All language subtitles for Swans.Where.Does.A.Body.End.2019.Extended.Cut.1080p.BluRay.x264-TREBLE.SDH

Okay, testing.. testing...
This is, I Am the Sun.

I'm gonna play all
of part A for you.

It starts out quiet.

And it gets more intense.

And when it's playing the...

When it's playing that part, the whole
band's gonna be crashing on that,

so it's gonna be really intense,

and the other part's gonna...

Where does a body end?,
actually it doesn't, does it.

I mean, in actuality
it's quite porous

and we're completely, in a way, fluidly
interconnected with the world around us.

And we're just a
kind of temporary

agglomeration of molecules
in the shape of a human body

that then, once we die,
dissipates into the earth

and is fed on by
other organisms.

And they release gasses
in the air, people breathe it.

We're all just floating pods

in underwater environment,

just dissolving and
feeding on each other.

I think it's specious to
think that our individuality is

of really tremendous
great worth.

And I'm still totally flummoxed

at the fact that I even exist.

It just makes no
sense to me at all

that I'm here breathing or
that this moment right now

just past passed and it's gone.

Where is it? Where
am I right now?

A big question always is,

do I really exist?

Michael is a singular creator

and I think that puts
him within a world

for which there are few members.

There's something
sacramental about Swans music.

Michael is reaching in his...

whatever this is, you know,

in his yearning, to
make something happen.

He's reaching into the
mysterious and the sacred.

Which is what music is.

What makes Swans unique
is that Michael is the real deal.

He's crystallizing this
vision that he has had.

He's still able to tap into
these fundaments of life

and very basic feelings.

And there's a
honesty and a passion

and a realness to
what Michael's doing.

And he does that at the
expense of everything.

And when he's in the middle
of that musical maelstrom,

that's all that matters, to
create that moment of ecstasy

and that moment of euphoria.

The essence of music is
regrouped one single band.

And I feel very lucky

to have been able to
witness this era of Swans.

He's a survivor.

Sometimes you
encounter people like that,

people that just won't give up.

Just, knock me down,

but I'm gonna
just stand back up.

I think his self-consciousness

has just been whittled
away at over the years.

So that when you
watch him on stage,

you feel free.

Even when this
music is really dark,

or the words are really
twisted, or whatever,

watching a good performer
like Michael and a band

so beautifully locked in,

is really liberating.

It's almost shamanistic.

He's taken on this job.

He's just, okay, this is my job.

I'm Michael Gira, I'm a shaman.

Anybody living a life,

if they look at it with
a deep introspection,

would see their life
as a spiritual journey.

It just so happens in my case,
I leave track marks behind.

♪ I was born ♪

♪ Under a wand'rin star ♪

♪ I was born ♪

♪ Under a wand'rin star ♪

I think the first time I
actually heard about

Michael Gira in New York
was, my band, The Coachmen

and we were flyering our
posters around for our next gig,

wherever that was.

And I remember
being inside the club

and the rest of my band came
in and they were just furious.

And they were like,

"There's this guy outside,
he's a total asshole.

He's ripping down
our Coachmen flyers

because we put them
on top of their flyers.

It's this band
called Circus Mort."

And the name Circus Mort
sort of stuck in my head

because I did see
their flyers around.

We put up posters
all over the damn city

and worked really hard to try
and get some kind of attention

and following, and
just played all the time.

But the music, although I
thought it was good at the time,

looking at it now,
was your kind of

slightly psychedelic
new wave music.

And I didn't know what
the hell I was doing

because the music that I
really liked wasn't like that.

We just decided that it
wasn't working, I think.

I mean, I think the last show
we did, we were all on acid

and that was a pretty
strange experience

and it just kind of
fizzled out, I don't know.

So when Circus Mort
broke up, actually that night,

at the band meeting,
Michael and I went out

to go to a bodega
and pick up some beer.

And on the way out to walk,

Michael asked me if I wanted
to work with him on a project.

He already had a name for it.

He said, I'm
gonna call it Swans.

I've got a couple of
different folios of stuff here

to show you of Swans.

Here's a couple
versions of that shot.

Just a few
different prints of it.

Now here's an
early Swans poster.

That's the color Xerox original.

This is the kind of poster
you'd flypaper around town,

put on all the derelict
buildings with wheat paste.

At some point I took
these pictures of Swans

in Michael's apartment
in the East Village.

These are the
ones with the noose.

Here you can see the
noose in the front of the,

that was Mike's idea I think.

Mike was a very combative
person in those days

and I think to make the
kind of music he was making,

he had to be that
way to a degree

because it was very aggressive.

He was really
dredging deep into this

darkness, you know?

And it affected
his whole persona.

It was a dark
period in New York.

Mike was living
in the midst of that

East Village war zone when
it was very a heavy time.

Just garbage
everywhere in the streets.

There were intense
epidemics of heroin use

and a lot of drug-related crime
and violence and break-ins.

New York was a dangerous place.

I got mugged... a guy
held a knife to my throat,

pushed me against a wall,
while another guy hovered

with a knife, and
they took my money.

Other than almost
shitting my pants,

it was not fun.

And I just was so shaken
that I went back home and hid.

How difficult it was
to make it in New York,

to just survive in New York.

And I think Mike's aggression

towards just what
one had to do to live,

like, in a way, you
had to debase yourself

living in these shitty flats,
and taking some crappy job

in order to make enough
money to pay your rent.

I mean, I think, all of that stuff was
an affront to Mike's sensibility in a way

and he wanted to throw it back

in a way that he felt reflected
what he was going through

and what he saw around him.

Swans definitely
had their own unique,

sort of, way of
presenting things.

And it was very much a
product of Michael's persona

and his aesthetic
which seemed very stark.

Swans reputation
preceded them immediately

upon their first performances,

as one of the loudest and
heaviest, slowest bands to see,

and absolutely uncompromising.

And so, I had to go see Swans,

and of course was
floored immediately.

And in love.

Swans were just
absolutely brutal

but absolutely beautiful.

