Gabriel Bruce – “No Love Lost”

Gabriel Bruce’s debut single Sleep Paralysis / No Love Lost comes out a week today (December 5th) on Off Modern Records. We’ve called it a ‘hybrid of book and record release’, we’ve said it’s ‘at home in the record box or the bookshelf’ and others have had just as much difficulty explaining it when rehasing our press release.

Hopefully these pictures will go some way to dispeling any remaining confusion.

 

The fifty page book features three different paper stocks, colour photos, a variety of different printing methods, a card cover, facsimile of rare writings on Sleep Paralysis and work from the artist himself. The cover is hugged by a belly band, available in scarlet, royal blue, sapphire or mandarin.

Sleep Paralysis is available to pre order for a special discounted price via the Off Modern shop.

Check out B Side No Love Lost -

OMR002 – Gabriel Bruce ‘No Love Lost’ (B side) by Off Modern

Off Modern Records 002 | Gabriel Bruce – Sleep Paralysis

A hybrid of book and record release OMR002 comes from former Loverman front man Gabriel Bruce.

 

Fifty pages of collected writings on the sensation of Sleep Paralysis accompany the 7” record; incorporated into the books manufacture. Written by Gabriel and edited and designed by Off Modern, the release of Sleep Paralysis this December will signal the end of months of close collaboration.

 

At home in the record box or bookshelf this limited edition release will be available exclusively in physical form – NO ITUNES! Get it at selected record shops, via offmodern.com and at the release party – details to follow.

Images to follow.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Release Date: December 5th (Order here)

Sleep Paralysis was printed by Ditto Press.

 

A Side – Sleep Paralysis

OMR002 – Gabriel Bruce ‘Sleep Paralysis’ by Off Modern


ESSAYS

ESSAYS is a new quarterly journal by Off Modern’s Felix L. Petty and KIOSK’s Susannah E. Haslam, dedicated to longform writing on art, music, literature and politics.

Issue #1 is limited to sixty copies. You can buy it here for £4.00

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COPELAND BOOK MARKET

So we had a great weekend down at the Copeland Book Market, lot’s of gin, lot’s of fun, lot’s of books, and I’d like to draw your attention to two publications I picked up, The White Review and the Friary Road House collection of ten young poets work. Let’s start with The White Review, drawing its inspiration from Le Reveu Blanche, the French fin-de-siecle periodical that included contributions from the likes of Jarry, Toulouse-Lautrec, Apollinaire, Proust and Verlaine. They’ve just published their second issue, it’s pretty beautiful and includes a huge amount of brilliantly written content; from interview’s with William Boyd and Richard Wentworth to essays on Frank O’Hara and the politics of post-colonialism in French Literature, as well as fiction, poetry and features on art. Friary Road House Editions’ collection of poetry is equally gorgeous to look at. Run by Sofia Stevi, Bobby Dowler, Louis Eastwood, Edward Johansson and Olivia Sautreuil, the collection groups together work by young poets, with the aim to provide a beautiful and meaningful read.

This is just the tip of the iceberg of some of the work that was for sale over the weekend, we’ll be updating you with some posts about the people involved in our stall, as well as our new publication with KIOSK, titled Essays. Massive thanks to Guy and Tom from the Son Gallery , and to everyone who came down over the weekend.

Hello, Landfill

Bold design, good pedigree and a strong in-house approach have marked out Landfill Editions as the most exciting small-scale printing house London has to offer. Established in the winter of ’09 by Hugh Frost, the company have so far released graphic-based works with subject matter ranging from cat vomit, to a haunted hippy commune to a shop-dwelling monster with an insatiable appetite for only the finest quality foodstuffs. Expanding on this already brilliantly disparate and unpredictable output, the close of ’10 saw Landfill start a collaboration with journalist and writer Sarah Fakray, a partnership which sees both Sarah and Hugh as curators-cum-editors of a series of limited-run, short prose pieces. The first of these is the excellent Dolphins of Lagos – an engagingly eccentric story penned by writer Ned Beauman, whose critically acclaimed debut novel Boxer Beetle was published by Sceptre last year. Off Modern caught up with Sarah and Hugh to get the scoop on Dolphins and find out what future plans the two have for the series.

