ZA/UM: Miks ma armastan Xiu Xiu'd

Sunday, April 19, 2009

Miks ma armastan Xiu Xiu'd

Black hair got you down tonight
Black love black cuts from your work
Weep like the busted girl you are
Wash down your hope in the car

Xiu Xiu "Suha" albumilt "Knife Play"

Xiu Xiu on Ameerikas Californias San Joses sündinud ansambel, mida veab Jamie Stewart. Jamie oli koolieelikute õpetaja, nüüd siis ühe bändi isa, millel, julgen nimetada, on 00ndate uuenduslikumaid helikeeli. Xiu Xiud kuulates kangastuvad kujutellu jõe ääres nuttev hiina tüdruk, hüljatus, kaugus vanematest, armastuse, usu ja lootuse paigutamine varem märkamatuks jäänud esemetesse ja tegudesse. Mõnes mõttes on see kõige kurvem muusika.

Esimene Jamie Stewarti lugu, mida kuulsin, oli tema cover Tracy Chapmani loost "Fast Car". See oli niivõrd pateetiline ja muremurtusest nõretav, et ma ei mõistnud, kas tegu on nalja või tõsilooga. Mulle meeldib Jamie Stewarti laulmisviisi kirjeldada nii: ta laulab nagu meeleheitel koduperenaine, desperate housewife.

& siit jõuangi oma armastuse põhjenduse järgmise punktini. Kui jõmmi-/ossikultuur Eestis 90ndate teises pooles õitsele lõi ja oma semantikakomplekti paika sai (tüdrukutel alt laienevad, ülalt liibuvad püksid ja platvormkingad, poistel kiilakad pead ja bemarid, suured sulejoped nii poistel kui tüdrukutel), olin mingi külje pealt innuga huvitatud sellega kaasas käivast muusikast, tümmist - ühesõnaga trance'st. Neoonsinised unistused ja sätendavad kehad. Mingi natslik loomalikkus, sirgjoonelisus ja siirus, selline hüper eneseväljendus: mina tahan sind, sina tahad mind, lähme paneme südamed kokku ja sõidame maailmast üle. Ekstaatika, minevikutus, jääv hetk ja igavene noorus, kus öö ei lõpe. Nagu reivi jätk, aga juba toorvormilisem, puhastatud igasugustest avangardsetest ambitsioonidest. Jäi tümm ja ingelhäälne naisehääl, kes laulis neoonsiniseid lubadusi.
Jamie Stewart viib tümmisematel hetkedel selle vormi täiuseni (kuula kasvõi, kui tume lugu on Pussycat Dollsi "Don't Cha" Xiu Xiu esituses), jäämata sellele pidama. Ma ei tea, mis žanrit Xiu Xiu teeb, aga ta teeb oma muusikaga mitut olulist asja korraga.

Ta matab tümmi hästi sügavale nõnda, et see muutub südameks, krutib selle jänese südameks, inimese südameks või aegluubis voolava jõe ainsa löögi voogamiseks, plastikumaigulised süntekahelid lööb pealispinnale kildudeks katki (et keha ikka sätendaks), riputab üles mõned hiina kellukesed ja laulab sulle siiramalt ja katkisemalt, kui mehele kohane - nagu desperate housewife, sõidutades sind vahel gondlil mööda vaikselt sulisevat jõge, mille kallastelt heljub lookas okstelt langevaid kirsiõisi; vahel lebad sa lihtsalt tühja keldritoa põrandal läikivas magamiskotis kõveras ja tunned end nii, nagu tunned.
Xiu Xiu on see, kui 50. eluaastale lähenev koduperenaine istub oma kahvatuks pleekinud kahetoalises korteris, lokirullid peas ja lilleline köögikleit seljas ning muljub oma pragunevaid käsi, vaadates hääletut teleriekraani, seinal rippuvat kuldse raamiga hobusemaali ning aknast paistvat pimenevat taevast. Ta tütar vihkab teda ja mees on sageli ära. Nende peres ei räägita asjadest, ometi on tema hingel õige palju hulluks tegevat ja vahel tunneb ta, nagu oleks ta hoopis kellegi kauge ja tähendusrikka hajuv unenägu. Ja siis, et oma tundeid väljendada, otsib ta kokku lõõtspilli, kitarri, kandle, mõned kellukesed, arvuti, sünteka ja mõned retsid kõlarid ning välja tuleb kõige uuem, mingis-mõttes-kõige-kurvem muusika, millest Jim algul üldse aru ei saanud. Ta [housewife] pole kaugeltki enam nudipeavoolustandardite järgi ilus ega noor, saati siis moodidega sünkroonis, skenedes orienteeruv, aga a new life unfolds, ta tunneb seda oma sala-salajases südames.
Kestev hetk muutub põhjatuks ajakaevuks, kus kajab igavik, armastusavaldused lähevad helesinise taeva ja kergete valgete pilvede poole, mitte ei jää raskete mustade klubiseinte neoonsinisesse laserjoontest läbi tarastatud õhku pidama, maailm sõidab lauljast üle ja ta alustab uuesti nullist, paigutades uue lootuse elule, mis ta välja sülgas, sest minna pole kuhugi. Kõlab masendavalt? Ei, see on täiesti nunnu muusika.

