Anodised Mud

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Nigel Ayers

Nigel Ayers (born 1957 in Tideswell, Derbyshire) is an English multimedia artist. His sound art has included numerous audio releases and live performances through his group Nocturnal Emissions.His sound art collaborations includes work with Bourbonese Qualk, C.C.C.C., Andrew Liles, Lustmord, Randy Greif, Robin Storey, Expose Your Eyes, Stewart Home, Z'EV, and Zoviet France.In 1980, he founded the record label Sterile Records, releasing the first records by John Balance, Maurizio Bianchi and Lustmord, among many others. In 1987 he formed the Earthly Delights (record label).In the early 1990s, he performed live soundtracks for the Butoh performances of Poppo & the Go Go Boys. His visual art has been exhibited in the Tate, ICA, and worn by the soccer legend Dieg… more »

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Nodding, Kate said
At first we thought the stones used in ley lines
Can carry the subliminal television programmes
Several tons of water, dust, newsprint, and oil
To print below the recognition threshold
For hundreds of miles
But the electromagnetic energy resists analysis
The hesitation was repeated three times
As was the uncertainty of the printout
Produced by the instruments therein

It takes about a year
Of rising and falling telluric current
To write each audio imaging voice on the dust screen
A simple series of jagged spikes and troughs
Print out on the microwave band

Yes, the first one of them was filled
With tightly kinked hair fibres in 1957
That's right, the noise of a rotating light
Could be used to build an enhanced image
From the mirrors embedded on the columns of brown hair

We finally settled on a system of stacked dark hair
Covered in sand and glue
But in order to fuse the printouts
To coat composite photos
Were 25 fistfuls of slimy anodised mud

There were two TV sets
That flashed an array of synthetic hair images
Elegant coloured lines about 60 feet long
Partially obscured by the aqua green mist
Of the lights from the underground
With more than enough material
For the first several lines of sweating
Chilled, shaking, dazed, realistic
And indifferent dream images
Crackling in a rhythmic alternating current

Old cigarette packets, sweet wrappers and discarded toys
Overflowed down his chin
Dripped into his shirt front
The way lager still foamed out of the public house
All the serious drinkers who had arrived at 12
Were into lager and lime in double quick time

I remember the pub didn't have stools
The bar was lined with little detectives
Hooked to a brass rail that ran along the bottom
That was the only way to avoid trouble
The room seemed dark,
The landlord, a blurred figure,
Polishing glasses behind the bar
A task which appeared to demand intense concentration
The latecomer toasted himself
Gulping the lager so fast
That the frothy head overflowed
Into a small puddle on a record player

The damn thing switched
From 33 RPM to 45
Vibrated on his brains
Some of the beer fell into his watch
A cheese roll was suddenly flushed
Out of the interior of his shirtsleeve
It slid onto the bench next to him
Uncomfortably close
At one o'clock he unfolded a sheet of paper
And put it on the bar

I need somebody to help me
I'd only take up five or ten minutes of your time

The man behind the bar, nodded
Reached behind a couple of glasses
And put a heavy manilla envelope on the bar

The walls were covered with heavy eyebrows
That's the way it had been since 1954
Some old brass key fobs hanging from the beams
Bearing the date

The barman's making sure
None of the others in the other room look relaxed
A glass in one hand, dish cloth paused
In an atmosphere of meaningless jumble
Someone, maybe even one of the office workers
Bowed a cassette player from the elongated space

The rain continued to pour for almost an hour

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