This week I’m going to focus on ‘Expose Your Eyes’, also known as E.Y.E. the long-running sound project of artist Paul Harrison, a lynchpin of the West Yorkshire underground scene.
When we first start chatting via email Paul reminds me we have met before, at least played on the same bill at Leeds’ famous Termite Club in the early 2000’s.
Paul was playing with Rob Hayler in ‘Harrison/Hayler’ doing a ‘duelling groovebox thing’, I was playing with gentle Lee Etherington as ‘posset’. I remember little of the night except being extraordinarily excited to be playing for folk in a different city.
Harrison/Hayler and vintage posset play The Termite Club (photo courtesy of Paul Harrison)
As we continued to chat Paul showed himself to be an extremely generous and disarmingly honest interviewee, answering my daft questions in marvellous detail and supplying dozens of never-seen –before photos. So much so, I’ll keep my normal gonzo pre-amble to a minimum and launch straight into our hefty interview.
I owe a huge thanks to ‘Desert…Mountain…Dust’ blog for providing so much of the background detail on Paul that really helped me frame these questions.
Expose Your Eyes live at The Packhorse, Leeds 1997. Paul (in apron) Simon Morris, Phil Smith and Cloughie left to right. (photo courtesy of Paul Harrison)
Hi Paul, Can you tell me a bit about your musical history? I know Coil were really important to you. Tell me, what was it about Coil that got you hooked on them and experimental/underground/weirdo sound?
My musical history? Well the first record I ever remember hearing was ‘Devil Gate Drive’ by Suzi Quattro on the radio in our house when I was very young. Throughout most of my childhood I just heard what was on the radio or in my parent’s record collection, which to pluck out a few that jump immediately to mind ranged from 7 inches by people like Del Shannon and Bruce Channel to albums by Jim Reeves, Buddy Holly, Roy Orbison (I found his voice extremely powerful, as most people who hear him do, I’m sure), Elvis, The Beatles and, my favourite of the whole lot, Glen Campbell’s Greatest Hits – the ST 21885 Capitol / EMI release with a close up of his head and shoulders on the cover wearing a bright orange shirt.
Occasionally, at Christmas or my birthday, I would be bought records, Wendy Craig Bedtime Stories & Lullabies was one, some weird Rupert the Bear thing, although I never showed any interest in Rupert the Bear and actually found it quite creepy. A Scooby-Doo one, where it was obviously not the real people from the TV show doing the voices and cheap compilation albums with titles like ‘Disco Rocket’ and suchlike. They were usually made out of the kind of vinyl that was so thin you could wobble it around in your hands almost like a flexidisc. I actually liked most of the stuff I heard on these compilations and developed weird fascinations with the others too. I soaked up sound in general, from the ‘clompitty-clomp’ of horses hooves in westerns or the noise that car tyres make on gravel to the evocative and seemingly endless rattle of the coal trains running through the night at the bottom of our estate. Then I got into Blondie and Madness and The Jam, these would’ve been some of the first records I bought myself.
I have a vivid memory of the first time I heard Tubeway Army ‘Are Friends Electric?’ on the radio and how strange and exciting the sounds seemed. Some of the first sounds I remember hearing that were in any way experimental were the soundtracks to films like ‘Koyaanisqatsi’ by Philip Glass or Michael Nyman for Peter Greenaway films or the incredible sounds Alan Splet made for ‘Eraserhead’.
By my early to mid-teens I was opening up my listening in a more conscious way, backtracking to Hendrix, The Doors, The Velvet Underground; who, like many others, really captured my imagination. I became aware of John Cale’s involvement in more experimental stuff and obviously at some point along the line I encountered Lou Reed’s mesmerising ‘Metal Machine Music’. I was also checking out more classical stuff, Stravinsky and Prokofiev were doing the right things for my ears and getting into Cocteau Twins and some of the Goth bands of the time like Bauhaus, Tones on Tail and particularly The Sisters of Mercy.