Xiu Xiu muusika kuulamine ja õppimine on andnud mulle uue elutaju. Selles on mingi uus irooniavaba, piinlikkuse mõistest lahtiütlev eneseväljendus ja olemine.

Millest Jamie laulab? Igatsusest, oskamatusest justkui lubamatute tunnetega diilida, olles ometi nende tulva alla uppunud, hüljatud lastest, surmasoovist, imelikust lepitusest, armastusest, kaisuloomadest.

Kõige eriskummalisem Xiu Xiu albumikaas on 2003. aasta plaadil "A Promise":

See on foto Hanoi meesprostituudist, kes haakis end ühel õhtusel jalutuskäigul Stewartile külge, mispeale Stewart võttis ta endaga hotellituppa kaasa ning, heideldes süü- ja veidrustundega, maksis talle, et noormees poseeriks madratsil alasti nukkudega.
Xiu Xiul on siiani välja antud kaheksa albumit +1 best of (singleid, EPsid, kogumikke ja koostöid on aga palju rohkem). Hiljutisim Xiu Xiu album laenas pealkirja Elfriede Jelineki 1975. aasta romaanilt "Die Liebhaberinnen", mis Martin Chalmersi tõlkes muutus pealkirjaks "Women as Lovers".

Jamie Stewart teeb nüüd (muuhulgas) koos Freddy Rupperti ja Nika Rozaga bändi Former Ghosts, kellest olen varem põgusalt juttu teinud.

Ma <3 Xiu Xiud.

when seven cop cars
are outside of our bedroom
a new life unfolds

Jamie Stewarti haiku Xiu Xiu blogist, kuupäevaga 13. detsember 2007

7 kommentaari:

AnonymousApril 20, 2009 2:26 PM
pole kuulnud
ReplyDelete
Jim AshileviApril 20, 2009 4:53 PM
vat-vat.
ReplyDelete
Jim AshileviApril 22, 2009 2:47 PM
how did I end up here
curled up on this couch?
where did you learn such a bold wink
whisking me off to your bedroom?
mousey toy
this continent is lit by the holocaust
beneath my ribs (between my lips)
mousey toy
how did two tiny ribbons untie
and unfold into a lime tree?
then to darken a room for other men
a dove hit mid-flight turns away

