Was Animal Collective Worthy of Guggenheim Prestige?
Animal Collective and Danny Perez debut Transverse Temporal Gyrus at The Guggenheim
Thursday night, popular psychedelic indie band Animal Collective and visual artist Danny Perez engulfed The Guggenheim's rotunda with the debut of their site-specific performance piece Transverse Temporal Gyrus.
Weeks ago when the concert was announced, the band's rabid young fan base rapidly bought up all of the tickets, forcing the Museum to add an early second performance due to the demand. For the Guggenheim and their initiative towards appealing to a younger crowd, Animal Collective offered them the perfect opportunity. Unlike past concerts that have taken place within the rotunda, this Animal Collective performance provides a more solidified link between the worlds of fine art and popular music. But also unlike when a band like The Walkmen played inside Frank Lloyd Wright's spiral palace, Animal Collective's performance was very much a work of art. So with its display inside such a prestigious institution where artists such as Matthew Barney, Daniel Buren and Cai Guo-Qiang have transformed the space in recent years, has the Guggenheim given Transverse Temporal Gyrus more prestige than it's worth?
With last year's critically acclaimed record, Merriweather Post Pavillion, Animal Collective rose into an elite class of bands with both extensive commercial and critical appeal. Musically, they had managed to marry an experimental electronic psychedelia with Beach Boys '60s pop production and hooks. With their concerts, over the course the the last few years, they have become more and more prone to stretch their songs out into more lengthy soundscapes. The lights and stage design of their concerts have also gradually developed into something more elaborate over time. For anyone following these developments with Animal Collective, Transverse Temporal Gyrus seems like a natural progression.
Visually, Transverse Temporal Gyrus consisted of the trio existing almost motionless on the bottom floor, outfitted in strange costumes and white masks resembling the rabbit from Donnie Darko. Each member, standing about 5-10 feet from each other, was stationed behind an amorphous sculpture containing a round glowing screen with imagery that resembled the magma of a lava lamp. In front of them all was a row of clear, brightly lit stalagmites standing a few feet tall, and behind them glowed an amorphous white glacier sculpture with fragmented colors projected upon it. The entire space of the Guggenheim was lit up with bright shades of magenta, blue, and green.
Sonically, the pre-recorded music perfectly encompassed the space, often times circulating around the rotunda in a spiral through the speakers, fully utlizing the space. The soundscape flowed constantly throughout the entirity of the lengthy 3-hour performance, often building towards the more expected Animal Collective freak-out fans expect, but never quite breaking out of its moody psychedelia structure.
The members of Animal Collective have always displayed the strong influence of legendary avant-garde musicians The Residents in their songs, and while I experienced Transverse Temporal Gyrus last night, it was impossible to overlook the strong resemblance of the performance to The Residents' revolutionary 1979 record Eskimo. It was as though Eskimo has been brought into a more futuristic context with the fragmented blips and bleeps of the computer age co-mingling with the amorphous sounds of nature. Further strengthening the Residents connection, the costumes and stage design very much echoed the stage setups of past Residents tours. As major fans of the highly influential performers, I have to believe that any resemblance comes out of influence and homage to their heroes rather than anything less respectable.
Possibly best experienced on hallucinogenic drugs, Transverse Temporal Gyrus could act as a fine first step for Animal Collective to progress as something far more interesting than a simple rock band. It may also help influence the worlds of art and music to exist in a more unified place where performers like Laurie Anderson and David Byrne have always worked towards. No matter what the end result is, Animal Collective has now been given the torche to carry as the main link between fine art and popular music—a position Sonic Youth may have once held. Unlike Sonic Youth, Animal Collective has a younger fan base less interested in experimentation, so events like this could work against Animal Collective leaving fans disenchanted (as many seemed on Thursday).
Photos: Animal Collective & Danny Perez: “Transverse Temporal Gyrus” @ The Guggenheim
Full Review to come soon...
Modern Painters Music Issue: Featuring David Byrne
Not many people realize this, but by day one of the many magazines I help produce is Modern Painters. This month's issue of Modern Painters is devoted to the more artistic side of the music community, featuring artists and musicians such as Marina Abramovic, David Byrne, Jeremy Deller, Slater Bradley, Kurt Cobain and Fenn O’Berg all blurring the dividing line between art and sound.
Music fans will particularly enjoy the interview of David Byrne by well-known conceptual artist Jeremy Deller...