In the midst of that sound in some
of those shows in the early days,

it was literally like
I'm standing there

and I'm sort of body-slammed
by this sonic event.

And it would propel
me around the stage,

propel me into the monitors,
falling on the monitors.

And it was just
kind about literally

an act of very positive
self-destruction,

wanting to make
it sound as violent,

caustic and abrasive

and emotionally
disruptive as possible

and basically having a
desire for more sound.

More, more.

My first memory of seeing
Swans was at the Pyramid Club.

I wasn't quite prepared
for the overwhelming nature

of what Swans was all
about, I mean, at that point

it sounded like it was
really fully formed.

It was very all-enveloping.

That Pyramid gig,
he was just like,

"I'm gonna come out here, I don't
care who you are, I'm gonna decimate."

He was on it.

Just spreading
his blood and guts

and everything
into the audience.

And then I went downstairs

into the tiny little
dressing room

and Michael was sitting there,

his eyes like this

and a stream of snot
coming out of his nose,

just sort of hanging,
and just like...

He couldn't talk. His
brain, everything was gone.

He was just like, he had
just expended himself

so much on stage
that he was just like...

like he was like a feral animal

who just came running
out of the woods

after being chased
by a wolf or something

and had just been attacked
and he was just like...

Well, the tempo of it, it
was unusual in its tempo.

It was very slow.

I mean, it was attractive
because of that.

It was singular.

There wasn't
anything else like it.

It was notable.

We stood up and we took note.

It started slowing
down naturally,

but to give Jonathan
Kane credit,

he played me some blues music,

and particularly, Howlin' Wolf.

We gonna play, Evil.

There was a Howlin Wolf
song called Evil, and by the way,

I'd been obsessed with that song

since I was about 14 years old.

I just found that to be
most amazing, sensual,

primal groove possible,
particularly the song Evil.

The rhythm to Evil was this
swing time, break down, it was...

There's an early Swans
song called Blackout

which basically, I
was playing, Evil.

For me, creating the rhythm
in Swans was all about

just to break it
down, slow it down

and create a rhythm that
nobody else was doing.

And I think we
succeeded in doing that.

It really just was
wanting to make a sound

that was just so overwhelming

that it just ripped out your

mind, your soul and
your intestines all at once.

It's just wanting
to experience it.

It was just the
feeling of the time

and the feeling of my psyche

you know, it took a lot
of work to get people

that could relate
to that, actually.

I somehow started
catching things on WREK

on this show, Conceptions, a
mysterious show late at night.

Power for Power
from Filth came on

I was in my mother's kitchen,

I was making oatmeal cookies.

And I had the radio on.

And I was immediately
attracted to it.

Found out that it
was this band, Swans.

Could not find their
album anywhere.

What really appealed to me
was that it sounded very tribal.

The slow chorus of
the guitar and the drums

and the sloganeering, the
mantra, the repetitiveness

especially at the end
when it's "Power for Power"

"Power for Power"

"Power for Power"

To me, it had the kind
of processional vibe.

It was very unusual.

And I could not find this album
anywhere so I drove to the station

and I

borrowed

the station's copy.

Swans and Sonic Youth formed

a really tight bond
in those early days.

We really started out
together, we rehearsed together,

we hung out a lot together.

We became really good friends
and we were just bumming around.

We had no money,
nobody had any money.

We would spend whatever
quarters we could find

on playing Ms. Pac
Man in these bars

on the lower East Side.

It really fit our brains.

We just kept doing it,
and doing it, and doing it.

And we kind of found
glory in our poverty.

I started a fanzine
just then called 'Killer'

and I put Michael on the front

where he's screaming
in a microphone

'Killer' fanzine.

Where we practiced was filled

with amplifiers and
guitars and all that stuff.

And the front room just had a
squalid mattress in one corner

and maybe a hot plate to
cook on or something like that.

But, Mike had done these
large drawings on all the walls

and they were really
amazing drawings.

There was creatures with huge,

spurting penises on the walls.

It actually looked amazing.

When you see a
spurting penis in graffiti

on a punk rock club
wall, it comes across as

some kind of a juvenalia, hokum.

And that's not the
sense I was getting

from what Michael was doing.

I didn't, I thought he
was actually very artful.

The 'Bunker' became
this real factory

of Michael Gira mind explosion.

We weren't really getting
much love in New York City,

Sonic Youth and
Swans, in the early '80s.

So we decided that
we needed to play

somewhere besides New York City.

And it was Lee's
idea, Lee Ranaldo,

to actually rent a van and tour.

And it was Michael who

said, let's call it the
Savage Blunder Tour,

because the idea of, we were
kind of just blundering about,

and it was savage.

Lee called these clubs up

and got some commitments to play

and so we had gigs.

We all got into this
windowless van.

Nothing in the back
except for our bodies,

slave ship style, like
this, and we just took off

and we went down and
we played in front of nobody.

I think there's some people
in D.C. who came to see us.

Nobody made any money.

I mean, we were maybe
able to pay for gas,

a donut here and there.

But we really got to figure out

what it was to play for people.

We played these places

and some of the people
who would come were like,

young kids, who were
just like, there's some

hardcore bands from
New York in town tonight.

And they'd come and
they wouldn't see hardcore,

they wouldn't see,
the typical, hardcore,

Minor Threat style band.

They saw something
else entirely.

But it was just as loud

and just as hardcore as
hardcore could be, but it was us.

We would come
out, generally first,

because following
Swans was not a good idea

because they were so ferocious.

We were both in our own
ways, pretty extreme bands.

I mean, Sonic Youth was
playing in all these weird tunings

and doing stuff
with our guitars,

drumsticks and
screwdrivers under the strings

that people hadn't seen before.

And Swans were this
incredible high volume onslaught

with double bass guitar,

and people banging metal
percussion and things.

Though we didn't really
sound anything like each other,

we banded together just
because we needed strength.

And being together
gave us strength.

I was about, let's see, 22, 23.

I'd never seen Swans.

