Desmond Hill Article


Contrary to all appearances, Robin Storey is a man far removed from the ordinary. Having spent five years of his life withdrawn and without communication. This punctured holes into all sense of time and propelled him into even deeper experimentation. He has not listened to contemporary music for the last ten years. Now entering a fourth decade, life is no less ambiguous for this young father, husband and producer of some of the most evocative audio ever nurtured from a bedroom studio.

Chain-smoking roll ups, the complexity unravels. Born in 1955, he grew up in Cumbria before undertaking a degree at Sunderland, where he chose an experimental option on a Fine Arts course. Together with two colleagues he switched mediums and began to explore sound. Softly spoken and warily downbeat, Storey recounts his previous lives. As a painter, print-maker, and visual artist his work has been exhibited all over the world: Russia, Norway, Germany, England. His painted animation has been broadcast on Canadian television and syndicated to America and Europe. Two of his hand made works are displayed in the Berlin Museum of Modern Art. As a musician he co-founded :zoviet*france: and instigated an era of ardent analysis that will never be repeated. To the four young men who shared a 24 hours a day active involvement, between 1979 and 1993 :zoviet*france: was a means of living. Inspired by the cut'n'paste strategy of late '70s new wave, and influenced by Holger Czukay and Stockhausen, they bought dismantled cello parts, wired up ready made objects, utilized found sounds and provoked adaptability. A few electric guitars and sparse amplification impelled with the anxious energy of that era, characterised early :zoviet*france: material.

Storey speaks very slowly, placing words one after another as though bridging a stream by memory. Their live debut occurred upstairs at the Strawberry, a Newcastle pub. This committed application eventually cultivated a series of recordings released on 14 CDs, and generated an international reputation. :zoviet*france: performed at the 1989 Festival of Modern Music in Vienna, the avant-garde multimedia festival in Berlin the following year, and embarked upon an intense three month American tour in 1991. One final live performance in 1992 at Surfer's Bar in Tynemouth, was ill received by a hostile audience. These exponential extremes infused with a fascination for intra-dimensional realities, took Storey's consciousness to a place where thoughts came faster than words ever could.

Charming and considerate Storey talks fondly of others, recalling their lives more readily than his own: artist Kirill Sokolov who escaped from Stalinist Russia after his family were killed; a Vietnam veteran who befriended :zoviet*france: on their U.S. tour, now working for the Peace Corps in Puerto Rico; Khadija Lourlham, 24 year old Moroccan émigré, whose beautifully delivered folk songs were processed and deployed previously by Storey; Vicky Bain, music student and operatic singer, another collaborator whom Storey hopes to utilise in future live work, to prevent it becoming reduced to a question of the basics and principles of analogue machines. In reflection he recognises, There was a negative aspect of :zoviet*france:, spiritually. That was very hard to shake. This dissatisfaction drew him toward indigenous, native cultures pursuing a more developed yet incorporeal dimension. An interest visually evident within the markings of personal iconography which adorn the hand-crafted artwork of his album sleeves, and the limited edition mono-prints he produced as a member of the True North arts collective.

As a visual artist Storey believes You have absolutely no control over how people see anything, but as an audio artist , it's so much more direct. With constant sounds coming through my head, Storey maintained his involvement within audio construction. Latterly employed through the back door of the commercial AV industry, he acknowledges There was no deliberate attempt to change the music. Just to get away from the conceived connotations of bleakness. Now recording as Rapoon, Storey works intuitively with what's immediately to hand and adapts his instincts to encourage the others who gravitate toward him. Instruments are valued as friends, each with their own history and ways of communicating those stories. His studio resources amount to a portable Sony DAT machine, two Tascam 4 track portastudios, a quarter inch reel to reel, an ordinary hi-fi, an Alesis effects unit and two keyboards, a Yamaha and a Moog. Littering the room, on every shelf, in every corner there are instruments: multi shaped tablas, wooden drums, metal drums, pipes, flutes, didgeridoos, guitars, a newly acquired sitar, many kalimbas of different shapes and ages. His current recordings are the result as he puts it, of years of development and making music is a process of disassembly and rebuilding. Rapoon's work is infinitely sublime and infinitely sensuous. Literally metabolic alchemy, it negotiates the open spaces of sacred history, drawing upon Indian ragas, Arabic prayer calls and African rhythmic whispers. Curiously ancient, technically majestic, beautifully entrancing. There are currently four full length recordings available, with another three awaiting release, and two currently on DAT. Their practicalities are imbued with love and a deep need to create and communicate through sound.

Written by Desmond K. Hill, April 1995

© Desmond K. Hill