Thought Gang
Thought Gang

- Nightwork Productions, Inc. and the Concept of Noise -

Nightdrive. Frank is the dark side that stands on the side of darkness where the shadow shines. Frank wants to see everything destroyed, Frank is the blues of ruins. Frank understands the culture of public toilets and those are things no one teaches. He likes viruses, he likes chemistry, he enjoys this illness of his. He doesn't believe in it but he's here and no one asked for him, movies go to the background and inside himself is an empty room. When someone tries to tell him something beautiful, he doesn't even listen. He rummages through dumps, loots scrap yards, steals at construction sites, anything from his dump has a particular meaning. He throws his existence away as long as he can. He loves you, forget it. This is the time of the end, the end of time. Frank is for the collapse, dances the end of the world and doesn't mind it. Frank sees chaos coming and doesn't move away, he approaches it with the awareness that everything is about to be destroyed and after that, there will be nothing left. Frank is an impossibilist, Frank is an accelerationist. The system works, everyone still lives. They can't see it, but he knows who they are. Frank does a physically and emotionally exhausting job. During the day he keeps a microphone outside his window, recording the sounds produced by an ultrafast demolition company. The constant traffic generated by machines is his typical sound. Frank thinks it's modern to be neurotic, to be neurasthenic. Frank is not one thing. He is not gloomy in the classic sense, his destructive character is naturally cheerful and snickering. Frank points out that progress ends when the things created are already all destroyed. He goes to watch the construction of aseptic and optimistic buildings, destined in the short term to become ruins of the future. Frank hurls his daily dreams against the machine, the one that nails him down and forces him to its rhythm, he wakes up and dances with a European electric broom and falls in love with an American steel kitchen. Von Borsig & Adult Sex: radioactive sperm and expired condoms.
The Anti Zen, Philadelphia Atonal - 1986.

Nightsage at Motor & Machinery: Assembly. THOUGHT GANG is a band that has remained dormant and occult for over 25 years. In this quarter of a century, it has briefly appeared in compositions and fractions and in versions with different names in Twin Peaks: Fire Walk With Me and The Return, Inland Empire, Hotel Room, Mulholland Drive.
The Gang booked studio sessions to record some material, and then went there to do something completely different. This unique LP is metal music, a lesson-study of dissonance. Spoken voice over agitated white jazz, set in industrial, disharmonized, obstinate experimentalism, all obligatory. Organized bruitism.
Tom Waits meets Naked City as a panorama of an im/possible imagined parallel in a dreamt nightmare in the absence of Scott Walker in TILT. Music, the term in this context must be understood sarcastically and indirectly polemically. Just get on a console and start screaming at the wrong moments and the issue is already starting to find its solution. The singer can't sing, he gets on the microphone and starts rambling, a stupid thing, but they find it genius. Like the nails on the walls for the director and his paintings. The Thought Gang could perform in a factory, and if the audience helped themselves and were noisier than them and destroyed the building, that would be music. Industrial backgrounds, modern music that means nothing, shaping the everyday noises of the street into a deafening blues, with precise and distressing mismatches, dull and violent strokes beating with the regularity of a locomotive, tormenting sound waves from below, lacerating extractions from John Neff's mixers. The space between one blow and another must be the time one feels lost waiting for the next blow. The worse things get, the better they sound. For the instrumentals, the director will have given the musicians different types of scenarios to refer to for simulations: Bar downtown at night, 2 or 3 AM. A shootout, automatic guns, cars skidding and pickup trucks going out of Los Angeles. People driving in the desert and coming across aliens and space junk. Noises of a quietly quiet summer night, insects, breezes, mosquitoes, and from a distance, a thunderstorm approaching, and the downpour is a violent summer storm with thunder and flashes, that goes on and on, then calms and drifts away, restoring a humid silence. Then a black dog running and barking once in a night within a conversation devoid of logic and common sense, a revisitation to Stalin in this confused life where things have no real meaning. Meanwhile, Pete and the gray men were and are five billion miles away. Pete has learned to appreciate the gray men and their particular brand of humor. Brand of Humor, A Real Indication.
Bad News & Cult of Mood. Concerning the altogether, see the self, It's America!
Thought Gang is ultimately a Spiritual Commando that tends to isolationism and psychic communication. A paradox, a paranoia, a contradiction. A sentimental group for adults that stands between fire and the cadence of metal. Midnight Club Drums Complex compiling tapes of evening and confidential jazz.
The Thought Gang lures and then expels, requires spending time together to understand it's trying to be amusing, its redefinition of beauty occurs through the sublime destruction of the world. (Summer Night Noise).
Angelo Badalamenti, David Lynch, Reggie Hamilton, Tom Rainer, Gerry Brown.
With Vinnie Bell, Buster Williams, Grady Tate, the record is sequenced by Dean Hurley.
On the cover, a reworking of Two Chained Monkeys (here also illuminated).
Twee aapjes - BRVEGEL MDLXII. ℗ Designed Atonal Soundtrack.
BLUEBASE: Disruption - BLUEBOSS: Euphonix. © 2018, Sacred Bones Records.

