Roly Porter - Time, space and visions beyond the possible

In an era dominated by the triumph of formal spectacle and the destruktion of the emotional element, of "accelerationism" and disenchantment (a reference, among many other examples, to the hypnagogic schizophrenia of Oneohtrix Point Never, to the hd-pop collages of Holly Herndon, to the hyperbolic surrealist geometries of Arca), a research-driven strand of music has been coalescing for some years now on an almost diametrically opposite front. Almost as a reaction, an aesthetic has been settling into place aimed at an atmospheric "re-enchantment", at recovering and elevating physical and emotional impact to the very heart of sonic exploration. All of this through the revival of "traditional" concepts such as harmony and choral texture, and of the theoretical and dynamic tenets of minimalism, reconceived as load-bearing structures on which to build forms of sonic saturation and immersion. If Tim Hecker (up to and including "Virgins") and the early Ben Frost (before the hyper-maximalist "turn" of "A U R O R A") can be identified as the figureheads of this wave, and "Wilderness Of Mirrors" by Lawrence English as probably its most emblematic fruit, its definitive systematization owes much to outfits like the Subtext label and, above all, to two records released this very year: "Continuum" by Paul Jebanasam and "Third Law", the third album by Roly Porter. The final chapter of a potential trilogy, the culmination of a journey exploring a "sonic cosmos" with its solar systems, its supernovae and their life cycle, and ultimately its physical laws, a journey the Bristol artist had already embarked on with his previous "Aftermath" and "Life Cycle Of A Massive Star". The protagonist of an evolution as unusual as it is thoroughly coherent, one that saw him literally reinvent himself from the ashes of the seething bass music made with former partner Kuedo under the name Vex’d, Porter has by now firmly established himself as one of the key figures of today's electronic scene, and it's from this newfound awareness that he set off again to devise a complex, immersive live show, created together with Berlin-based visual artist MFO. We met him on the occasion of his appearance at #MASH 2016, the festival organized by S/V/N/ in Milan, now in its second edition and dedicated to identifying and presenting the "state of the art" when it comes to sonic contamination and the role of the "ethnic" element within today's "liquid world".

MP: Your recent work, "Third Law" (2016, Tri Angle) isn't just an album of huge impact, at times literally breathtaking and capable of gripping the listener immediately: in some respects it's also a terrifying vision of the overwhelming forces of the known universe. Is that simply the intended effect of your creations, or did you deliberately imbue them with a sense of individual fear?

Thanks, I'm glad you feel that way, but I don't think that's really what I did. I often find that the sense of tension or fear you're talking about comes from structure and from a sense of expectation. Without traditional rhythmic structures, it's possible to build long sequences of tension. What I actively tried to create is a listening experience that's as immersive as possible. Now that we have access to so much content, I find that the listening experience is devalued in many ways, and I catch myself moving through things much more quickly. It's rare that I set aside the proper time to engage with music the way I used to. With each album I've wanted to create something that wouldn't work as individual tracks, but only as a complete listening experience, in an attempt to demand a more rewarding kind of listening.

In trying to represent the different forces of the universe, all we can really attempt to do with sound is create an environment where it's easier to think about certain things, to try to create a space where people can devote themselves to thoughts that the rest of their life doesn't allow them to have. You write an album, and that's one way of telling someone: "Here are thirty minutes of your life where you're allowed to sit in your own space and think", which is a rare luxury these days.

MP: It seems that your most recent works operate on a macroscopic scale, as if moving toward a constant broadening of perspective. Do you feel the need to push toward a description of reality that goes beyond its immediately perceptible traits?

I've become obsessed with spending as much time as possible thinking about space, and I've found that this had a strong impact on my daily life. It's all within our reality, it's as real as your street or your job, only I choose to focus on it for as long as I can. Obviously the events of life divert our perception, and time spent exploring thoughts on time and space is a privilege. The opportunity to write this music is the ultimate privilege, since it gives me the chance to think on this scale for long stretches of time. I've found that the more time I spent in this space, the more positive my relationship with the present became. Setting aside current political shifts or present-day events, I started to love life, humanity. The way I looked at my own life, at my children's lives, everything began to change once I saw it from this perspective. That's why I want to write music based on these themes: music can be an opportunity to look beyond the present and give you the time and space to experience the world from a different perspective.

Of course there are negative aspects to this line of thinking. This country (England, ed.) and others are going through political turmoil, there are many people in the world who genuinely need help, and any form of escape from reality could be seen as selfish. I'm also not dismissing the importance of political or social stances in music, but this project was about fixating on a sense of scale and time, and trying to create a soundtrack that would help me stay there.

MM: If "Life Cycle Of A Massive Star" represented an evolving sonic inquiry, a search still developing on itself, my reading of "Third Law" identifies it as a kind of arrival point. Almost an attempt at synthesizing those elements which, from "Aftertime" onward, have slowly merged until reaching a balance. Do you think it's your most complete work?