I had heard about Swans,
but I had never seen them.

Harry Crosby approached
me and he said,

"You should come and audition
for this band I'm in, Swans."

We're looking
for a guitar player.

Michael's instructions
were, you play low

and then when there's
a signal you play high

and just, feel the music.

I suppose I passed, I guess.

There was personnel changes

right from the very beginning.

Sometimes they didn't
work out musically,

but just as often I
probably drove them away

because I was very dictatorial.

Even though at times I didn't
know what I really wanted,

I just was pushing things

to try to find out
what it was I wanted.

Try to find this sound

and I didn't have a very
good power of persuasion.

I yelled a lot, drank a lot,

and I'm sure that I was
a very abrasive person.

That's just who
I was at the time.

I was just this broiling mass of

rage, love, anger,

pain,

fear,

all of those things, it was
all broiling around in me.

I was at his place

and he got a fan letter

from Atlanta, Georgia.

And the person's name was Jarboe

and it was a really
interesting fan letter

because it was asking
kind of questions

about Swans music and
himself that were kind of striking,

as if this person
who wrote this letter

was really curious
about this individual

and was kind of
relating to this individual.

The letter that I sent
up there to Michael

with a cassette of work
that I had done and a photo,

it was introducing
what I was doing

and what I was
interested in as an artist.

So it was basically almost
a resume or a portfolio,

in very avant-garde way, to
show every possible accent,

tonality, breathy,
really a full vocabulary

of what the voice I
could do at that time.

So I put that on a tape
and I sent it up there

with a hand that I
cut out of a magazine,

with these claw
fingernails, I photocopied it.

The hand was holding the
tape and then there was a photo

with the person I was
doing the zine with.

He was reading this letter to me

and he was like, "I don't know
how to respond to this guy.

It's almost like he wants
to meet me or something.

I feel really kind of
nervous about this letter."

And I was looking at it and I
was like, "That's a cool letter.

And I was looking at the
photographs, and I was like, "Michael"

I don't think it's this guy,

I think it's the girl.

I think Jarboe is
the girl, not the guy.”

And I remember Michael,
all of a sudden go like,

"Oh, you think so?"

Jarboe was chosen
because you don't know,

is that a man or
is that a woman?

And that was the whole
point, to be completely not

representing yourself
as a female or a male,

just representing
yourself as an artist

without any expectations.

And the next thing I
knew, Jarboe was in town.

And they were, and I
was like, oh that's the,

and she was really interesting.

Michael felt an openness
with me for my input

just because we were friends

and there was some trust there.

And I think he was
curious about evolving.

He invited me to
come on the tour

and I flew over
there in a heartbeat.

It's 1984. Zurich, Switzerland.

I'm outside the vocal booth

where Michael is
recording the vocals

for the Young God E.P.

At the time in Swans,
Michael was shouting

and screaming his words.

I suggested he try something
new, something different.

I really wanted to hear
him attempt to do long,

heavy, deep in the chest notes,

instead of just this shouting

and the talking
and the screaming.

Do more vocalizing, from
the singing point of view.

And I had suggested
during a break,

just through the
door, just try that.

And he actually did it
and it was so exciting

to hear him do the
long, descending note.

And it's in evidence
on I Crawled.

And this was really I
think a major move forward

in my opinion
for his vocal style

and for the way he
would approach music.

♪ We'll ride ♪

Jarboe taught me to
sing from your stomach.

It was hard for me to grasp
how to sing from down here,

rather from up here.

I would constantly lose my voice

because I was singing from here.

But if you push
the air up and out

without occluding it
with your vocal chords,

or tightening your throat, you're
less likely to lose your voice.

And you'll have
more bellowing power,

which of course I wanted.

And at the same time,

Michael and I were developing
feelings for each other

and developing a relationship
that was very, very intense.

The show at The Loft in Berlin,

he took his entire
earnings of that show

and he bought me roses
from a street vendor in Berlin.

And this was kind of a
powerful moment for us

in terms of our communication

and bonding, you know.

♪ I'm wearing your flesh ♪

♪ Your flesh in my face ♪

That's the front room
and over here is the bar

and I was actually
working at the bar.

Actually I took them there

and I was working at the bar,

yes, and he got piss drunk.

♪ You're superior ♪

I know that I was
very, very impressed

with the shows that
they played in Berlin,

with Roli Mosimann
as the drummer.

This ultra, ultra
slow and loud period.

I liked that very much.

♪ You're corrupt ♪

I wanted to be a part of Swans.

I was an unstoppable force.

I saw the future of Swans,
I saw the power of Swans,

I mean, I really believed in
Swans and I believed in Michael

because they were
doing something

that nobody else was
doing, in my opinion, then.

Rob Collins had
started a satellite label

of Some Bizzare called K422.

And it was Jim that
gave us a cassette of the

Swans album, Cop.

Swans recorded Cop pretty
soon after I had met them.

I was friendly with
Rob and I said,

"You gotta listen to this."

And Jim said, "You should work with
this band, they're just incredible live."

"This is gonna
blow your head off."

The offer was made, yes.
We want to put out your record,

we want to record you.

And I remember walking
through the streets of London

after that meeting and
Michael was just on Cloud Nine.

He had this big
smile on his face,

he was almost
dancing on the sidewalk.

He was so happy, cause
this was a huge, huge moment.

We hadn't heard
anything like it really.

It was kind of
just really exciting.

Michael is a person I
feel that had such an

incredible early
life filled with

a lot of intense experience
and intense emotion that

if he had any musical training,

it might have gotten
in the way of him

accessing those emotions and
releasing those into his music.

And so in a way, when
you listen to Swans,

you're getting an
undistilled pipeline

back to Michael's
psyche that is really,

really very much his own.

From a young age,

I felt completely separate
from other people.

I didn't really have
a relationship to

society in any clear way.

I felt self-sufficient
and also kind of

abandoned and on
my own in the world

and it was my place
to claw my way out of it.

My mother, she
was a tragic alcoholic

and didn't really
raise me in any way.

