Clipped from Glasgow University campus paper GU Guardian :
Penned by Ross Goutcher
Strange sounds are emanating from the bowels of the 13th Note Caf�. A small
group of like-minded individuals have gathered in the tiny basement of the
King Street haunt to pass on information and co-ordinate future plans.
Tonight is Diskono's first foray into Glaswegian territory. On descent into
the basement one immediately realises that this is going to be a night quite
unlike any other. For a start there's the donation box please give
generously to further the Diskono cause. On payment of a pound you're
furnished with a mix-tape which comprises of radio static, half realised
conversations in a foreign language, fractured, full-force breakbeats and
irregular sampling experiments. It's far, far better than it sounds. At
point of entry Diskono's manifesto literature is also available.
Pamphlets entitled 'Scotland: A Culture of Fine Art???', are sat next to
leaflets castigating government funding of elitist bodies like Scottish
Ballet and Scottish Opera. What makes this night so special, however, is the
feeling that, finally, you're part of something. For too long popular
culture has been about homogenous clubs that treat the individual as if
they're no better than cattle. Diskono provide the chance for you to get
involved at the most basic level. So, the set up for the night includes DJs,
live sonic manipulation from Antenna Farm and two 'open-access' decks
situated next to a large pile of records. It's here that the audience become
performers as they 'personalise' various pieces of kitsch, and rare club
classics, with lighters and Stanley knives. Once placed on the decks these
records jump around in seemingly random patterns, creating complex,
undulating rhythms that only start making sense somewhere in the middle of
"Figures, conventional relics, beautifully-crafted, adored, more adorable,
have undressed, the individual artist has consumed an unexpected result,"
screams one Diskono flyer. It's amazing how eager people are to destroy
Fatcat's Antenna Farm provide a focal point for tonight's dissent. Their
rhythmical, textural flow of shards of sound is created using decks,
samplers, CD-J players, and laptop computers. Behind them is gathered a
sizeable crowd, examining exactly what's going on, and getting 'hands on'
themselves. This is definitely not the land of the superstar DJ. If Pete
Tong left his record collection here it would probably be returned smashed
into pieces and glued back together in some random order. It would probably
sound a hell of a lot better as well.
Thankfully we'll soon be hearing a lot more from Diskono in Glasgow. The
13th Note is now going to play host to regular nights from this
musical/political/artistic collective. Littered about the floor of the venue
are flyers advertising a night on the 18th of November featuring Felix
Kubin. "Felix Kubin," the flyers declare, "might very well be the most
important clairvoyant for the now incorporeal cosmonaut Yuri Gagarin, whose
phantasmagorical concepts are telepathically transmitted through Herr Kubin
as desolate and futuristic electronic compositions." What other delights
they've got in store for us, and precisely what part we have to play in it
all, is a subject on which we can only speculate. Thus I'll finish in the
words of Diskono - "The gods love Scottish art, the new unemployment line,
one which declares to the world how to BOOM!!"