Somewhere amongst this, on a mixtape that I was given, was the track ‘Homage to Sewage’ by Coil and before I knew it I was checking out all the Coil stuff I could get my hands on. It felt like I was finally finding the level of weirdness and experimentation I had always been craving for, that I somehow knew at the back of my brain must be out there somewhere but, because I’d never heard it before, I could never quite put my finger on exactly what it might be. Coil certainly delivered the goods for me in those mid-80s to mid-90s days when I was really into them. After discovering Coil I of course quickly found out about Psychic TV, Throbbing Gristle, but neither of these bands appealed to me in anything like the same way as Coil. Then I found Nurse With Wound, Whitehouse and eventually noise bands around the world, and so it was at that point that I actively started seeking out and trying to find out about experimental music and the history of ‘noise’ as music.
I’ve also heard you mention a love for those great American underground bands, ‘Drunks with Guns’, ‘Strangulated Beatoffs’ and ‘Butthole Surfers’, especially live with the ‘Butthole Surfers’. What was it about these groups that really appealed to you?
It was the ‘noisiness’ and rawness of bands like Butthole Surfers, Drunks With Guns, Strangulated Beatoffs that appealed to me. I loved that gritty, no frills, just get right on with it and sort of ‘punch you in the face’ or ‘punk’ approach they had towards delivering the sounds but also, just as much, the no bullshit black humour that these bands, and a band like Killdozer, were saturated with.
Growing up in the grimness of a 1970’s, 1980’s West Yorkshire mining town I connected with that humour as a way of just getting through life and found a strange resonance with songs that seemed to relate to growing up in Texas or other parts of redneck USA.
I’m always fascinated by people who are prolific. Discogs shows eighty one ‘Expose your Eyes’ releases but I know that is just the tip of the iceberg. Why is being prolific so important to you? How do you keep up the energy?
My first love when it came to a strong compulsion for a creative outlet was making Super 8 films and videos and I would dub the soundtracks with my favourite bands like Cocteaus or Buttholes and one where I blended two Coil tracks together and actually got their written permission as I was in touch with them for a few years. Then this naturally led to me wanting to make my own sounds to dub my vids with and quickly to noticing how the sounds themselves could open up more imagery in my mind when left to stand alone rather than being tied to one particular set of images on a screen. Then, since I first started messing about making my own sounds back in the late 1980s, it quickly just became a sort of feedback loop in my life where creating some sounds would lead to an eagerness to check out those sounds and see how they turned out and then a strong desire to make some fresh sounds to present my ears with a new listening experience.
Apart from a kind of 8 year period starting around the mid-2000s, when I got a bit tired of the ‘noise scene’ and more into making films again and also painting pictures, this is how it has always been. The compulsion to keep up this cycle does fluctuate and sometimes I just get fed up with the whole process and stop for a while – especially the parts of the process that involve dealing with other people – lack of response from people for example – communication difficulties in general, especially when people seem interested initially and then just disappear.
There’s a lot of aloofness and cliqueyness that goes on for sure but maybe people are also just too busy a lot of the time or just don’t find that I, or what I do, holds any interest for them! Why should they? I, as a person, and the sounds I make are both probably acquired tastes! I just get on with doing my own thing for my own reasons and it is by-the-by whether anybody else wants to know.
My attempts to collaborate, through the post in the past and online in more recent times, is the place where I communicate and remain open to what others want and I don’t think I do a bad job of it. But it can become a bit of an overload for me sometimes and I feel like I need to knock it on the head for a while. If autism had been recognised as a thing when I was growing up I think I would’ve been diagnosed as somewhere along the spectrum. In real world social situations I’ve always been hindered by anxiety problems, which can lead to a certain amount of awkwardness until people really get to know me and this seems to have led some people to form negative opinions of me but in truth this probably says more about them than it does about me. Eventually though, even though I stop and start with my noise making, I always want to make some new sounds in the end and, when the time is right, stretch out and soak them up.
Diz and Paul Harrison with Lisa, Sandy, Misa and Julian standing behind, drunk in Belgium 1997 (photo courtesy of Paul Harrison)
How would you describe your music on this Union Pole tape? To my ears it’s more than just noise, there are collage, found sound, music concrete and psychedelic elements too. Am I right?
