by RUPERT BOTTENBERG

The musical art of percussion, in North America, is founded largely on imports. We investigate styles from around the globe and throughout history, processing and reconfiguring, for lack of a strong tradition of our own. Gregory Kozak, leader of Vancouver’s five-piece Scrap Arts Music ensemble, has gone further than most in uncovering an original North American voice of rhythmic pops, thumps, rattles and crashes.

“I’m in a really affluent society here,” he says, “with wonderful garbage all around me. I just thought, where’s my voice in all this? Where’s my village music, as it were? I don’t want to get the tribal thing happening here, but who am I?

“All the Indian, Asian and African music that I love, the people who play them build instruments out of the crap and debris around them. They can’t afford to send away to Taiwan for their bongos or to Philadelphia for their metal shells. So they get resourceful and creative and these amazing craftsmen come up with instruments that I love, things you can pick up and go, ‘Wow, a human being made this.’”

Which means Kozak is as inspired by the way different cultures trump Mother Necessity as he is by specific percussive approaches from Latin America, Africa, Asia and India.

“It’s none of the above, and it’s a blend of all of the above. When you’re playing instruments of your own creation, these sounds have never been heard before. I’ve got things that I call musical instruments that are thrown-away, stainless-steel, industrial-hose-coupling chunks of metal. They aren’t musical instruments, I’ve just decided to call them that. I’ve tuned them with chopsaws, bent them and welded them, and now they’re my colour palette. It’s like I’m painting and these are my tonal colours.”

Sound to be seen

There’s plenty of vibrant visual colour to a Scrap Arts Music performance as well, not to mention explosively energetic yet precisely choreographed dance and fascinating design. The stage is full of Kozak’s unique creations, drums and noisemakers assembled out of oil cans, artillery shells, monkey bars and who knows what else. All are arranged in a manner that suggests both an ancient temple and a futuristic spaceship. Charging headfirst through Kozak’s compositions are a team of remarkable drummer-dancers.

“They’re great people, and really smart, strong, athletic players who aren’t happy unless they’re playing at their peak. The demand from them has been, ‘Neat stuff, Greg, it’s fun, but make us work!’ That’s a great challenge to rise to.”

Scrap Arts Music make a point of booking early shows and making what they do accessible to children. Kozak also does workshops for kids, particularly the “at risk” kind from inner-city environments. “I’m still a kid,” he says, “still in the place where they are, only I have this adult body and get adult permission to go about the world freely and explore. That’s what I’m encouraging them to do. I’m asking them, what’s our definition of garbage? What are we throwing away here? I don’t have to bang that drum very loudly. They’re right on it.”

The outside line

At the same time, Kozak takes care not to proselytize, though his work could be seen as a very concrete display of ecological activism in action. “I’m not trying to wave any flags or put forward any ideologies. I’m very hesitant to do so, especially in our mixed-up world. If there’s only one thing I do, though, it’s pass on ideas and hopefully inspire some people. By messing around with these sounds, a language is coming. I’ve just cracked the door on this thing—I think I’ve got lifetimes of possibilities that I myself have found, and people will come after me, doing their own thing in a similar vein.”

Likewise, Kozak nods to those who came before him. One can look past Test Department and their junkheap industrial rock (heavy metal, indeed!) to the likes of Bradford Reed’s pencilina, Leonard Solomon’s bellowphone, Wendy Mae Chambers’ car-horn organ and of course the legendary composer, theorist and train-hoppin’ hobo Harry Partch (to whom, in particular, Kozak tips his hat). “I’m part of a lineage. There’s a long tradition of people we’d call outsiders creating the most amazing things.

“I’ve always loved that experimentation because of the possibilities and because of the fun. You gotta admit, there’s a big element of humour in what these people are putting together. That’s what my music is about, too. It’s happy, vibrant, positive—I love being a human being and this is the best planet to do it on.” :

At Centre Pierre-Péladeau on Sunday, Nov. 24,
1pm and 4:30pm, $27–$37, $20 for kids

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