Art Sex Music

by Cosey Fanni Tutti

  The oddest of situations can bring inspiration. Driving seems to be when me and Chris have time free from other distractions to talk through and brainstorm ideas, usually on long journeys. But the ‘Library of Sound’ series of albums came about during a twenty-minute drive to do the weekly shop. We wanted to do more introspective, instrumental, ambient music, to venture into different territory and away from the Chris & Cosey sound. It suited my health situation and where my head was at too. My dance groove was temporarily suspended. Metaphysical and Chronomanic came together quickly, followed by In Continuum.

  The now-huge music and multimedia arts festival Sonar started in 1994 and we were asked to play. Thrilled as we were, we had to refuse due to my health, so we made a video, ‘Select Reflections 2’, to be screened as our contribution. We were asked to perform again the following year but I was no better and the accompanying video to Chronomanic was shown instead.

  Just as we were having a break from Chris & Cosey, JD Twitch (aka Keith McIvor, who went on to run Optimo club in Glasgow with JG Wilkes) appeared on our horizon. We knew his friend, the effervescent Jill Mingo, who had done some promo for us. Keith had been following and DJing TG and C&C music, and proposed a remix album of C&C tracks for his T&B label. Me and Chris, being in our ‘bubble’, had no idea just what an impact our music had once we relinquished it to the world. We never expected a ‘return’, simply being pleased that we were able to get our work out there and hoping others shared in the pleasure we got from making it. We didn’t know then but Keith’s release Twist, an album of C&C remixes by Carl Craig, Mike Paradinas, Mark Gage, Fred Giannelli, Coil and Cosmic Connection, was a key factor in the resurgence of interest in our C&C music and he brought us into contact with some great people.

  The remix by Coil (Sleazy and Drew McDowall) kept an ongoing connection with Sleazy. But our lifestyles were poles apart, me trying to keep as calm as possible and Sleazy trying to get as high and ‘up’ as possible. He was heavily into his recreational drug phase … as Chris witnessed at a KAI Power Tools visual software seminar in London. As the announcement of a specific tool within the programme was announced to the seated attentive audience, a very loud ‘YESSSSS! WHOOOOOP!’ broke the silence. Everyone turned round to see someone stood with their arms in the air in triumphant appreciation of a new weapon for video effects – it was Sleazy. He was dressed in a thick, black puffa jacket, sweating, eyes popping, but with a massive grin on his face. He’d obviously been waiting for technology to catch up with whatever ideas he had in mind.

  *

  The start of my heart problem seemed to stem from the operation after my miscarriage. I began having trouble breathing, then palpitations, almost blacking out. I could see my heart thumping in my chest as it kicked in again after missed beats. The episodes could last for hours at a time and were unpredictable, exhausting and frightening. My (male) GP put it down to me being a neurotic, pre-menopausal woman.

  I struggled on until I finally asked to see another doctor, who was more enlightened and concerned. He sent me for a 24-hour heart monitor test. I dropped the ECG recording off as instructed, and two hours later I got a phone call from the hospital to be told that the recording revealed a possible serious abnormality, that I mustn’t do anything strenuous, and that I had to go back to the hospital first thing the next day. My relief at the proof that my palpitations existed turned to dread as I began to think the worse.

  When I reported to the cardiac department I was given a treadmill test – I lasted less than a minute before they stopped it and lay me down. My heart rate had soared to over 260 b.p.m. The young cardiologist was shocked – he’d never seen that before. He admitted me for further tests. Chris was in as much shock as I was and rang and faxed everyone to let them know. I received a flurry of beautiful bouquets from Mute, PIAS, family and friends to cheer me in my hospital bed. That took me by surprise. Was I that ill? I was in denial about my heart problem. Because it was sporadic, I took to thinking that, when it worked normally, it had righted itself and I was OK. I was put on beta-blockers, then another cardiac drug to slow me down. It did just that. I’d gone from a five-day-a-week gym-and-swim routine, with bike rides with Nick, to sitting inert and zombified by the medication to try and control my heart arrhythmia. When I was told to avoid stress and excitable situations the first thing I asked was, ‘What about orgasms?’ I was more worried about being denied that physical pleasure than ‘work’. I had my priorities.

