as important to me as Anarcho Punk (and later Grindcore).
Being self-taught, I didn’t feel restricted by any particular position, so it felt very natural to explore beyond the scope of my initial starting point. After a relatively commonplace entry into the realm of sound through notions of “music” (organised sound in structures mediated by the surrounding dominant culture), it seemed a logical and obvious progression to begin the movement towards a wider expanse of possibilities (in this case sound as an object, a material and an entity in itself).
Each new music opened up new possibilities, particularly Industrial music which allowed me to access both modern composition and the use of environmental recordings as a sonic element. The Power Electronics recordings I made in 1983 (both solo and as part of the group Final) were probably the most important paradigmatic shift in that they helped me to understand that my own personal focus existed in less conventional forms of compositional narrative.
Simultaneously, my interest in sound was also informed by my interests in literature, cinema and art. I am still very enamoured of the disjuncture between image, sound, text and meaning which occurs when I watch a film produced in a language other than my own native language.
TA: From your Ultima proposal: “’Silencing the Voice’ adopts a perspective on the use and function of language which proposes that the practice of language (and – by extension – text) operates as a form of cultural control (specifically through the fixing of meaning and modes of interaction): it subsequently explores strategies which may be employed to disrupt and subvert this structure, postulating that the voice may be utilised as an agent for the negation (‘silencing’) of language.”
Several thinkers spring to my mind: Saussure, Derrida, Foucault, and more recent thinkers such as the critical discourse analyst Norman Fairclough. Can you say anything about what particular discourses within philosophy or the arts that have been important to you when making ”Voices Silenced” and “Voiced”?
NB: The background to “Voices Silenced” and “Voiced” is the wider tradition of enquiry into – and interrogation of – the nature of language and its structure (specifically the critiques developed by Derrida and Kristeva). These theoretical discourses find correlatives in critiques of the practice of language within the wider realm of the arts, from the approach to the word within the work of certain writers (including Mallarme, Pound, Schwitters and Cummings) and the assault on typographical representation in twentieth century art (notably Dada, Futurism, and Lettrisme) to the use of recording techniques to interrogate language (including the Sound Poets, the Burroughs-ian “Cut Up”, and Musique Concrete).
All of these elements have been important to me in general terms and specifically in relation to the creation of the pieces for Ultima, in whatever way (positive or negative). In terms of “Voiced”, I wished to present an illustration of the content of the lecture piece through the performance piece. In doing so, I enact a performance centred on the body as physical site which is simultaneously decentred by the diffusion of sound through amplification and processing). My explorations of this area have been inevitably coloured by those who have gone before including the work of Antonin Artaud regarding the theatre and performance styles, and the work of artists including Henri Chopin, Joan La Barbara and Jaap Blonk.
There is a distinctly Romantic / Modernist element which informs some of the approaches which I have mentioned – an idea of a “pure language” which is somehow more ‘true’ because it remains direct and unmediated (and allows the individual to exist – in Levi-Strauss’ term – in the “totalisation” of the moment). This Arcadian vision is largely discredited, but it is interesting to speculate on its import and to experiment with the energy which it carries.
TA: What is silence?
NB: “Silence” in the context of this piece is the forcible suppression of a mode of discourse. I am unsure if a “true”’ expression or definition of silence exists – if it does, it may be one of the conditions available for the manifestation of sound (which itself exists inside silence).
TA: As far as music goes, I came to think of Alvin Lucier’s classic piece ”I am sitting in a room” where he re-records his speech over and over, until his voice is totally deconstructed into sound. And of course the silencing of the instrument(s) in Cage’s ”4:33”. What musical traditions (except from grindcore/punk), discourses or composers have been inspiring to you?
NB: In the context of this piece, the focus is on modes of expression which have informed my own work, in particular the use of the voice as a sound object, the transposition of different organising principles, and the use of Improvisation. A range of microphones allows explorations of volume and texture, while looping technology provides accretions of sound material and opportunities for real-time processing. It is also intended to interact with the conditions of the performance (the architecture of the performance space and the sensations experienced during performance).
If the piece has been informed by the work of other artists, it may be found in the work of certain artists and composers who have explored the voice in the context of boundary areas of sound expressed in more non-representational forms (I am thinking of the work of Robert Ashley and the wider use of the voice in Musique Concrete and Tape music, particularly by Bob Cobbing, Terry Riley, Toru Takemitsu and Ake Hodell).
In general I draw inspiration from all manner of musical traditions, discourses and composers whilst having a strong attraction to a quality which I can only express with the (admittedly ill-defined) term visionary.
TA: What status does the human voice have – as a potential agent of “truth” and authority – in comparison to other modes of expression such as the written text or the image?
NB: The human voice expressed through language (linguistic communication) is privy to a privileged status in the logocentric cultures of Western Europe, a status which eclipses both the written word and the image. The voice of direct experience consequently lends an authority to “truth”.
However, the expression of the voice beyond the limits imposed by language has been consistently devalued (hence its negative associations with the body, the feminine and the emotions). In its ephemerality and uncertainty, the voice represents a threat to the dominance of language itself: it cannot be tied down and delineated, it cannot be inscribed and measured. If language is viewed as an element within a hierarchical structure of control, then the liberation of the voice (and – by proxy – of sound) is part of a process of resisting this structure. This conception of the voice is also informative in relation to a wider attitude towards sound itself.
