Art Sex Music

by Cosey Fanni Tutti

  Nettwerk, then PIAS, released the C&C ‘taster’ 12" EP, Take Five, and we embarked on our first C&C tour of the USA. Steve Montgomery, the manager at the Rough Trade Notting Hill shop, organised the bookings and tour-managed us. The tour was a great success; we were excited about future possibilities from all the contacts we’d made and it gave us enough money to fix our leaking roof and invest in some new equipment – an AKAI S900 sampler, an MC-500 MIDI sequencer, a Roland Octapad and a Fostex sixteen-track tape recorder.

  The injection of new gear changed our sound and the way we worked. We sampled like crazy, anything and everything, and started recording our next album, Exotika. We recorded the title track as our homage to Martin Denny, which was released as a single and was a big hit in clubs on the West Coast of America and in Goa, India, at the trance dance parties.

  When so much is happening, and so fast, you just go with the flow, not realising until much later just how monumental those events turned out to be. 1987 was like that for us. Our output was prolific. We’d released the single ‘Obsession’ and began a Conspiracy International collaboration album called Core with our friends Monte Cazazza, Brian Williams, Boyd Rice, Robert Wyatt, John Duncan, Joe Potts and Coil.

  I was in touch with Geff regularly. He’d call me, more often than not when he was three sheets to the wind, talking about the nuances of sex, putting the world to rights between us, him saying how, since me and Chris had been doing electronica for years, we could make a fortune now that it had taken off. We weren’t interested in the mainstream or banging out music just to make money. That attitude probably contributed to our money struggles. What excited us was collaborating on an album track with everyone. It was the first time we’d worked with Sleazy since TG split and I always think of Core as having brought us back together. Having him in our lives again felt right: even though we’d travelled very different paths in the interim, that deep connection between us was still there.

  And the album itself was a work involving people we felt a special connection to. John Duncan and Joe, along with Rick Potts, Tom Recchion and the artist Paul McCarthy, were part of a radical art/music collective called LAFMS (Los Angeles Free Music Society). I’d hung out with them in LA during TG’s last gigs and John had celebrated Nick’s birth by releasing a 7" single called ‘NICKI’. The common factor among us all was that our work and lives were unorthodox in our own unique ways, and bringing us together would make for some very potent music.

  Brian was the only one who recorded with us at our studio. All the other tracks were done by exchanging tapes through the mail – we had no email then. Working on the track ‘Unmasked’ with Robert (Wyatt) was very special. We held an unspoken trust in each other that made possible the effortless close melding of our sensitive music and sense of self. We exchanged tapes of his musical and vocal ideas and he sent me wonderful letters full of lyrics for me to select from. I compiled what I felt was the essence of an underlying storyline and we recorded them alongside a melody made from samples of his voice. Even though he wasn’t there physically, his calls and letters were so charged with his creative energy, making it an incredibly intimate collaborative experience. He loved the track and did his own cover version some years later.

  The mid-morning mail arrived. A package from Wax Trax! Records in Chicago containing animal rights literature with graphic descriptions and photographs of animal cruelty, including the horrific suffering of animals in slaughterhouses. I read it once and never looked at it again – it was too distressing. Wax Trax! were releasing an album, Animal Liberation, which Dan Mathews of PETA (People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals) was putting together. Jim at Wax Trax! had assumed me and Chris were vegetarian and asked us to contribute a track. We weren’t vegetarian until that envelope arrived, but we have been ever since.

  I sat and wrote the lyrics and we recorded the song ‘Silent Cry’ in about four hours. It had been sparked off by a chance meeting with Dan the previous year at our friend Lene Lovich’s house. Now the album was being released, Dan was in the UK to promote it and we met up again to discuss a live performance of our song at an animal rights party he’d organised at the Limelight in London. Lene and Nina Hagen had also done a track together for the album and we were all backstage. I felt decidedly underdressed and rather demure next to them both, with their big hair and outrageous, eccentric theatrical clothes and make-up. Performing our gentle, sad song was quite emotional but I held it together. Lene and Nina blasted out their song with full-on energy and gusto and we all decamped to a local Indian restaurant. The owner looked at Lene and Nina with incredulity and was trying desperately to usher us all out. But Nina was an unstoppable force, talking ten to the dozen at him about astrology and the meaning of life, turning his shock into fascination until he smiled and seated us all with his blessing.

