by David Keenan
16. Holdin Cells fur Oerweight Ballerinas: Robert Mulligan aka Steel Teeth talks about Sufferage Tapes and John Bailey and Vanity and living in Greengairs and remembers the warmth of his fellow hobbyists which he remembers fondly.
Ah started making art when ah was aboot twelve years auld, um able tae say, cause ah huv a big file filled wae alla ma drawins and ma comic strips and ma screenplays, early on ah hud quite a few screenplays, aw unrealised, oviously, aw o which huv a wee date in the corner. Alreadys ah was preparing masel fur discovery, like a body planted in the wids. Aye, ah lived in Greengairs, but lived would make it seem like thir wus actually some kind o life there whereas in reality ma existence wus closer tae a state o suspended animation, a series a frozen gestures caught between the impossibility uv the future and the improbability uv the past.
Durin the day ah worked in a meat-processing plant in Mount Vernon. We made hamburger patties. Ah hud so little money that what ah wud dae is ah wud scrape remnants intae a plastic bag an take them hame an make up ma ane burgers or make a crackin spag bog wae the scraps, which wus made up a horse meat, mostly. It wus like living in the trenches, like lunching at Ypres. Then at night what ah would dae is ah wud draw or write an then eventually ah started makin ma ane music.
Ah used tae buy magazines aboot Citizen’s Band Radio and fae there ah startit gettin intae circuit boards an robotics. There wus a group o people who wud meet at Airdrie Arts Centre wance a month, in wan o the rooms in the basement – the rooms wur like holdin cells only wae a widden railing and a wall-length mirror on wan side, holdin cells fur oerweight ballerinas, in ur words – an we wud trade circuit diagrams an programmin languages, maest o which we learnt by going through the bins at the auld Organon factory in Calderbank an rescuing discarded manuals an details o early computer protocols. Ah became obsessed wae the idea o automating, o inventing a form o music that wid play itsel and that wid draw aw its inspiration fae itsel, you know, a form o spontaneous birth that held within itsel the DNA that wid facilitate endless versions an restatements o itsel. Itsel, itsel, itsel, that’s aw ah cud think ae.
Early on ah hud this vision or nightmare or mibbe no. Ah read aboot the amniotic night, the strange suspended death in life o the foetus an the terror at the end o night, how when the watrs break and the vigina clamps it feels closer tae death than life an the trauma o the birth canal an the first attempt tae force air into flattened lungs an ah began tae wonder aboot ma ane suspension, how perhaps ah was still unborn, still caught up in the night, an then when ma da died ah wondered if in fact he hadnae finally been born an everyhing that we hud mistaken fur a haemorrhaging in his brain an a failing heart an his bones so weak he was bent double was really just the final moments o expulsion an creation.
Ah realise we’ve been through this a million times, reading the signs arse-backwards, reversing the logic in the hope that wur just seeing things the wrang way roon, the fervent dream that we ur, but then ah began tae see the dream as a computation, the specifics o the dream as distinct variables what could be slotted intae reality, as intae a circuit board that would then send the whole thing aff on a different trajectory althegether. The point is, if you’re gonnae spend yur whole life waiting aroun fur Jesus Christ tae arrive then you’ll be waiting furever. But if you decide tae plug Jesus Christ intae the equation, then, well, ye built it yersel.
Ma first build wus a leaping mechanical frog. Then a walking robot that cud bang a drum. Then I went aff on a tangent intae lasers fur a while. By the time ah came back I hud effectively destroyed the wan meaningful relationship in ma life. Not literally but ah might as well huv zapped her wae a dose o electromagnetic radiation.