  Live music performances ended. I concentrated on working in the studio. That was the only way I could safely work around my physical limitations. I was keeping a log of the palpitations, chest pains and breathlessness, and sleeping at least two hours during the day. Feeling so restricted was depressing. As I sat in the garden resting, I wondered how many more summers I’d see, what a burden I must be to Chris, how I was holding him back and what Nick was losing out on because of my inability to join in the fun things in life. Sometimes the exhaustion was so acute it was an effort to even laugh. All I could think about was getting horizontal, lying down. I tried my best to do as much as possible, to try and make things as near as possible to normal. I couldn’t find it in me to totally surrender to the condition. Chris was amazing at coping with the worry and helping me continue to be ‘me’, making sure the studio sessions were always available at the time slots my heart allowed me to work.

  Then he gave me a huge boost of confidence. We were watching a documentary programme that turned out to be part of an Open University course. ‘You should do that,’ he said.

  Doing an academic degree at that time in my life worked out to be better for me. I had the advantage of having acquired my own skills and understanding of the art world through personal experience and was interested to discover that I shared views with some great minds.

  *

  Other than the Time to Tell release and my OU studies, I was happy to concentrate on my work with Chris. I’ve always thought of my work as art, whether it manifests as music, visuals or actions, but had no interest in direct contact with the art world. I’d mainly been focusing on sound and video presented as audiovisual gig-style performances and sometimes as screenings and installations. Our video work for the Cabinet Gallery group show ‘Popocultural’ at the South London Gallery was a case in point. Our inclusion alongside Chris Ofili, Jeremy Deller, Paul McCarthy and others came about from an invitation by Andrew Wheatley and Martin McGeown of Cabinet Gallery, who knew of my work and about TG. We were introduced by Simon Ford when he was writing his book Wreckers of Civilisation about COUM and TG.

  The introduction to Andrew and Martin was one of the best things that came out of the book. I met two incredible people, both committed, generous and driven by an uncompromising love and respect for the creative spirit and powerful art. I’d never encountered anyone like them before.

  21 September 1997

  Spoke to Sleazy tonight about Simon’s book and how to redress the balance and correct Gen’s fantasies and inaccuracies. He said to get together next week.

  Simon’s book actually started as a thesis on COUM and Throbbing Gristle and he visited me to go through and borrow archive material (most of which was never returned), with me reading through drafts as he progressed. It seemed an impossible task to me and I was happy for Simon to take it on, never expecting that it would turn into a book. My friend Grae Watson had started a similar book back in 1983, but rang me one day to tell me he’d abandoned it after allegedly having a tough time with Gen, who was insisting on controlling the content to the point that the book would have been an unbalanced, inaccurate account. Wreckers suffered from a similar problem but was tempered to a degree. It has its inaccuracies but stands as a good entry point for reference and analysis, and even before the book was published it brought about some significant introductions in the art world.

  20 January 1997

  Sleazy rang, nice to hear from him. Talked about COUM at M.O.C.A., he said to be careful Gen doesn’t just put himself & text. Ma
ybe I’m still naive. Weird compiling all the COUM stuff, history, my past, the beginnings of me and Chris … It seems Art history surfaces and I am an official part of it.

  The resurgence of interest in my past artwork continued and Paul Schimmel from the Museum of Contemporary Art in Los Angeles contacted me about discussing the inclusion of COUM in a group show on performance art. Me and Chris travelled to London for a meeting at his hotel. We were shown into the drawing room to wait for him. We waited and waited but he never appeared. We left feeling really angry at being stood up and the waste of what little money we had on the train fares. But Paul was feeling equally annoyed. Through a series of phone calls, the ridiculous reason for the saga was revealed. The receptionist never called his room to tell him we had arrived. So we were downstairs, he was upstairs, waiting for the call that never came. He even went to the reception desk to ask after us, only to be told ‘No’ by the relief receptionist while we sat just feet away.