  I took that memorable demonstration of Nina in action as inspiration for when I had to play her in the PETA promo video. Nina wasn’t available so I was enlisted to play her part, donning a wig that resembled her hair, with clothes to match and high heels. The location was a fenced-off rubbish tip near Lene’s, the nearest we could get to what looked like the entrance to a securely locked animal-experimentation facility. We feigned breaking the locks and climbing over the fence to free the animals – me in my patent stiletto heels and a very short skirt scaling the fence, determined to complete my mission. I think it was pretty convincing.

  Unbeknownst to us, Daniel Miller was interested in signing us to Mute Records, but Kenny Gates of Play It Again Sam had got to us first. Being officially signed to record labels in Europe and Canada, we encountered our first taste of standard record-business practice. Exotika was released and we were asked to go on tour to promote it. Naive as it may sound, we’d never thought of our live work as promotion before. Performing was just part of what we did: we presented our music and video work to people, shared that special time together, and hopefully made some money to enable us to carry on making music and art. There hadn’t been a calculated commercial agenda attached to playing live – until now. The notion of recording an album, then performing it live on tour to ‘sell’ it, was a new thing for us.

  And so was going on tour with a support band … SPK. Their line-up was now Graeme, his wife, Sinan, and Karina Hayes on additional vocals and dance. They had more gear than us, what with all their props and an angle grinder, which caused no end of hold-ups and problems at the airports. Equipment Carnets (a temporary export–import document) were mandatory when touring abroad and they were a nightmare. Every item of equipment had to be listed and accounted for as you passed through customs – every lead, jack plug, power supply. If something went missing, you could face a very hefty fine. It loaded extra stress on to our tight airport connections, without the added dramas created by Graeme’s unusual luggage.

  The first thing that triggered an underlying discontentment in Graeme was when we went through US Immigration and he, Sinan and Karina got stopped and taken for questioning. They weren’t going to be allowed in until me and Chris offered to vouch for them as our legitimate support act. That worked, but also publicly showed Graeme as subordinate to us, and that wasn’t taken well, especially when the immigration officer smiled at me and Chris and said, ‘I’ve got tickets to your show tonight – I love your music.’ We gave him some C&C badges, chatted a little, then went on our way. Graeme’s sense of being treated as secondary to us grew as we headlined the shows, and the number of radio and press interviews was much higher for us than him. Who played in the so-called headline spot was irrelevant and meant little to me but more to Graeme. Things started getting very strained and his persistent moaning and harassment of Dan put a real dampener on things. Dan took the brunt of it all, but no matter what he tried to do to appease Graeme, it wasn’t enough. He kept the tour on track by clearing up any complaints and monetary settlements for damage SPK caused during their performances thanks to Graeme’s metal chain swinging above the audience’s head, his twirling and breaking
of some of the house microphones and the sparking from the angle grinder as he used it on available objects and pillars at the venues. A girl in the audience at one show had her head cut open by a forceful swing from the heavy chain and she threatened to sue, but Dan managed to talk her out of it.

  Fraught with Graeme’s discontent, things came to a head mid-tour. As we were walking along the street after yet another confrontational episode with Graeme, Dan suddenly stopped dead in his tracks and hurled his tour briefcase down the street, screaming, ‘I’ve had ENOUGH! I’m leaving!’

  Nick was scared, and we didn’t know what would happen with the tour. I went and retrieved the case and between me and Chris we managed to persuade Dan to stay on until we could get someone to replace him. He stayed away from Graeme, then we had an emotional farewell with him when he left and Steve (Montgomery) joined us to take over tour manager duties and to try and keep things on an even keel with Graeme. As soon as we hit the West Coast, me and Chris took Nick to visit friends. It was good to get away from the tense atmosphere.

