Interview: The Ex
Posted: Fri May 30, 2008 9:59 pm
On pitchfork 'n shit so i thought i'd post it 4 u.
Interview: The Ex
Interview by Joshua Klein | Digg this article | Add to del.icio.us
Since 1979, the Ex have been conflating music and politics like few other bands. Without one there is not the other, and the heart of each of their many albums lies the spirit of protest and adventure. Indeed, the group has continually grown from its somewhat rudimentary roots to something more free form and exciting, incorporating everything from free jazz to African music into its unique assault, filmed for all to see in Jem Cohen's Building a Broken Mousetrap, which captures the Dutch band performing in the midst of the 2004 Republican National Convention in New York.
We caught up with Ex vocalist G.W. Sok via e-mail, which gave him plenty of space to espouse his viewpoints.
Pitchfork: Have you been to America much since Building a Broken Mousetrap was filmed? Did you or do you sense that the political tide might finally be turning?
Sok: The next time we went to the U.S. was in 2006, first in September for the 25th anniversary of Touch & Go Records, and later on in December for a tour with DJ Rupture. So yeah, two years later, with Bush and Cheney still in power and empty-handed concerning solutions for the problems they created. The political mood had definitely changed by then; it was obvious that the Bush administration was weaker than ever before. But this we already knew, since in Holland the media have always been keeping a big eye on U.S. politics anyway. The main difference with 2004 was that in 2006 fewer Republicans were supporting Bush, but our audience has never been Republican anyway, so for us, meeting who we met, there wasn't that much difference.
Although in 2004 the overall mood was much more paranoid, I think. Because of all that "if you're not with us you are against us" crap there was no proper way to say something as simple as "maybe this war in Iraq is not really such a good idea." Plus, the fact that time and again new lies of the Bush people were exposed-- I think people have finally enough of this. The big question is, of course, how could he get elected in the first place, and re-elected in the second? Unqualified as fuck, and still he gets away with it. The worst U.S. president during my time of life, that's for sure, and believe me, I'm not eight anymore.
Pitchfork: Do you think vocal European and international disdain for George Bush was at all responsible for the shifting political tide in America?
Sok: No, I think it has most and for all to do with the fact that a lot of people who at first agreed with the invasion on Iraq have started to realize that the direction Bush took is a dead end. Frankenstein created a monster which he couldn't keep under control. What was obvious from the start was that the Bush administration couldn't give a shit about international collective responsibility. They were very into an isolationist approach, with basically only lapdog Great Britain on their side. That doesn't work so well in the long run. The American people have realized that now. (And let's hope they won't forget again.)
Pitchfork: Europe has gone through some interesting changes itself in the past few years. On the one hand, it's still one of the more progressive regions in the world. On the other hand, the murder in Holland of filmmaker Theo van Gogh (and the controversy over in Denmark over those published cartoons of Mohammed) don't make Western Europe seem as safe a place for free expression as maybe it once was. Is this at all accurate, or are these two examples unusual exceptions? What parts of the picture are us Americans missing?
Sok: Ever since 9/11, the mood has changed quite a bit, and for the worst. The main cause for this change are the merchants of fear, who want to make us believe that Muslims are the new evil. By hammering on the assumption that all Muslims are terrorists who try to destroy our society, they make people feel so very scared that some have accepted any kind of freedom-lessening measure, as long as it makes people feel less unsafe. That's not only the case in the U.S., the same goes for Europe.
So, after 9/11, we had this "terrorist-Muslim-threat," but at the same time, next to that, in Holland we had this growing awareness that the so-called integration of new Dutch people (a lot of those that had come to live and work in our country originated from countries such as Turkey and Morocco, and a lot of them are actually Muslim) wasn't quite the success the state always had thought it was. The "new" Dutch didn't feel totally accepted, treated as second-rate citizens, and (parts of) the "old" Dutch suddenly believed that the new ones were trying to destroy our society.
Yes, there are some extremists among the Islamic people, but one can find extremists everywhere. If it were really a timebomb over here, than I think it would have already exploded straight after the murder of Theo van Gogh in 2004. But most people kept their calm instead. There are still problems, but most people are willing to work and solve these. Then again, Geert Wilders, a right-wing politician over here with an anti-Islam approach seems to have quite an effect. That is, if we look at the amount of publicity he gets in the media. Wilders refers to freedom of speech even as he states time and again that he wants to forbid the Koran. Seems like a big contradiction to me, but the main reason he is so focused on this topic is that he thinks it will gain him more votes in the next elections. But hey, these are the Netherlands, the lowlands, the flatlands, so this is mainly molehill/mountain territory.
