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Clutching a tiny espresso cup in his big hands and with his eyes fixed on the opposite wall, Durant isn't very enthusiastic until (via a discussion about his documentary) the socio-political situation in the United States becomes the subject. He then suddenly shows the same possessed passion he elicits onstage, even though he is still staring at the wall. Durant first reacts with an intimidating, slow, bear-like ferociousness to questions that are even slightly critical of his view (I never knew "Is that what you think?" could sound like a threat), and then ignores them and goes on with his story. And he does have a lot to tell.
You did a single with 'The Trooper' by Iron Maiden on one side and 'Mob
Rules' by Black Sabbath on the other side. Didn't you start your career
in an Iron Maiden cover band?
"That was when I was twelve, but I only did it for, like, two shows. I was into
Iron Maiden, but I also listened to Lightnin' Hopkins and Blind Lemon
Jefferson. I listened to all kinds of music. But yeah, I had an Iron Maiden
poster up on my wall, and I listened to 'The Number Of The Beast.' It's your
initiation towards the sympathy for the devil. The duality of man. Good and
evil. It's tongue-in-cheek, like pro-wrestling."
And why did you choose 'Mob Rules' for the other side?
"I heard it on the 'Heavy Metal' soundtrack when I was a kid, and I always
wanted to play it. We wanted to put out this fun little metal disc, so the
opportunity came and we put it out."
I've read that you've also made a documentary.
"I've been doing it old-school, so I've doing all the editing by hand, on
the film itself. I show it on Super 8 and 16mm. What I did was that I went
into the Tenderloin, which is a poor section of San Francisco, and befriended
a couple of homeless guys. It's sort of a psychedelic kind of view of this
man's subconscious and what he dreams about. You always wonder about those
homeless people and people in immense poverty, what they dream about, what
their aspirations are. It's a subconscious journey into this man's mind and
the images that he sees every day. It is more of a photo album than it is a
film, but it is a film in the same way. It's my first film and I think it
worked out great. I'll premiere it in San Francisco in a little movie
theatre and show it for two days, and then put it on videotape, and that's
it. It was fun to do, and I've cut some really powerful images, and hopefully
it invokes thoughts. For some people it will go over their heads; maybe some
will think it is quite juvenile. I spent a lot of time shooting pictures in
the Tenderloin, documenting urban blacks and their trials and tribulations.
I want to capture the beauty of poverty, people's strength, of what they can
overcome even in the midst of great poverty and drug addiction. I'm just
capturing a part of time."
"Capturing the beauty of poverty." Isn't that a bit cynical?
"There's beauty in everything. These people are very beautiful people,
they just happen to be poor. And they've gone through a lot of struggle. You
got to understand that the United States [is] paying the price for its
practice of slavery and then also just shoving urban blacks into ghettos as
a way to deal with the emancipation of the slaves. What you have are these
huge ghettos of very poor black people that are driven to drugs and crime to
survive. A lot of it is out of necessity. I mean, deep inside someone that
has these criminal practices, has to steal, beg, whatever, there's beauty in
these people. There's beauty in everyone."
Do you just observe or are you also politically active?
"Political in the sense that I live the life that I want to live. I'm a
student of music, and I dedicated my life to art and music, and that's the way
I live my life, and that's a political statement in itself. I don't have a
day job, I work for myself, I play to people, have conversations like this
with individuals, and that hopefully invokes interest in... Who knows?
And I don't have to punch a clock; I do what I want to do. I live of my art.
That's a hard thing to do in this world and I do it. There's no government
assistance in the U.S., so it's a hard life, but it's a very rewarding life.
And it is a political statement in the sense that I don't have to answer to
anyone. I do as I please, I live the life that I want to live. I think that
speaks volumes. I'm half black and half white, so I mean I have a unique
vision on the duality of man, and I've lived in the ghettos: I lived in North
Philadelphia and I lived in the Bronx. My father grew up in the Bronx. His
great-great-grandfather was a slave, so I can't help but be moved by these
things. There's a lot of truth on that stage. A lot of energy. A lot of
real passion. It comes from a real place. My parents were mixed so I grew up
in an atmosphere of racial tension in the US. I was born in 1967.
There's a little more opportunity nowadays, but you just need to take a
drive up to north Philly or go into the Bronx to see that it's not over.
Journalists are writing less and less about these Third World countries
within our own country. There's a lot of buried truth that people don't
realise unless they see it. You only know what you read. Your job in your
life is to explore the world and go out and see it for yourself to make an
intelligent assessment. You drive up to North Philly, and it's like you're in
fucking Mexico, in Tijuana. Water running down the streets, people without
hot water. Is it over?
You don't bring a whole race of people that you enslave and then let them
out and expect it is getting all better. No, what you do is you hide it,
you control the media, you control the pictures, you make sure that
everything is happy and shiny on the TV, and no one knows about it. Everybody
says: "Well if you want to make it in the world, you need to work hard." But
what people don't understand is that you don't have a framework. Unless you
have educated parents that are going to push you, you don't go into school.
This is why these young urban blacks turn to selling drugs, buying guns, and
robbing people, because that's the only way you can escape the ghetto.
There is no real middle class. Last year I made 5,000 dollars. That's it. If
you want to be an artist you get no government assistance, nothing at all.
But you have these huge corporations, they get corporate welfare. There's
money being channelled into big corporations when it should be channelled
into people. The strength of a nation is in its people, not in its
companies. The end result is there is going to be a class war, which is
happening now. There is going to be a reorganisation of the government, with
more power being put to the central government. Our government is corrupt.
It is. It's a well-run company, that's it. You guys are smarter over here,
you've experienced corruption. Our public is so, so hypnotised by
television, by mass media. The average American just wants to go home, watch
TV and drink his beer.
The U.S. [is] a wonderful country. Don't get me wrong. But I think things can
be better. We all strive for Utopia.
The only way you can get closer and
closer to Utopia is by enlightenment and education and pushing for change.
And like I said, most of our country is lethargic and wants to kick back.
"Everything is ok, everything is fine." There should be a redistribution of
wealth, because now the rich are getting richer and the poor are getting
poorer. And you have to mean it. Take Alec Empire of Atari Teenage Riot - we
toured with them - he still lives with his dad. They are fucking posers. It
is easy to talk about the corrupt government when you got the longest
umbilical cord in the world. Whatever, man. They're prima donnas, they got
people taking care of them. I don't have any respect for that. It is easy to
talk, but you got to live it. Anyone can read a book. Anyone can say the
government is corrupt. And then live with your parents. Don't get me wrong,
he's a great artist and his contribution to music history is great, but his
political stance is all cosmetic. It's all a big fashion show."
Onstage, Durant still makes a tired impression (it is the last show of tour), which - in combination with a crowd that is mostly unresponsive but also harbouring an alarmingly high percentage of annoying idiots - results in the worst Zen Guerrilla shows I've ever seen. Zen Guerrilla at its worst is still better than 90% of the competition though, and Durant is like the staggering marathon runner who, drained of his energy, still manages to get that final sprint from his empty body: not at his best, but very impressive. The sight of him - squatting, exhausted at the side of the stage, towel draped over his head, at the end of the concert, while a completely manic guitarist Rich Millman gives one more solo - is a moment of pure rock 'n' roll magic.
http://www.kindamuzik.net/interview/zen-guerrilla/zen-guerrilla/1451/
Meer Zen Guerrilla op KindaMuzik: http://www.kindamuzik.net/artiest/zen-guerrilla
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