The high school band begins with a level of general equality and therefore openness—most participants are new to their instruments and thus share a general incompetence. But as skills develop at different paces, there emerges a process of stratification and with it legal structure: don’t mess up. But what happens to those who are left behind, who don’t get solos in the concerts and who begin skipping practice, eventually never to return? In Kingston, at least, they cultivate an alternate world, where incompetencies an asset and skill a deficit. Here collapse is martyrdom, ridiculous pseudonyms pass for names, and playing to an empty house is esoteric rather than embarrassing. - Richard Upton
The historic compilation of Kingston's DIY/punk scene. It took tireless effort, but eventually the rights were secured, the layout designed, the physicals made, and the album released. Its mere existence, however, pales in comparison to its less tangible impact on Kingston's underground arts community at large. An entire generation, including us here at Malaya + Her Neighbours, can trace our aesthetic and ethical routes directly back to KU's unique perspectives on art, and as such we are infinitely indebted to those original pioneers.
The compilation itself features 14 songs from 14 acts from "an alternate world," where art is totally unhindered by conventional industry objectives and standards. The scene was intricately interrelated, rich and diverse. The record is a historical document of a regional ethic and aesthetic - created by the disenfranchised, the disinterested, the rejectors, critics, holists, intelligentsia and punk kids - a legacy which is now represented in cities across Canada.
While having been released on Bandcamp some weeks ago already, we thought it'd be prudent to wait to release it via the blog, in order to compile a post of sufficient gravitas and substance, to reflect KU's historic nature. We were able to get a hold of Paul Herrema of Hieroglyphic Characters, Ritual Objects, Manikins Ten Feet High Representing the Beard of King Lear in the Storm, Musical Instruments as Tall as Men, Objects of Unknown Shape and Purpose, to comment on KU; we also have a review and the bootlegs from KU's reissue show, and an essay by an unknown artist, which provided the impetus for Tenant of Neptune's sophomore album, 'The Orange Light.' Please enjoy the fruits of our labour, and stay negi!
PAUL HERREMA INTERVIEW
On a warm day last month, blurring the line between spring and summer, we sat down with Paul Herrema of Hieroglyphic Characters, Ritual Objects, Manikins Ten Feet High Representing the Beard of King Lear in the Storm, Musical Instruments as Tall as Men, Objects of Unknown Shape and Purpose, to talk about his band, Kingston Underground, Kingston in general, the blog and future plans. While normally disinterested in conversing about this project, we offered him a case of beer as compensation. This is the result.
Malaya + Her Neighbours: "Hey, Paul! How's it going?"
Paul Herrema: "Well, my back hurts. I must've slept on it funny or something. That's what happens when you get up there, little shit starts to go wrong and it persists for inordinate periods, colouring your day and shit. You spry little bastard, I bet you could do a backflip or something. Actually, don't print that, I bet your, what is it, PC culture wouldn't want me calling you 'little' or whatever, might be construed... fuck. Whatever. How are you, big guy? Wait..."
M+HN: [laughs] "I'm good, thanks. So, how did you react when you heard KU was being reissued?"
PH: "I thought, "why?" It's pretty dumb, it was just a bunch of kids making shit up, some of them could barely play their instruments. But, I do get a little nostalgic for it sometimes, it was fun back in the day. Maybe it's just that it was what happened, and that's what I have to look back on; like, posterity is something beyond your control and you should just accept how shit is or whatever. Yeah."
M+HN: "So how was it to be interviewed for the liner notes, if that's how you feel about KU?"
PH: "Well, you can see the censorship, obviously. Like, I still don't like this internet age shit, where you can't keep any secrets from anyone. Everything is right out there in the open for anyone to find, so I tried to keep some things to myself. What a dumb invention."
M+HN: "Where have you been living since Ritual Costumes became defunct? What have you done with your time?"