  After that fiasco, I thought it would all come to nothing but Paul really wanted COUM represented in the exhibition, and by definitive performance photos. I could provide that for him and sent him a display book of works but suggested he also speak to Gen about any other material. The exhibition instigated my maxing out our credit card to buy an A3 printer and scanner (it cost less than outsourcing the work). I reconnected with my magazine actions from a very different viewpoint. My memory has always served me well but I’d already consulted my diaries for Simon’s book just to verify or correct Gen’s version of events. It was strange revisiting my past. But at least, after twenty years, some of my magazine works were finally going to be shown on a gallery wall for the very first time, and in the company of works including those by Yoko Ono, Joseph Beuys, Gilbert & George, Marina Abramović, John Cage and my friend John Duncan.

  More interest in my past activities surfaced. Out of the blue, Tuppy Owens got in touch. How she got my phone number, I’ll never know, but it was good to hear from her after so long. She was organising a festival called Smut Fest and I was invited to take part in a discussion at the Confessions Gallery in Islington, London, on the resurgence of political pornography. Others on the panel were Del LaGrace (photographer), Lindsey Frew from Hustler, Tuppy, Bill Owens from Suck, Hugh Scandell of Skin Two and an old friend, Ted Polhemus. It was an odd context for discussing my work in pornography. Most of the others were still very much a part of that lifestyle, and porn as ‘business’, and I couldn’t relate on their level. The thing that stood out most was them complaining about the laws that restricted their freedom to produce and distribute porn. That irritated me as I’d faced worse conditions and tighter controls but managed to work around and against them to achieve the freedom to express myself (sexually or otherwise). The only thing I had in common with them was that I’d once been part of the porn business. Where was the discussion of the ‘political’ aspect of porn? I was up for that. But the evening overall hadn’t been a pleasant reconnection with the sex industry, especially when one hard-core porn-video producer took to the floor with vivid descriptions of his seedy working practices. I was glad to leave.

  3 April 1997

  I am wondering how we will survive in the future. Is there a market left for our music? I am poor but in love and happy. I love Chris and Nick. I love life. That’s good, money makes life easier but love makes it happy and hard times bearable.

  How you can be in such demand yet be on the breadline continues to baffle me and probably others in the same position. We were selling equipment to upgrade and just keep our heads above water, to maintain our creative lifestyle and meet the needs of teenage Nick and six cats. My illness meant I couldn’t do a day job even if I wanted to, but we were fortunate that Chris’s expertise and knowledge of equipment brought him paid commissioned articles and reviews for Sound on Sound magazine. As well as the review gear being useful in our studio, the fees kept us going for years, as did TG royalties from Mute. Chris’s dad had offered for him to join and take over the family business, Carter’s Glass in Crouch End, but Chris turned it down. It would have meant we’d have had a good steady income but we’d have had to give up music and move back to London. It was sad to have to refuse his dad’s generosity.

  After our Rough Trade and Wax Trax! experiences, we hadn’t expected World Serpent to run into trouble. We were told that Tower Records hadn’t paid them for our CDs. We were thousands of pounds down but luckily we still got paid by some of their other retailers. It didn’t bode well. On top of that we received a package from Allan at Peer Music. Two more TG bootlegs had surfaced, then another, and Peer did their best to track down who was responsible. However, we all suspected we knew who it was.

  Knowing someone was taking money from us when we had so little could have cast a dark shadow of resentment, but it didn’t. My life was so full of positive things and good people that I put the rip-offs to one side and dealt with them as best I could, with the help of some great friends. Geff’s calls cheered me up. He rang one day, all happy and affectionate, to tell me him and Sleazy would be coming to record with us in the summer. Then he told me all about Kenneth Anger having stayed with them for five days and how he’d slept for stretches of twenty-four hours, making them worried if he was OK. He’d emerge with press clippings of pirates, then go back to bed. Geff usually called when Sleazy was away filming music videos and ads. That work made it possible for them to eventually move out of London. Sleazy thought it may help Geff’s alcohol addiction, having already tried different treatments. Even the implants that triggered a severe reaction if he drank alcohol didn’t work. Nor did the twelve-step programme, or checking into clinics. Sleazy put his Chiswick house on the market and started the search for a new home for him and Geff. My financial struggles paled into insignificance compared to the havoc and pain caused by Geff’s addiction.

