Gareth K Vile judges Instal 10.
About half way through Instal 10, I realised that I don’t agree with Arika. Barry Esson and Bryony McIntyre have bravely decided that “experimental music” – whether it is Japanese noise or wild UK improvisation – still clings to an old fashioned idea about the “artist” as a sanctified being, delivering their art to hapless and passive spectators. When they designed this year’s festival, they challenged themselves to curate an event that modelled a collective approach to creativity, even handing over the final evening to an experiment in group performance.
This strategy is admirable, and concluded in an evening of rough punk, contact improvisation and a Marxist consciousness-raising session that is as close as I am going to get to 1968, barring a visit from a left-wing Dr Who looking for a critic as his companion on a Tardis trip through time to major revolutionary epochs. But Arika’s intention to escape the assumptions of late consumerism that infect even the most radical thinkers is identical to my ill-defined rebellion against The Man. I am just a conservative critic who wants individuals to show off in public. That way, it’s easier to hit them with the ship-building rivet of the two star review.
Arika did ask me to get involved, and I dutifully took vox pops of the audience between shows. I do love this sort of work: not only does it allow me to bother any attractive woman in the building and pretend that I am asking for their number on business grounds, it reminds me how difficult my job is. Most people are either reluctant to express an opinion or struggle to define what they are feeling. I feel like a genius, with my insightful comments slapped onto the internet within fifteen minutes of curtain down.
It also signals the seriousness of Arika’s move towards inclusion. Allowing Mr Criticulous access to recording gear and their audience is an act of tremendous faith – they are probably listening to my collection of entertaining monologues right now with a sinking feeling familiar to anyone who has caught my various live shows. But by allowing Glasgow Open School an entire evening, supporting them through workshops and handing over the grand finale of Instal 10 is a fair greater expression of trust. Ultimately, the collective workshop created an odd combination of 1960’s happening and fragments of performance clearly driven by singular performers, yet it simultaneously engendered an intellectual dialogue that is not likely to be found at T in the Park. My comments about Plato’s Republic being a sly joke, and the entire history of philosophy being the failure to notice the punchline (“there is no perfect pint”) was subjected to fierce interrogation.
In the context of an ongoing debate about “whither experimental music”, Saturday night’s triptych of extended performances was a revelation. Whether they accept it or not, Arika are hitting their stride as curators: starting an evening with Christopher DeLaurenti’s visceral montage of World Trade protest, followed by Florian Hecker’s multi-directional bleep-fest and concluding with Catherine Hennix’s throbbing universal drone gently led the audience towards a tumultuous finale.
So here’s the irony: while Esson and McIntyre are undoubtedly two of the best festival organisers in Scotland, Instal 10 fails to achieve their intention. Esson stated that he wanted to build his own obsolescence into Instal. Unfortunately, as long as Arika keeps programming to such a high standard, they remain essential.
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