PH: "That band that I don't want you little poseurs sharing with everyone kept it together longer, so I was able to eat and shit. Then, when all is said and done, I guess I took a break, travelled around to different parts of the hardcore scene. Like, I went to DC for a bit, that place rips. Heavy duty. And also Ottawa has a great punk scene, the kids really stick it to that government-ass town. Anti-authoritarianism is really important to punk, and those kids know what the word is. I worked as an office clerk in both of those towns, trying to take the fuckin' system down from the inside out, but a man's also gotta eat, y'know."
M+HN: "Did you miss Kingston? And when did you decide to move back?"
PH: "When my son was born. The little bastard should get the best start in life, I figured. Kingston's safe, it's familiar, it's got good schools and a solid punk scene I guess. Although, that's hopefully a few years off [laughs]. Plus, absence makes the heart grow fonder, and so it goes, and I had been gone for a while."
M+HN: "What are the best and worst parts about Kingston?"
PH: "Fuckin', that there aren't more streets named after the Hip. Took 'em long enough to do the first one. Those fuckers are poets, man. True artists. The best part... Probably the K-Rock Centre. They throw some pretty wicked concerts there, gives the Fronts a good patch of ice to skate on, and stimulates the local economy. All around good shit."
M+HN: "Best and worst parts about Ritual Costumes?"
PH: "Don't even get me started on the name... the best shit we did was a show at Barfly in Montreal, probably back in the early '90s or something. We shredded, someone in the audience fell through the floor, wicked afterparty... we were on tour at the time with Sodomy [In the Jungle], and Chocolate Lab' was our gear tech/tour manager. A few of them disappeared before shit got really crazy."
M+HN: "Have you read much of our blog? Have you listened to any of the new bands, carrying on the KU tradition?"
PH: "I only checked it out because Rheia [Vasquez] had some shit posted there. God she's cool, if I hadn't met my wife in Ottawa, damn... Like I said before, you kids are funny, doing funny things. Keep on it, though. The world needs more punks. But, what the fuck is To & Fro, Forget? That shit isn't music, it's just noise. Don't print this shit."
M+HN: "Any future plans for Ritual Costumes? Or projects in general?"
PH: "We'll get back together when hell freezes over, which won't be any time soon, thanks to this global warming shit [laughs]. Maybe if I start a new band, and need somewhere to practice those songs [laughs]. Are we done here? I've gotta take my kid to Timbits hockey practice."
M+HN: "Sure, thanks for your time, Paul!"
PH: "Keep 'er soft, eh!"
THE REISSUE PARTY
The Artel. May 16, 2014, 9:00 PM. History was made.
An excerpt from the zine K-Hole:
The Artel. May 16, 2014, 9:00 PM. History was made.
An excerpt from the zine K-Hole:
"Sweat palpable, atmosphere thick with youthful exuberance, floating tiles creaking and bouncing under the thrashing force of teenage iconoclasts. The night crescendoed slowly, each act a ladder rung to punk rock heaven: Tired I, room-filling and musty brooding; Freaky Lawsuits, post hardcore provocateurs; Rogan & Friends, in-jokes, parodic humour and KU covers; The Amphetamines, bringing the house down in an intellectual way. The Artel, always accommodating of outsider art, sent a homerun right out of left field...."The night opened with spirit wind prophecy speakers Tired I (Liam Fenton and Elena Heighton) on guitar and synth, followed by Freaky Lawsuits, a new neocore combo featuring Simon Derome, Marcello Calligaris and Ryan Martin. Then came Rogan and Friends, a cheerful piano, saxophone and chorus pop party with Rogan Gowan-Day, Dylan Head, Taryn Emelia, Dylan Brown, Jan Tellerman and Joe Sismondo. Finally, Kingston Underground alumni the Amphetamines played an untamed set, opening an interdimensional gate that destroyed the Artel and everyone in it forever, leaving a massive pile of singed rubble at 205 Colborne and unleashing an army of unworldly music demons onto
Kingston.
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Check out the live compilation of all four sets here, or download the Freaky Lawsuits and Amphetamines live albums off their bandcamps.
