Audrey Chen (cello/voice/electronics)
Werner Moebius (electronics)
J Milo Taylor (electronics/electric baritone guitar)

Audrey Chen is a Chinese-American musician and performance artist born outside of Chicago in 1976. Using the cello, voice and analog electronics, Chen’s work focuses on the combination and layering of traditional and extended techniques. A large component of her music is improvised and her approach to this is often extremely personal and visceral. Her performance work incorporates sound, movement and visual/sculptural concepts. Chen performs solo and in collaboration with a wide number of musicians and dancers. Among musicians, she has worked with many great artists, including Phil Minton, Tetuzi Akiyama, Toshimaru Nakamura, Ko Ishikawa, Elliott Sharp, Aki Onda, Phill Niblock, Frederic Blondy, Jim Pugliese, Alessandro Bosetti, Mike Cooper, Mats Gustafsson, Mazen Kerbaj, Michael Zerang, Tatsuya Nakatani, Le Quan Ninh, Joe Mcphee, Susan Alcorn, Michele Doneda, Paolo Angeli, and Gianni Gebbia. Some current projects include: duos with Phil Minton, Frederic Blondy, Robert van Heumen, Katt Hernandez, Nate Wooley, a new trio project with Nate Wooley and C. Spencer Yeh, 3AandE: with Seamus Cater, Robert van Heumen and Nate Wooley and Trockeneis: with Andy Hayleck, Dan Breen, Catherine Pancake and Paul Neidhardt. Chen has performed in Europe, Russia, Australia, New Zealand, China, Japan, Taiwan and the USA. She is currently based in Baltimore, MD USA where she is member of the Red room and High Zero Collective, an on-going series and international festival devoted to experimental improvised music.

www.myspace.com/audreychen

Werner Moebius works with sounds, beats and files in the context of audio culture, sonic and intermedia art in between conceptualisms,contemporary music, electroacoustic improvisation and electronica. He uses the plasticity of sound to set up dialogues with other media and music methodologies. From abstract sound material he creates a unique mix of styles ranging from minimalistic soundscapes to weird instrumental poppy tunes. Generating sounds is taken as a basis to develop complex compositions as well as audiovisual and transitive concepts in collaborations with artists of differing media.

Works, performances and collaborations with many artists including Fennesz, Christoph Kurzmann, Gelatin, F.M.Einheit, David Moss, Jason Khan, N.U.Unruh, Hans Joachim Roedelius, Billy Roisz, Cornelie Müller, Alexeij Sagerer, Hanno Leichtmann, Johannes Strobl, Stephan Mathieu, Rudi Mahall, Didi Bruckmayer, Alexander de Goederen, Oliver Hangl, Ulli Koscher, Heidrun Holzfeind, Paul Divjak, Georg Wagenhuber, Christoph Hinterhuber, Machfeld, Gernot W. Koza, Frenk Lebel, Hans Falb, Stefan Parnreiter, Renèe Stieger, Phillip Quehenberger, Marco Eneidi, Hermann Stangassinger, Hannes Schweiger, Wilbert de Joode, DD Kern, Lee Patterson, Gene Coleman, Todd Carter , Mariella Greil.

www.wernermoebius.net

1) Prelude
2) Breaking the Frozen Radio Sea
3) Uncertainty Relation (Memory tastes Metallic)
4) International Slo-Mo (As Recalled by Room Herself)
5) Spatial Resonances in Eventmind (Fly in Flames)

Bilwa Costas, Mariella Greil, Werner Moebius, Emily Sweeney, J Milo Taylor


A lab hosted by Mariella Greil & Werner Moebius at Prisma Mexico 2009

Maybe manifesto
Maybe we move into the space between yes and no
Maybe we perform the spectacular spectator or performer
Maybe we overcome virtuosity and redefinition
Maybe we question the brute somatic nature of the body and make-believe transformations
Maybe we are all stars and invest in generosity
Maybe we share the in-between
Maybe we look for respect, hospitality and friendship
Maybe we become hybrid
Maybe we distort and recycle our style
Maybe we enjoy cunning concepts and teasing procedures and their strictures
Maybe we move beyond camp, eccentric, heroic and their opposites
Maybe we inverse the structure of the sublime
Maybe we decide for sensitive ambiguity
(response to Yvonne Rainer’s NO Manifesto and Mette Ingvartsen’s YES Manifesto)

Die Kunstpraxis als Werkform.

