Fay Young

Memories: handle with care

As invited, I approach the record player in the middle of the gallery. Play a record, the artist says. I place a 7 inch single on the turntable and find myself transported to another time and place.

This bit, I should stress, is not quite what the artists behind #UNRAVEL had in mind but suddenly I am standing by my new blue Dansette record player in the lamplight of a long-ago bedroom. On a dark night, wind howling outside, I am drowning the sound with Kinks, Beatles and Sonny Boy Williamson.  It is 1965 and this is my 18^th birthday present. Or is it Christmas 1964? I am getting dressed for a party. Or am I staying in for the night?

I see the room and hear the music but I’ve probably packaged a teenage of record playing into one lamplit moment. And, returning to an Edinburgh gallery in 2012, that’s the point of this exhibition.  We must handle memories with care.

The unreliability of memory is the stuff of #UNRAVEL, another quirky interplay between science, psychology and pop music conjured up by Found the band

I went to the press preview at Inspace Gallery, in Edinburgh University Informatics building, as Tommy, Ziggy and Simon were packing up and preparing to move after a six week residency in the gallery. Centre stage, among other beautifully styled self-playing musical instruments, was the turntable (I wonder whatever happened to my old Dansette). In the corner of the gallery stands Cybraphon, Found’s previous and very successful project with Simon Kirby. The ‘emotional wardrobe’ won a Scottish Bafta and a lot of fans (including Ed Uni’s Principal Tim O’Shea) with its clever manipulation of music, computer science, social media and human emotion.

Simon Kirby on the right (#UNRAVEL moves to SW3 in Glasgow in April)

#UNRAVEL uses similar ingredients: robotic musical instruments which respond to real human movement in the room and virtual activity in cyberspace.  But this time there is also the voice of Aidan Moffat, the Glasgow-based writer and musician.

And here’s his voice coming from the record player telling stories triggered by a record on the turntable. Pick any record you like from the selection of 10 singles in a box. You won’t hear the actual record play. Instead a story unfolds from the narrator’s personal memories.  Play the record again and again; the chances are that each time you hear it, the story – the music from the robotic instruments around you – and some of the facts – will be subtly different. Sadder, happier, funnier, stranger…

Serious concepts, teased out by the characteristically playful Found.  Our memories of any event can change according to our moods and circumstances.  Dials on the record player register possible variables (time, weather, company and emotional responses) so the audience can see and hear the changes for themselves.

I am struck by another spontaneous personal reaction.  No doubt influenced by echoes of the 60s, I chose to play a single by the Ronettes. I have no memory of owning this single back in the day of the Dansette.  But I do remember my very first LP which had pride of place in my bedroom. Sonny Boy Williamson In Memoriam. And today I see the sleeve notes say it was published in 1965. Well at least I can now remember the right date. Maybe.

2 comments February 29th, 2012

The price of feeling good

A great night in the museum: how much was it worth?

Tickets are going fast,  the press release says. If you want to enjoy the next Museum Late you better book soon.  Sorry, I missed out three vital letters, this is the second of the RBS Museum Lates at the National Museum of Scotland.

RBS. Those three little letters. Will they be help or hindrance to organisations receiving sponsorship from the bank?  I guess the answer depends on exactly how much the sponsorship is worth and whether the British government finds the will to change the system that tarnishes the brand. If banks make a genuine investment in culture and community and if – a bigger  if – government ensures that the pay of top executives returns to the real world, that could certainly detoxify the brand. But we probably should not hold our breath.

So this is not just another rant about bankers’ bonuses (tempting though that may be) it’s a brief reflection on the value of money – and how that value changes according to where you stand.

There was a great feel-good atmosphere about the first Museum Late night in November – music, dancing and booze in the splendid hall of the National Museum of Scotland. Even then I remember some young musicians marvelling at how often the sponsor was mentioned ( not exactly rock n roll to have to keep saying RBS). And that was before recent public outrage over the proposed £500m bonus payout to top directors. Or the symbolic stripping of (Sir) Fred. How will it feel at the second event on 24 February when bright young talent thank their sponsor at regular intervals through the microphone?

‘It sticks in the craw’  was the phrase used by journalist and blogger Ian Fraser in a Facebook discussion, stirred by seeing the bank’s name displayed at rugby matches over the weekend.  Others felt differently.

“Take the money,” they said.  And, indeed, while the government slashes public spending on every aspect of life in Britain you would have to be very idealistic – or just daft – to turn down sums like the £20m funding which Ian Fraser says RBS has reportedly stumped up to stay lead sponsor of the Six Nations tournament.

To Ian, it’s a kind of ‘brand laundering’.  But judging from Facebook and Twitter response to my two previous RBS blogs, I feel it might not wash. If anything, without any intervention from policy makers, bank sponsorship will add to public cynicism. We’ve got a long hot summer of Olympics with Lloyds TSB, our other publicly owned bank, as one of the lead sponsors.

I have no idea how much RBS is investing in Museum Lates, an imaginative and uplifting project which aims to attract a new young audience into the building.  But, welcome as any investment in the arts may be,  it cannot wipe out the disillusionment of most people who now feel completely detached from both politicians and bankers. Of course, as shareholders and voters, we can (should) let them all know what we think and what we expect of them…

Found through the balcony at the first Museum Late night.

Add comment February 8th, 2012