Pitchfork: Do you feel that the political situation you and your band mates must hope for is at all attainable, or is compromise inevitable? Can moral conviction and compromise even co-exist?
Sok: For me, personally, it works a bit like this: I believe in freedom of speech, and at the same time I think that sometimes it can be worth it to not say something. In my opinion there is a sort of limit to that freedom, but where that limit exactly lies is open for discussion. As soon as there is no longer any discussion possible, than it has reached its limits and therefore freedom of speech will no longer exist.
That's same way I think about how we live our every-day existence. We strive towards a better world, but one can never do it without compromise. We can all change the world for the better, starting in your own little surroundings, together with people who believe in it, too. This way you can make it work and show others that it actually can work. That doesn't mean that everybody has to do it like you "or else..." If there is no compromise possible, then it turns into extremism, and I don't think that extremism ever added something positive to the world.
Pitchfork: Is music still an effective medium for protest? Has it ever been?
Sok: It can be, and at times it was, and still is, and, well, I'm no expert on this, but I think that the sheer fact that music can raise certain questions or put topics on the agenda has in itself already an effect. Just like any other art of cultural expression can do that-- books, films, photos, painting-- it can bring people together who share certain ideals, who don't find their ideas expressed properly, or even expressed at all, in the mainstream media.
On a small scale, I think it's clear enough: The music is part of the environment we live in, with our friends, our scene, our own cities, the state we live in. It is very recognizable, and so the protest part can have a very direct face-to-face impact. On a global scale I find it less easy to see if it works that well. I mean, "Do They Know It's Christmas" and all that...it makes my ears itch, because even when we assume it's well-intended, the fact remains that the music and text are crap and the artists are very much there to promote mainly themselves.
However, in the 1960s, people like Bob Dylan, his music and words were a threat to the society and mainstream of the time. It shook people alive, and directly and indirectly things changed. But, as I see it, the change is never through the music alone. It's also the circumstances around the music that will cause/create the effect. And sometimes it's just strictly accidental that a piece of music becomes a form of protest. "We Don't Need No Education" turned into the youth's war cry in South Africa's Soweto when the schoolkids went on strike. I don't think that was Pink Floyd's intention.
Pitchfork: Does the sheer presence of your music-- the volume, the dissonence, the rhythms-- overwhelm any message, or do you like that listeners have to dig to hear what you're singing? Can music by itself be the message? Ex music isn't all angry, but I think the average listener would come to the conclusion you're not terribly happy with the state of things before you even open your mouth.
Sok: We've never considered ourselves being "messengers." Through the music and words we express our thoughts and opinions and ideas. This is who we are. It is not always totally necessary for our audience to clearly hear and understand every line I sing. The power and impact, the positive energy of the music are as much part of the whole thing as the words. We are not trying to convert people, but we believe in our music and like to play it in front of other people, hoping that we can get them as excited as we are about our music. There is anger in it, true, and it can be noisy, but there's also humor, beauty, happiness, tenderness, surprise. So it might take a while to get used listening to it, but that's okay. We've already been around for a while and we're not in a rush.
Pitchfork: What do words like "punk" or "anarchy" mean to you today? And do they mean different things to you now than they did 30 years ago?
Sok: To me, the main idea of punk was do-it-yourself, which meant that you could basically do anything that you would wanna do. You don't have to wait to be allowed to do it. Anarchy was more or less about the same thing, so for me they were closely related. We still believe in the DIY aspect of it, but apart from that we don't really use the words punk and anarchy anymore. These terms are simply too confusing to explain what we are doing. From what I see, nowadays punk and anarchy are still connected with "fast loud music by smelly drunk chaos-people" and, yes, I know I'm over-generalizing here. So when the occasional venue still describes us as "anarchopunk" that's a real bummer, since it attracts an audience that expects a kind of music-- which we don't play-- and it keeps away another audience that actually might have liked it when they would have come. That's a pity, for both them and us.
Pitchfork: This is a big, sprawling one: Punk, and rock in general, is often very myopic. When people sing about "the world," they're (again, generally) focused almost entirely on the west and Europe. Sometimes South America. Sometimes Asia. But rarely Africa. The Ex, famously, is one of the few rock acts to travel and perform in Africa (which, as you know, may be home to more musicians than just about anywhere else in the world). Obviously, you felt the experience in Ethiopia was good enough that you've gone back more than once. How did it affect the way you think about music? How did it affect the way you think about people? What did you learn from going to Ethiopia that you never would have learned from, say, reading about Ethiopia?