First off, can you explain a little bit about Landfill?

Hugh: Landfill Editions is a platform for producing and distributing various visually-led, mainly print-based projects. The title refers to the inevitable decay of all human endeavour and activity, and how accepting that can be a liberating starting point for making work unburdened by expectations…

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OM INTERVIEW: James From Fragment


I’ve known James Kirkup, the man behind Fragment for years, we met on a bout of underage drinking in Brighton and he walked into a lamppost. We’ve been friends since. He’s designed a whole load of stuff for Off Modern, and is now slowly turning himself into the next Rupert Murdoch with the launch of Fragment, a new arts and music newspaper. I caught up with him the other day to talk over his projects, new and old.

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A Note On Newness

The death of J. G. Ballard presents the modern writer- the writer of modernity- with no small stylistic and thematic barrier. The dominant imagery bequeathed by Ballard being dystopian and apocalyptic, how does one write, in his wake, the post-apocalypse (after his predictions have come true, as has often happened)? One way, perhaps, is that related by Iain Sinclair in London: City of Disappearances: ‘Ballard, in an essay on the director Michael Powell, suggested that drama in the “serious” novel of the future would “migrate from the characters’ heads to the world around them.”’

Sinclair is one great living writer whose focus is on place, the world around, yet his corresponding focus on the effects of place upon its inhabitant(s) means that his work stops short of Ballard’s predicted aesthetic. Sinclair is as interested in the subjective experience of place, by him or by others, as he is in the objectivity of place. Subjective romanticisation of place, or for that matter subjective unromanticisation, has awkward implications for fiction. Handled badly (that is, Sinclair very much excluded), subjectivity is vanity- why should a reader necessarily care how a person or persons experience a place? This last stand for the vanity of postmodern self-conscious narration could become a literature bearing little resemblance to the actual experience of living in a modern city.

It has resulted in what is being called faction, the grounding of personal perception in more reliable fact. Since any text will comprise elements of both fiction and fact (language itself belonging to both states), faction is a non-genre, and is a lazy route for fiction to take. It is insufficient to merely refer to a place; without verbal mimicry of the experience of place, which is the experience of living in the world, a street name will suggest nothing.

More positively, and paradoxically, contemporaneous to the rise in popularity of the heritage industry and of environmental awareness, the memorialization of place, through this very subjectivity, is leading to a more democratic and objective romanticisation of place. In short, were everyone to tell the story of a place, every place would find its narrative, which is objectivity- place takes over from people, as in the suggestion of Ballard’s fiction that nature will regain control over man. Unexpected architectures are enjoying reconsideration, Brutalism in particular a source of new nostalgia. Part of this trend must surely be recession, which has created through the act of uncreation a stasis in building, and correspondingly in demolition. The pre-built goes out to meet the un-built, the new and the old are each structurally empty, are frameworks. Aesthetically, future and past look no different. How we experience cityscapes must take account of the city as it stands at present, in the immediate. At a static time, it is inappropriate to try to give narratives to places.

In any case, the city will outlast its inhabitants. The current sense that we are living in a London that is “after London,” a term derived from Richard Jefferies’ book of that name, must be reconfigured- we are living both after and before London, in a static city. Writing about London should now take account of an aesthetic of stasis- no more grand narratives- and by taking account of shapes and colours of a confused cityscape, should not narrate, but give- show, not tell. If fiction, as Sinclair says, is that which has not happened yet, then the city is always fictional, not factional. Styles and techniques beyond the prosaic are required to meet the city experientially. One architectural theory suggests that to change a place, one should not build upon it, should make it better by making it the same. A new fiction will take a similar stance.