The lab creates space and framework for exploring emerging practices. “Who’s afraid of the in-between” contributes to a critical discourse on knowledge production in collaborative research and work modes both rehearsed and performed beyond closed categories.

writings from the in-between. emily sweeney, july 2009, mexico

the in-between is inherent. it is rich with experience, preserving a space where memory trails into possibility. it is not a state to be achieved, only recognized, and delicately. to focus on the in-between will cause it to shift. the instant we acknowledge a state as being in-between, we have arrived.

in order to find ourselves in-between, we engage with concrete structures. a vacuum is not in-between: it is nowhere.

where are the two poles that we would find ourselves between?
knowledge and ignorance
technique and pedestrianism
planning and sensation
consciousness and unconsciousness
self-consciousness and abandon
isolation and interaction
movement and sound
proprioception and desire
beginning and end

where would we find ourselves that we should feel in-between?
perhaps we will try to find sensitive ambiguity together.

once, in the laboratory, we exchanged rules. each of us wrote a rule on a small slip of paper and put it into a hat. then, we all selected rules that we were bound to follow for the duration of an open improvisation. i selected the rule to NEVER BEGIN!!! i could not predict how this would unfold. i could not conceive of never beginning.

i stationed myself against a white wall at one end of the space. there, i could feel the wind on my body from outside through an open door and i could see the shadows of trees shifting at the corners of my eyes. i had an easy view of the entire improvised event occurring in the space. NEVER BEGIN. i could not move but to breathe. my hair was moving in the wind; i could not move my head. my eyes searched round and round, roving the space; i could not move my head.

sounds, movements, sensations, interactions shifted before me. but i could not move. i stood still. i began (shit!) to feel an immeasurable pressure in my thighs and feet. my hands trembled; my legs trembled; my face contorted; i began to cry. i breathed; i focused; i stopped crying, and began crying again. i arrived in a space between proprioception and desire. i was present between every decision and every action; i filled the space with longing. the space filled with my longing. every actor’s action was infected with my desire.

is it possible to invite another person into my in-between? can i have company there?

is it possible to be alone in the in-between? do i depend upon the presence of company there?

where were we, that we should feel in-between there and someplace else?

where are we going?

does the in-between imply movement, instability, journeying? is it possible to arrive at the in-between?

are we comfortable in the in-between? is it possible to be comfortable in the in-between? do we want to be comfortable in the in-between?

“…if entire systems of representation, of meaning, had been extinguished inside him, entirely new systems had been brought into being.” Oliver Sacks, An Anthropologist on Mars

the in-between is a constant negotiation. the in-between is dependent upon binaries. the in-between denies binaries. the in-between rejects binaries.

i know only that i am in-between. i do not know why, or how. why do i strive for articulation? if i articulate this, will it disappear?

i am an artist who was raised in the united states. i find myself in mexico. all the time (walking, seeing, hearing, speaking) i have a heightened sense of myself living between my individual beliefs, hopes, and sensations, and those of the country i inevitably represent. can i shed this in-between? do i want to shed this in-between? why am i so uncomfortable in this space between myself and my perceived geopolitical identity?

i am a movement artist who was raised by a family of musicians. all the time (moving, listening, sounding) i have a heightened sense of myself living between my senses. do i want to focus on this in-between? will i damage my in-between by concentrating on it?

where is the space generated by this laboratory of in-between?

i am not afraid of the in-between. i fear its obliteration through description; articulation; location.

emily sweeney, july 2009, mexico

Year: 2008-2010
Location: London, Vienna, Edinburgh
Worktype: Improvisation Duo
Info: Collaboration with William Huckerby

http://www.myspace.com/notanum6er




A this article appears in Playing with words: The Spoken Word in Artistic Practice Edited by Cathy Lane

A collection of responses from over 40 leading contemporary composers and artists who were invited to represent aspects of their creative practice with words, and in particular, the spoken word, for the printed page.

