Every once in a while, a Pharmakon, or a Knife, or a Death Grips comes along that makes you nod to the sentiment that music is the most reactionary artform that our organism has to offer. (And perhaps most reactionary=best.) Or more simply, makes you want to fuck up some shit.
I have no idea who Margaret Chadiet is. But her “Rising” interview with Pitchfork does the admirable charity of crystallizing some of my inklings and intimations into concrete words.
For sure, I’ll file this into the back of my head, along with Death Grips’ interview with the same publication, as a source of personal clarity and inspiration.
The unbridled, uncompromising, vulnerable, and hence, frightening root of the manifestos and music of Pharmakon and Death Grips will likely confine them to relative obscurity in the public eye. But their earnest-as-fuck approach will earn them a following. Zach Hill, Stefan Burnett, and Margaret Chadiet, others, seem to fall into the vein of shier, more introspective people that want to avoid the glare of lowest common denominator popularity (then again, who am I to guess?), but in the pursuit of expressing their own music and voices, they offer messages, rallying banners, for anti-neoliberalist Millennials to coalesce around.
They may yet be unwitting, reluctant prophets. It will be up to us to share and spread their Good Word.
When I read these interviews, in a sense, I almost feel like I’m violating these people because I’m getting such an intimate look into their private minds. Standard Protestant and Calvinist-inspired WEIRD (Western, Educated, Industrialized, Rich, and Democratic) social etiquette demands that you keep a polite facade that prioritizes the maintenance of inoffensiveness and professionalism at the cost of honesty. (Shut up and save your time and energy for making money.) The possibility of what people can cloak away in their minds beneath their suits of armor, is a wonder.
Superstitious gut sense indicates that people who have gotten so good at expressing themselves through music should have the trade-off of being less capable of articulating eloquent prose. Yet, time and time again, when I expect these artists to be somewhat oafish verbally, they demonstrate that, yes, they are just more polymathic and multi-faceted than I am.
Or maybe, it’s just that Pitchfork has some pretty good editors.