Sculptress - Mysterious Intentions and Chaplets of Tones

Mats Gustafsson – profiles

UK ensemble Sculptress evolved from the remnants of A Warm Palindrome, one of the most criminally overlooked bands on the planet. This outfit explored a new kind of music in the late ‘90s and early ‘00s through putting disparate sound elements together in a fragmented and hallucinatory but well-functioning aural body. With a skeleton containing equal amounts of heavy guitar spectacle, sampler effects, electronic manipulations, flowing drones and unexpectedly excellent folk instrumentation Phil Todd, Anthony Joinson, Daz Kirkland, Mikarla Jarvis and Andy Jarvis probably were a few years too early for the whole “free folk” movement. To some extent I’d say that Sculptress (including Joincey, Mikarla Jarvis, Melanie Delaney, Andy Jarvis) kicks off at the same mysterious place where their forefathers left off.

Sculptress is a band that didn’t completely win me over instantly, but as any seasoned fan of weird sounds can tell you, that’s usually a good thing. The growers tend to strike the deepest. Their strangely fractured folk/noise/drone-scapes have become a permanent fixture on my sonic horizon recently. It’s not a sound easily described or enjoyed, but it’s remarkable and utterly original at the same time. To see what keeps these highly imaginative, experimental UK musicians going we contacted Joincey, Mikarla, Andy and Mel for the chat that follows.

How did Sculptress come to be?

Joincey: Just by happy enough accident, I suppose, necessity. Andy and I had recorded a lot together before, well, quite a bit...there was a pub in Stoke, a friend of ours - I don't suppose he was our friend at the time, and I no longer see him - he wanted to crush some of the pathetic apathy towards music and creativity in that town, he started organizing gigs. He asked Andy to play at one of them, having heard his solo stuff. I think I wanted in on it, and Andy had no interest in trying to play gtr by himself on stage so it was suggested we do something together. Sculptress had been on my “mind” for a while and seemed to fit well enough. We wanted to be more umbrella-like and have more of a casual, floating line-up but there were hardly talented, willing players falling over themselves to get to us in such a place. We didn’t really travel. But, anyway, Mel made herself indispensable, and Mik’s previously obvious talents seemed too good to waste. We spent a lot of time trying to be, to not be, a rock band maybe. It settled on the four of us about a year ago, I guess only now are we happy with it, after the release of the CDs. There’s still a fuck of a long way to go really. I doubt I / we all will die seeing the surface scratched! We’re pretty fucking slow. But that suits me, generally. There’s a lot of ground to cover, be nice to have a decent representative body of work. Is that a terrible thing to say, to “want”? and , “nice”? I can't let myself be frustrated by our sloth; it’s good, too much comes too soon, too often. My mind works too slowly, there are too many other bands, we live too far away from each other [and are too poor to afford regular travel] to work any faster.

Andy: Joincey already had the name Sculptress. It was to be a band that would be him plus “guests”, ideally a different one each time, (Stoke legend Tunny was mooted be included at some point). I have 4 track tapes that Joincey gave me with the name Sculptressss on them that is just him solo that I was supposed to add to. I never got round to it.

My sister Mikarla was visiting Stoke so she and myself were asked to “do something” round at Joincey’s flat in Penkhull in early 2002. In a tiny tiny room, we recorded “Comb”. My sister sang and played violin, I played gtr and Joincey played bass and provided lyrics. It was good. A “proper” song almost, completed very quickly. Although all was happy with the end product no other plans were made really and Sculptress seemed to be destined to became another project that was doomed to languish on a tape somewhere, in a box, in a cupboard (in a ditch).

A little while longer a record shop had opened by a man called John Owen. The shop was the converted living room at the front of his house, and was called The Music Room. On my first visit he mentioned that he was putting some gigs on at a pub called The Talbot Hotel. There appeared to be a concerted effort to make these gigs real events, something sadly lacking in the area.

Leeds based label Fencing Flatworm had previously put out a CD-R of some of my older solo stuff (Thread). John heard this and asked me to play a gig. The idea frankly scared me rigid. I asked Joincey if he would help. He proffered that the venture be called Sculptress. Although musically a duo for the first couple of gigs, Melanie Delaney was integral from the start. Initially she provided projected visuals of her films then said casually one day that she played the clarinet, so she joined in a musical role as well. Others have come and gone (Bazooka Jim, Pascal, Andy Robbins) but now we are a “stable” four-piece: Joincey//Mel Delaney//Mikarla de Oliveira//Andy Jarvis.