‘The Clock Don’t Walk’ tape release on Union Pole is from a period where Expose Your Eyes and OKOK Society releases were blending slightly. There’s a lot of their input on that tape. Yeah, collage and found sound were certainly things we were employing and music concrete was an influence lingering in the background and seeping through maybe. Psychedelic was definitely a part of it. The OKOK Society, and some of the collaborative efforts such as this that wound up being released as Expose Your Eyes tapes, were often striving to allow the ‘3rd Side’ of the tape to come through. There is a thick atmosphere of other worldliness to much of the OKOK output and recurring vibes of séances, alien interjections and 60s, 70s flashback; a dark, heavy mood of lush velvet, incense and magic. This was quite a few years before the word ‘hauntology’ became a label applied to certain musics in the 2000’s.
Can you remember what equipment you were using on this tape or around that time? How has that changed over the years?
I’ve always had pretty basic equipment because I’ve never had any money. I probably had a very cheap 4-track tape recorder at this time and a few effects pedals. OKOK were utilizing microphones and tape recorders quite a lot and cut-up techniques with the audio tape were a big part of things around the time The Clock Don’t Walk was made. Over the years I’ve had various bits and pieces of equipment that I then usually had to sell at other times because money was too tight and then get more bits and bobs later. Apart from various effects pedals I’ve had guitars and bass and had a Roland ‘Groovebox’ at one point, a reel-to-reel tape machine, a variety of cheap keyboards and I’ve dabbled with computers from around the late 90’s onwards I suppose. I don’t have much of a clue how to use them properly but tend to use and abuse any free software I can get hold of in my own odd ways.
On a similar note, how do you go about creating your music? What sort of practices or rituals do you have to set in place? You mention music possibly coming from the same place as ‘play’. I love that idea, can you tell me more?
I mostly start creating sounds with pretty random messing about, that feeling of playing and having fun with it is important to me. I very rarely have any agenda or theme in mind and have little interest in putting over any kind of message. Typically I will come back later to what I created in the first place and mess about with it more; usually things just start to emerge and I wind up going off in this or that direction with it. I’ll go through however many stages of this before I just sort of feel in my gut that I have a finished thing. Often I find that trying not to overwork things turns out best for me. Then I just think of, usually random, often stupid, titles, and it’s only when words come into play like this that it sometimes looks like there is a meaning or theme or message involved when there was actually no conscious effort to do this at all. The words are part of an illusion and the sounds themselves are the underlying bedrock that can allow various deeper meanings to unfold when mined by open ears and imaginations. This is the way I do it on my own. Some of my collaborative efforts have veered a little bit more towards themed ideas sometimes because that’s how other people often seem to want to do it and when I collaborate it is imperative that I try to stay open to the other people involved as much as possible, otherwise, why do it?
Speaking of collaborations, I actually stopped using the name ‘Expose Your Eyes’ in May 2022 for strong personal reasons I can’t really go into but some of the last sounds I made as E.Y.E are just about to come out as a collaborative release with Ashtray Navigations. It was pretty much ready to come out December 2023 but another slight delay now means it should be January 2024. Since I stopped making sounds as E.Y.E I’ve been putting more stuff out using a lot of the other names I sometimes use, particularly Paradox Encounter Group for the noisier side of things. But this now also feels to me like it has run its course so I’ll be dropping that name soon enough. Again there are outstanding, still to be released, collaborations, namely with R4 and Nnja Riot, with sounds I made as this project which probably won’t wind up coming out until after I’ve stopped using the name. I realise that I seem to be swapping and changing all the time these days and use too many daft names anyway, I should probably just throw all that out completely and use my own name.
I know film is one of your huge loves and you’ve mentioned Malcolm Le Grice’s Berlin Horse in particular. I have a theory that, as a visual-biased species, we accept ‘difficult’ music much more readily when it is linked to an image. I’m thinking of the use of Krzysztof Penderecki and Györgi Ligeti in Kubrick films, introducing huge audiences to their music in a way that a concert hall or radio broadcast wouldn’t. Any thoughts?