I was a pretty messed up kid.

I was in a lot of trouble
all the time with the police.

I was arrested constantly
for breaking into houses

and vandalism and taking drugs.

I started taking a lot of
drugs at a very early age.

When I was thirteen

I had a big baggie
full of Sekanol on me

and I was just falling
over and stumbling

and someone called
the police and they came

and they arrested me
with all those drugs.

And that's when the
police laid down a condition

to my mother that I could
no longer live with her

or else I was going to go
to juvenile hall until I was 18.

So my father, who was then living
in Germany, came out and got me.

So then we moved to Europe.

He took me to
Paris first with him

and I ran away from there.

Just feeling the call
of the wild of the times.

I met a bunch of pretty scraggly
hippies and I went with them.

Wildness was in
the air and I just left.

I didn't have any sense of
who I was or what I was doing.

We hitchhiked to Amsterdam,

panhandling
barefoot on the streets

and living in squats
and the whole thing.

And the police came
and arrested us all

and I spent a couple
weeks in jail in Amsterdam.

After having been to
some of these rock festivals

where I saw some really
great music on LSD,

I saw Amon Duul, I saw
the Art Ensemble of Chicago,

I saw Frank Zappa,
I saw Soft Machine.

I saw early Pink Floyd
around the Umma Gumma time.

I remember seeing them
perform that and it was just,

cause it's such a slow, tense
build and that scream is just...

That's beautiful.

I mean, it was definitely
an influence, not stylistically,

but just in terms
of the dynamics.

Turns out that the
police contacted my father

cause he of course had
Interpol looking for me.

And then we had a meeting,
my father and I, I suppose

and the deal was that I
was going to either work

in this factory in
Solingen, Germany.

And I guess he figured that
would show me what's what,

or I would go to this
Swiss boarding school.

And so I chose the
factory, of course,

cause he thought I'd last a
week or month or something.

To me, this Swiss school
just seemed like prison camp.

So the next day these
older hippies and I,

we decided to go to Israel.

So we hitchhiked from
Solingen down through Germany

and through Yugoslavia
and then through, into Greece.

And then went from
Greece over to Turkey

and stayed in Istanbul,

pretty penniless.

We left Istanbul and we
went to a kibbutz in Israel

and they had procured
a bunch of hashish

and then hitchhiked
down to Jerusalem

and ended up in a
hostel in Jerusalem,

and I was attempting
to sell it there,

and the police walked in
with uzis and I was arrested.

I ended up staying a month
and a half in the jail in Jerusalem.

And then I subsisted in
Jerusalem by panhandling,

and then I sold my blood.

I went to trial and I was
given an additional month.

It was supposed to be a juvenile
prison, but I was sent to an adult prison.

It was horrible and it was something that
a young boy shouldn't have experienced.

In prison, I realized the
most important thing was time

because anybody that's been
in jail knows that time crawls

and there's virtually
nothing to do.

I did read a great deal
for the first time in my life.

And that probably
helped me a lot.

Do you think that had any bearing on the rest of
your life, and. also maybe a sense of urgency?

Yeah, sure, it was like
a panic to get shit done.

To make sure that I
actually did something.

And I still have that,
to a certain extent.

I think we all should.

It was the Dalai
Lama that said that

if death was staring you
in the face at every second,

you'd be in the
correct consciousness.

My father must have been
out of his mind with worry.

And that's the kind
solipsism of youth.

Once he found me, my father
sent me back to Southern California.

I thought I was an artist
and I had found my calling.

I was drawing constantly.

I was kind of obsessed
with Robert Crumb

and read somewhere
that he recommended

drawing 50 drawings a
day, so I had notebooks

and I would just draw
constantly, do 50 drawings a day.

I got pretty good at drawing.

This must have
been 77 or something.

All these bands played just
around the corner from OTIS

at some kind of Masonic hall

and since I had been
listening to punk on the radio,

I was really interested.

That concert was just so
shambolic and so violent,

that it just clicked with me.

I had seen Suicide
play in Los Angeles

and they played at a tiny
little place with no stage at all.

So the audience was at the
same level as them performing.

And they were typical LA,
audience, pretty closed-minded

and couldn't deal with Suicide.

And so they were spitting

right in his face as
he was performing.

And he'd just go, ah, ah, and
he'd put it in his mouth and say,

"Oh, thank you,
thank you, thank you."

Hit himself with the
microphone and then continue.

And to me, that was
just utterly inspirational.

Punk just seemed to be
saying all the right things

which was, it kind of embraced,

swallowed up consumer culture

and then spit it back out at
you in a kind of mangled form.

I remember Michael
thinking at some point

something was gonna
happen to bands like us.

♪ Wrap your skin ♪

♪ Around my skin ♪

I saw Swans

February '86 at U.L.U.,

and reviewed that gig,

and that was it
for me, that was it.

I don't mean to
speak in cliches,

but I didn't actually
have words to describe it

except when I had to
put it down on paper.

And to this day, I still
don't have proper words

to describe what
happened that night.

It was the loudest
thing I'd ever heard.

It was louder than Neubauten

and Neubauten were pretty loud.

Swans were not into
protecting your hearing

so there you go...

Swans really went
way past music.

Michael and Swans at that time were
interested in finding out what sound did

Just raw sound.
Seeing what it does.

Almost like a gun pointing at
somebody's head. And see what happens.

It was an almost transcendental
experience when you were hearing it.

There weren't many people who
wanted to review a Swans record,

or go to a Swans
gig and review it.

In fact, hardly any.

You could sit down and try and persuade
people, and they'd be like "No, no, you know...

You're off your nut!"

And even if you read
the music papers,

you had to go into very
specific, specialist shops

to be able to actually get
a copy of those records.

Having thought about art
a great deal, I realized that

iconic images were
very important towards

conveying a message,

but the message to me
was important that it be blunt,

but also obtuse
and hard to parse.

I had a great affinity
for writers that wrote

in very cold language about

horrific events.

And I kind of liked that idea
of having this blunt language

but it didn't really
mean what it said.