TA: I read in the book ”Punk Politics – unfinished business” about the anarcho punk/crust punk vocal aesthetic, that it could be understood as not carrying a meaning in itself because it is so poorly audible compared to regular rock and pop music. You’d have to read the lyrics to grasp the ideological message of the song. The critique in the voice lies not in its linguistic-semantic message, but rather in the fact that the vocal aesthetics reflect how the singer/band operates in the extreme margins of capitalist production:
“The aesthetics of the singers voice can be read as a reflection of the hidden economic violence of the commodity market and the consequent need to push the critical content of the cultural product along as quickly as possible in the space of transmission that crust music, as a new product, momentarily opens within the realm of the market before the next product elbows it aside. The crust singer stands at the brink of having the plug pulled, the message shut off, and this situation is literally true of crust musicians for economic and aesthetic reasons.”
Being that you come to Ultima as a respected artist with a certain authority – not as some marginalized crust punk – I am wondering if you’d have any thoughts about these perspectives in relation to your own use of voice in your performance called ”voiced”?
NB: The reading you quote is interesting, but the suggestion that the imperative for such an approach is largely one of economics perhaps says more about the focus and position of the author than the subject in hand (and stands in contrast to my performance “Voiced” which represents a more personalised approach which attempts to combine intent and aesthetuics). For example, the very inaudibility of the semantic content of the voice may retain (and transmit) a symbolic component (of refusal, of the prioritising of emotion over logic, and of a simultaneous engagement and withdrawal), a component which is implicit in the mode of delivery and is amplified by the rejection of the “surfaces” of traditional production.
The initial development of the Grindcore voice arose from an interlinking array of influencing factors including the development of a form of expression explicitly sited within the body, a rejection (and attempted negation) of traditional modes of production, issues of velocity and duration (the metre of the written lyric versus the tempo of the piece), parody and imitation of existing stylistic elements, and the Modernist aspirations of the wider compositional milieu within which this voice was placed.
TA: In ”What is an author” Foucault quotes Beckett: “What does it matter who is speaking”. Your status as an artist and the status of the Ultima festival (that has Norway’s Prince Håkon Magnus as its protector!) is the inescapable context in which you will perform. Any thoughts on how context is important for the inscription of history or “truth”?
NB: Context is vital for the inscription of history (and by proxy “truth”) because it provides an arena within which the meaning of an event can be forged and consequently shaped: it bestows weight upon historical truth by virtue of its own status.
Context can, however, be manufactured. One thinks of the beautifully simple yet categorically compelling approach of Chris Marker’s film “Letter from Siberia” (1961) which addresses the inscription of history and “truth” by presenting the viewer with a selection of images which are repeated three times, each repetition being a re-presentation of the image content with a different soundtrack which in turn creates a different perspective of the images.
Context is a key element of the work I proposed for Ultima, not only in terms of language (after Wittgenstein) but also in that I wished to use the context provided by the festival (and by myself through my status as “artist”) as a medium for illumination of the bias inherent in the process of writing history. The performance is intended to facilitate the creation of a form of “truth” developed from a nexus of inaccurate information. In this act, it does indeed matter who is speaking (in contrast to Beckett’s vision of language at the threshold of silence).
TA: England is one of the most rigid countries in Europe as far as class goes. At a UK festival, I doubt that two kids making instrumental hip-hop (Mount Kimbie, from the UK) would be curated together with Sir Harrison Birtwistle. It is in Norway- in this oil rich and seemingly egalitarian country – that this type of (progressive?) curation occurs. Is this necessarily a good thing?
NB: The notion of class does indeed remain an organisational principle in England, even as the structures which have developed around it have begun to shift and alter. It provides a locus of definition which can amplify or restrict social mobility, and a key element in this structure is the voice: the accent (of the voice) is a primary signifier of social position (and can only be neutered by alteration and mutation of the tone of the voice itself). However, the development of capitalism through the latter half of the twentieth century has served to diminish this structure as it restructures power relationships, and this also has ramifications for decisions relating to curation.
Personally, I fully support any form of activity which expands the possibilities for self-expression and communal interaction (whilst remaining aware of the potential pitfalls which this may entail), and do not see any discrepancy between the inclusion of different approaches to organised sound at the same event.
TA: Do you recognise capitalism as a sort of “healthy” premise for art or new exspressions?
NB: I referred to capitalism (and its development in the latter half of the twentieth century) in relation to the class structure in England. The ethos of modern Capitalism has weakened the traditional class structure (which was based on bloodlines and family ties) by placing a focus on relationships defined by power (specifically facilitated through wealth): this restructuring of power relationships continues to have an effect on notions of class in England.
I have a somewhat divided opinion on the interaction between capitalism and art, particularly as art has always maintained an intimate relationship with the surrounding power structure(s). Art can be both stimulated (through the generation of demand and the input of funding) and inhibited (by the way in which the communication channels developed by capitalism can serve to limit the options available for expression) by capitalism.