Unrecorded Nights (Untitled No. 1). Frankie is in tears, Frankie works in a factory from seven to five, he does it to survive because life's things have gotten tough. Frankie can't earn enough, Frankie can't buy enough food. Eddie loves all the words that start with Z and conciseness, a quality that, according to him, is missing in modern philosophy. Elvis respected the terms of the contract. Excess, deterioration, self-destruction, extravagant behaviors, swelling of the physique, and a series of affronts to the brain, all self-inflicted. The doctor is midnight. Hubert is ultimately a romantic. He has one eye, one arm, one leg, but he's an artist of retribution and a connaisseur of all weapons. Hubert recognizes an orphanage mate from the look on the cover of a porn magazine. The lesson is the machine. Chordal harmonies and Marilyn Monroe is repeated three times and they love you, they love you so... Eddie thinks philosophical bank robberies don't hurt anyone, on the contrary, they thrill, entertain, stimulate the economy, and provoke reflections. Frankie cries, Frankie is in tears. Frankie is so desperate, Frankie takes a gun. Frankie lies in hell. Everyone lies in hell, everyone is Frankie.

Nightvokes. Frank is in 2000, Frank never wondered why the noise. Frank spits to the ground a brown crust of coffee, smoke, and dust. Frank certainly doesn't retreat to reality. But noise is a disturbance, a defect, an interruption of communication in transmission. How much noise does a human need? No living being needs so much noise, people make do with a melodious sound once they have something to eat. But the rehearsal room (Thought Gang) is like inside a mine, like the last bus stop, it's like under a very busy bypass placed exactly under the lintel of a highway. Cars, screeches, annoying humans. The Thought Gang is indifferent to chaos and lies between the antisocial effects of industrialization and a farewell to the nervous system, with blind people believing what they see, and deaf people believing what they hear. Sleepless metropolises, perennial lights that scream without respite, the symphony of the ambulance that makes them feel alive. But then silence that confuses and destabilizes them, like when on roads cleared from noise the overload of silence in the abstention from the din. Noise becomes a dictatorship, without it the modern being is lost, falls into a restless dull sound, saturated as it is by the permanent background noise that makes it sick and reassured, like with a psychomimetic drug that it has become dependent on. The thundering noise becomes a centrifuge that prevents it from looking inside itself and allows it to escape without confrontation with its own internal void. Losing the option of silence, agitated days become a sedative, a sort of dream in a Babylon that is not even perceived anymore, dazed in neo-uncontaminated states of substantial narcosis. Waking up in silence can only be brutal, the repose becomes violent. The silence you don't know what to do with, unaccustomed to activities that would require it. Silence that brings ghosts and questions on gray sleepless nights when you can't wait for it to pass to return to the convulsive damnations of every day to curse them again. But chaos is full of hiding places that everyone knows, where everyone wants to get lost. The Annoyance is the typical sound and chaos is the only creative principle of the universe, while Frank continues to live underground. The underground is dark, damp, pleasant, he lives there, closed to himself, safe. That is the dark, that is the silence, that is a womb, while, uselessly, the sun continues to shine. And still no answers for the path of knowledge that forbids happiness and that is paved with paradoxes, from this paradox. The merits of silence in deliriums of decibels at an overwhelming volume.
In the chaos of noise are hidden all the potential sounds that can become music.
Silence is the ultimate drone. Rain Down, HACKE.

[BLACK MAIL/Automatic, Revelation 9 - Ending Factory: Łódź]