RHEIA VASQUEZ: Live @ Animal Hospital
An original member of Hertz tells some stories from the KU in the liner notes of her new album, Live @ Animal Hospital:
"[...]Whoever's idea it was to have a venue in the back room of a veterinary clinic I have no idea. I think I heard they had too much space or something so they wanted a way to use it that made money? Theres' no way it was worth it. Most of them were in the back rooms or whatever, I mean the people that came to my shows weren't the kind that should ever be let near dying pets --and trust me, they weren't-- but it was unnerving knowing they were there, knowing some three legged dog was laughing at my music two walls over. And you could hear them! Me and the rest of Hertz used to make a game out of guessing which animals we could identify making noise during our sets.
But that wasn't our venue. We just played there. It was the Labradors that were famous around those parts. It was weird how people saw the Kingston Underground like a baseball league. I did at least. Animal Hospital was the Labradors' "home" stage and when we played there, even if they weren't talking to us, it felt like an alliance. And when the Labradors fell apart the Marsupials became the main deal attraction. I guess that's why people don't go there anymore.
I got a look at the main area with the 'patients' or whatever a few times, the musicians and management would go back there and get hammered (or whatever else :/) before and after shows. The pets were in the middle, and birds were kept in one big cage on the left. An avery or something? I always wondered if that was right. By the end of it, a lot of people were afraid the AH people cared more about the music than the animals. And that was pretty fucked up, because they were treated like a gimmick to get people to come, to set them apart from other venues. I guess that's one of the reasons we stopped playing there. Or maybe they stopped treating it seriously because we (all) stopped.
The owners shifted a lot. One of the later ones was a real dick to the animals. He would let some of the dogs out into the mosh pits during the set... yeah, that was fun. Until Alena crushed a chihuahua's head. The worst part was that Noize Boize kept playing. They fucking kept playing while Alena screamed and Osmium was trying to push everyone away but you know how moshers are, they push back. I don't think most people in the pit knew, but Adrian and Thomas and them definitely did, because the stage was elevated. But they kept playing. I don't know if they were that desperate for a show or if they thought it was "punk" or "metal" or whatever. But that's not fucking punk man.
By the time the AH people got word of what was going on they shoved through and got the chihuahua -- no, the corpse of a chihuahua-- off the dance floor, and they went to go "heal' it or whatever because they were supposed to be vets. But that thing had been trampled, it looked fucking disgusting. I'm sure they wanted to make a big deal out of it and announce before the next set that the pup was fine, and they saved it in the back room, but there was no way. Maybe if they had rescued it right after Alena stepped on it it could have been okay but it was literally flat at that point, two-dimensional [...]"
SHIRTLESS COPS
Ken Donaldson and Irigan Utlo's seminal recorder project is finally being released in its entirety, from their first demo to their live records at McMahon and Avenue. Beginning with their original demo tape, A La Elmo Mod, M+HN will be posting a release from Shirtless' collection in each post.
