Finally I *really* understand Warhol or "How I Became a Factory" by Jeremy Samuel Gluck “By the term "creativity" I refer

to a type of movement or change which is manifest only in living things, but is characteristic of them. It is productive of new form and order, of increasing variety or differentiation of form together with increasing elaboration and combination of forms, of increasing harmony, order and efficiency. It is this characteristic feature that marks the growth and behaviour of living things as to some degree spontaneous, proceeding apparently from an internal dynamic and not merely from the external processes of the environment. And it is because of this characteristic spontaneity and creativity of living things that we are ready to recognize in their growth and behavior some degree of freedom from the otherwise omnipotent environment.” – “Freedom and Creativity”, A. Campbell Garnett, Presidential address delivered before the Fifty-Ninth Annual Meeting of the Western Division of the American Philosophical Association at Saint Louis University, May 4-6, 1961. “project by UK-based musician, author, lyricist, producer, writer, philosopher, and artistic madman -jeremy gluck- is musical buried treasure that refuses to be labelled. fascinated by the dynamics and skewed spirit of cyberspace, Datawhore creates lateral mutant sound collages that aspire to capture the energy of cyberspace. Datawhore can rock-out like Sonic Youth, deliver tweaked-out mind altering soundscapes, or cramp the dancefloor with hynotic techno.” – Mannequin Oddio online archive entry “’Do easy' is a way of doing. It is a way of doing everything you do. 'Do easy' simply means doing whatever you do in the easiest most relaxed way you can manage which is also the quickest and most efficient way, as you will find as you advance in DE.” - The art of 'Do Easy', William S Burroughs essay 1. Freedom of Creativity Now there are a thousand things I can do. Once were a hundred. After rock’n’roll, me The Barracudas, though we never gave up on each other, I bought my first PC, a fire insurance payoff Olivetti 486-DSX. I was regaining altitude after years flagellating myself for “failure”. Lack of profit hadn’t corrupted my motive, but I felt bad for fallow years not into the black on the back of my patent genius. I didn’t mind taking thirty pieces of gold; I just couldn’t find anybody to pop for it. I survived my sanity foisting on it a formula to the tune that, sale or no sale, the artist’s “aspiration to greatness” conferred upon his strivings validation sufficient to offset unpaid rent and shopping at Iceland. They were lean times, I knew, but I was leaner. This thin man had found his ballad. The way I saw it – and still do – was that commercial success and recognition (fame is too much of a reach and anyhow now who wants it? Am I Jordan?) were king fixes but in their absence the contact high had to be simply the satisfaction of creating. In the act resided dignity and validity. No more suicide missions of the self-esteem. I create therefore I am. Because it pleases me, isn’t that what God had told me? In the same way I pleased myself, crafting a small bespoke planet populated by my ideas and output, and with all the improvised glory of the Maker’s uneven effort. Now God and I finally understood each other: I’d do what I liked and get away with it, and He’d keep His mouth shut. It worked nice.

The 486, that battleship grey grotesque, became my primary playmate. In the oncoming twilight of my marriage, with my prospects only what I imagined them to be, the machine never let me down. Bouts of mania fuelled everyday obsession to heavy heights, the joystick of invention through my head like a novelty Indian arrow headset. I had arrived… where? The net blew it all up again. The computer let me compose, hack collages of whatever, but for the first time I didn’t need pesky “musicians” nipping my heels. I was representing myself all alone, and it felt right. I was enabled, by the machine. I’d become its human extension; the operating system of the masses indeed. The net took it and threw it all in the air and when it came down what I read in the pattern told the fortune of a generation just coming of fragmented minds. About that time (1998?), intoxicated by fledgling exposure to Napster and the first wave of free – oh, sorry, pirated – music, the term “freedom of creativity” came to me. This was what I had waited for all of my professional and personal life as a creator: the moment when the products of creativity began to flow back and revert to their original 0value pure state: energy, inspiration, creation. Deprived of their ability to make money, things were being brought to a place where they had to be valued for themselves alone. Yes, mediocrity and volume would have their day, but in a very real sense now creativity had been set free. I loved and still love making and giving away pieces of my soul. Yet my adventures in sharing were only beginning. The machine had made me, it could remake me. 2. Ten years after. About a years ago, well into my amazing journey with Canadian poet michael dent , whose words and voice had reactivated my interest in my work as Datawhore, my nom de loop by then kinda well known to the online underground electronic community, I got tired again. Creating my album with michael, "Div Joyvision" was a fantastic experience and a privilege to bring to some people a real talent of my own discovering. It took a lot of time and ideas and energy, and I was tapped out. Couldn't let it go, though. I needed a way to make it last, milk it and expand it. For a while I had been active on Tapegerm, a thriving loop community. The standard of work there is very high and the buzz tangible. I decided, sceptical of my chances, to post an archive of files for "When I Die" from the "Div" album and wait and see. I expected nothing. Shortly, remixes began to materialise. Amazing remixes. michael had worked with Bad Seeds mainstay Mick Harvey; he ended up doing one. Eric Debris of legendary Paris punk pioneers Metal Urbain did one. I uploaded more archives. More remixes flowed in. I began to see the power and beauty of this idea. How it reinvents your work through others. I was always two people. Now I could see I can and will - must - become a dozen, more, a thousand, a legion. I'm wasn't lonely anymore. 3. I remain in the middle of a creative buzz greater than I've known in years, fuelled by remixing mania based at Soundcloud and Tapegerm, and other places, across