The book concentrates on the kinds of creative play to be found in different sound based genres such as electroacoustic music composition, text sound composition, and sound poetry while reflecting artistic practices in disciplines of such as digital arts, electronic, concrete and experimental poetry, performance art and fine art.

The contributors have chosen to represent their work in a variety of different ways which include writing, graphics, poetry, photographs and through interview.

Playing with Words is designed by Colin Sackett and published by CRiSAP in collaboration with RGAP.



Occasional Solo Outings | Solo Expanded Guitar | Acoustic | Electric | Electronic |

| Heroes | Antiheros | Zeros |
john fahey, robert johnson, christian fennesz, godspeed you black emporer, animal collective, ry cooder , woody guthrie, leadbelly, richard thompson, nick drake, skip spence, 6 organs of admittance, sunburned hand of the man, boris, sunn o)), pauline oliveros, hidegarde westekamp, halim el dabh, nas al ghiwane, yellow swans, lee ranaldo, glenn branca, django reinhardt, scott joplin, sir richard bishop, james blackshaw, bert jansch, tom rush, karen dalton, explosions in the sky, lemchaheb, jil jilala, low, modest mouse, blind lemon jefferson, mississippi john hurt, buster keaton, brothers quay, david lynch, jan svankmier, lumiere brothers, henry miller, ben okri, marquis de sade

Some Past Gigs

August 8th 2007 @ Songbird, Visions Bar, Dalston

August 18th 2007 @ Plac.Art.X, Regensburg, Germany

February 22nd 2008 @ Scaledown, Soho, London

Year:  2007-2009
Location: England
Worktype: Grimprovisation Duo
Materials:  noise, distortion, loops, voice, self devised instruments, radio, electric guitars, fx

Open Form Festival of Indeterminate Music
March 10th – 13th March 2007
Realisation of Cornelius Cardew’s ‘Treatise’ (page 47)
By Adam Asnan & J_Milo Taylor
London College of Communication

At the time of writing Treatise, Cardew was also exploring the possibilities outlined by free improvisation as typified by the group AMM who were in the process of moving towards ‘sound’ rather than ‘music’. This double articulation of Cardew’s practice, spontaneous improvisation embodied in real-time human interaction, coupled with a rejection of this in favor of notation has informed our approach to the work.

My vector into Treatise is situated in our practices as a sound artists, rather than improvising musicians, although we both improvise regularly as part of David Toop’s Laptop Orchestra. An early concept to transform the score into a map for ‘prepared’ guitar was quickly rejected but the concept of transformation was kept, and carried through to this current iteration of our response. While we were developing our work, it quickly became clear that Adam’s strategy was to be a highly formalized deconstruction of Cardew’s graphic score. It was less an interpretation, more of an extreme re-mapping of the possibilities imagined by the composer.

This in turn, prompted me towards a more direct intervention, into the work, my own practice and into reality. I re-imagined my role and decided to embark upon a process of de/re-constructing the score, and transforming it into a sculptural sound object; this object would be definitively derived from the score, limit my choices in performance, whilst facilitating these choices. Score as object, or score as instrument, a kind of physical embodiment of an originally abstract intention.

P-47 Misery Box: Sample 1

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P-47 Misery Box: Sample 2

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P-47 Misery Box: Sample 3

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P-47 Misery Box: Sample 4

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It is my feeling, that although respectful of Cardew’s intentions, we are also aware of our own situatedness, and the possibilities of articulating an alternative discourse removed from the rarefied ambience of the music academy. Our work, while a radical de/construction of the score, would, we hope, sit well with Cardew’s broader social and political aims.

The piece was presented in the Royal Academy of Music, Oslo in a workshop led by Christian Wolff.