And that's kind of how
advertising is as well.

You have these bold statements

and then there's always this
tremendous amount of subtext

that are designed to send
tendrils into your consciousness

and lure you into their world,

so all that kind of went into

the use of that iconography
and those images.

♪ Open your mouth ♪

♪ This feels good ♪

♪ Open your mouth ♪

♪ Here is your money ♪

Michael, he'd always say
these really primal things like,

"I love you", "Walk away."

♪ I love you ♪

♪ I'm worthless ♪

♪ I'm worthless ♪

♪ I love you ♪

Jarboe was playing keyboard
and doing backing vocals

and wearing some sort
of see-through smock.

And it was something else

people didn't know
what to make of it.

People did not know
what to make of it.

But Jarboe was brilliant.

I I'm sorry I

♪ I won't do it again ♪

Secret Weapon, and Attack Dog.

Both expressions Michael
would use in interviews about me

and what it meant to me
was, the unexpected element.

I remember the first time
I opened a show singing,

I was alone on the stage
singing to a loop on my keyboard.

It was like being a
sacrifice, a sacrificial lamb

and I actually
kind of enjoyed that

because it was a way of
reflecting how strong I could be.

And so we'd go out there
cold, alone, and open the show.

I'd be kneeling on my knees,

singing Blackmail.

♪ Close your eyes ♪

To go out there in front of
an audience, primarily male,

that has come to be
bludgeoned with loud, heavy,

percussive music, is a
very extreme place to be.

Here you are, you're offering yourself,
you're completely vulnerable to them.

So coming out, alone, a
woman, and singing to them,

It's like they're being set
up for what comes later.

And I think in the
case of those days,

before I developed my
own audience in the band,

it made them angry, so I
had things thrown at me,

yelling, spitting, every
insult you could possibly hurl.

Show us your tits,
was one of them.

And I didn't miss a note
because the attitude was like,

you're not gonna even phase
me, I'm not gonna even react.

Now Al [Kizys] reacted
to it in England one time.

And I heard these cowboy
boots come stomping out

and he came up to the edge
and started screaming at them.

"Shut the fuck up, shut up!"

And of course, I still
continued to sing, un-phased.

Un-phased by Al
or by the audience.

♪ I'll be your body when
your body is broken ♪

As a performer
you get really strong

when you go
through stuff like that.

Jarboe was a good foil for
working alongside his intensity.

I think she offered
some more subtleties.

Between them, there
was some light and shade.

[Algis Kizys] He don't
look American, but he is.

Whooo, look at those tongues.

They be all hairy and pimply.

Uh-oh, we got to go.

[Radio] This is American Top
40, my name's Casey Kasem,

and our countdown to the number
one song in the land continues.

♪ Number 20 ♪

Here's a song that hit number one
in five countries, including the U.S.

Who's That Girl by Madonna.

Children of God was just
like a bolt from the blue.

Because you don't know what
to expect, what's coming next

after...

what had gone before. You
don't know what to expect.

What Swans had done
up 'til then was very specific

and then they
started branching out.

And they thought they
could bring their ideas,

which some people
would say were extreme,

into the mainstream.

How different Swans music was

compared to everything
else going on at that time.

There's times I got
off stage in those days

for sure I knew at
that time, on that day,

we were the best band
in the world, for sure.

Children of God kind
of grew organically

out of being obsessed
with the money thing.

I was just thinking
about religion and sex

actually as being
one more kind of way

of subsuming yourself in

an entity or ideas
outside yourself.

Sex being the way that it's
perceived in the media and things.

I just started writing
with that theme in mind.

[Jimmy Swaggart] He's
coming again, he's coming again,

I remember seeing Jimmy
Swaggart who was a great

rock performer, actually.

But it was Jesus that
hung upon the bloody hill

And just being amazed at
that and seeing the power in that

and wanting to access that idea

with the notion of
God and religion.

But it is a gift of God!

I was just accessing that
language because it seemed right.

♪ Come into me, Lord ♪

♪ Come in now ♪

Without really
moralizing about it.

Get in it and serve God and
worship Jesus with all of your heart.

♪ Praise God ♪

♪ Say His name out loud ♪

♪ I am sexless ♪

♪ And I am impure ♪

I'm not making a
comparison to Bowie,

but I think Michael's
got this ability to reinvent,

change direction, he's
not afraid to mix it up.

He's not afraid to sort of

confront his fans with
something completely different

and if they don't want to
go on his journey, that's fine.

Gradually, I started to
suffer under the illusion

that I could actually sing songs

and I started to write
songs on acoustic guitar,

which were tentative affairs
at best at the beginning.

But I eventually taught
myself how to do it,

fairly well I think.

I remember having a
conversation with Michael

before they made Children of God

and he was telling
me that he wanted

to bring in acoustic guitars

and have more of a song-based
structure to that record.

And I was a bit shocked
'cause I was just,

"No, just keep it loud."

Just keep the volume
and the intensity”.

Hopefully, people were
able to get something

real out of it.

I was consistently trying
to break through things

and get to a place
that had a light in it.

♪ Because I love you ♪

♪ You can trust me now ♪

You know, the sound
was never that loud

just for ya-yas, it wasn't
this macho idea of anything.

For certain things, you need certain
volume, and then stuff happens.

There's this thing
called 'opalescence',

which is sort of a phase
transition, you know, that happens

and sort of gives off
this little bright light.

That's why they
call it opalescence.

So that's what would
happen with the sound.

At a certain volume,
there's this phase transition

where the sound
becomes almost liquid.

The sound starts to dance,
it becomes this other thing.

It's a beautiful thing to see

and that's what we
were trying to do.

I remember on stage, it
was really a good feeling,

a good atmosphere,
the sound was so good

because it was where
it's supposed to be.

We were so loud, we
went over the curfew

and so they pulled the plug

on everything but the vocal mic.

So all the instruments were dead

and so we just walked off
stage and Michael continued

to shout and scream
through the microphone,

alone on the stage.