Yes it is probably true that people might accept unusual sounds more readily if they are put together with imagery. There is definitely a tendency once music has been paired with some particular images to associate those sounds with what those images depict I think. Many people of my kind of age who grew up in Britain will remember the 70s advert for Hovis bread, made by Ridley Scott I seem to remember, pairing that famous section of Dvorak’s ‘New World Symphony’ with a flat-capped boy pushing an old fashioned bike, complete with basket, up a very steep cobbled street. Together with the voiceover it seemed to be some old fashioned scene from a Yorkshire hilltop village somewhere in the Pennines or the Dales although it was in fact filmed down south in Shaftesbury – yet another level of filmic deception! As a child that music to my ears came across as something like ‘the sound of old Yorkshire’ and then as a teenager when I rented an album of the Dvorak symphony from the library and paid attention to the title and noticed the image of Native American tepees on the cover scattered across an open plain with smoke gently twirling out of the tops of them I had a sudden realization of what the music was really about. And the funny thing was that listening to the music with that imagery in mind it began to perfectly fit. This is an interesting thing I think, how different imagery paired with the same music can change your feeling of it and also how different sounds paired with the same imagery can totally change the mood of what the images seem to show. I tried this myself with a film I made at the Yorkshire Sculpture Park and dubbing two different pieces of my sounds on the soundtrack gives a different vibe depending on which one you watch.
UPDATE FROM PAUL: I’ve just watched the old Hovis ad on YouTube and noticed another level of confusion I must’ve had regarding my memory of it. The real 1973 ad quite clearly has a West Country accent on it. The one that must’ve stuck in my head is The Two Ronnies ‘Hovis’ advert pisstake with Ronnie Barker in a flat cap and with a Yorkshire accent! Either way it’s still a good example of how the ‘New World Symphony’ got used to create a different atmosphere to what must first have been intended by Dvorak! I suppose the strong ties of Yorkshire with brass bands feeds into the illusion.
Diz, Paul Harrison and Lisa Nyoukis still in Belgium, 1997 (photo courtesy of Paul Harrison)
I’m fairly ignorant of Smell and Quim (sorry) but know they are a hugely important noise-touchstone. I think it was Mike Connelly who said Smell and Quim were his favourite band ever. What was it like to play with them? Can you tell me a Smell & Quim story?
I’m afraid I don’t know who Mike Connelly is but it is interesting to think that Smell & Quim might be somebody’s favourite band. Playing with them was like being caught up with some crazed circus troupe, there was always the feeling that you never knew quite what was going to happen. There was little in the way of preparation or rehearsal from my memory. Whichever participants could make it to any particular venue would just turn up with their own noise making devices and their own individual ideas in mind of what they were going to do and then things would just happen. I think audiences were usually genuinely surprised by how madly, and often dangerously chaotic things would quickly become. Sometimes they were shocked, there was always a lot of nudity for example, which many first-time audience members just weren’t expecting I think. In later years, when I was no longer involved, often provocative actions and imagery and always an overall feeling that the lunatics had just escaped from the asylum. The overriding feeling for me though at the time I was doing it was that it was like a big family of outcasts and nutters just letting rip and having fun.
Having fun and being daft felt like a big part of it at that time but sometimes people did get upset by what was happening. But you have to bear in mind that pretty much every participant had some very real mental health or substance abuse problem going on and various traumatic histories and backgrounds they were trying to deal with. People don’t always do the most reasonable or sensible things when in those states. There was never any malice involved from my memory of it. There are lots of stories that have already been recounted elsewhere: the time that Dave and myself were doing a very unusual version of S&Q at a swanky hotel in Halifax, booked in as a ‘jazz’ band I believe.
Just to explain, it was the fact that we were playing as a duo that was a bit unusual, not that we were booked in as a ‘jazz’ band. This happened quite a lot, especially at the Termite Club gigs that Mike Dando & Neil Campbell used to organise in Leeds, where, to get the required Arts Council backing noise gigs were often described as ‘something like a free jazz band.’
We inadvertently set the fire alarms off, we were performing with huge metal robot heads on and had incense burning on top of these things and couldn’t see or hear because of the racket we were making that anything was going on…until our ‘heads’ were yanked off by the manager and we noticed the room was empty apart from firemen running around. When we were inevitably thrown out on the street, everyone had been evacuated and there were two or three fire engines there.
Then there’s the time we played in Belgium and the guy who was putting us up seemed to be expecting a duo and the look on his face was priceless when he saw a street full of freaks waiting to get into his house. He was very cool about it and had a big house, so no problem there, but later at the venue we were delayed for hours before we got to play and by that time many of us, me in particular maybe, were completely wrecked. They were selling huge glasses of port at 50p a pop! Anyhow, I don’t remember that much about it and actually collapsed onstage but I know that chaos ensued and there was a rather interesting write up about the gig.