This work of dedicated to the Cardew’s memory, with the hope he would have enjoyed our response and to Siri, Lena, Else and everyone who have been so welcoming to us during our time in Oslo. Takk.

“I’m Bill Thompson, we’re going to start”.

Owww. Sine tone

Like vinyl noise.

Sinetone.
Like vinyl noise.

Sinetone.
High sine tone.

Like vinyl tone. Higher in the mix. More defined.

Source = water? Fire?
Pop.         Pop       Pop…       crackle

Pop

Shuffle.
The footsteps of latecomers.

Skrayp of chair.

1  2  3, 1  2  3, 1  2, 1  2, 1  2  3, 1  2  3  4

Mid-low percussion kicks.

I close my eyes and wait for something to write.

Any number of images come into my mind.

The first being a view of the ocean today during a soundwalk.

Cold wind, ocean surf, ships in the middle distance. What does this have to do with these sounds?

Hi hi static sine tones, with slight beating.

Low register bass tones. Beating more noticeable.

Thompson pulls out a contact mic and battery powered fan. It makes a sound.

Beating pulse tones continue.

Cough from two seats to my left.

I look at the clock.

A lo to mid bass texture comes into the mix.

I am experiencing some in ear soundings.

A deeper bass texture increases its presence. Pulsing, pulsating.

Hi frequencies are now clearly sounding in my ears.

Not unpleasant. Not pleasant. What then?

A bass texture, pulsating comes into the foreground.

In ear tones continue. Maybe one of the extractor fans from the Heathrow smokers’ area have spawned a cartoon monster offspring that has tracked me here?

The sound of oars? Running stream water.

I am now inside the sound. Or rather, it is now inside of me.

Everything disappears other than pulsing pure tones.

As I move my head, so the effect changes. Hmmm…

The same tone that began the piece is still there.

I am sitting much closer to the left speaker than to the right. Am I missing something?

People seem much more comfortable and attentive to this than the last performance. Is this due to Thompson turning on a toy disco light? There is something strangely focusing about the banal play of light from yellow, to green to orange, to red to yellow to…

The threshold has fallen.

Low bass hum. Gentle.

In ear tones continue at a much more comfortable level.

Mid tone.

Click,                     glitch.

Glitch. Click.

Click, click, clik-clik, click, click, clik- clik.

Male voice (whispered) “This is shite.” (Scottish accent)
Near silence.

Applause.

Lights up.

“Lots more tomorrow.”

| Concert Hall |

Keith Rowe, Rajesh Mehta, and Rohan de Saram Improvised Performance

Cello Sound Check.

Trumpet Sound Check.

Rowe sitting behind his table of objects.

Web Streaming team are set up in the corner.

“…there was one time when someone turned up at the end of the night, and at the end of the concert, just helped us pack up…”

“…here…”

“…one or two really belligerent people… I don’t need that anymore.”

“We’d like to welcome Keith Rowe, Rajesh Mehta, and Rohand de Saran…”
Applause.

Lights are switched off.

Near silence. Some air conditioning.

The performance begins.
Cello harmonics.

Rowe emits whooshy electromagnetic washes.
Breath

Psst. Pssssst

Bwwoooow

Muted trumpet. Closed to open.

The sound is a mixture of acoustic sounds and amplified sounds from two huge Genelec monitor speakers.

Crack, snickle, from Rowe. Joggle pickup up.

K – K DOnk. Fiddle Fiffle Ckik.

Trumpet slide – the trompet? Muted like wah-wah.

Crackle – crackle…glitch

Cello – lo lo drone
Bzzt

A sound like wind from Rowe. A battery powered fan like a mini distorted helicopter.

Bzzt
Hybrid trumpet – opening frequencies.

Volume threshold increase.

Funereal cello.

There is some slight interest in the contrast between Rowe’s knob twiddling and consumer noiseplay with the meditative cello and the experimentally tubed bugle boy.
Bab bab bab. Trumpet as Drumpet.