I consider it the completion of that body of work that began with "Aftertime", and it's fair to say it has a sturdier structure than the previous two, but it's also very different. I wanted to move away from a conceptual approach to composition and explore ideas of movement and rhythm without focusing so heavily on narrative. In the end I found it necessary to design a narrative structure for the album, but it's far less literal than in the previous two, and it ended up being just a compositional tool rather than a specific theme to share with the listener.

MP: We know you're well acquainted with Paul Jebanasam and his extraordinary sonic palette rooted in a symphonic sensibility; the same goes for his talented colleague Oliver Peryman, under the moniker FIS; Lustmord too has recently released on Touch his latest album, "Dark Matter", composed using audio material sourced from space observatory archives. One could definitely say this is a recurring tendency in new electronic music, not only from a thematic point of view but also in the depth of the sounds explored and experimented with by these artists. Have you noticed this too? Could it not be an unconscious reaction to the hyper-fragmentation practiced by other figures such as Oneohtrix Point Never, Holly Herndon and /f?

That's an interesting question, because while I'm writing music I try hard not to listen to other people's music, to avoid being influenced by it, but once you step out of that process you find that similarities crop up around you anyway. Every artist you mentioned has a very individual style, but it's true that similar themes and influences guide certain groups of people, and that's reflected in their parallels. Other factors also exert their own influence, like technical developments in music production. In a way, I'd like to feel more connected to the idea that musical movements are emerging. I don't feel the need for a genre definition, but I'd like to have the sense of moving forward as part of something. I like your suggestion of an "unconscious response to hyper-fragmentation" — I'm fascinated by how fast ideas move today, but I also crave silence and space.

MP: The customary question: who or what has had a decisive influence on your musical output — whether fictional or drawn from lived experience?

Film

Book

Music

Art

Science

Religion

Technology

Love

Hate

Each of us is the result of such a complex web of influences that naming just a few wouldn't make sense. What I've started noticing recently is that the experiences I had between the ages of 10 and 20 are still the most powerful and formative, and I've been thinking about our capacity to be truly influenced or to change after that age. I can still grow and develop new interests, but the power of the influences that ran through my formative years has a very strong impact on the way I see the world.

MM: I've always found your "artistic case" fascinating: I'm referring to the radical mutation of sound you've undergone over the course of your solo career compared to the coordinates of the Vex'd experience. A phenomenon that, at least in part and in a very different direction, also applies to Kuedo. In your view, is there some form of continuity between the bass music of back then and today's "digital symphonies"?

There's technical continuity, in that I'm trying to achieve the same scale and power I experienced in sound system music, and the listening mode comes from that environment rather than from a concert setting. But there's just as much I'm trying to escape from. With this project, the initial goal was to break free from the genre and functional constraints of club music.

MP: You'll soon be in Milan to present your recent audiovisual set (in collaboration with MFO) as part of the Savana MASH festival. Can you tell us a bit about the concept behind this project and what we should expect from your performance?

When I was discussing plans for this project with Marcel (MFO), he was very interested at the time in what the human reaction would be to exploring territories we can't even imagine. For example, it might not be possible to explore our solar system in person, but in the near future it might be possible using drones, and we became interested in the emotional response to using virtual reality or flying drones through alien environments. The show is a combination of video and strobe lights, and it's a continuation of the album's exploration of movement and rhythm.

MM: Still on the subject of #MASH: I believe you're familiar with the theoretical background behind this three-day event, the idea of investigating the "geographic liquidity" of the very concept of music production today. Do you think your research as an artist, including in past projects like Vex'd, has something to do with this interpretive model of a "global sound"? And in that sense, what role can an artist's geographic origin and ethnic background play in today's liquid, hyperconnected world — specifically in your case?

I come from a position of privilege, being a white man from the UK. By a certain age, I noticed that most of the people I met making electronic music were the same kind of person as me. There was a wide range of influences in the music I listened to, but it didn't match up with the people around me that I was working with. That's obviously problematic on a personal level, but it's also representative of a bigger picture. Perhaps the internet has helped change things, but I have no doubt there are still people hitting a wall, people who deserve to be heard and for some reason aren't.

There's great value in stepping away from whatever musical tradition you find yourself in and coming into contact with other people and other paths. I wish I could do that more, and I know my musical horizons are fairly narrow. My music isn't a political or social commentary, it's a form of escapism, but I have to be aware that having the time and space to write it, and a context in which to present it, is a privilege. I find it interesting that you bring up geographic origin, because while it's important to open up the world and its opportunities to as many people as possible, it's also important to cultivate a sense of belonging and locality in music. I still like the idea that individual cities can develop such strong identities and music scenes, and that they can remain relatively uncontaminated for long stretches of time.

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