Giovanni Muro (F1a) Tuesday, 19th February 1980, Venice- part 1- Bande a Part

Giovanni Muro ; “The Presence of the Past” - 19.02.1980, Venice “These assemblages have mixtures of sites and scenes , constituent parts of a moment of viewing...by the mind ... if not the immediate viewing of the eye”- Jean Dubuffet; the Theatres of Memory series of paintings,1976-1979. Section 1: Bande a Part “And those who were seen dancing were thought to be insane by those who could not hear the music.” Anon “It’s broken; sorry”. Giorgio put his coins back in his pocket, all the time staring hard at the jukebox and the glimpsed edges of some of the 45’s stored beneath the clear plastic conical casing. It was an Ami Continental and was the only reason he’d chosen the bacaro. Sitting on the black and white chequer board floor beyond the bar it had the look of a pulpit and gospel stand that Ken Kesey might have improvised had he set up a church of the hallucinogenic mind, as it had a panel of acid tangerine , that would not have been out of place beside Ken’s bus, Further, while the records were all listed on and selected from a raised , multi-toned curved display panel that was supported on a neck that rose from the body of the machine. Maybe Paulo, the bar’s owner, felt this as well, as he had filled it with American and British tracks from the 60’s- White Rabbit by the Jefferson Aeroplane, Strawberry Fields by the Beatles, 96 Tears by ? and the Mysterians , 8 miles high by the Byrds and John Lee Hooker’s Shake it Baby from 1962. Over the months and years Giorgio had played all of these and more many times, while holding court at a small table between the door and the coat rack. But it was the Hooker that he returned to most, with its lascivious stomp and T- bone walker piano part, not to mention the lyrical phrase “nobody else but you...” that Giorgio was sure Van Morrison had channeled at the end of his own Cypress Avenue six years later. Pausing only to collect a coke and a couple more glasses of red wine, Giorgio returned to his table where Giulia and Giovanni were sat, Giulia with her hair in a pony tail and Giovanni , as ever , still wearing his wide-brimmed hat. “Another time perhaps” said Giovanni. The tone was matter of fact and yet Giorgio interpreted it as suggesting that not only had the moment now eluded him but that maybe the very idea lacked substance, like an alchemist’s client who is told that the last step in the process of transformation had been dependent upon a moment in time when the stars were aligned and now that moment had passed. “But believe me, it is such a beautiful thing. Anna, Sami and Claude ; they did not dance to that crappy Muzak by Michel Le Grand, but to this track by Hooker , and if you hear it and close your eyes and remember the scene and how they move and stamp their feet , click their fingers, clap their hands and roll their shoulders and hips you’ll see that.” “Either way it is still a great moment in the film; maybe one of Godard’s greatest inventions, what with the set-up, the narrative voice-over telling us of their personal separation in the midst of their apparent co-ordination, the way the music track disappears but they keep dancing ,as it is all in their head and personal to them , and the single-take.....” Guilia listened, as appeared to be her customary role when these two got together, and looked at Giorgio. When he’d first come to Venice a few years previously he had been so striking, not unlike the English actor Terence Stamp in Fellini’s Toby Dammit, that she and Giovanni had seen a few months previously. But now in a heavy wool lumber jacket made up of coloured panels , underneath which he was wearing a striped jumper, he looked tired and unkempt. No doubt the irregular hours, lack of money and the steady intake of alcohol and cigarettes, not to mention the pills that Giovanni said he used, were coarsening his looks at a shocking rate, making him look older but not more mature. Now they were onto Talking Heads, with Giorgio arguing that David Byrne’s lyrics, especially on the track Life during Wartime, from the recent album , Fear of Music ,was in effect the US re-appropriating from New Wave cinema the idea of being youthful, bourgeoise guerrillas , operating subversively in a staid and hierarchical society and expressing it through a New Wave , but this time one of music: “Seriously, when you listen to Television or Talking Heads, its ‘Bande a Part’ for the ‘80’s, a bitter sweet mixing up of play, paranoia , angst , self-harm and violence, suffused with an unrequitable desire to do Something , anything, against the status quo”. Paulo was cleaning glasses. Through the window he could see that the light was already beginning to fade in the Calle, the weak February sun so low on the horizon as to barely penetrate the alley. The tourists and revellers were steadily passing by, gathering for the grand finale to the formally revived Carnivale, that to most people’s surprise except the ever-self-satisfied mayor , Mario Rigo, had been a huge success. Inside it was a bit quiet, with many of his regulars out joining in the party atmosphere. Over by the coat stand he could see Giorgio and his friends in a huddle, their heads very close together, the girl seemingly illustrating something with her fingers on the edge of the table as Giorgio was miming something to them both, using his hands furtively for emphasis. Meanwhile the other guy in the hat was scribbling down some notes on beer mats, which the other two would then correct. The bell on the top of the door rattled and a couple of Paolo’s older customers came in and approached the bar, the air from the opened door supporting their report of it being a clear but bitterly cold day. Leaning against the counter top, they ordered some drinks and shared around a packet of cigarettes. Over their shoulders Paulo saw Giorgio and the other two get up from the table, but rather than immediately making to leave they lined up on the checkered tiled floor , standing at right-angles to the counter. The guy with the hat took it off and gently put it on the head of the girl, who laughed. Then , in the near silence of the bar, they started a Madison-style line dance , back and forth , clapping , shuffling and stamping in unison, facing first towards the jukebox and then the other way. In Giorgio’s head the truck was once and for all loaded with weapons and he was absolutely ready to go, but in Giovanni’s he was more worried about remaining in sync and retrieving his camera that he’d left at Photo Blitz, around the corner, which would shortly be closing , while Giulia was thinking that she and Giovanni needed to get to the theatre in good time. Paulo and his new customers, all of whom were in their forties, turned and stared without any empathy or enthusiasm. “Hey, you can’t do that in here you know”. But this time they didn’t back off, they just shared a glance, laughed and threw their heads back and arms out, their hands waggling as they moved to and fro: “This ain't no party, this ain't no disco, This ain't no fooling around No time for dancing, or lovey dovey, I ain't got time for that now...!” “Out, out. Enough!” And as they left Giorgio called back to those inside: “ Thank you ! Does anybody have any questions ?” But he did not wait for an answer.