So I don't think that was
particularly polite that they just

cut you off.

I remember him coming in to
the dressing room at the end,

just furious.

And the press in England
didn't help by saying that,

I never saw happen, that
people were throwing up

because of the volume
and all this business.

You know, it kind
of got this reputation

that the reputation
preceded the name

when it was just known for
nothing but bludgeoned loudness.

And that was not the idea.

Do you find that there's a chance that you may
break through now and get some attention because

you've been around eight years

and still Swans are only
contained within their group.

Well, I think that's
natural because

what we did for so long

wasn't exactly

mass market potential.

Although I was reminded by
a friend of mine just recently,

that I never could understand
why it wasn't on the charts,

but considering what it was,

I don't think that was
a very realistic outlook.

I was seduced by the
potential to actually make

a decent living at music
and acceded to these things.

I know that I
didn't want to live in

a dark, dungeon on Sixth
Street and Avenue B anymore.

I think our aesthetics

were not necessarily correct
for each other and so something

less than stellar resulted.

You know, God forbid a
band changes a sound.

As a person you
change, you can't become

a copy of yourself or a caricature
of what you're supposed to be.

As a human being you change, your
music changes, your ideas change.

At the time I thought
it was working out.

But it just seemed that,
that record went so far afield

from my core or
who I am as a person.

What I would have seen
was that as a transition

was these song-based things

with really cinematic and
interesting orchestrations.

And instead it turned
out these kind of

discreet orchestrations
that were not expansive.

And I lost control of it.

But it's my fault that I lost
control, it lost its center.

The gloss of Burning
World to me was the issue.

This was a terrible,
terrible, misstep.

The songs themselves
are fantastic.

The songs themselves
are amazing.

But still we weren't allowed
into the mix, you know.

We weren't even
allowed into the studio.

It was just too
artificial an experience.

I think it was just kind
of a shock for the fans

in terms of the whole
machinations of that monster.

It was not a
positive experience.

When I think about
The Burning World,

I think it was an adventure

sideways for Swans.

So I look at it as just a very
specific record unto itself.

I was happy that I
signed Swans then.

I was thrilled,
and I'm still thrilled

that I had that one document

that is unlike any
other Swans record.

It had some good songs on it. It has the
song God Damn The Sun on it which is

one of the best, lyrically one of
the best songs I've ever written.

The classic Swans
asthetic is there.

God Damn The Sun, like if you
think of God Damn The Sun, that lyrics

I mean, that says all about the
Swans asthetic which is this sort of

very personal,
existential looking inside.

It's disconnected from
the universe even...

It's disconnected from the
universe even... "god damn

It's disconnected from the
universe even... "god damn the sun"

that gives us all life.

When you sign to a major label your expectation
is that your record does really well

and it sells in
hopefully the six figures.

But sometimes that
just doesn't happen.

It's about timing.

And I think

the timing of UNI
Records was off.

The damage from
that just psychologically

to me... there was
a loss of confidence.

It always seemed to me that

Swans were waiting

to be accepted.

And it had nothing to do with the
sort of material they were putting out

because The Burning World
was a very accessible record.

But it seemed like

it was Sonic Youth that
were getting more attention.

After The Burning
World was finished,

I was left penniless as usual
at the end of the whole affair

and had to claw my way back out.

Somehow I stood up again and put
things together and moved forward.

But any number of great musicians
have made really crummy music.

I've certainly made my
share of crummy music

with some high
points along the way.

But that was just a failed

avenue, like a dead end.

I found threads in
The Burning World

to continue that were fruitful

to develop in the next record

which is pretty much
how I always keep going.

There's someting
in there that's worth

taking and moving forward with

and discard the rest and then
move forward with that thread.

But I took control
of production, and

I was listening to lots of Ennio Morricone
then at the time, and Phil Spector

and I really wanted to
try my hand at that sort of

uber grandiose production.

The whole M.Q. or basis
of Swans was the idea of

have a sense of
urgency and persistence

you know... keep going

There's that quote about talent...
you know, talent is everywhere

the world will never hear from them, the
world will never see it because they don't

leave their comfort zone
and just be persistent.

Keep going, keep
going, sense of urgency.

I like the way that White Light From
the Mouth of Infinity was recorded.

It's got a sort of
majestic precision.

I met Kirk Cobain
while I was in Atlanta.

And he was a big Swans
fan and he was like,

"Ahhh Swans, I love Swans",

I gave him my only cassette of

White Light from the Mouth of
Infinity because it had just come out.

It's interesting from the recording
process around the White Light era.

He was really working on
making accessible music

He was still thinking you
know, commercial music.

It was funny, because the music
he was making was far from it.

White Light

had the intensity
of the early music.

But it had more musicality.

I wouldn't have accrued the
knowledge necessary to make

White Light without having

completely fucked
up on Burning World.

So in a way failure
is very good because

that's how you learn.

I write to create a
mental or experience.

I did not sit down and say, 'Well I failed at MCA,
now I'm going to write a song called Failure...

It's like that was within
my vocabulary as a human,

thinking about failure / work.

And really that song, I think
I wrote that in like an hour.

It just came.

♪ I've learned nothing. I
can't even elegantly bleed ♪

♪ out the poison
blood of failure ♪

I had this rudimentary bluesish riff
and I just wrote the words and it came.

I was trying to steer him more into
this Americana potential that he had.

He didn't really have the confidence in his
own voice as, say like, a country singer.

Man, you have the potential to
be like a Ray Price or something.

When I was fifteen years old, my
boyfriend gave me my first Swans tape.

And like there was Swans!

And I didn't love heavy music

but when I heard Love of Life

I was like, "Oh
my God, I get it"

It's not only heavy,
aggressive music

It's also inviting and melodic and
it's this ocean of sound and words

and all of a sudden I could understand
wanting to listen to really loud music.

And I remember thinking like, The Burning World and Filth
and Love of Life, sound like three totally different bands

what's the deal here?

To me, my ears, those
are beautiful melodic,

dense and melody
orchestrated albums.

