Philip Venables & David Hoyle Illusions | HUM4938 | Excursions
Illusions by Philip Venables at the festival of New Music Biannual was an enthralling introduction to the contemporary composition scene in London, as well as a much-needed thrust into the relevant discourse of the LGBTQ+ community to get a gauge on queer issues in British culture, only a day after the PRIDE parade, which was a display of the happier, joyous side of the culture, the celebration that was only happening because of the depoliticisation of the event, diminishing the protest to a parade. This performance was in stark contrast to that environment. Venables, who also is a part of the community, has received acclaim for his work focusing on sexuality and political themes, and this piece certainly did not fall short.
Combining the cacophonous noise of a sinfonietta, the brash ideas of avant-garde drag performer David Hoyle (known by pseudonym “Divine David”) in a stream of consciousness, and a soothing but quirky "elevator music" bossa nova, Venables delivered a hard hitting video-audio commentary into the thought of the average British Queer individual, in four movements:
democracy: the role of democracy in queerness,
gender: how one would begin to learn of their identity (and the struggle involved therein, of finding appropriate jargon and space to realize it),
assimilation: the political influence and repression of queer culture, and
revolution: against that political influence.
It wasn't really made as a piece of talking to any member of the LGBT community, although there were some asides made to people who identified so—it was largely not a rant but a passionately intellectual (albeit, rather polarizing) and a little bit condescending, although comedic, statement to those who are not a part of the community, or rather opposed to it (the conservative parties, or minded individuals).
David’s dialogue was not the parameter by which the music took place—it was not speech sound, by any means: the orchestra took on the rhythmic constancy of his video, and although they augmented the speech to a point, enunciating and emphasising certain fluttered repetitions in an almost post-apocalyptic overlapping big-top sound, the ensemble too provided a possible medium by which David’s words were muffled; as his cries to action grew louder, so did they (perhaps this was an issue of the technical variety, but so is live art; so is the experience of contemporary music and the projection of one’s inferences onto a presentation or work of art). Was the orchestra his foundation? His greek chorus? Or was it the very foundation he spoke against, the people he was speaking to, cluttering the message, interpreting it and dissecting it to their needs to distribute its message to their best advantage? Regardless of the role of the orchestra at a metaphorical level, I did enjoy their physical playing as well. The conductor, Richard Baker, was a perfect fit—his movements were percussive, distinct, yet embodied a postured grace and length to movements. My favourite sections of the sinfonietta were the strings, which often had legato sostenuto passages, sliding between notes in a taffy-like manner, still elastic, but providing a canopy over which the avant-garde Hoyle pronounced his qualms, but so too had double stopping, frantic jumps. I also enjoyed the role of the piano, and although I cannot pin point my exact attraction to its part, I do remember noting its presence, and the delicate yet pronounced, intellectual tone it brought to the conversation of the instruments. Brass and winds were overwhelming, I think to me as they always are, for their kind of louder, screeching qualities, but they were the characteristic of this piece, that which pronounced the offence, the effect of the words. The percussion was minimalist but lovely, providing a rumble, the electro-static underneath the tonal parts of the piece, keeping a rhythm and stopping only to blow the whistle between movements. Some parts of the piece weren’t live, but recorded. Aside from David’s video footage, a bossa nova track (which Venables described as “elevator music”) played in the sections before the entrances of the orchestra, often highlighting moments of condescension or humour throughout. Each movement came to its own climax, but most certainly, the hardest hitting crescendo was that in the third movement, queer assimilation, when Hoyle explored the concept of human beings having to demean themselves in an act of subjugation, “to beg for the right to be themselves,”, condemning any person who directly denies others the right and the dignity (or even supports the system that upholds it) of being themselves in the first place. The music became more and more frantic, dissonant, and pleading.
In the same way that Hoyle was protesting traditional or conservative ideas of gender and identity or political control of personal expression, so was Venables against the ideas of traditional, conservative music. Music, in comparison to the other art forms of theatre, dance, creative writing, sculpture and 3D art and two dimensional fine art, is a very conservative field. As a music major, and as a dabbler in music education, unless in the field, in an area where the teachers are experienced or come from similar schools, there is often a lead by younger students and even those in the profession that more strongly and vehemently defend traditional ensembles and genres than new popular and contemporary forms of compositions. So often do we exclude or deny digital music or popular genres of their legitimacy in academia, in the profession, that we alienate ourselves from the majority of musicians today (who are amateurs or self-taught, not involved in academia, and thoroughly or even casually entrenched in more exciting, faster moving, progressive areas). Music pedagogy (and education in general) in the UK is far more progressive, and to see these kinds of themes persist to acclaim here, was encouraging, to say the least. It might be rather obvious, but to see the parallel between the conservative art form of music to its fellow forms, to conservative politics and values to a population, was personally significant. I enjoyed the composer’s commentary on this part, and his further note that some musicians prefer to look at music as just music; an aesthetic, not a political vault. However, as an art form, it exists for expression, and should be encouraged as a medium for communication of these values.
Moreover, I realized sometime during the interview and the second performance of the piece, that this was not just only a testament to gender expression as a political issue, but also an affront to what offence really meant. Of course, there was a quote from Philip that I think rang true to the audience and stood out from his interview, that "If you’re more offended by a performance than the offensive concepts, then there is an issue,”, which is certainly true. But I think the entire perception of the offensiveness and abrasive qualities of the performance, although it was dissonant and chaotic, kind of lie in the mistaken understanding of what intended offence would be. As, to some extent, the purpose of the composition was not to offend, but to speak to a larger issue, to engage. In social justice communities, and especially in the queer community, calling people out for negative or mutually detrimental behaviour is a common phenomena, essential to positive discourse. What is called “tea” or “shade” or “drag” or whatever have you is simply a nod to expecting others in your community, in your diaspora, to cease withholding toxic behaviours and opinions often instilled by assimilative systems. To correct someone, to plea for their needed involvement and awareness, acceptance, is not offence, and should not be taken so. It is a necessary part of the conversation. To be corrected, very blatantly is to be loved, to be cared for, and invited into the discussion, and although at some times it can be seen as aggressive, being as informed and as unproblematic (or, moreso aware of your problematic tendencies, privileges, and effects on your perspective) as possible is to be a proactive member of discourse on any given subject, especially in scenes of rights, and of expression. It was an abrasive performance, absolutely—to downplay the inherent anger of the LGBTQ+ community in making these remarks would be to miss the point of the piece entirely. But I hesitate to call it even potentially offensive to those who are not in immediate agreement with Hoyle or Venables.
If possible later on, I would like to hear the recorded version of the piece, if it does change from the live performance, and how that effects the interaction between the pre-recorded material featuring Hoyle and the music of the ensemble.
sources and further reading:
Illusions - Philip Venables & David Hoyle
Interview with Philip Venables about Music, Violence, and Text