Ah remember fondly the warmth o ma fellow hobbyists. There wus somethin in their manner that made me want tae live again. Somethin in the comments they wud make, their exclamations, that betrayed a small but particularly focused joy in life, a happy singularity. Wan o them hud invented a magnetic badge wae a flashing LED light on it in the shape o a five-pointed star. That wus nice. They wud pore oer catalogues o electronic parts an wud read specs tae themsel, sometimes aloud, sometimes silently mouthing the details, and I still remember thir wonderful pronunciations, thir knowin nods, thir light-hearted gravitas, which o course is the permanent condition o youth but youth’s curse, as well, becuse fae there it’s only possible tae topple, tae faw backwards, tae the point where words like oscilloscope and solder and capacitors and boards and modules cease tae huv any meaning or provoke any joy. Obsession is a state o fixation that goes beyond the specifics o relationship tae an analysis o relationship itsel. There’s a quote fur ye. Then wur intae symmetry, gravity, attraction and repulsion, proximity, orbits, positive an negative charges. These ur beautiful words too, specially when spoken ur mouthed just beneaf the breaf. Ah began tae build ma hame-made electronics, boxes that wud generate primitive beats, noise boxes, crude samplers. Ah became obsessed wae contact mics an violin bows. I wud attach microphones tae metal hangers, tae the bars on a gas fire, tae supermarket trolleys that I wud rescue fae the river an drag back hame in the dark, tae auld car exhausts. Ah felt like ah wus bringin hings back tae life, mute hings, metal hings. I wud run ma bow across them and the sound wus like a cracking open o reality, like the voice o the element itsel, in pain or in happiness, who cud possibly tell?
Ah released a few cassettes or rather ah pressed a few up and stored them under ma bed. Nae cunt cared. Ah handed them oot at the meet at Airdrie Arts Centre thinking we hud some fellow travellers there. This is weird, somebdy complained. Ah thought we wur aw weird, ah says tae masel. Ah thought that’s whit we hud agreed on. But really electronics wus their only weirdness or rather the single weirdness that took up aw their time. The rest o the time they were just awkward an ordinry which wus sumthin that ah cherished but still it wusnae ma audience.
Ah cannae recall how John and Vanity first got in touch. They might have written tae me. They werny the first people tae hear ma music but they were certainly the first tae express appreciation uv it.
Aboot the same time ah received a cassette fae The Traveller in Black, who wus actually a guy named Peter Solly, who lived in Plains at his maw’s hoose, which he hud inherited after his parents hud died and who wus making this extremely minimal electronic music that struck me like a bell, like a bell ringing oot at a funeral that is. Ah found oot he was a CB nut just like me an oor first few interactions were oer the CB radio. His hanle wus Uncle Adolf. Wan day we agreed tae meet at the leisure centre in Airdrie. It was blowin up a storm as ah cut across Rawyards Park, ah remember that much. You hud tae lean furid tae forty-five degrees just tae get anywhere and then the wind wud chinge direction an you wud faw flat on yur face. Still, ahd like tae dae it all oer again, if ah could. Nothin sits better in memory than stormy weather.
When ah got tae the leisure centre ah cud see him stawnin ootside the door in the rain. He hadnae thought tae go inside or rather, it occurred tae me, he wanted tae see ma approach, as ah wus early masel and he hd oviously made a point tae be earlier still.
He hud a heavy mooth and it fell shut wae a clang after every sentence, as if he hud swallowed it, like a fly, never tae be heard again. This is a wance-in-a-lifetime meeting, ah says tae masel. We moved intae the lobby. I suggested a drink fae the vending machine but he looked at me like ah had offended some kind o unspoken agreement so ah quickly drapped the matter. Then we sort o milled aroun fur a bit. At this point ah have tae mention his eyelids, which were heavy and a wee bit bulbous, gieing his hazel eyes the aspect o street lights, as if they were only capable o casting their light doon, o illuminatin his feet, wae his hawns in his pokets, or o staring right intae the heart o the matter. This guy hus scientific eyes, ah thought tae masel. He’s wan ae us. Ah wus still wearing ma black woollen cap, which by this point was soaked through, and ah became aware o several streams o watter running doon ma face. I donno whefer he fought he could take advantage o me in ma vulnerable state but at this point he closed in, or appeared tae, that was
the kind o sensibility ah hud back then, an he presented me wae an ultimatum, at least that’s how it felt tae me, urging me tae stand by ma guns and tae release his music tae the world. I tried tae explain tae him that the world, in terms o Sufferage Tapes, hud a population going on forty people at most, but still he insisted. Yur like a mad dictator in a science-fiction novel, I wanted tae say tae him, a megalomaniac fae another planet. But ah nodded and says ah wud dae whit ah could. Then he took a Mars bar oot o his poket and asked if ah would like tae half it wae him. Sure, ah says.