Almost symphonic,
they're so orchestrated.

Those albums have
depth to them that are new.

You'd be hard pressed to find a band that
occupies such a vastly different sonic identity.

Over that period of time.

But still remains very
much kind of in and of itself.

Drainland is the record that
actually really sticks with me.

I remember listening to

You See Through Me

Listening to that recording
about his alcoholism,

I couldn't believe that this
frightening figure like Michael,

is willing to make
himself that vulnerable.

The alcohol was
getting out of control.

I got to be somewhat infamous
there in the neighborhood

because I would get so disgusted I'd
head out the door and I'd hit every spot.

So I'd go into the bar looking for
him to try to get him to come home

Sometimes he'd
come home at dawn.

So that was a big
problem all the time.

That was just an
example of me recording,

because I wanted
to show him later

what he was like.

I drank a great deal. I
drank every day for 30 years,

and I drank copious
amounts towards the end.

He is being shown in
a very unflattering light.

It's not like opening up your heart, it's like
dropping your pants and taking a shit in the room.

It's like "Oh my...
what's wrong with you".

It's kind of like,
that's the thing

He's standing up and saying,
"I'm kind of a shitty person."

I don't know anyone else
who has the nerve to do that.

I just happen to be a human,
I'm sorry, and I just used that

recording because it was an
interesting moment of humanity.

And then I captioned
it with the phrase,

You See Through Me as an honor to
her that this whole thing was placed there.

Having shown me what I was like, not
that of course I paid any attention to it.

I had a call from the studio.
My mother was not doing well

and I was taking care of her. I had
to go at a moment's notice to drive

to do this vocal and then drive
back super fast because of her.

And my dad had a small amount of
really old whiskey in a cedar chest.

So I grabbed that bottle

and I drove really fast to where
the studio was and tore up the steps

and it was literally
slide in there,

press record, and I
opened that bottle.

I just shot the whole thing back

to find that performer.
And he left that in there

And he left that in there.

That stuff was nasty. That
was me reacting to that.

I had to immediately go into
character and do that ferocious vocal.

I knew Soundtracks for the Blind
would be the last Swans album.

Kind of a summing
up and an expulsion

of all the ideas that had
happened previously.

Well, I've worked
on it for 15 years, and

it's never really given me any
brief rewards other than the music.

I still want to make music, but I
just think that the name Swans itself,

after having been around so long
in many journalists' minds or public

or even in my own mind, maybe it
makes preconceptions that might limit it.

To me is best to just to set it
aside and go onto other things.

The whole history of it, the
aesthetic of, approach of it,

the perception
of it in the public,

everything was a
straitjacket at that point to me.

I just thought, it was time to end
it. It just couldn't go any further.

I just thought, as an
artist, it was time to...

kill it, so I did.

And simultaneously I guess, Jarboe
and my relationship was deteriorating.

And I just felt it
was time to just

cut the rope.

People would assume, because you broke up
as a couple, the band ended and I would say,

"No, the opposite happened."

It was the death of Swans
that ended the relationship,

because to me,
Swans was our child

and I loved the
group tremendously.

I mean, I moved heaven and earth

and left an entire life
of people that loved me

to go live under those conditions
and to go on those tours.

Now that was announced to me.

I was not asked my
opinion of about it.

And because of that,
I had an internal rage.

Soundtracks for the Blind, where you get
that incredible exploration of soundscapes.

To me it was always a natural
progression that that work would happen.

To me it felt very
much like it fit.

There's an asthetic
principle behind it all.

It's kind of Michael
experimenting

with different ways of
delivering the message

and playing with different
musical approaches.

I started to think about the music as
soundtracks and I started to look at it as

always emerging or
evolving environments

that may or may not
have some words in them.

My inspiration was to make
soundtracks but not have a film.

That's what every record
from White Light on has been.

When it comes to the production it's really
about making a soundtrack of one big experience.

It's more about making a sonic environment
for people to live in for an hour or two.

[Jarboe's mother] Today I don't have a fever.
I feel about the same as I did yesterday.

The personal aspect of that
album with the recordings

made with our family members.

With my mom and his
dad who was going blind

[Michael' dad] I
am what they call

legally blind

Our parents were dying

or near death,
or losing their wits

and made a little
homage to them.

You know, making it, putting it together
and getting all the source material,

it was very, almost like

I don't wanna say
diary but a slice of life

of what was really going
on on a deep personal level.

[Michael's dad] They tried seeing together
and couldn't and told me I'd lose my eyesight.

I just looked at all the material as
being of potentially equal importance.

I had tons... I had
trucks of floppy discs

of samples I had
made over the yearrs.

Those were all fodders, everything was
available to use to make this sonic picture.

I can hear the influence of Swans across so many
different genres and so many different bands

and they don't
get the props for it

Often in music
there's no first prize

You don't get the prize for being
the first person to do a particular thing

or among the first people
to do a particular thing.

I think that was the right thing
to do in his life, at that time.

It took a lot of guts

to shut that thing down, to shut
Swans down at his age, at that point.

It made no sense to me
after so many years of struggle

when I saw things
getting better.

Everything was getting bigger,

the size of the audience,
the choice of venue,

just everything was getting
in my opinion so much better.

I'm gonna miss the music.

Thankfully I'll keep
listening to them

as long as CD's last.

It seemed like the relationship was
dissolving every night in one way or another

Not necessarily on
stage but around the stage

during the travelling
portion, soundchecks.

It was a very
frought relationship.

I liken it to being stuck in a

weird kind of post
modern version of

Who's afraid of Virginia Wolf?

Just being there you felt
like you were in kind of like a

willing participant in this
psycho drama that was happening

so it was a lot to be in that band at that
time when the two of them were kind of

going slowly into
their separate ways.

In the life of a performer
there are these moments

that are magical
and transcendent.

When you're so
engrossed in that moment

and so at one, that you know

that you are experiencing

something that you will
remember for the rest of your life.