  The SPK damage costs had mounted as the tour progressed and by the end had eaten substantially into the tour income. Payment was to be settled at the airport when Steve took us all to catch our flights home. When Graeme was told about the money situation he went crazy. ‘I’ve got a wife and two kids to support and a mortgage to pay!’ he yelled.

  Chris tried to calm things down and reason with him but, contrary to what his contract with Steve supposedly said, Graeme demanded money. That money would have to come out of our and Steve’s earnings. Steve went to the men’s room and Graeme followed him. When they emerged, Steve looked decidedly shaken and Graeme rushed off without saying a word to us. I was sat with Nick, trying to keep him from noticing anything bad was going on. ‘What happened?’ I asked Steve.

  ‘He blindsided me. I didn’t expect him to switch from verbal to physical.’

  Apparently some guy had witnessed the altercation and called the LAPD, who appeared and told Steve that, as the booking agent, he was responsible for Graeme’s welfare and safe return to Australia and that Steve had to pay Graeme or we’d all be taken to the precinct. Steve lost his commission and we were left with just a few hundred dollars from our own tour. We felt robbed. I heard that SPK disbanded after that, and Graeme moved to LA and went on to do film work for Hollywood movies.

  25 June 1989

  Chris took me to the hospital at about 7 o’clock and I was put on a drip … my emotions are in turmoil.

  A visit to my GP confirmed that I was pregnant. It was a shock as I had had a coil fitted. I was worried whether the pregnancy could be viable with a coil in place or if it would damage the baby. I was sent to the local hospital, where a doctor gave me an internal examination, which even I knew wasn’t the preferred procedure at such an early stage in a pregnancy. I remember him looking me straight in the eyes as he stuck his fingers inside me. It was such a creepy feeling. He was brutal and I yelped as he probed about. I looked to the nurse for help, for her to say something to this guy, that what he was doing was all wrong. She was visibly shocked and concerned about what she’d witnessed. Nothing was said but I knew he had assaulted me and I’d be lucky to keep the baby. I was sent home feeling violated and in pain.

  The next day we went to a village fete and I started cramping and bleeding heavily. By the time we got home, I knew I was miscarrying. Chris rang the hospital and was advised to collect whatever came out into a jar to take to the hospital, for them to confirm that I’d miscarried successfully. To see that tiny little foetus, the potential life we’d lost, was too much for me. Just eight weeks old and the size of a fifty-pence piece. How brutal and cruel the procedure was. Our child was reduced to ‘evidence’ of loss in a jar.

  I was admitted to hospital to have the coil removed and a D&C to remove any remaining parts of the baby. I was taken to theatre and given an anaesthetic. The last thing I remember as I went under was a huge crushing sensation on my chest, like the ceiling had fallen on top of me. Then, from far away, I heard a woman’s anxious voice say, ‘Her blood pressure’s dropped … Christine! Christine!’

  I slowly realised they were calling me by my first christened name, not Cosey. I opened my eyes. They checked me over, then took me to the ward to recover.

  Just three weeks later we embarked on an eight-date European tour, immediately followed by a fifteen-date C&C tour of the USA to promote our new album, Trust. That wasn’t the best thing for me to have done. My health was never the same again.

  *

  1991 was an odd year. It seemed like business as usual but there were big changes taking place that we weren’t fully aware of at the time. On a personal level, me and Chris were as one, unified in love and in our creative pursuits. That is as true today as it was then – the vital force that drives us forward and maintains the continuum of our togetherness. We were an idyllically happy family with Nick, taking regular trips to relatives, them visiting us, raucous fun parties and Christmas gatherings. Before (and after) Mum died, the only absentees from the happy group get-togethers were my mum and dad. I’d felt sad for Mum and Nick but I couldn’t have done anything about it. I’d thought of just turning up and knocking on their door with Nick and Chris, but decided against subjecting them to what I anticipated would be a cold-hearted response from Dad. I was resigned to not having them in my life and I was so happy being a part of Chris’s family.

