avant-garde?

The shell is finally cracking. Years of attempting to achieve what would probably be called, today, the achievers, are at least at last becoming The Past. It may sound naive but in my favour I have always been aware of the restrictions and aware that those encouraging competition of the status quo are somehow deeply limited. But it’s only been during the last year or so that I have truly been able to stand outside and look in, as opposed to simply gazing in the mirror and seeing the concrete but not knowing how on earth to smash it. I’ve got it. That may not mean I can immediately implement it, but I have definitely got it. This moment of epiphany came last night at the Resonance 104.4fm gig under the arches at Elephant & Castle at a specific moment: when I was watching and laughing and laughing and laughing thanks to ‘The Rod of Run-Awayes’ by Harmon e Phraysiur. If you get the chance to see these two men, don’t hesitate a second. Just go. You won’t get much better, in my humble opinion. It was clear from the start when Tedd Barrington (I think) kicked four plastic bottles with great force AT the audience that this was going to be special. I was told that these two are well known on the avant-garde scene… so clearly I am very behind the vanguard. Maybe I am avant avant-garde? Leaving the labels behind, for let’s face it, they really don’t matter, I just know that I laughed to the point of fearing mild hysteria at certain points. Or possibly wild hysteria.

Must have been the frog on my face.

They were followed by the also funny Simon Munnery who, again, a whole lot of you will know but because I live slowly and under some sort of shadow seem to fail to see, hear and know what most of both mainstream and narrowstream know. Either that or my prejudice and chips about Oxbridge people are so huge they blind me regularly from those who slipped through the cracks (apart from one who slipped through the largest, subtly and stealthily and gracefully such that I ceased to care about That Place).

The other highlight of the evening was hearing stories from the one and only M John Harrison and Erik Davis who read to the improvised musical skills of Zali & Mark. I’m a fan of M John Harrison’s writing – no secrets there – but it wasn’t until last night, hearing him read two of his stories from 1001 nights (I’d strongly encourage you to have a look) that I realised just how brilliant they were. You would never know he’d been limited to 1001 words. Never. Layers and layers of story, detail, thought and dream stitched neatly and with perfect spontaneity into 1001 words. I didn’t think I liked the music but it must have been good because I heard stuff in the stories that I hadn’t noticed when reading.

Is this freedom? Almost. It requires much more courage and energy and conviction than anything I’ve pursued before, I think. I think. Or maybe it’s different to bullets and bombs. Not sure. To be frank, I’ve only just begun to understand the meaning of the word. Thank god I got there before my 40th (the date of which I see everywhere: Marks and Spencer’s cup cakes, cheques on telly… it’s fucking wierd).

Almost forgot. I had one criticism of the resonance gig. Where, my dears, were the women? 98% male performance. Come on. I’m sure you can do better than that.