Sok: When you travel to Ethiopia, out of pure curiosity the people in the streets, especially the kids, will always ask you two typical questions. The first one is "faranji (i.e. stranger), where you go?" and the second is "why you here?" Apart from being simply friendly, for the kids it is a good way to practice their English. So, when we said that we had come to play music, they replied: "But why? We already have music of our own..." Which is an interesting thought, we believe. They don't feel the wish or need to get invaded by or converted to so-called Western music.
At the same time, they are sincerely curious why you made the effort to travel thousands and thousands of miles to visit their country. For ourselves, we had no imperialist/colonialist thoughts whatsoever anyway. We had fallen in love with that amazing music form the 70s, Terrie had traveled there in 1996, and we had become friends with Ethiopians in Amsterdam, who had stimulated us to try and tour Ethiopia. We didn't go there simply as tourists. Partly for touristic reasons, true, because we wanted to get to know more of the country and its people and culture. But also partly because we wanted to make music there, and offer them our kind of music as a gift in return. We were not sure if they would like it or not, of course, because in most parts of the country nobody is used to Western music at all. There is no "rock-circuit," so to speak. We thought that Ex music only would be a bit too hard to swallow, so we played half our own music, plus half a set of Ethiopian favourites, songs they knew. We played at marketplaces, at the steps of theatres, stuff like that. And we played for free, since most people can't afford to pay. The effect was that there were loads of people who had never gone to a concert before, and apparently they had a great time, together with us.
That is the power that music can have, a wonderful tool of communication, together with the openness and warmth of the people. We may come from different parts of the world, with different backgrounds and cultures, but that doesn't necessarily have to make us hate or distrust each other. On the contrary, once you meet each other and find something in common, you realize they're basically not so different from us. You can read about that in a book, or in an interview [laughs] but when you actually go there yourself you will learn how true and rewarding that is.
Pitchfork: The Ex has evolved musically over the years, but you're still relatively unique. Aside from the Dog Faced Hermans (obviously) and maybe Fugazi, you never seemed to share much in common (musically, at least) with many other bands. Now that both those other acts are no more, do you feel the Ex is at all alone in what you're doing, that mix of chaos and order?
Sok: I have never given this much thought, to be honest, but i don't think we have ever felt alone. We meet a lot of people, artists from all over the place (musically and geographically), and from time to time you bump into people with which you feel something in common with, which inspire you. Not always necessarily musically, it can also be by the way they make films, write books, run restaurants...In fact, I believe there are a lot of people like us. Which I think is kinda great, because I kinda like people like us.
Interview: The Ex
Interview by Joshua Klein | Digg this article | Add to del.icio.us
Since 1979, the Ex have been conflating music and politics like few other bands. Without one there is not the other, and the heart of each of their many albums lies the spirit of protest and adventure. Indeed, the group has continually grown from its somewhat rudimentary roots to something more free form and exciting, incorporating everything from free jazz to African music into its unique assault, filmed for all to see in Jem Cohen's Building a Broken Mousetrap, which captures the Dutch band performing in the midst of the 2004 Republican National Convention in New York.
We caught up with Ex vocalist G.W. Sok via e-mail, which gave him plenty of space to espouse his viewpoints.
Pitchfork: Have you been to America much since Building a Broken Mousetrap was filmed? Did you or do you sense that the political tide might finally be turning?
Sok: The next time we went to the U.S. was in 2006, first in September for the 25th anniversary of Touch & Go Records, and later on in December for a tour with DJ Rupture. So yeah, two years later, with Bush and Cheney still in power and empty-handed concerning solutions for the problems they created. The political mood had definitely changed by then; it was obvious that the Bush administration was weaker than ever before. But this we already knew, since in Holland the media have always been keeping a big eye on U.S. politics anyway. The main difference with 2004 was that in 2006 fewer Republicans were supporting Bush, but our audience has never been Republican anyway, so for us, meeting who we met, there wasn't that much difference.
Although in 2004 the overall mood was much more paranoid, I think. Because of all that "if you're not with us you are against us" crap there was no proper way to say something as simple as "maybe this war in Iraq is not really such a good idea." Plus, the fact that time and again new lies of the Bush people were exposed-- I think people have finally enough of this. The big question is, of course, how could he get elected in the first place, and re-elected in the second? Unqualified as fuck, and still he gets away with it. The worst U.S. president during my time of life, that's for sure, and believe me, I'm not eight anymore.
Pitchfork: Do you think vocal European and international disdain for George Bush was at all responsible for the shifting political tide in America?
Sok: No, I think it has most and for all to do with the fact that a lot of people who at first agreed with the invasion on Iraq have started to realize that the direction Bush took is a dead end. Frankenstein created a monster which he couldn't keep under control. What was obvious from the start was that the Bush administration couldn't give a shit about international collective responsibility. They were very into an isolationist approach, with basically only lapdog Great Britain on their side. That doesn't work so well in the long run. The American people have realized that now. (And let's hope they won't forget again.)