On the walk hame the weather hud relented and the sun hud come oot and ah knelt doon beside the secret burn at the back o the park and dunked my heed in the watter and held my eyes open, which was kind ae a personal ritual, but ah couldnae see anyhin but algae an small specks o matter floating in the pale light, which made me think ae wet shortbread. Ah read it like the future, a future that looked increasingly like soggy biscuits in magic ponds ur digestives in tea ur, god forbid, raw sewage.
A day later ah received a cassette in the post. On the front there wus a poorly photocopied picture o Benito Mussolini an his wife hangin by their feet fae a lamppost. The title wus A Negative Incident Abroad: Mussolini’s Tired Young Halfwit Tongue Lolls. Beneath it there wus a pair o brackets with two dots and a comma in between them (. . ,). As you can imagine I hud nae option but tae put it oot.
It wus the same with aw these guys. You hear the music, you see the subject matter, you think these guys ur like violent overlords living in the mooth o hell, staring through the gaps in hell’s teeth, sleeping on mortuary slabs, strange cadavers in unlit basements, barely functioning savants wae a head ful ae twentieth century, dark occultists, frog-torturers, spirit-lappers, gunrunners, paramilitaries, supermen, but really they’re strugglin just as much as you an me, maybe mare so. Maybe mare so in that they were so feart, this is just ma pet theory, mind, so feart that they hud tae rub their faces in horror every day, they hud tae dunk their heeds in that particular river, like when yur threatened and you seek the challenger oot, you cannae bear the wait, you cannae stan the suspense, you want tae walk intae the heart o the wood and spend the night there, just tae see if alla yur nightmares come true and tae stop the tauntin o yur ane oerworked brain. Then when death itsel rears its ugly heed, or lolls its tongue, you can feel that you’ve photocopied it tae death, yuv tasted it areadys, in fact yuv bin on the other side ae it, yuv stood on the opposite bank as the ships have pushed aff, this armada o singed skulls and rottin corpses, the unsayable, the unnameable, crossing this reservoir o hate, this lake o terror, this ghastly river that we huv long forded in our mind. You wud think it would take a titan tae conceive ae it, an overlord tae live it, a gigantic courage just tae cast yourself into the watters. But really it doesny. It takes ordinary Joes. After a while ah became used tae the idea that these transgressive types, these avant-gardists, were just as ordinary as embdy else. Look up tae the sky at night, lookit the spray o the Milky Way, and tell me any different. We’re aw cosmonauts.
Vanity and John came tae visit. I wus smitten wae Vanity. She liked me and she hud a hing where she wud aways touch me when she spoke, like she wus speaking tae certain parts o ma body, triggering reactions in me, playing me like a set o dice. Darlin, she would call me, an touch my knee, like a butterfly hud landed there, ur a leaf. Ah can still see her tongue, strangulating that wurd, darlin, robbing it o breath. If this is what art brings ye, I says tae masel, then pass me a fuckin easel. John wus the opposite, sardonic, stand-offish, inexpressive. Wan night there wus a car crash. Ah never heard the ful details. They hud landed in a field on the other side ae a hedge in the rain. There wus nae other vehicle involved, as far as ah know. It happened on the road between Rawyards and Greengairs, a terrible back road that wus the preserve o underage boy racers an drunken truck drivers. Vanity turned up at ma door in the rain. She looked like a watercolour. Ah wanted tae reach my hand oot and smear her lipstick or run my fingers through her thick dark hair. She hud an overcoat on wae a belt and heels an dark stockings. A kissogram, ah thought. There’s been an accident, she says. We need yur help. Ah took a torch and a backpack wae provisions, it felt like an Everest mission, and we set oot in the dark. Thank you, she says, thank you so much. It felt like an echo, like somethin ah hud heard afore, a voice fae ma childhood. All o the street lights were oot that night, there wus some kinda power cut, and us we made oor way in the rain the beam o ma torch would illuminate stone bungalows an damp caravans. It was like a government experiment, like we were in a model village set up tae mimic an apocalyptic attack. Ah shone the torch in Vanity’s face, just fur a second, it was aw ah dared, an she looked like a witch that hud survived a drownin.
When we came across the motor ah thought at first it wus some kinda installation. This is the fascination they exerted on me. It’s an art instant, ah says tae masel. It’s a wan-aff performance. But then it wus like a sunrise comin up. The light went on inside the motor. John wus in the driver’s seat, lookin straight ahead. Is this a set-up? I says tae masel. You have tae understand, it was complete darkness aw aroun us, even Airdrie in the distance wus blacked oot due tae the power cut. And there was John, piloting this motor, which might as well have bin suspended in mid-air, floating through the darkness. I’m here tae rescue them? I says tae masel.