Mel: I met Joincey, Jarvis and Robbins through a band night called The Music Room. I’d just finished my fine art degree in Stoke and wanted to stay in the area and continue with making art. However, I was very aimless, just slipping in and out of crap jobs. This enigmatic character called John O started the Music Room, where he put on bands and musicians he admired. It rejuvenated the Stoke music scene a great deal, because eventually everyone who had “unusual” tastes in music gathered around it, people who’d never met before started collaborating. It was a real learning experience for me, far more than university. I started taking photos of the earlier gigs, and designed some of the posters. John O knew I made films, so he asked me to do some “visuals” for a gig, which Jarvis and Joincey played as Sculptress. I think he imagined it like a “happening”, a “Plastic Exploding Inevitable” but it was far from that.

I remember the first time we met being very tense, as I had to ask Jarvis to help me move the projector from my house before the gig. We drove up there in Jarvis’s car, hardly spoke 2 words, and I felt guilty asking them to help, when I hardly knew them. The only time anyone spoke it was Joincey saying he needed to go to Kwik Save and get Pringles. It struck me as an odd priority, only later I realised he needed the Pringles tube for the gig, to get feedback! Joincey came to see me play in a band called One Bar Fire, with a guitarist called Deej and a musician called Dan Hopkins (makes music as hl, runs a label called nogroundprocesses). We only played that one gig, then Deej moved back to Bath. I have no idea what we sounded like or what the hell we were doing. Not sure what Joincey got out of that gig, but for his own mysterious reasons he asked me if I would do some overdubs of clarinet on a Sculptress recording. It was like I was there in a session capacity at first, we’d go round Joincey’s lovely flat each week, drink some strong coffee, and they’d play me what they’d done, then I’d noodle something out over the top of it. They seemed pretty happy with it, I liked the setup, more importantly for me I liked hanging around with them and it kind of clicked from the start. The first bit of clarinet on “We Don’t Have a Thing” is the first thing I ever played with them, which always makes me feel strange when I hear it.

Whenever a new person played on the recordings I think the guys tried to get them to integrate more permanently into the Sculptress sound, sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn’t so well. Jarvis in particular was very responsive to any ideas I might have, unfortunately, I didn’t really have m/any ideas about music at the time!

Could you tell us the story behind the chosen band name? What does it mean to you?

Joincey: Originally there was just the two of us, two guys, trying to...I was aware of trying to make feminine art. I wanted us - the two of us blokes - to want to be a woman making real art, but obviously, we would fail, we are not one person, one woman, one talented woman, one talented woman using her hands to hone bronze. It’s partial wish fulfillment, projection. Let me be a woman. Not a woman per se, just…something else. I suppose a lot of band names just get chosen because they sound kool or disrespectful but I aren’t interested in that; we are pretty much serious about our mysterious intentions [even if we aren't sure what they are].

Obviously, gender identity - any identity thing - is a topic of much potential fascination. I mean, it’s pretty obvious - we aren't a “sculptress”. Maybe eventually to accomplish complete fulfillment I will only be satisfied when we number only one, maybe Mel on stage wielding lumps of clay. Of course, the later inclusion of her and Mik into the band alter the meaning somewhat...it's only a name, after all.

Even though I definitely consider myself a Sculptress fan it’s really extraordinary how little I know about you guys. Why do you think that's case? Are people listening?

Joincey: Well, we’re here, I guess our audience is small. It’s funny that a lot of people seem to have managed, via CD-R technology and the NET maybe? to get on a bit, get noticed, notoriety. I am not sure I want that, it’s hard enough for me to process toasting a bagel. I would like more response, a greater audience, but it isn’t so much to think about. Sometimes it’s natural to spend a lot of time, effort making something and then want it to be seen, for it not to just have been. An ego-wank, or something enters into debate.

Andy: It’s safe to say that we as a “band” are not the pushiest of people really, I guess this is the answer. There are people listening, yes.

Mel: Well, the fact you’re asking us these questions means someone must be listening, even if its only you! We’re just waiting on that call from Instal or No Fun Fest, and when it comes I’m sure we wouldn’t say no, commitments allowing!

How does Sculptress relate to the criminally overlooked work of A Warm Palindrome? It seems like you guys were a few years too early for the whole "free folk" movement. Do you agree?

Mik: A Warm Palindrome was where Andy, Joincey and myself first started playing together as a group, so I guess the years we spent doing that have given us the experience of writing music together and blending all our unique styles. Although the music and band set-up is quite different to A Warm Palindrome, it has definitely influenced Sculptress in some way.