Pitchfork: Europe has gone through some interesting changes itself in the past few years. On the one hand, it's still one of the more progressive regions in the world. On the other hand, the murder in Holland of filmmaker Theo van Gogh (and the controversy over in Denmark over those published cartoons of Mohammed) don't make Western Europe seem as safe a place for free expression as maybe it once was. Is this at all accurate, or are these two examples unusual exceptions? What parts of the picture are us Americans missing?
Sok: Ever since 9/11, the mood has changed quite a bit, and for the worst. The main cause for this change are the merchants of fear, who want to make us believe that Muslims are the new evil. By hammering on the assumption that all Muslims are terrorists who try to destroy our society, they make people feel so very scared that some have accepted any kind of freedom-lessening measure, as long as it makes people feel less unsafe. That's not only the case in the U.S., the same goes for Europe.
So, after 9/11, we had this "terrorist-Muslim-threat," but at the same time, next to that, in Holland we had this growing awareness that the so-called integration of new Dutch people (a lot of those that had come to live and work in our country originated from countries such as Turkey and Morocco, and a lot of them are actually Muslim) wasn't quite the success the state always had thought it was. The "new" Dutch didn't feel totally accepted, treated as second-rate citizens, and (parts of) the "old" Dutch suddenly believed that the new ones were trying to destroy our society.
Yes, there are some extremists among the Islamic people, but one can find extremists everywhere. If it were really a timebomb over here, than I think it would have already exploded straight after the murder of Theo van Gogh in 2004. But most people kept their calm instead. There are still problems, but most people are willing to work and solve these. Then again, Geert Wilders, a right-wing politician over here with an anti-Islam approach seems to have quite an effect. That is, if we look at the amount of publicity he gets in the media. Wilders refers to freedom of speech even as he states time and again that he wants to forbid the Koran. Seems like a big contradiction to me, but the main reason he is so focused on this topic is that he thinks it will gain him more votes in the next elections. But hey, these are the Netherlands, the lowlands, the flatlands, so this is mainly molehill/mountain territory.
Pitchfork: Do you feel that the political situation you and your band mates must hope for is at all attainable, or is compromise inevitable? Can moral conviction and compromise even co-exist?
Sok: For me, personally, it works a bit like this: I believe in freedom of speech, and at the same time I think that sometimes it can be worth it to not say something. In my opinion there is a sort of limit to that freedom, but where that limit exactly lies is open for discussion. As soon as there is no longer any discussion possible, than it has reached its limits and therefore freedom of speech will no longer exist.
That's same way I think about how we live our every-day existence. We strive towards a better world, but one can never do it without compromise. We can all change the world for the better, starting in your own little surroundings, together with people who believe in it, too. This way you can make it work and show others that it actually can work. That doesn't mean that everybody has to do it like you "or else..." If there is no compromise possible, then it turns into extremism, and I don't think that extremism ever added something positive to the world.
Pitchfork: Is music still an effective medium for protest? Has it ever been?
Sok: It can be, and at times it was, and still is, and, well, I'm no expert on this, but I think that the sheer fact that music can raise certain questions or put topics on the agenda has in itself already an effect. Just like any other art of cultural expression can do that-- books, films, photos, painting-- it can bring people together who share certain ideals, who don't find their ideas expressed properly, or even expressed at all, in the mainstream media.
On a small scale, I think it's clear enough: The music is part of the environment we live in, with our friends, our scene, our own cities, the state we live in. It is very recognizable, and so the protest part can have a very direct face-to-face impact. On a global scale I find it less easy to see if it works that well. I mean, "Do They Know It's Christmas" and all that...it makes my ears itch, because even when we assume it's well-intended, the fact remains that the music and text are crap and the artists are very much there to promote mainly themselves.
However, in the 1960s, people like Bob Dylan, his music and words were a threat to the society and mainstream of the time. It shook people alive, and directly and indirectly things changed. But, as I see it, the change is never through the music alone. It's also the circumstances around the music that will cause/create the effect. And sometimes it's just strictly accidental that a piece of music becomes a form of protest. "We Don't Need No Education" turned into the youth's war cry in South Africa's Soweto when the schoolkids went on strike. I don't think that was Pink Floyd's intention.
Pitchfork: Does the sheer presence of your music-- the volume, the dissonence, the rhythms-- overwhelm any message, or do you like that listeners have to dig to hear what you're singing? Can music by itself be the message? Ex music isn't all angry, but I think the average listener would come to the conclusion you're not terribly happy with the state of things before you even open your mouth.
