"This is a Story of Dreams mixed with Reality".
When Marek first showed me Hans Richter's film 'Dreams that Money Can Buy" as a potential project, I knew from this introductory salvo that I was in. It's a difficult, deeply flawed film in many ways but it is also remarkable, extraordinary, ground-breaking, massively influential, comic and poignant in turns. It says things about Surrealism, film, art, the American Dream, dreaming in general and the emergence of therapy-practitioners as the new priestly elite, that hadn't been said before - and possibly haven't since. It captures the mysterious, confusing, meaningless-meaningfulness of Dreaming in a way that few films have - apart from perhaps David Lynch's work - and it's obviously no coincidence that Lynch himself has declared it as a major influence.
I've always been very interested in dreams myself. I can still remember some from childhood and, particularly a few years ago, I felt very guided by them - the decision to make music, the name of the band for instance were nocturnally inspired. I actually dreamed of Valentine before I met him.
And last Saturday evening, playing our score to the film in the Turbine Hall with David and Cibelle felt in many ways a Dream itself. The building now called" 'The Tate Modern' - in fact the old Bankside power station - was my favourite building when I first came to London. Martyn and Sophie from The Tiger Lillies were squatting in a little ancient decrepit building (now demolished) on the area near the west entrance. The giant empty hulk brooded as we crossed Blackfriars Bridge from St Pauls to come to see them. It was very quiet then - and there were rats. But the transformation is also wonderful and it was amazing to stand where the giant machines formerly rumbled and play our music with the giant images by Leger, Calder, Ernst, Duchamp et al flickering above us. If you came, Thankyou - and I hope it felt special to you - because it really did to us and I never would have thought three years ago playing that first reluctant show at the Horse Hospital, that we would be here now.
But then that, I suppose, is the power of Dreams.
Posted by clerkenwell kid at 11:57 am