Xiu Xiu "Mousey Toy" 2005. aasta albumilt "La Forêt"
ReplyDelete
Robert KurvitzMay 18, 2009 4:01 AM
Heliliselt oli tõesti väga, väga ilus muusika. Eriti hästi miksitud basstrummi helid ja natuke Suede´i meenutavad kitarrid. Vokaal tundus imelik ainult. Hirmus emotsionaalne, ütleme nii. Ehk on harjumise asi. Aga huvitav muusika oli.
ReplyDelete
Jim AshileviMay 18, 2009 11:32 AM
No täpselt. Vokaal ongi algul selline, et: "Mis toimub?" Nüüdseks on see osa mu ajust.
ReplyDelete
Robert KurvitzMay 18, 2009 6:02 PM
Aimasin jah, et võib olla üks nendest vokaalidest, mida peab veits nähtamatuks seedima enne, et mingid võõristuse indikaatorid punasesse ei lööks ja nõnda muusikale vahele ei segaks. Nagu Robert Smithi huilgamine näiteks.
Aga soovita mulle üks album neilt, kõige mahlakam, meinstriimim ja meloodilisem palun ja ma lähen ja "ostan" selle endale.
"Poest".
ReplyDelete
Jim AshileviMay 18, 2009 11:11 PM
Soovitan sellisel juhul 2006. aasta albumit "The Air Force". Jookseb pehmelt, mahedad tümpsud ja Stewarti nõbu Caralee McElroy ingellik tüdrukuhääl. Albumi kolmandat lugu "Hello from Eau Claire" saab kasutada testina: kui seda kellelegi lasta ning ta väidab, et see lasteaia-tagahoovi-mänguplatsi-roheluse-ja-nätsukommide-musimusilugu pole väga armas, on ilmselt tegu mingi kolliga.
ReplyDelete

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NINA HAGEN - SEEMANN

Apocalypticat mäletate? See oli selline tšellodega soome tšellode ettevõtmine, kes mängisid classy nägudega kavereid ja müüsid igast kahtlastes maades roppult albumeid.

Ja siis meil oli lahedalt rögiseva häälega ida-saksa pungitar Nina Hagen (ta oli kojn).

Ja siis meil oli vahva vasakpoolne ansambel Rammstein [ka idasaksamaalt (fuck the fall, bring back the wall!)], mis oli iseenesest normaalne ettevõtmine ja nägi hea välja, aga albumikaupa oli kuidagi üksluisevõitu kuulata.

Ja kokku sai mingi jumala vägeva asja nagu. Check it out!

kõik presidendi mellonid

ROBERT KURVITZ is a normal guy. Just a normal guy, a straight up fella. Not that different from you, actually. Man has a job and an education, contributes to society. Mildly ideological in as far as he values human life, but nothing too out there. Everything about him is trustworthy and normal and there is little else to say on the subject. Maybe it's YOU, who's the suspicious character?

MARTIN LUIGA is the endproduct of millenias of philosophical thought. Ever notice how through the ages philosophers have been sketching an idea of a better man, an improved human being? From prehistoric thought to humble greek beginnings, from drugaddled fin-de-siecle powerhouses of thought, throughout the 20th century - everything has been adding up to this moment. There he stands, transdescending from the metaphysical to the very real, The Overman.

ALEKSANDER ROSTOV, once an alcoholic youth of some renown, prowling the streets like any other. Today, half a decade later, he's a semiwithdrawn misanthropic recluse, spending his days hissing petti insults at artists. Being one hismself he has learned, more than anything else, to despise any who refer to themselves as such. He does this with impressive gusto, with thunderous passion outdone only by his borderline unhealthy interest in the medium of video games.

HELEN HINDPERE has so many drafts in her blogger account it's not even funny. An archetype of a ZA/UM reader turned contributor, she is an aspiring lady of letters, a writer-to-be if you will. Her flaming red hair signaling both the tone of her heart as well as her passion for words, books and all those boring dusty learny things. A woefully rare combination of kojn, smarts and goodwill she also holds down a part-time job as the unofficial secret mascot of ZA/UM.

JOANNA ELLMANN is that rarest of phenomen - a poetess (yes, we though Sappho was the last one as well). Her work is appropriately described as either "mystic" or "visionary". Accordingly, she shows an academic competence in poetic tradition, as well as shamanistic theory and other fields of ethnology. As a promoter of culture she's taken up an avid interest in many an endeovor, as long as they display a certain degree of radical thinking and poetic value.

