The Delaware Road live gig reviewed by DJ FOOD and Shindig! magazine HERE
Photo: Victoria Forbes
" - a night of radiophonics, tape loops, vintage synths and spoken word we
braced ourselves for an eight band line up held together by a narrative
from Dolly Dolly.
Seated at a table under angle poise lamp to one side of the stage for
the entirety of the gig and looking for all the world like a broadcast
announcer of old he was a revelation, holding the audience captive
between acts as the night and story unfolded. Written by Dolly aka David Yates and label manager Alan Gubby, the tale of The Delaware Road is loosely based on two members (‘the man’ and ‘the woman’) of a sound studio reminiscent of the Radiophonic Workshop. The clues are all there, the BBC being referred to as ‘the corporation’, and the tale includes shades of The Stone Tape Theory, the occult, the swinging 60s, orgies and demonic powers released through sound recorded on cooper wire."
London. 1968. Two pioneering electronic musicians discover a set of
unusual recordings. Fascinated by the seemingly occult nature of the
tapes they conduct a studio ritual that will alter their lives forever.
The Delaware Road is a psychological thriller
& an audio-visual treat for fans of archived electronica, far out
jazz & haunted folk grooves.
Compere: Dolly Dolly
Live: Howlround, The Dandelion Set, Ian Helliwell, The
Rowan Amber Mill, Robin Lee, Loose Capacitor, Tim Hill, The Twelve Hour
Foundation & Revbjelde.
DJs: Jonny Trunk & The Séance (feat. Pete Wiggs from St Etienne)
Tickets £15 advance, £13 concession; £16 on the door.
Price includes free poster & advance download code for 'The Delaware Road' compilation album on Buried Treasure Records.
The ever lovely KIT RECORDS very kindly asked me to make them a music mix. Which I did.
This is what they said:
" We love the work of English surrealist musician, spoken word artist and beekeeper Dolly Dolly
(sometimes known as David Yates). Bunches of words, unnerving tangles
of the stupendous, gruesome and mundane, wind through scattered
atmospheres, radiophonic ploinks and the occasional piano ballad. David’s mix ties mournful folk and sound experiments together into one mesmerising, scary whole."
This is what I said:
" This mix could quite easily double up as the soundtrack to a 70s
children’s television programme or one of those ‘folk’ horror films from
the same period. Here Musique Concrete becomes the unlikely bedfellow
of pastoral a Capella English folk. The juxtaposition seems to highlight
the strangeness of each. For reasons I can’t really explain this mix
reminds me of a weird school assembly. Have a listen and see if you agree."
You can go to the website and see the tracklisting here or keep it a surprise and listen below:
The first issue of the Swedish/English magazine TIMGLASET is now out and ready for you to buy!
Contains an exclusive (and slightly pornographic) weird tale by Dolly Dolly called (S)EXIT and an interview with frequent Dolly collaborator, the English abstract painter and electronic musician Time Attendant.
Once upon a time there was a radio show, then there was a series of live
gigs and events. Eventually, there was a record label. They were all
called Exotic Pylon. There was one man who was the creator, curator and
driving force behind all these things: a man called Jonny Mugwump. Jonny
is as close to a raging Darwinian force of nature as you could ever
meet. He's a whirlpool of creativity and enthusiasm. He was the
pied-piper and we all followed him, sucked in by his strange
gravitational pull towards an event horizon of his own making. Once you
were there inside the Pylon universe, anything could happen.
The first year of the radio show on London's Resonance FM was a
scattershot affair. It was if the contents of Jonny’s brain were jammed
into a blunderbuss and shot into the mic. As the years went on, he was
joined by various ne'er-do-wells playing live, who filled the tiny
studio to the brim, often times spilling out into the station's carpark
outside. Paul Snowdon (Time Attendant) began to co-host after a while.
You would think this would have had a stabilizing effect on Jonny and
the show (Paul Snowdon was and remains the single most laid back man in
creation), but no. They spent many a time broadcasting throughout the
night, widely improvising madcap electronic soundscapes to anyone who
happened to tune in at 3am. The show was as eclectic as they come.
Anything and anyone came and went. It started to become a hub for
eccentrics to ply their wares or just hang out while Jonny somehow
seemed to hold it all together by the skin of his teeth.
It seemed only natural for the show to move into the live arena and
there then followed over a year of live gigs in London. They were, like
the radio show, ramshackle affairs where anything could happen from one
show to the next. There was never anything uniform about Exotic Pylon.
It was never pin-downable. It was always on the move. Always moving.
Always exciting. There were nights where magic would happen. Where you
would see combinations of acts that could’ve only been programmed deep
inside Jonny’s hyperactive brain. There was nothing like it. And I don’t
think there ever will be again.
The record label became a combination of all that had gone before. Each
release was completely unique. There was no through-line of sound. No
label aesthetic. The one thing they all had in common was they had
nothing in common. From torch songs to folk, from electronica to spoken
word. All human life was on the label (assuming the human life was
slightly lop-sided and walked with a limp).
The one thing that united everyone on Exotic Pylon was a sense of
comradeship. We were all proud to have been involved in some way or
another. We were all members of the same invisible college. Almost
without exception we all kept in contact with each other once the label
had died. It may have disappeared but its spirit has remained.
So, with that in mind, we present XPYLON, a compilation of ex-Pyloneers.
Each track is brand new and exclusive to the release. There are
supergroups, individuals and collaborations, all of which evoke the
heady days of the once great Exotic Pylon.