numerous projects. One already launched is under the stewardship of Marty Thau, famed Red Star Records founder; it’s attracted mixes of a song he co-wrote with Suicide's Martin Rev, "Whisper", and which I performed with my former partner Kate McEwan. Remixers include Richard Citroen, who masterminds Lola Dutronic; Amurgit, a rising UK-based guy with a deft touch; Dub Gabriel, who doesn't mix so much as invent; Brendon Moeller, whose work is already esteemed from top to bottom of the club scene and way's quite a ride. Then there is my Carbon Manual project, with two guys from Bristol, Iain Weir and Cliff Gee. Amurgit and Brendon have remixed our stuff; out there are a dozen more treatments, some randomly generated by skimming Soundcloud, especially H.R. Toad, who I listened to ten seconds, recruited, and is now a stalwart team member. I am understanding the principle of Warhol's Factory at last: vicarious production and creative projection. The talented people I am privileged to work with are generous, engaged and committed. Dave Fuglewicz, Lenore Herb, Michael Cosma, The Strone, Robot Porn, Deerpark, more and more. The list is long and each person is a facet, each mix is something new. It's a magnetic and addictive process as what you do becomes more exciting than what I do. And the work, the mixes and music is everything. Which is how it should be. Surrendered to my function. Continue. Finally I *really* understand Warhol or "How I Became a Factory". Due to the very nature of the 'net and its supraddictive qualities, the remix river remains in flood. It's totally weird what people hear in your shit: I would never have expected any mix, but when I hear it I know right away that it makes sense and forces the song into a new, more challenging shape. It's impossible but real how many things you can make when you don't handle the process yourself. Remixing is adoption, making orphans, construction from the centre. I'm happy to admit that I can't operate the machines the mixers can. The less I become the more I am. Giving away is the same as taking. I don't believe in karma or cause and effect; I believe in chaos and effect, and remixing is one light bulb in that direction. I used to be a member of a band, but my band is now dismembered. We exist in a master schematic locked down by somebody more responsible than I. Meanwhile, the remixing grinds on like a ten dollar whore holding a sale. Video gets thrown in too, Internet Archive the never-ending clearance of what you can see. I also like the boredom of it all, and this is another point of access to the fabulous Warhol meh-trix. The remixes roll off the line like cold car parts, and little by little all sound the same. I am heading with them, for Sound Zero. Yes. Sound Zero where the bozo Benetton behemoth of bent dream coinage rattles down and out the refund chutes. I, a badly written human, am now overwritten by cooler heads, bodies with fingers. And I hear a new mix, by some random person I hit on at the dead bar of the lonely online bust, and I am grateful to be diminished. For am I not here only to remain in those people and their mangling of what I thought important of me? I can trust them to make me anything I want and they are; to reinvent me a genius. I can take credit. I can enjoy the attention. The remix was made for post-people like me, the ones ready to become what they are.

Welcome you’re my I-mare...

Try this @ home: 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. Go to Tapegerm, join the play, and snarf up some loops. Hit Free Sound Project and herd some samples. Get a decent freeware studio like Audacity and multi-track your junk. Have fun. Anything goes. It doesn’t belong to anybody but you can make it yours. Upload the result to Tapegerm, zip the files into an archive and blog it for remixing. 6. Get an account at Soundcloud or, better, Bandcamp and package your sound. 7. Harvest the remixes. One becomes two, then four. Done easy… 8. Surrender to your function. Continue. Take my life, please: iTunes compilations, remixes, Jeremy Gluck, michael dent and a cast of dozens: Recollage One Recollage Two Gluck-dent “When I Die” archived to go – just undo it. The original mix(es) reside @ Tapegerm. When I Die Remix Archive

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