Archive: Chris Cunningham

Clark -- Ted E.P. First CD review in a while. Hope you don’t mind. It is short though.

I won’t say much about this, but I will say that I am as disappointed in this EP as I was in his last album.

After ‘Ted’ itself we are presented with Bibio’s remix of ‘Ted’. I don’t think I’ve ever properly listened to any Bibio before. Going by this ‘remix’ (which to my untrained ears sounds more like a cover version than a remix), he’s not much cop. It’s just folksy guitars with effects to make it sound dated. In a similar vein to Boards of Canada’s The Campfire Headphase, which shouldn’t be too much of a shock since Bibio was apparently a big influence on BoC’s most boring album.

Beyond that we have ‘Bruise Animations’ which sounds like it’s had lots of parts recycled from one of the tracks from Body Riddle, but I can’t be bothered working out which.

‘Springtime Epiphany’ sounds like a slowed-down version of ‘Springtime Epigram’ from the album. But towards the end something new comes along — in the shape of synth-farts.

I was prepared to give the whole thing the benefit of the doubt until the final track, ‘Cremation Drones’ started. What a blatant rip-off of Boards of Canada this is! I really wish Chris Clark would get some ideas of his own because he is clearly talented. But he nicks his label mates’ ideas too much.

‘Tyre’ from Empty the Bones of You seemed to be influenced by the piano tracks from Aphex Twin’s DrukQs. Then, on Body Riddle, Clark copied Aphex Twin’s ‘Nannou’ almost wholesale in ‘Night Knuckles’. ‘Betty’ from Empty the Bones of You was also influenced by Autechre’s classic ‘VLetrmx’, and there’s not much attempt to hide it.

It honestly wouldn’t surprise me if he started twiddling around on a bass guitar for his next album.

What is strange is that Chris Clark’s most original album was also his first one, Clarence Park. He seems to be getting less adventurous as he goes on. I found Chris Clark so exciting six years ago. Now, it is sad to say, I almost dread new output of his.

Enjoy, if you can, the video to ‘Ted’. (Even this is just Chris Cunningham lite. Also, inexplicably, the track has had a minute chopped off for the video. Not enough footage?)

Interview with Chris Cunningham, director of Rubber Johnny.

Rubber Johnny coverA DVD landed on my doormat this morning. It’s the latest short film from the weirdo-director Chris Cunningham, who has directed music videos for Autechre, Björk and Madonna, but is probably most famous for his award-winning videos for Aphex Twin.

What the hell is Rubber Johnny though? The blurby synopsis thing on the websites probably explains it best:

Johnny is a hyperactive, shape-shifting mutant child. Kept locked away in a basement with only his feverish imagination and his terrified dog for company, he finds ways to amuse himself in the dark.

The film lasts just six minutes, but we are taken on a right old journey in Johnny’s basement. This is a short film that is so weird that its release apparently had to be delayed because the original printing firm refused to print the accompanying book because they thought it would cause too much distress to their workers. Because when Johnny shape-shifts he really shifts shape. Rubber Johnny is almost like a human version of Gantz Graf, the Autechre video directed by Alexander Rutterford that is perfectly synchronised to the music.

Rubber Johnny is an extension of a thirty-second promo for Aphex Twin’s excellent 2001 album, DrukQs. Cunningham extrapolated the idea and worked on it in his spare time until it got to the finished product you see on the DVD (read more in this interview). As such, and because it lasts such a short length of time, Rubber Johnny could almost be seen as an elaborate pop video. Except that it could never be a pop video. To the soundtrack of Aphex Twin’s track, Afx237 V.7, as well as other bits and pieces from DrukQs, Johnny does the strangest dance you’ll ever see.

Rubber Johnny is horrific and hilarious in equal measure. At the start it just seems horrific simply because of the nature of Johnny. But as the music gets faster, Johnny becomes so extreme — Chris Cunningham pushes things so far — that it becomes ridiculous. Now, watching it, it’s tough not to crack a smile. Just as it reaches its peak Johnny is suddenly interrupted by his father, and everything is dark once again.

The film is good, but presumably because of the difficulty of creating such an elaborate character in moving form, the accompanying 42 page book is, in some ways, better. You don’t get the strange dancing or the hilarious synchronisation. Looking at the photographs you get a much better idea of what Rubber Johnny is supposed to be.

All-in-all, I’m quite impressed with Rubber Johnny. It certainly merits repeated viewing. But for just six minutes of film, the price tag is possibly a bit steep.