FABLES FROM THE STRANGE LIFE OF MONTY CASTIN

I found the book in an old bookshop, you can imagine the shop quite easily, dusty, full of tomes, impossible to find what you came into buy but easy to find curios and oddities. It was a short book called Fables and Scenes From The Life Of Monty Catsin, who was easily identifiable as a roguish character, part Quixote, par Joan of Arc, never successful but always paying for his mistakes. An idiot-martyr. I turn to Chapter One and begin to read a little.

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I, THE ALGORITHM


I, the algorithm, I’m not an easy thing. In fact, I am very complex. You don’t know me? You say you don’t know what an algorithm is. Ha! I’m all around you. And that, that, my friends, is why I didn’t understand myself. Well, I still don’t, no; I do understand myself, now.

Sadly I didn’t use to; in fact, I had a bit of a whammy a few years back. When Reagan and Gorbachev were threatening to play darts with nuclear warheads, I was presented with a serious spiritual struggle. You see, Reagan, he did press that big red button, and for some reason, for some bizarre reason I just wasn’t up to the job. That’s right, you heard me, I, the algorithm; a finite sequence of instructions, an explicit, step-by-step procedure for solving a problem, I just didn’t work out.

My fallibility perhaps saved everything, or at least, chunks of the Eastern and Western hemisphere. However, my failure as a mathematic process, a foundation of knowledge in the age of man forced me to turn in on myself, to untangle my id in the quest for understanding.

With revolution comes hope but also despair; hope does not generate knowledge and thus understanding continues to linger far away.

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TARQUIN'S LAMENT

“Hi, I’m Danika! Can I see your pass? Here, you’ll need these! In you go!”

“Hi, I’m Danika! Can I see your pass? Here, you’ll need these! In you go!” “Hi, I’m Danika! Can I see your pass? Here, you’ll need these! In you go!” “Hi, I’m Danika! Can I see your pass? Here, you’ll need these! In you go!” “Hi, I’m Danika! Can I see your pass? Here, you’ll need these! In you go!”

If that woman smiles any harder, the muscles in her neck are going to snap.

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SOFT LIGHT

Soft light’s a bitch, because I know it means I’m waking up at Maria’s place again. You know what it’s like, when you wake up but don’t open your eyes, and realise you aren’t in Kansas anymore? (In this metaphor, Kansas is your own bed)

You’re trapped there, vision suspended in swirling colours and blackness, floating in your little world of sheets and pillows, certain there’s a world beyond your eyelids and totally unaware of what it is. That’s the great thing about waking up and not knowing where you are or who she is. You have those few seconds – I’ve stretched them out to almost a minute before – where it’s all potentiality. I try not to imagine where I am as being too awesome, because it’s only something truly special (studio apartment with Monet prints on the wall and flatpanel B&O A/V equipment, hotel room with huge bay window view of skyscrapers, empty white minimalist show-flat with more than one girl) every once in a while. If I imagined it was a place like that, and it wasn’t, I wouldn’t be able to shake the sense of failure for the next week.

My name’s Irwin, by the way, pleased to meet you.

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UPON EASTER ISLAND

I.

Memory refers to; a personal ability to store memory on the one hand; and the actual memories; but then there is also the technological definition of memory in which pure information is stored digitally inside a computer for retrieval.

II.
George Santayana has said two interesting things about memory; that memory is an internal rumour; and that those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it.

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LEWIS CARROLL & THE SITUATION IN IRAN

The rise of the modern age, which we can claim to have truly started in 1781 with the American Revolution and then also in Europe with the French Revolution of 1789, represents the abandonment of the belief in the power of theological models and its subsequent usurpation by the supremacy of the ideological. Up until the French Revolution religious belief had defined human history; as the modern era progressed, through industrialisation, capitalisation and then into the twentieth century, theological belief dwindled and stagnated, becoming a cultural petit four with little philosophical power over the populous in general. Theology and ideology are the two primary ways of measuring the progression of man through time. Theology provides a constant cultural id to the pre-modern existence; it gave man the existential solace of a belief in something beyond the sufferings he experienced in his everyday life. As the living conditions in the modern western world got better there was less need for the kind of grand schemata that was offered by religion. Thus, to fill the void left by faith, ideologies begin to take root; they place man as being fully in control of the creation of his own existential definition by actively demanding of man to make the utopian visions of theology into an earthly reality; this is the new historical progression of the modern era. In the modern era time is measured by the progress of man’s achievements, the goal of progress becomes progression itself, it is no longer defined by a development to a promised land that exists only beyond the corporeal.