It took about two weeks to reach the artist-musician David Byrne, who was touring with his book Bicycle Diaries. But when we finally got hold of him and explained our "Meeting of Minds" column (expanded for this issue), which would involve his speaking with another artist of his choice, the former Talking Heads front man didn’t miss a beat. Within moments, he had replied on e-mail: "I want to talk to Jeremy Deller" — the Conceptual, video, and installation artist who won the 2004 Turner Prize. The connections between the two were evident: Both are avid cyclists, Byrne in New York and Deller in London; both believe strongly in art being accessible; both often explore the creative process in performative approaches; both are influenced by politics, pop culture, and music; and both participate enthusiastically in socioanthropological studies of cultural landscapes, particularly of quirky-meets-cerebral subjects like parades, nursing homes, and dilapidated buildings. Although for scheduling reasons the two remained on opposite sides of the Atlantic, Google Docs enabled this real-time conversation to take place online.
Jeremy Deller: First, I’d like to talk about your love of cycling. I cycle in London every day, more or less. A few simple questions: Do you jump red lights? Do you wear a helmet? These aren’t trick questions. I’m just interested. I’m a no to both, by the way.
David Byrne: I cycle here in New York as a way of getting around, not as a racer or for sport. It’s getting easier here. There are more secure lanes, and drivers are more used to seeing cyclists than in the past. Do I jump red lights? I used to do it more, but now, as there are more cyclists, I feel we have to obey the rules of the road if we expect to be taken seriously — and we are, a bit. Sometimes I feel pretty foolish standing there waiting for the light to change while other cyclists whiz by, but then last week I watched as someone ignored a red light only to be completely knocked over by a car. I thought for a minute I might mention to this poor idiot lying on the ground (but not seriously injured) that he’d run a red light, but it didn’t seem like the right time for scolding.
Do I wear a helmet? Ugh. I do when I’m riding through a precarious part of town, meaning midtown traffic. But when I’m riding on secure protected lanes or on the paths that run along the Hudson or through Central Park — no, I don’t wear the dreaded helmet then. I’ve noticed that in places where cycling is accepted and common — Berlin, Copenhagen, and so on — most folks don’t wear helmets. I haven’t had a serious accident, so maybe I’m naive. Cycling is a joy and faster than many other modes of transport, depending on the time of day. It clears the head.
Modern Painters: Redirecting the conversation to art, not that cycling isn’t an interesting topic: You were both involved in the exhibition "Shhh . . . Sounds in Spaces" at the Victoria & Albert Museum, in London in 2004. Can you talk a bit about your roles in the show and what the experience was like? How did you explore the idea of sound in space? Was that your first meeting, if you in fact did meet? Or if it wasn’t, when and where did you first meet?
DB: I’m pretty sure we didn’t meet, though we have mutual friends, most notably Michael Morris, of Artangel, who worked with Jeremy on the Battle of Orgreave [2001] reenactment. Jeremy also did a short film that beautifully used the Talking Heads song "Heaven." It was of old folks dancing — senior citizens, we call them here [in the United States]. It’s both hilarious and very touching.
The V&A "Shhh . . . Sounds in Spaces" seemed so obvious. I wonder why more museums haven’t messed around more with their Acoustiguides. Very few have. As far as I know, they usually stick with the "Let some expert explain it all for you" approach. The V&A instead invited a group of artists and musicians to "do something" for their Acoustiguides. It wasn’t for a specific show, so in a sense it was a show. The technology used was invisible infrared sensors to activate audio files in the players that visitors wore. Because these players were private, only the person wearing the headphones could hear the pieces — there was no cacophony in the galleries — so sometimes a voice would begin talking as you entered a specific room or gallery, sometimes a sound would begin playing for no reason, and sometimes one would hear music when one entered a space. All the participants picked different spaces, so there wasn’t audio chaos. I decided to concentrate on the nonspaces in the V&A — the hallways between galleries, the cafeteria ramp, the lovely old stairways, and the pristine bathrooms. I did one for the ceramics gallery that began with footsteps and heavy breathing, as if someone were following a little too close; another, for the Cast Court ramp, began with a cell phone ringing and ringing (I hoped that folks would turn around to see which obnoxious person was not picking up their phone), and then it turned into a little chaotic musical mixture of various cell-phone rings.
Continue reading at Artinfo.com
Cheeseburger - "Saturday Night"