The Orange Light // Mitosis
Thoughts on Malayan Optimism
Popular art often transcends conspicuous consumption, being immortalized in the populist canon of historiologically relevant shapers of public consciousness. There are two scales for those interacting with consumer art--one, for those with a proclivity for popular art, and the other, for those whom do not. The former can be graduated between two extremes: those of the iconoclast, who rejects popular art in favour of their own surreptitious alternative; and the nerd, specifically the pop culture nerd, a term which has been publicly canonized as referencing those with substantial knowledge and passion for a subject. The other, the disengaged: the anhedonic, who is incapable of feeling pleasure, regardless of stimuli; and the aristocrat, who's brow is above the crass nature of populism. The inheritors of the historic collective of Kingston Underground are spectral moderates. They are knowledgeable, they are passionate, they are iconoclastic and apathetic. For the purposes of the host of this essay, one may refer to them as neighbours to, or participants of, Malaya (Malaya being the precepts of a social and communal artistic process, wherein "collapse is martyrdom, ridiculous pseudonyms pass for names, and playing to an empty house is esoteric rather than embarrassing"). Kingston Underground was as important to the development of the philosophy of these neighbours, as a specific pop culture piece is as relevant to understanding what makes Kingston Underground so great.Pop culture pulp fiction (i.e. the inexorable, churning stream that is pop art), often considered vulgar, is inextricably tied to Malaya (despite the obvious irony). The eponymous example, Quentin Tarantino's cult classic Pulp Fiction, beautifully exemplifies the concept of the carrot in the dark--the knowledge that we are working towards something, although what that may be is hidden, perhaps behind the leather face of a briefcase. There are also examples to be drawn between South Park, Dragon Ball Z and Nupela Masalai's early 'Season One,' but these are for another discussion. The Orange Light, within the briefcase of Pulp Fiction, represents the primary motivation of pivotal characters; it is not obvious to the viewer what the significance is, merely that it is an object of wonder and of paramount value, representing something to strive for. The Orange Light of Kingston Underground likewise represents something to strive for, a beacon and clarion call around which the artistic dissidents of the Limestone City can rally and be illuminated.
Orange light is referenced twice within the collection of Kingston Underground: the first, by Fuck Off Bullshit! Collective, as "the night is orange, people are grey;" the second, by Praxis, Donald, Macdonald and Irigan, "orange light's on downstairs, looks like a stairway to hell."
The Orange Light is the new rose-tinted glasses--a mediating medium through which a sense of nostalgia purveys. It is a facile melancholy, however, as one lies by omission to themselves, recalling the good at the expense of the bad. The Orange Light reconciles this doublethinking, by creating a countercultural movement of the memory and of superego censorship. It is okay to only remember the good, because everything is good. This is not to say that the bad is not bad, but that, as Mackie says, "where's the risk [without the bad]?" For as the platitude goes: "suffering is good for the soul." In Pulp Fiction, The Orange Light represents something worth dying for; for FOB!C, the warm and optimistic glow of incandescent street lights; for PDM&I, parents and childhood memories and fears. It is motivation to carry out dangerous tasks, to stave off depression caused by mundanity, and to overcome one's anxieties. The utilization of bad, for the sake of good. The innocuous carrot over the stick of societal compliance (i.e. the 'legal structure' inherent in populist art forms ["don't mess up"]).
Nupela Masalai are among the inheritors of the legacy of Kingston Underground. At the time of this writing, in mere days a second core member of the group will emigrate Kingston for Montreal. Despite a Nupelan diaspora at 50%, the end is not nigh. Throughout the group's history, not all members have been simultaneously present for recording projects and live performances, and all said and done, the group is better for the diversity of lineups and instrumentation thus (intentionally or otherwise) precipitated. Who is to say that if the group can function on 50% of its total lineup (which is how the group began, and how its Kingston population looks now), that a second group cannot function independently, but not discrete from, the other? Kingston Underground was predicated in part upon scene participation--it takes a village (read: city) to make and support the arts. Two Nupelas, contributing to their collective catalogue of albums independently, embodies the techno primitivist communitarian principles of Kingston Underground. The handicap of distance will positively impact the art. There is the Nupelan tenet of guest artists, to which the distance will contribute new participants.
The Orange Light is a direct heirloom of Kingston Underground, incorporated into Malayan philosophy. That change and adversity work in direct favour of Malayan artistic endeavours. That the division of the whole creates parts greater than their sum. These parts, through their consensual handicap, facilitate the Kingston Underground and Malayan ethics of artistic creation. The mitosis of Nupela Masalai is an optimistic appraisal of what has been, as word has it, a depressing and straining hiatus and scenario, exacerbating the already dubious task of getting all members into one room at one time. The optimism of seeing in The Orange Light. Viewing it as mitosis, new life, as opposed to a harsh reality and new demons. The risk is implicit, the rewards worth striving for.
-- ヒップスタ
Sources: draws from Kingston Underground liner notes.
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