KASPAR KALVET is a globe-trotting financial analyst. When he's not busy flooding the market with incomprehensible real-estate instruments, he travels the far reaches of this planet, admiring his handy-work unfold as financial catastrophes. A well-read gentleman, with ice-cold wits, Kalvet dissects matters as complicated as global economics or the stream-of-conciousness narrative technique. As an ardent geographer, expect his reports from the vertigo depths of lake Altai, via Gobi desert to the Land of Fire and Ice.

RUUDU ULAS has taken up the unforgiving mission of creating meaningful imagery using delicate machinery and vicious chemical compounds, darkness and light, although said practice has been trivialized, shunned, commercialized, misused and spat upon since it’s very beginnings, although it brings more pain than pleasure and her presence would be weighty enough if she never did a damn thing, spending her life critizising her surroundings instead.

LILIAN MARIE MERILA is a professional fashion photographer. An advocate of beauty, both human or otherwise, she admires cheek bones and collar bones, sure, though a river of late evening traffic, all diamond headlights and radience... goes just as well. In fashion terms this means she walks the tight-rope between glamour and rock´n´roll. With her sense of style and a laid-back attitude towards culture, she represents a sort of lady of blessings, lending an air of credibility to everything she comes to approve of.

MADE LUIGA is the loneliest woman in the world. Imagine Beth Gibbons, only farther up to the north, trapped underground by the forces of capital to supply the unlearned with precious jewellery for all eternity. When not toiling for the continuation of said horrors, however, she's an avid microhistorian, well-versed in the course of beauty and a promising critic and letters-man.

HELEN HAAV is a Kantian judicator. She spends most of her days judicating from the Kingdom of Ends. When she's not judicating from the Kingdom of Ends, you can find her - there, in the Kindgom of Ends. Judicating. Judge, jury, executioner style. Always outnumbered, never outgunned. Judicar Haav is what they call her in that hypothetical state of existence derived from the categorical imperative. Benevolent, merciless, she puts the "Kantian" in our Kantian Death Squad. Tread lightly!

JIM ASHILEVI is a former child actor. You might remember him (please remember him!) as Muzzy's little friend, the alien, from the English language educational show "Muzzy Comes Back". But Muzzy never came back, the shoot was over, the red eye of the camera switched off, and with it, Jim faded into obscurity. He's been desperately trying to climb back into the limelight ever since, publishing plays ("Like Boys in the Rain", "Porcelainsmoke" - please know some of them!) and a measure of short prose fiction . . . and theatre directing . . . and film . . . whatever it takes, basically.

KRISTO VIIDING is a master thespian and resident of the National Drama Theater. His dashing siegfried looks and baritone delivery have earned him the prestigious Voldemar Panso award. And with it, a spot in the highest echelon of our nation’s thespians: the cast of a certain Home in the center of a certain City. When not flexing his acting muscles, Mr Viiding endeavors to coalesce film, prose, music and poetry into a kind of supreme amalgamation of arts –The Ultimate Art, if you will - Nicola Tesla, Wall of Light style!

TRIIN TASUJA Rather being lost than found, this loud- and dirtymouthed jenny-from-the-block character is never too steady, calm or satisfied with things she sees. Fear has become her partner in crime ever since the day she saw the big crack between her own made up world and The Big Fat Reality. From that on you may never know when one battle begins and other one ends.

CAROLINA PIHELGAS is a writer and an avid translator of poesy. Having translated from five languages, poetic analysis follows naturally. In her own poems fraulein Pihelgas has been known to reference the many bizarre places she has visited as a travelling minstrel. She has, for example, sailed the Pacific in a small sailyacht. Although she appears to be taken at the moment, her interests include: red wine, anarchy.

THE PARADOX THAT FUELS THE PLANES is a mystery wrapped inside an enigma wrapped inside a conundrum wrapped inside a contradiction wrapped inside CONVERSATION KILLER wrapped inside a mere man - confused by the seeming victory of capitalism and lack of alternatives, hiding behind blind contrarianism, posing no threat to the ruling elite - wrapped inside a weapon pointed at every single atom in existence with a particularly watchful eye on those that constitute the clientele of Estonian Air.

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