Andy: Hmm, not sure. Palindrome was an attempt at “song form”. Short length improvised pieces (solo, duo, trio, full band...ad. inft.). No retakes. Started off in the beginning as usual noise stuff then combining acoustic instruments seemed to put a nice spin on it and change the focus slightly. Adding vocals seemed to “complete” many pieces. Stringing three or four “songs” together to make longer more interesting pieces seemed to work also. I was aware of an early 7” by Tower Recordings, but apart from that I can’t say I was hearing much else similar to what we were doing at that time. Some great stuff still sadly unreleased. These ideas amongst others have (I think) definitely fed into Sculptress. Major reference point for me is Gilbert/Lewis/Dome/Kluba Cupol etc. Stretching song form to the limits. Very inspirational.

Sculptress seems to brilliantly search for (and find) genre conjunctions well outside explored territories. How much of it is the product of improvisation and how much is planned?

Joincey: I certainly aren’t interested in searching for genre bending...I find that quite difficult to answer, because the journey starts here, it’s all yet to do. We've hardly started to achieve anything really. I am sure even if you asked that question after another 10 records were done, I’d struggle to answer. For sure, intellectually rubbing styles that ought to be incongruous together interests me not one jot, I doubt I’d even recognise it. There’s a sense - obviously - of what and what isn’t appropriate together but it’s more to do with [that wooly concept of] feel, what feels right - what feels wrong, wrongright. When we record there’s always someone says “this is great, needs to be followed by” a clarinet or whatever - and it seems obvious and right so I have to question that – “no , it needs a bell or a fart or a big drum solo”, but I suppose sometimes needs must and you're happy enough to trust to accident, let it go. Get taps on your shoes and get gone. I [I cannot say “we”!] am not talented enough to be some sort of “control freak”.

We plan and improvise in about equal measures, but we don’t think of it like that, at least, I don’t. It’s more about the end than the means. But, that doesn’t mean plans… what I’m saying is we don’t call ourselves, improvisers - players even.

Mik: I would say that it’s all improvised on some level. For example, one of us could record something improvised and then we decide to add something else, which is then improvised and then something else and so on. So, although there is some intermittent planning going on in terms of instruments to use or an idea of the sound, what we play is improvised. We all have different musical backgrounds and ideas, which sometimes are so completely different that a track may appear to have been meticulously planned but really it’s just that our individual improvisations come from different places/times/cultures.

Mel: Most of the early gigs were loosely improvised, we’d set up parameters of what we were going to play, what instrumentation and what sequence we’d play stuff in, and we’d have “rehearsals”, but on the night it’d always seem to go off at a tangent. I mostly put this down to my own inexperience, and inability to remember what I’d played, or hold down any riff or rhythm for longer than eight seconds.

There was one completely improvised gig, which was fantastic, and we tried to do this a few times, but it never really worked so well again. I think we all wanted to move towards a less indulgent, more constructed sound. There’s a sense that improvisation wasn’t satisfying enough, not enough of a challenge. In a recorded sense, everything stems from improvisation, but it’s a recreation of something we’ve jammed. It’s much easier having Mik there, because as well as her boundless enthusiasm, being very talented classically, she can work out keys and transposition, which I haven’t got a clue about. Of course a lot of the time we’re not in any key!

Sculptress for me is just about playing what sounds “right”, without thinking about how it fits into a particular idiom. That’s why there’s so many unusual elements slamming up against each other in the music. It’s not about being reverent to a tradition or a lineage (and I think many musicians are more reverent than they would care to admit). That’s why I think it’s misguided to bracket this music as “free folk”. You might as well call it “free hip-hop”.

There is so much fractured beauty in your music that I often tend to come back to the landscapes when writing about it. How important is this side of things and your geographical location for you as a person and as a musician?

Mik: Perhaps not now, but definitely in the past my location has had and still has an effect on me and my music. I’ve spent years abroad living in a different culture and learning different music and instruments which influences how I play. I often think back to places I’ve seen when I’m playing so that can have an effect too.

Andy: I don’t think it makes that much difference where you are. As we are quite scattered about the country we all have different “landscapes” (if you will) to look at so there is no unified “outlook” as such. “The influence of living in Northern Cities with declining local industry and utter ignorance. Discuss.”

Mel: The others will completely disagree with me, but I think this music is very much of its geographical placing, but not in a landscape sense. I don’t mean that makes it parochial, I just think it’s beautiful that this music couldn’t have come from anywhere else. It’s just the fact that the English Midlands have never had this strong stereotypical identity in the way Manchester or Yorkshire or London does. No one thing characterises them, no one says what a Midlander is meant to be like. Left to their own devices, without a regional axe to grind, anything can happen, and it usually does! One thing that made me laugh is Phil Todd telling me how in the seventies “Stoke was a Hawkwind town”! It made me think of giant eagle shaped rockets flying through rainbow skies past the brick kilns and toilet factories, but I think it just boils down to a lot of dirty Status Quo look-alikes slobbing around. I think there’s a sort of musical ley-line that runs from Cardiff through Bristol to Derby to Leeds, and up to Glasgow via Blackpool and Newcastle. We tap into that in some way, you always feel connected to it.

