On The Road To Nothing - A Non-Interview With Loz Koleszko by David Lee
It's a sunny, late July afternoon in Nottingham. I'm walking towards the Social where I have arranged to meet one Loz Koleszko, golden boy of 1 Man Army Records and skinny Midlander with dark eyes behind the recent EP 'The Monkeys Danced Like Cuboids'. Last time I saw him he was swaying back and forth as if in either spasm or orgasm to the loudest, most distorted beats that can still carry a melody on the cramped stage in Moles club, Bath. It was quite a sight. I don't think anyone expected such apocalyptic noise could come from the fragile frame we saw onstage before us. Koleszko's white T-shirt with the word EXTINCTION printed across the front seemed to reflect the attitude of all the sweaty dropouts, weirdoes and lost souls violently twitching on the dance floor: 'We're all screwed. Oh well, what can you do?' Loz Koleszko seems to know what he is doing however, though I get the distinct feeling that this is not something he will be sharing with us anytime soon.
I arrive at the Social with five minutes to spare so I order a cup of coffee and gather my thoughts. I'm not really sure what to expect from the man who creates tracks from sampled pornography and 'silence', who apparently pieced together his own tribute band so he could play live in two different venues at the same time and who's forthcoming release is rumoured to be under the working title of 'Killer Lesbian Bees From the Planet Lesbian B'. This could be interesting. My five minutes pass and ten of Koleszko's expire. An unnamed stranger approaches. He sheepishly asks if I am 'the journalist' and with an awkward smile he introduces himself as 'not Loz' (I already knew that), apologises for the lack of a genuine Loz Koleszko and hands me a sealed envelope before making a hasty exit. It seems that this interview is not going to take place, or perhaps more accurately, it already has. The envelope contains a two-page printout and a short hand written note from Koleszko apologising for his absence.
The printout reads as follows:
A: Very well, thank you.
A: People always ask me the wrong questions so I decided to give you the answers to the right questions so it won't matter if you ask the wrong questions. Plus I'm shy and still don't really feel totally comfortable in interview situations and this just makes it a little easier for me.
A: It really doesn't bother me either way.
A: Because if you don't, I will find out where you live, break into your house while you are asleep and piss in your shoes. It doesn't really matter if you buy it anyway. It's already out there. I am already intruding on people's lives, it's just on a small scale at the moment and most people won't even notice, but it's there. The Monkeys Danced Like Cuboids is setting the stage for what is about to come. It seems strange seeing it around in the shops, I'm quite a private person and then all of a sudden there's this little piece of me sitting on a rack for everyone to see. I've also heard 'Piblokto' played in a few clubs which is pretty cool because people still don't really know who I am and don't realise that the guy standing next to them is responsible for the music they are dancing to. Sometimes I forget that it is my EP. I don't think that it really fulfilled it's potential musically but I know it's still a good EP with some great moments, I'm proud of it and, unfortunately for the general public, this is just the beginning.
A: That lie is completely true.
A: A spastic Teletubby walking into a door, but the door turns into a camcorder which records covert footage of a spastic Teletubby walking into a door. This results in severe bruising to the temporal bone and the Teletubby becomes confused and disorientated. I think that sums it up pretty well.
A: It doesn't mean anything. The only agenda is existence. Or lack of it. For me, music is a rejection of everything. It is not about truths, passion, or beauty or any of that crap. It's not nihilism, because I don't believe in nihilism. It's just there. And when you listen to music, you are not there, or here or anywhere. I like the idea of eradicating all ideas. It's about getting closer to zero. In a lot of early numerical systems there were no zeros so they were pretty useless. In written form the number 71, for example, looked the same as 7000001. Hindus were the first people to use zero in the way that we do today. It was called a Bindu and was denoted by a small dot (like the circle we use) which was supposed to represent the most infinitesimal point from which the entire universe flows out of. And that's what it's all about. Becoming zero. Letting go. Giving up. Becoming nothing opens you up to everything. Listening to music is the closest thing I have found to that.
A: I like to revel in my own inconsistencies. Everything I say is completely true and a total lie at the same time.
A: That never actually happened. It seems to have become quite a persistent rumour. I was going to do it at the launch party for the EP. It was also the launch of 1 Man Army Records so I wanted to do something a little different for the live performance. I just thought that putting together my own tribute band would be funny and I made everyone a Loz Koleszko mask to wear onstage to add to the spectacle. It would have been quite bizarre, standing in the audience watching three guys dressed as you performing your music. Unfortunately, all my friends were too worried about looking stupid to actually do it. No bottle at all, what a disgrace. A few years ago I was in a band called Reserpine Blue. We made a short video called 'The Adventures Of Freddie-Sue The Dancing Chicken'. We thought it would be really funny but it turned out to be one of the most disturbing things I've ever seen. I'd like to incorporate that into a live show, but it may well violate several health and safety laws.
A: Well, it was supposed to be a joke, but he obviously has no sense of humour. I mean, an apple filled with razor blades! It works on so many levels.
A: A friend just lent me the Zongamin album which I've been listening to a lot. It's a great album, the first electronic album I've actually enjoyed listening to in ages. It was nice to see something slightly unusual with a sense of humour in electronic music again. I miss that.
A: I was in quite a few guitar bands when I was younger but none of them seemed to go anywhere. Originally I wanted to be in a boy band. I would have been the fat one that writes all the songs and who everyone hates. We'd have a couple of hits and I'd prance around and do as I was told for a couple of years then break up the band and re-emerge like a Phoenix from the ashes to unleash an evil reign of noise terrorism on the charts. All the kids would say 'Hey, it's the fat guy from that boy band.' and buy into it. I went to a few auditions but they didn't like my dancing. Bastards.
A: A telephone directory.
A: I'm not too sure at the moment. I've probably got a couple of albums worth of material together since the EP, but it's all over the place... in terms of sound anyway. I'm just waiting for a common denominator to emerge and thread it all together. I do have a side project thing pretty much finished... mostly ambient stuff. I haven't actually played it to anyone yet. And I'm not sure if I will. I like it too much. There are so many things I have to do, far too many to list here. Don't worry, you'll find out soon enough.
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And there you have it. The easiest interview I have ever done. The strangest interview I have ever done. This is Loz Koleszko. As entertaining as he is odd, I have no idea what he will do next, but I can't wait to find out.
For more information go to 1manarmyrecords.co.uk