  24 April 1998

  Everyone really pulled together for us on this Industrial mess. Monte’s pissed off and thinks it’s a prank, we’re not sure … Sleazy had got on the case too which is highly unusual but welcome.

  We connected to the World Wide Web in 1998, which massively improved communication and brought an end to our hard-copy CTI bulletins and the cost of printing and mailing. But it also speeded everything up, which was both a good and a bad thing. We’d always written personal replies to all our fans, at one time incurring the wrath of the mother of one of them who read one of my replies and called me ‘the devil’s filth witch’ … which appealed to my perverse sense of humour. Me and Chris used it as my nickname over the years. The pace of the postal system afforded us some respite, but emails were a near-instant-response form of communication. Chris designed our websites and put together an online mail-order service. That was a lifeline.

  Then one day we got a flurry of emails informing us about Industrial Records being relaunched by someone in San Francisco, and claiming that Gen was behind it all. Daniel, Sleazy and Monte responded straight away. Things went crazy as everyone tried to get to the bottom of it all. It wasn’t a prank but was stopped after interventions by a number of concerned and pissed-off people. The internet has its upsides.

  With emails making contact so much easier, past friends like Tim Poston, Foxtrot and Ann Fulam got in touch, and I also started to receive enquiries about my art, with requests to do lectures and interviews for academic publications.

  23 Sept 1998

  SO SO SO HAPPY!!!! the doctor at Papworth said he’s sure he can cure my Tachycardia. I’m ecstatic and so is Chris, Nick, Rose and all. Now I can feel motivation returning. I can see the reason behind ‘doing’ again … Four scenarios: 1. I die (please NO), 2. It doesn’t work (NO), 3. I need two ops, 4. IT WORKS. I have to be positive but I’m very frightened … Will I regret this assertive step? I hope not, I hope I will get my life back again.

  Since 1993 I’d been under the care of an eminent cardiologist and whenever I went for check-ups I told him of the exhaustion affecting my quality of life and ability to work. I had an energy wind
ow of about three hours a day and struggled especially with anything that involved using the upper body, stupid mundane actions like hanging out washing or grating cheese. Also, that energy window meant me having to sleep in the car on some journeys or after our leisurely walks in the Sandringham woods. I explained all this and was told to ‘be a lady of leisure’. I was furious at his condescending, dismissive attitude. He held my future in his hands and any opportunity for me to live a nearer-normal life, but he didn’t see why I would want to do anything other than laze about and be waited on. I thank whatever forces that he was on holiday for my annual scheduled appointment with him in July 1998, when instead I saw a young cardiologist who referred me to an expert on electrical heart conditions at Papworth Hospital. I was given a diagnosis. It was an electrical rhythm problem! Now, isn’t that irony for you. I was informed by the doctor that he’d only come across two people with the same rare condition as me, the other being a trumpet player … More irony. I didn’t want to have a ‘special’ heart condition – I wanted a bog-standard one that was treatable, with proven surgical success. Then the news came that there was the option for treatment and he felt that it would be successful. I opted in. I wanted to be fixed.

  10 February 1999

  Daniel rang. Chris talked to him for ages and told him about our TG24 hours idea. He was ecstatic about it.

  Me and Chris had thought that an official, updated, limited-edition release of all the live TG gigs based on the original TG 24-hour cassette box could offer a sensible solution to the ongoing problem of the bad TG bootlegs, and we asked Daniel if he’d be interested in putting it out on Mute Records. Daniel was very keen so we emailed Sleazy about it. He rang to say he was up for the idea, especially as Simon’s book seemed to have rekindled interest in TG … even though we were all yet to receive a copy. It was strange how much interest there was in our work from so long ago.