A Sculptress track can go from something quite sweet and accessible to something very far out in seconds. Does any member or members bring that more damaged sensibility to the sound?

Joincey: Mik tends to do the melodic stuff, she can play. She doesn't like noise and has sensitive ears; I am pretty [more than] comparatively deaf. Our balance of power alters subtly...sometimes I feel I am solely responsible, but it's more often Andy who has the “final” say as he mixes everything. Last year Mik seemed to become much more in control which worried me momentarily - losing the rudder, but I accepted it very quickly. The 3rd thing which, as we speak, we intend to get underway / completed - may well all be mixed in Leeds by Mel. It changes, and will continue to. I guess we’ll only get bored when we can’t change it anymore, when it stops flowing, moving, the flux dies. Would we want to reanimate it? Bored isn't the right word ...

Mik: I guess everyone but me. Although I love what we make, when we’re writing, I always seem to be the one trying to keep things “accessible”. I guess we all push for a certain way and we balance each other out so that’s why our tracks span such sounds and styles.

Andy: We all have different backgrounds. Mel brings a real purity to the group. She approaches instruments with no historical baggage or preconceptions. This I think contrasts perfectly with my sister’s more “tutored” approach. We all learn from each other. Joincey is the secret, without him the band would be very different and very much worse in my opinion. It is ridiculous and futile to try and accurately analyze what he does. We have a good male/female balance. Essentially it’s a good mix of people I think.

Mel: I’m not sure I’d call it damaged, I can’t speak for the others, but there’s often a desire to invert the sound, to make it the opposite of what it is. To be very simplistic you could understand the dynamic of the group as Jarvis and Mikarla bringing more of the melodic and structured elements, then Joincey and I adding or responding to this in a more chaotic and abrasive way. This isn’t always the case, sometimes Joincey can do a tuneful bassline, or Jarvis will do some wild percussion or scratch a bow across a violin. Maybe it’s not such an opposing thing for Joincey, but he does add these ideas, which seemingly come out of nowhere. It seems quite savant, but he’s very astute. Joincey is the most musical person I know, because I reckon he could get an exciting sound out of any object he got his hands on. He can ‘play’ anything from a Pringles tube to the central heating. I have a very naïve approach to music, which occasionally works in my favour, in that I don’t have an idea of what can and can’t be done. Sometimes it’s frustrating, but I just try to be instinctual about things, to hear in between the sound.

How do you describe your music when someone at work asks “what sort of music you’re playing”?

Joincey: I just say, between the notes. Dead easy. (beyond the notes?) It won't do, but it’ll placate a moron... I tend to try and not mention it too much. There is a guy I work with who listens to, well, you know “outside” stuff. I gave him a CD and he played it at work, I guess it didn’t go down too well, but I wouldn’t care to imagine how they would describe it?! I aren’t articulate enough to try and describe this sort of stuff, maybe part of the reason one does this kind of music - creates it oneself, after loving it - is because one doesn’t understand it and can’t vocalise it any other way. That, of course, is pure wool, but it’s for critics to decode and compartmentalise this stuff, the artist need not bother trying, s/he’s done his/her job.

Mik: I've never really been able to...

Andy: I tend to deflect the question and talk about something else.

Mel: I rarely mention my artistic exploits to anyone at work. Contrary to what they tell you at school, it’s not an asset for an employer for you to have a social life.

Seeing as I have trouble getting my “colleagues” in visual art interested in this music, I’m not inclined to discuss it with someone in a call centre. Besides I don’t tend to stay in any one job long enough for anyone to get to know me! If it comes down to it I usually just tell people, “I play clarinet.” It’s kind of easier now I live in Leeds, because everyone knows someone in a band, but there’s so many different “music scenes”. I worked in an uber cool record shop for 3 weeks, and they have no idea what happens on this scene. They were more into dance music. They stocked Sunburned…and Charalambides, but I don’t know if any of them ever listened to it. They sacked me because they said I wasn’t passionate enough about music! I had a well-known Manchester artist who runs a gallery laughing at me because he refused to believe the terms “noise music” and “free-folk” were in common usage. I’m still not quite sure who that joke was on.

Sculptress Discography

How The Kingdom Fell Apart (FirstPerson 3” CD-r, 2004
We Don't Have a Thing (Memoirs of an Aesthete CD-r, 2005)
This Phrase Appeals To You (Foxy Digitalis CD-r, 2005)
“Psychopaths Can't Have Children/Killed Him and Did Nothing With Him” (MP3 track for “Ikuisuus” Web-site)
Talbot Hotel 310504 DVD (as yet unissued)