Text by Robin Peckham
The mock spirituality of the original FM3 “Buddha Machine” has been replaced with an earnestness of sound and composition that appears almost frightening. “Gristleism,” a collaboration between FM3′s Christiaan Virant and British industrial group Throbbing Gristle, more or less physically resembles the Buddha Machine. It is shorter, square, heavier, more solid–this piece feels quite well bit compared to the shoddy plastic housing of the original. But again, that was largely the anti-institutional spirit of the project, a pathetic anti-iPod with only a small range of music that felt truly made in China. For better or worse, Gristleism comes much closer to approximating an actual mp3 player. Its capabilities are similar: volume wheel, pitch wheel, track selector (now increased to thirteen), built-in speaker, now with no headphone jack.
The tracks available are vastly more diverse than those featured in the Buddha Machine, and the relationship with the mantra-chanting buddha boxes available outside temples and other places of worship is less apparent. These compositions are much more obviously the work of Throbbing Gristle, ranging from industrial to harsh noise and then to a few experimental interpretations of classical structure. The looped nature of each track is less integral than in the ambient sounds of the Buddha Machine, and narrative elements do occasionally appear. Similarly, the emphasis shifts from contextual engagement to composition. Now, the product on offer is very much the music of Throbbing Gristle.
Christiaan Virant and Zhang Jian, collectively known as FM3, popularized their original Buddha Machine largely through a method of live performance known as “Buddha Boxing.” The duo would take their seats facing each other across what looks like a mahjong table on the stage, live video feeds magnifying an array of some dozen Buddha Machines lined up on the face of the table. In between lengthy pauses for contemplation accompanied by copious sips of some expensive alcoholic beverage or another, they would take turns picking up the Machines, listening closely to their rhythms, adjusting harmonies, arranging beat patterns, and slapping down the plastic housings on the table. Some of the sound work that emerged from this process–often continuing for up to an hour–was no less than sublime.
The possibility of such cooperative composition is vastly diminished with Gristleism. Gristleism, it appears, is largely intended as an “alternative” release structure for Throbbing Gristle, an album without the accompanying expectations of critical unity–this is a vehicle for poorly conceived songs like “Hamburger Lady” and “Maggot Death.” Preliminary experiments in building harmonic work with multiple units has proven highly difficult, and I would be extremely surprised if Gristleism reached achieved similar cult appropriations. Unfortunately, ego here appears to take precedence over the friendly experimentalism and ethic of play that marked the release of the Buddha Machine.