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THE OM AND THE ATOMIC BOMB

I.
This one goes out to Leó Szilárd, conceiver of the chain reaction. This one’s for Otto Hahn and Fritz Strassmann, bombardiers of uranium with neutrons, discoverers of atomic fission. We’ve got love for Julius Oppenheimer, director of the Manhattan Project.

II.
“If the radiance of a thousand suns were to burst at once into the sky, that would be like the splendor of the mighty one.” The Bagavad Gita

III.
Truman’s first maneuver, this one goes out to Alamogordo, the ushering in of the nuclear age. Using beautiful euphemisms, we could target built up areas. August 6, 1945, Hiroshima. August 9, 1945, Nagasaki.


IV.
But nuclear weapons have prevented the large-scale wars that defined the first half of the twentieth century from happening in the second half. The reason the USA never started a war with the USSR was because of the atomic bomb, because of the hydrogen bomb, because of mutually assured destruction. And if we’re all going to die in a flash of beautiful, blinding light I can die happy knowing that the peaceniks are getting their eyeballs ripped out too, without anytime to be smug about their having predicted the destruction of the world.

V.
London, Paris, Moscow, New York all reduced to giant post-apocalyptic playgrounds. A whole lot of useless history turned into useful rubble. Let’s give hardcore social Darwinism a chance. We want to see the survivalists stock piling anti-radiation pills and canned goods in out-of-town nuclear bunkers proved right. We want to see them come out of their holes and rebuild society, and what a society that would be.

FOOTBALL AS A PROCESS OF IDENTIFICATION

Glasgow

Football clubs form identities. There are the Jewish clubs, Tottenham and Ajax, who historically have had large numbers of Jewish supporters and whose supporters have become known as yids. In this instance there is a level of Jewish identification that exists between a Spurs or Ajax supporter and the idea of being Jewish, that is by supporting Spurs or Ajax one becomes aware of the club as being ‘Jewish’ and adapts subconsciously to that idea in order to conform to the idea of the club. The football club’s identity is created by its fan base which then becomes part of the identity of the club on a deeper level which then forces a club’s future supporters to adhere too. This is the basis of the identification process of football in which an individual identity is subjugated to a collective idea of identity.

For example after a series of goalkeeping errors by Artur Boruc against Northern Ireland in a world cup qualifying match legendary Polish keeper Jan Tomaszewski insisted that Boruc was being punished by God for starting a religious war in Glasgow. Boruc, from Catholic Poland plays for Celtic, a club with a strong Catholic identity. Boruc frequently makes the sign of the cross whilst playing against Celtic’s Protestant rival club, Rangers. Both Glasgow Celtic and Glasgow Rangers become two symbolic outlets for the deeply ingrained sectarian religious identities of Scotland. They make visible the divisions in society by becoming easily identifiable semiotic devices for the conflict.

This relates to a system theatrical identification; literature, theatre, poetry, the arts in general all act as ways for us pose ontological questions to ourselves. Specifically they work through the examination of roles and events that then cause us to consider our identity and how it changes over time. For example Shakespeare’s ontological questioning in Hamlet is naturally different from Beckett’s in Waiting for Godot. In football though we have a subjugation of questions of identity, for the purity of a moment of collective anonymity as a spectator who is never forced to question religious or political affiliation, only to accept every victory and defeat as a facet of a great cultural struggle. Identity is formed on the level of the communal, not on the ontological.

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