Sok: We've never considered ourselves being "messengers." Through the music and words we express our thoughts and opinions and ideas. This is who we are. It is not always totally necessary for our audience to clearly hear and understand every line I sing. The power and impact, the positive energy of the music are as much part of the whole thing as the words. We are not trying to convert people, but we believe in our music and like to play it in front of other people, hoping that we can get them as excited as we are about our music. There is anger in it, true, and it can be noisy, but there's also humor, beauty, happiness, tenderness, surprise. So it might take a while to get used listening to it, but that's okay. We've already been around for a while and we're not in a rush.
Pitchfork: What do words like "punk" or "anarchy" mean to you today? And do they mean different things to you now than they did 30 years ago?
Sok: To me, the main idea of punk was do-it-yourself, which meant that you could basically do anything that you would wanna do. You don't have to wait to be allowed to do it. Anarchy was more or less about the same thing, so for me they were closely related. We still believe in the DIY aspect of it, but apart from that we don't really use the words punk and anarchy anymore. These terms are simply too confusing to explain what we are doing. From what I see, nowadays punk and anarchy are still connected with "fast loud music by smelly drunk chaos-people" and, yes, I know I'm over-generalizing here. So when the occasional venue still describes us as "anarchopunk" that's a real bummer, since it attracts an audience that expects a kind of music-- which we don't play-- and it keeps away another audience that actually might have liked it when they would have come. That's a pity, for both them and us.
Pitchfork: This is a big, sprawling one: Punk, and rock in general, is often very myopic. When people sing about "the world," they're (again, generally) focused almost entirely on the west and Europe. Sometimes South America. Sometimes Asia. But rarely Africa. The Ex, famously, is one of the few rock acts to travel and perform in Africa (which, as you know, may be home to more musicians than just about anywhere else in the world). Obviously, you felt the experience in Ethiopia was good enough that you've gone back more than once. How did it affect the way you think about music? How did it affect the way you think about people? What did you learn from going to Ethiopia that you never would have learned from, say, reading about Ethiopia?
Sok: When you travel to Ethiopia, out of pure curiosity the people in the streets, especially the kids, will always ask you two typical questions. The first one is "faranji (i.e. stranger), where you go?" and the second is "why you here?" Apart from being simply friendly, for the kids it is a good way to practice their English. So, when we said that we had come to play music, they replied: "But why? We already have music of our own..." Which is an interesting thought, we believe. They don't feel the wish or need to get invaded by or converted to so-called Western music.
At the same time, they are sincerely curious why you made the effort to travel thousands and thousands of miles to visit their country. For ourselves, we had no imperialist/colonialist thoughts whatsoever anyway. We had fallen in love with that amazing music form the 70s, Terrie had traveled there in 1996, and we had become friends with Ethiopians in Amsterdam, who had stimulated us to try and tour Ethiopia. We didn't go there simply as tourists. Partly for touristic reasons, true, because we wanted to get to know more of the country and its people and culture. But also partly because we wanted to make music there, and offer them our kind of music as a gift in return. We were not sure if they would like it or not, of course, because in most parts of the country nobody is used to Western music at all. There is no "rock-circuit," so to speak. We thought that Ex music only would be a bit too hard to swallow, so we played half our own music, plus half a set of Ethiopian favourites, songs they knew. We played at marketplaces, at the steps of theatres, stuff like that. And we played for free, since most people can't afford to pay. The effect was that there were loads of people who had never gone to a concert before, and apparently they had a great time, together with us.
That is the power that music can have, a wonderful tool of communication, together with the openness and warmth of the people. We may come from different parts of the world, with different backgrounds and cultures, but that doesn't necessarily have to make us hate or distrust each other. On the contrary, once you meet each other and find something in common, you realize they're basically not so different from us. You can read about that in a book, or in an interview [laughs] but when you actually go there yourself you will learn how true and rewarding that is.
Pitchfork: The Ex has evolved musically over the years, but you're still relatively unique. Aside from the Dog Faced Hermans (obviously) and maybe Fugazi, you never seemed to share much in common (musically, at least) with many other bands. Now that both those other acts are no more, do you feel the Ex is at all alone in what you're doing, that mix of chaos and order?
Sok: I have never given this much thought, to be honest, but i don't think we have ever felt alone. We meet a lot of people, artists from all over the place (musically and geographically), and from time to time you bump into people with which you feel something in common with, which inspire you. Not always necessarily musically, it can also be by the way they make films, write books, run restaurants...In fact, I believe there are a lot of people like us. Which I think is kinda great, because I kinda like people like us.