  Being signed to three record labels proved to be good for everyone. Our back catalogue got a new airing as each label re-released the early C&C albums and compilations. We were fortunate to work with such good people and have their enthusiastic support. Visiting Wax Trax! in Chicago to see the owners, Jim and Dannie, was always a treat, just in terms of them being such great, fun people. Just as we were riding high and for the first time feeling a hint of financial security, some labels started running into trouble. First Rough Trade Distribution folded, then the whole of the Rough Trade Group went into voluntary liquidation in 1991, owing us money (which was settled years later). Some of our publishing was with Rough Trade and after their collapse had been put in the hands of another publishing company. Things got more complicated when Wax Trax! went under, but PIAS were stable and Kenny and Michel kept our spirits up.

  The demise of Wax Trax! had scuppered the release of my solo project, Time to Tell. Chris Connelly first proposed its release to me. We’d met him years earlier when he visited Beck Road as a very young TG fan. After his band, Finitribe, split, he’d moved to Chicago and joined Revolting Cocks and Ministry, who were also signed to Wax Trax! – that’s where we met up again. He was coordinating the Time to Tell release with me and thoughtfully arranged for the artworks to be returned. It’s never good when a label collapses – there’s so much fallout and recrimination, but I never felt any malice to Jim and Dannie. I co-opted the help of Joe Banks to work on the artwork for a special version of Time to Tell on CD, in a deluxe package dedicated to Szabo, who had died in November 1982. The audio was extended and remastered, and the booklet updated and revised with additional material and twenty-six black-and-white cards of related art and modelling images. There was a hitch, though: the factory that packaged the inserts refused the job on religious and moral grounds … My nude image on the cards being the reason. A replacement and more amenable factory was found and production went ahead with no more trouble. I’d also produced a very limited signed edition, which included one of my original encaustic paintings in a handmade box.

  At this point, Sleazy, me and Chris weren’t on speaking terms with Gen, who was now living in the USA. Mute had the TG catalogue and acted as mediators. We’d all re-signed to them for a Mute Grey Area release with the addition of live tracks, TG LIVE. Me, Chris and Sleazy had gone to Mute meetings together but Sleazy didn’t want anything to do with the TG artworks, editing or mastering, and, as far as any of us knew, Gen didn’t either. That job fell to me and Chris, with the assistance of Brian and Joe Banks. Brian waded through the TG live tape
s, selecting the best for quality and possible bonus tracks. That was a job neither me nor Chris could face at the time. It was enough that Chris then had to master them all. Joe was a graphic designer who’d worked with Brian and he did the artworks for us, and I designed and drew the camouflage box set sleeve based on our TG uniforms.

  Mute had been a positive constant in our lives and we had good friends there, like John McGrath, John McRobbie and Daniel. Our working relationship with Mute expanded to include Chris’s solo album, The Space Between, and an Erasure remix, with Daniel having done the first ever remix of any of our music, for our C&C 12" single ‘Synaesthesia’.

  Me and Chris were nearing the end of our contract with PIAS and recording Musik Fantastique! The samples were stored for playback on SyQuest hard disk cartridges. We thought we were being cutting-edge: we could store the whole album on one big disk. Three months into the album, the SyQuest drives started failing and corrupting the samples. The majority of the album was lost. What saved us was that we’d recorded the vocals, guitar and cornet on to tape, so at least we had that. After a week moping around depressed, we swapped back to slow but reliable floppy disks and re-recorded the album. It probably came out the better for the ‘disaster’.

  After that we went over to a super-reliable optical drive and disks as soon as they became available. Musik Fantastique! was our last album on PIAS. We moved back to releasing material on our own CTI label through World Serpent. Sleazy had recommended them to us and introduced us to the owners, Alison, Gibby and Alan. We were completely independent again and marked the return with the 7" single ‘Passion’, cut at Porky’s studio in London, which I etched with auspicious runic symbols.