Crackle creatures from the guitar neck. A slight pumping of a volume pedal.

Trumpet like passing propeller.

Cello pushing quavers, suggesting a chase sequence?

Rowe tunes into the communication ether. Radio static between the units in pursuit.

An insect buzzes against the hot-hot windscreen.

The trumpet helicopter passes overhead.

Disembodied voices demand guidance.

“Where is Bernhard?”

Fade to Super-8 noize of a summer field.

Flicker, flicker, white out of summer sun.

The bleeding body lies under summer heat.
Exposed nerve endings twitching in white more heat.

So cold.

Subject through teared up eyes.

Brain stem exposed to gentle breeze.

Where is he? What happened?

Fizz. Fizz. Distant sirens / sirens close.

I don’t know.

Twitch. Twitch. Raw electricity

Emergency.

Mayday.

M’aidez.

Help me.

Christ, please help me. I think I’m dying.

Ga goo – goo. I’m becoming a baby.

Snatches of piano lessons in the drawing room.

Comical toy trumpets.

Fratured melodies. I’m sure I know this song.
Materd Frelod. I’m sure I’m now this song.
Actref olemsidi. I’m ss.s I.s .sss.ss.s.ss

Gentle warm.
Am I being moved?
Something is moving against my skin.

Near silence.

A pop.
A click.
A buzz.

A laugh from the audience.
A snigger.

A continued buzz in the Genelecs.

Pockle. Pockle.

High Harmonic. A call for attention.

A squiggle of new life.
Is this the sound of life?

A background pulse of theme begins.

BzzzzzzZZZzzzzZzzzzzzzzZZZZZZZZzzzzZzzzzzzzzZZZZZZZzzZz
mmmm.mmmm.mmmmmm.mmmMMMM.mMMMm.MMM.MMMMMMmmMMMMM.

The universe opens out to me.

High harmonic. A call to life.

Quick cut back into the darkened and quietened theatre space.

A trumpet with tubing and a lighting frame attached is sounding a high harmonic.

The cello responds.
Rowe – alone with his broken noises bzzzzzzzzz.

The battery powered fan brushes against pickups or strings.
Increase in volume threshold, from what was approaching near silence.

Strange subtones and solar winds.

Ba – da  da   dah  dab a dah – cello

Scrunch – scrunh

Buzzbell overtone from Rowe.

Hysterical cello fingers.

Now a calm drone.

Glitch   glitch.

I am reminded of nothing.

Trumpet swell and cello insects.

Cello glissando.

Small sine type wave.

Squiggly glic glic from Rowe.

Small sine wave meets bass tubed trumpet.

Buzzbell undertone.

Harmonic overtone series from cello.

Wahh whaa. Baby cry from trumpet.

Cello bass drone.

Rowe turns something on.

He picks something up. Skrayp.

I wonder when he’ll use his electric toothbrush.

Tap tap.

Cello low harmonics.

Muted trumpet suggests a higher place.

Crackle crackle schwa schwa.

Bik-bik  bik.

The trumpet is sad.

Ooo-ooo- wh. So is the cello.

“Hello”, it says, “Can you make me laugh?”
The musicians stand defeated.

Rowe’s machines continue to sound.

The cello adds a comment, “but…but…but, I am too”.

Rowe’s toy helicopters are ready to napalm the guitar fields.

The cello plays a death song.

A trumpet spatial sweep marks bass feedback swells.

Rowe: scribble scribble scratch. He appears to be fixing an old timepiece, being cooled in his garden shed by a 99p battery powered fan. Oblivious to all around him.

The cello plays a death song.

Many in the audience have their eyes closed. Beautific. Some look incredulous. Others look around as I do.

The artists continue to fumble around, in search of what, I neither know nor care.

An attractive space though, and some pretty comfy chairs.

Apart from air conditioning; silence.

A cough.

Some shuffling.

Rowe looks up.

The artists smile.
The audience applauds.
The artists stand awkward.
The applause ends.

Thompson : “That’s fine”.