One of my favourite memories though is of the first time I saw S&Q myself, before getting involved in performing with them. At that time they had these Elvis suits with big satin bean-filled cocks and balls dangling from them complete with jets of sequin sperm! The suits had been made by the mother of the person who eventually became my partner. I wore one of the suits myself together with the robot head at the Halifax gig mentioned before and eventually one of them was thrown in the East River in New York and the decapitated cocks & balls of both suits were left in the care of an impromptu participant who joined Dave on stage when he played over there. The first time I saw them though, the wearers (Dave and Neil) were being dragged out of hessian sacks by a grizzled old man (Diz Willis) and then joined by two fire-breathing oddballs (Sticky Foster and Stewart Walden) to give me my first delicious taste of what S&Q were about. Within no time at all I was hitchhiking up to Scotland with Sticky to join up with Prick Decay and Richard Youngs in Edinburgh for some performances on the fringe festival. This for me was an unusual time of wildness and abandon in my life, I was actually pushing myself further than I’d ever done with this because I’m really a very shy and retiring person!
The S&Q cocks resting somewhere in New York City (photo courtesy of Paul Harrison)
Tell me more about your labels Fiend and Xemporium. What is the driver behind these (and possibly other) labels?
Fiend Recordings just seemed like a natural thing to try as I was making sounds and getting to know lots of other people who were making sounds. Doing a little label to release things by myself and others just seemed to be the thing to do and it fitted in nicely alongside ‘Face Like A Smacked Arse’, ‘Betley Welcomes Careful Drivers’ and other small labels of the time. Over the years that it ran, roughly between early 1990’s and early 2000’s, we (my partner joined me in the running of it) released 50 cassettes and 100 standard CDRs…plus an extra 15 ‘Special Release’ CDR’s. There was also a bit of stuff on video cassette, a couple of lathe-cut albums and a ‘Non-Existent LP’ art piece – basically a photocopy of an album in a highly decorated record sleeve, which was last left in the hands of Ron Lessard at RRR!
Xemporium (pronounced ecks emporium) I don’t think of as a label. It is just the name I’ve given to my own Bandcamp, previously it was Eye Fiend, and even though it looks like there is stuff on there by lots of different people it is mostly just by me (I use all sorts of daft names for my attempts to do different types of sounds), apart from the collaborations and a section where I’ve presented some of the old Fiend Recordings releases which were by others.
As a little joke, the collab I mentioned above with Ashtray Navigations is going to be Fiend 101
You’ve talked about your depression and music (and music friends) helping you battle that. Do you have any thoughts about music-making, particularly more ‘abstract’ music-making as a mentally healthy practice?
Making music can be a release and a distraction. You can get lost in the process of making it and you can get lost in it when listening. It can also be frustrating, especially with me when trying to deal with technology which I have no aptitude for or interest in or patience with! There’s nothing more tedious to me than blocking sounds out in computer software and fiddling around pressing buttons trying to understand and make technical things happen. That’s why I always wind up abusing things rather than using them in the ways they are supposed to be used. These days I generally feed the sounds from the software of one laptop into something like Audacity on another laptop and that way I can achieve a more hands-on, real-time approach to making my stuff. I think any pursuit that can keep you busy and distracted can be useful for calming mental health though that could be painting, gardening, knitting…maybe not so much reading or watching movies etc. as words and ideas and images are often where a lot of mental health problems stem from and reside in the first place.
You live in Sowerby Bridge right? That whole West Yorkshire area seems to be full of interesting NAU artists.
I lived in Sowerby Bridge many years ago and have gradually shifted further up the Calder Valley into the Pennines, first to a place called Mytholmroyd and, for quite a few years now, up on the edge of the moors just above Hebden Bridge. Sowerby Bridge was great for a certain period when we used to live there because everybody in the houses around us seemed to know each other and get along and be of a similar mind so we were always in and out of each other’s houses with impromptu social things developing. I felt comfortable there and I’m not the world’s most outgoing person. It did feel a bit like a small commune for a while, but then people started moving away and less pleasant people moved in and the vibe changed. I saw Sowerby Bridge itself change from a fairly quiet town with its own character into a much busier place that seemed to be becoming an extension of Halifax.