Whit happened? I asked him. I leapt oer a hedge in the dark, he says. Why? Because I was goan too fast. That’s aw he says, he dinnae say anyhing else. Ah walked back home and returned wae my maw’s motor and used a rope tae drag them oot. We should probly lie low fur a bit, John says. Can we go back tae yours? My maw was asleep and ah hud tae get up fur work the next mornin but ah agreed anyways. Vanity put her hawn against ma ear, just touched it very softly. She’s tryin tae hypnotise me, ah thought tae masel. Whit the hell. On the way back John didnae say a hing, though ah noticed he wus still wearin his sunglasses. How he could see a damn thing ah’ll never know. O course by this time aw sorts o crazy scenarios were runnin through my heed. Ahm deed, ah thought, ahm crossing the river, they’re ghosts come tae take me hame, it’s the Moors murders aw oer again, they’re gonnae kill me and bury me in a field, then ah thought oh my god, maybe ahm gonnae have sex wi Vanity while John watches, they’re probably kinky like that, and tae tell you the troof ah got ma hopes up even though ah knew ah would never be able tae perform, no under the circumstances.
We got hame and ah lit the fire in the living room and asked them if they wanted a cup o tea or somehing tae eat. Don’t you huv anyhing a wee bit stronger? John asked. My maw hud gin and vodka and some whisky in the sideboard, mostly there fur guests, and she also hud a box ae After Eight mints so ah cracked the mints open and poured all three ae us a glass o gin, even though normally ah didnae drink at aw. Actually, aw the glasses were durty so we drank them oot ae eggcups instead. Done any recordin recently? John asked me. Ah explained that ah hud bin working on a new cassette. Still at it, he says, and he nodded. Vanity climbed up intae his lap and began stroking his chest. I pit my hawn unner ma T-shirt and ma skin wus clammy and ah cud feel ma heart like it belonged tae Edgar Allen Poe and it wus trapped in a box. Whit’s the sketch, he says, whit’s the big idea behind it? Ah told him the concept wus kind uv like communicatin in the language ae cells, you know, this self-generatin music ah had bin working on. Ah told him ah imagined the communication between the organs, how the heart spoke tae the liver and the kidney spoke tae the testicles and the songs o the organs, these sad songs, in the night o the body, echoing in the veins, vibrating in the blood, at which point Vanity lit oot a high-pitched coo an licked his ear, her tongue wae its perfectly curled tip that made me think o France or Europe, just no o Greengairs. Ah told him how ah had read somewhere aboot atoms, how they repelled each other, how they were on fixed orbits, how when you touch something you’re really no touching anyhing, you’re suspended above it, hovering in this great force field, this constant attraction an repulsion that wus worse than gravity an how ah hud imagined bridgin that gap wae ma mus
ic, that void, where heart could touch hawn could touch eye could touch heed could touch ear, could touch soft ear. The empty music, ah called it.
Ah got up tae go tae the toilet an when ah came back Vanity was on her knees in front o John, in the pale yella music o the candlelight, in the darkness o Greengairs, sucking his cock. John still hud his shades on, so ah couldnae tell if he wus looking at me or no. Ah sat back in ma chair and watched as she coiled her Gallic tongue roon the shaft ae his penis, which was aboot average size, ahm guessing, but really hard. Neither uv em made a sound except fur the friction o her mouth around the heed o his dick. At wan point he held her hair in his hawns, wound it in a tight bunch roon his fist, and ah guess he came cuz his whole body stiffened and then he relaxed though when he got up his penis was still sticking oot ae his zip, still erect, and I couldnae see any cum on it, it wus completely clean, she must have swallaed the lot, I thought tae masel and when he excused himsel Vanity turned roon in her chair and ran her fingers along the outline o her lips, which were noo immaculate and blood-rid, and looked at me with they brown eyes that wur us dark and us glistenin as the past and says, ah love you Robert. I thought aboot the atoms that kept us apart and it was like wan o my ain songs coming back tae me. In the mornin, afore my maw woke up, ah towed them tae a garage tae get their motor repaired. Then ah went back tae processing hamburgers.