I don’t think I ever told anyone that I once secretly hoped to make music videos. Not that I completely understood it to be “music videos”, but did imagine moving images to music. Music is probably one of the biggest source of inspiration in my life. I pretty much feel it is one of the most sophisticated arts, the complex blend of emotion, mathematics and mystery. And this is despite my attachment to deep house.
There was a lot of classical music in my house when I was growing up and there were two records (omg, just revealed my age) that particularly had an impact on me as a young kid. One was Carnival of the Animals. One magical piece inspired a dark film while I was in film school that turned out to be one of my favourites. The other was this bizarre record given to one of my siblings, “Everything You Always Wanted to Hear on the Moog* *but were afraid to ask for!”
The picture of this album was particularly fascinating to me partly due the fact the conductor’s hand was backwards. A backwards hand right on an album cover. I couldn’t imagine it was an accident. It was an adult thing after all. But why? And then there was this bit that you can’t see in the picture, but when you had the thing in your hands you could see was clearly painted over. It was something that defied resolution. These are the things you mull over as a child like worrying at a loose tooth.
The album described on this site as classically bad, was apparently created one note at a time (I believe this was in 60’s). But it was the music itself that drew pictures in my head. It was probably the only version of these classics I had heard at the time and I was entranced by the drama of them. I remember dancing around in a fantasy of impressions and complex emotion to both sides of the record, vaguely plotting one day to bring it live for other people some how by whatever illusion a six year old imagines.
When Much Music first arrived on the scene, music videos were interesting to me, but of course, it was 3am-saucer-eyed-viewing-while-waiting-for-Chinese-food-order-to-deliver-me-the-only-cigarettes–available-at-that-time-of-night kind of interesting (I quit a few years later, thanks). In the 80’s the music videos had these huge budgets. The videos were fascinating for their excess and randomness. And of course that they satisfyingly earned the mistrust and suspicion of older adults. I later worked for one of the companies in the UK that made these monsters, MGMM, which later went into receivership as the 90’s approached.
But arriving later at film school there was a kind of disdain for music videos, and it’s a disdain that still lives among some of my friends and colleagues. By then visions of music videos no longer danced in my head, although music was still important and I developed an appreciation for experimental cinema. But of course experimental cinema is a labour of love that would lay locked in the galleries, theatres and minds of intellectuals.
I actually have no idea what the music video world is up to these days beyond the occasional project I find online so I can’t pass judgment either way. But I can imagine those rushed production meetings throwing a few ideas around with the focus on promotion and an eye on budget efficiencies. Not the best foundation for art.
But I just came across “Wood” (see below) and it reminded me that music videos, if we must call them that, still have the potential to actually deliver real art to the masses. While I am not sure that “Wood” is the best example, I think people simply need a framework to understand it, and an anchor that can make film art accessible, i.e. culturally accepted music by up-and-coming or known bands. We only need to remember how Radiohead’s, House of Card’s music video was shot without cameras or lights to put that idea into context. The band association informs the audience on how to view it.
I am not sure that the music will provide that anchor for “Wood” or not, but the music video genre itself sort of does. The music is ok. But even though the creators were involved in both, I think the animation was far more rich and interesting. There is something deliciously creepy and compelling about it .
For me, it was reminiscent of the oddly disturbing graphic novel that I read years ago, called The Wild Party, written by Joseph Moncure March in 1928 that apparently made William Burroughs want to be a writer. The version I have is illustrated by Art Speigelman who was co-founder and Editor of avant-garde comics magazine, Raw, and contributes to the New Yorker.
It’s the kind of work that stirs up some excitement, and judging by the responses on Vimeo, I’m not the only one who feels that way.