Yes, West Yorkshire has certainly become a place that noise makers gravitate towards. Dave Walklett and myself were born here but it has also drawn in people from all across England such as Mike Dando (Con-Dom), Neil Campbell (Vibracathedral Orchestra / Astral Social Club), Phil Todd (Dogliveroil / Ashtray Navigations), Rob Hayler (Midwich / Fencing Flatworm Recordings) to mention just a few of the ‘first wave’ and, of course, some of the people who were actively involved in laying the foundations of the whole vibe that has continued to grow here.
Neil Campbell and Paul Harrison at the opening of Asylum Studios, Sowerby Bridge (photo courtesy of Paul Harrison)
But…what does this E.Y.E tape sound like?
‘Side A’ starts with a really great example of overblown glosslalia and the kind of in-the-red fuxx that sneakily warps into becoming a bone-fide instrument in itself.
Blocks of irregular shape clutter together making dry clunks while glass is shattered in slow motion beneath. The occasional static hiss lurches like a lama’s spit. The radio dial is wrenched between ‘Listen with mother’ and some Special Forces throat-click. Someone sits on a Bontempi organ, ass cheeks flattening the keys, as plastic flutes melt in a chip pan fire. Yep. This is pretty busy.
I try an experiment. At low volume the hectic chatter sounds like tinfoil mice going about their mousey business; ever so polite and industrious. At louder volumes there emerges a drunken fairground quality with the smell of engine oil and greasy noodles laced with the hot tang of teenage bravado. Like the seasick rise and fall of the Waltzer this tape makes my eyes spin in their sockets and my stomach do a flip.
There seems to be a voice struggling to emerge from the gluey sea, all bound up in adhesive seaweed and a strong undertow. I’ve no idea what they are saying but it sounds ecstatic. The joyful moment before hypothermia sets in perhaps?
If it’s at all possible things ramp-up towards the end of this side, Paul throwing the kitchen sink into the mix with a more-is-more mission until a sudden click leaves me in thundering silence.
Phew…I’m feeling brave so I click on ‘Side B’ another 30 minute marathon. While this piece is clearly woven from the same cloth there is a subtle difference to the sounds. Things are a little more blunted, rounded. This side is about placement; balance, harmony, dissonance and everything in between. Like an Anthony Caro sculpture your eyes (or ears) are drawn to the improbable tipping point.
For me this happens about halfway through when it seems like The Boredoms are playing Hawkwind while bricks are hurled out of a broken brick-hurling machine. This activity doesn’t appear to be happening in a vacuum. There are several unreliable commentators adding their individual bile or love depending on which ear you block with cheese.
Elvis singing ‘In the Ghetto’ leaves a mental ripple, giving this section a deeply psychedelic edge. The buffering noise becomes less ‘harsh wind’ and more ‘synapse stretch’ leaving my teeth clamped tight and neck muscles straining. It’s a hard rain man, a hard rain of exploding dust motes and rainbow wings. All the colours weave like a complex John Whitney piece moving with the stately pace I associate with small-town bouncers or freemasons.
The final four or five minutes return to some of the earlier themes (Elvis, the brick-hurling) and, if I’m not mistaken, a teach-yourself-to-type tape that repeats the legends…”Z,C,V…space” in a deeply soporific voice which becomes the final pyramid of sound that stops the chaos becoming chaotic.
And in one last ‘hold the front-page’ moment a tape of Paul’s work turns up on youtube literally days before I publish this post. It’s a wild ride of unstable loop-age but what makes this extra poignant and special is when Paul tells me this isn’t a full release but a home-made mixtape.
“Wow that’s weird – it’s all from different tapes – somebody out there has taken the time to make a little compilation – I never thought anyone would do that.”
And, like a lanky Roy Castle, I whistle the tune to ‘Dedication’ as I tap-dance into the sunset.
Expose Your Eyes in Cannister Zine (photo courtesy of Paul Harrison)
You can listen to this immense E.Y.E tape here for super-cheap…
https://unionpoletapes.bandcamp.com/album/the-clock-dont-walk-up42
OR…you can download the whole damn Union Pole discography of 76 tapes for $5 here. Don’t be cheap!
It won’t surprise you to learn that I often make mistakes! Please leave a comment below if you spot a mistake in the blog or have a tale to tell to drive this Union Pole story forward. Everyone is invited on this ride.
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