[B]Jim Davies[/B] makes music for himself and if anyone else likes it, well he'll just rip it up and start again. [B]Davies[/B] is an Oxford-based artist (that's artist as in paintings and stuff) whos
Jim Davies makes music for himself and if anyone else likes it, well he’ll just rip it up and start again. Davies is an Oxford-based artist (that’s artist as in paintings and stuff) whose forays into music under the name[a]Spunkle[/a] tend towards the psychotic side of confusing. His most recent release was a limited run of handcrafted, grooveless seven-inch singles. There was no music on them, no sounds, nothing. It was his most commercial work to date.
Tonight he’s perched nervously behind a couple of laptops, vocoder in hand, systematically carving up the Oxford music scene (from Radiohead to The Samurai Seven), welding his hometown compatriots’ efforts on to samples of [I]Trumpton [/I]and [I]Chitty Chitty Bang Bang[/I]. Which might read like some student prank, except Spunkle knows his music, and knows that most of it is too comfortable and too locked into the past.
So his creation – a solid half-hour of mashed-up samples and end-of-the-pier cabaret colliding sideways on with dangerously fast drum’n’bass – hisses and clatters at skull-threatening volume and comes out the other end resembling the shredded remains of Cabaret Voltaire. With bagpipes, obviously.
Long before the end most of the audience is hiding in the bar, but you know that Spunkle wouldn’t have it any other way. There’s a genius at work here, but they’re always misunderstood in their own lifetimes, right?