The I Crawled performance, that was in my mind,
a whole theater piece of multiple characters

to let those come to life from
almost like a seductive breathy voice

into a lost little girl.

And then come down
hard with the beast.

A very, very low sub voice,

which is a growl y,
deep, ferocious tonality.

I was completely
going into that role,

and I was really in
a trance like state

where I rolled my eyes
into the back of head,

I had no idea I was doing that.

I looked forward to that
brutal growl at the end.

I felt very powerful doing that.

I knew that I could go as
far with that baby as I wanted.

I gave it everything I had

because I knew at that point there
was nothing that could stop me.

The end was an homage to Michael,
referencing his voice on that song,

and going into the sub voice
deep, deep down in my chest.

This was my way of showing love

to the band that I loved.

It was poignant beyond description to be playing
to these huge, for us, audiences around the world,

but it was the last, it was the
end, and we knew it was ending.

For me, I cried on
stage a couple of times,

it was just sort of a bitter
moment, bitter and sweet of course.

It was the end and I didn't really know
what the hell was going to happen next.

At the very last performance
that Swans did at the Astoria

there was this extraordinary
moment at the end of the concert

when he actually
came out onto the stage

and he was completely naked.

It was to be a goodbye in a sense,
but a very powerful one, at that.

I thank you for your kind attention.
We leave you now forever. Goodbye.

I thought of Swans as a failure.

I thought I'd failed.

For those who are
wondering who I am,

I am no one.

I used to have this band
called Swans in New York,

but general attrition took
its course. That disbanded.

Now, I have a group
called Angels of Light.

Michael, on the Young God site, blogs that he's just
been listening to this album by Devendra Banhart.

That was the first time I think
my name had been on the internet

I mean, I thought
"F♪♪k, I made it"

This is crazy!

He wrote me a letter
and he just said "Hey

do you wanna put
out this record?"

It changed my life.

I was so into Angels of light and
I was so into Michael as a writer

and so into at that point
already loving Swans

The songs would be based on the lyrics
and the basic acoustic guitar performance,

and that was a huge challenge
to me which made it interesting.

For me coming from the history of Swans
that was a huge challenge, so I pushed that.

The credo or the agenda was
always the song had to be good,

just played by me on acoustic guitar
and singing. It had to be good that way,

it should not require
anything else besides that

to be convincing and
hopefully powerful.

That's where it started and
then I orchestrated on top of that.

Angels of Light unfortunately was a failure
in terms of reaching a large amount of people.

[Jarboe] He never wanted to be
a romantic hero or be worshipped.

This is going [back] to
the whole punk attitude.

Refuse to be put on a pedestal.

Refuse to be a star.

Michael called in the end of 2008 one
day out of the blue and it was just like,

"Hey, Todd, I'm writing
songs and they're kind of angry.

I haven't written any angry
songs like this in a long time

and I'm actually thinking
about calling it Swans again."

I guess I viewed
it as a last gasp,

the last chance to do this

and I wanted it to be as
forward-thinking and as challenging

to both myself and the
audience as possible

and to lead us to a place we didn't
expect to go musically at that moment,

but try to do it
in a way that is

in the moment and not
nostalgic, for God's sake.

I think Swans
needed to come back.

They had unfinished business.

Michael staked absolutely
everything on a fresh roll of the dice,

on a complete creative gamble.

I was very nervous, but for someone
who has had a lot of disappointments,

I was fully prepared to
tank and fail completely,

and so because I
was prepared for that,

the potential for catastrophe
did not have as much weight.

So, when it started
to become successful,

I had no expectations for that,

but when it started to become
successful, it was wonderful,

and I just appreciate it

and don't count
on that ever, at all.

I think Michael
has done something

which very, very few artists do,

which is that he has
continued to stay true to himself.

It's a spiritual journey
from the early 1980s to now.

It's a pure sound,

and the purity of what
he's doing is just like really,

I don't know whether
it's healing or what it is,

but you know, there's
something there

that's not available
anywhere else.

When I saw the Swans
play for the first time,

it was at the Bowery
Ballroom and I'll never forget it,

because usually before a
band starts there's this sort of,

pre-show mix tape
that they have playing

or something like this

that people are just
kind of mingling to,

but Swans, they just
had a tone playing,

and it was just a
really loud tone.

So, instead of being
able to sort of talk over

and mingle with
whoever you're next to,

you just were immediately,
you know, slightly brainwashed

and just by playing that tone,

they took that venue and they
made it theirs, like immediately.

And so everybody was
just blissed out on this tone,

and everybody was
like, yes, this is Swans.

I'll never forget it.

Okay, it's time to go.

I just thought that before I died, I
wanted to experience the kind of

maelstrom, the swirling
tornado of sound again.

I wanted to be inside
that sound again.

I remember seeing the Swans
show at Alexandra Palace

and I remember
thinking after that, that's it,

I'm going home, I've
seen what I need to see.

When I listen to Swans,
especially when I see them live,

I feel like I'm seeing the
whole history of music

being replayed in front of me.

It's not about what
they're playing.

It's just a feeling I have.

Alexandra Palace,
Gira kind of looked like

he was in a trance.

He just kind of started
crying like a baby,

and at first people
were kind of sniggering.

There was no music,

and it was becoming
really uncomfortable

and then you noticed that
people stopped laughing.

They weren't smiling, they
were just like, what is he doing?

And suddenly this kind of cry

developed into
just like a scream.

Like this kind of
human scream of agony.

And then just the
song kicked in.

That was so bizarre,
and so moving, you know?

I've never see a band do
anything like that before.

Performance is important to me.

I like the fact of
music being a struggle,

being a physical
commitment to make it happen,

trying to figure out
how to make something

undeniable happen, just
through your own physical energy.

To me, just being in there
and just expelling sweat

and just feeling
your body torn down

as the music's happening,
it's kind of like penitential.

It feels right.

It's basically music
that you want to play,

you want to write,
but you never dare do,

because in order
to achieve that,

you need to have to
lived beyond consensus,

lived beyond expectations,
you're absolutely mature

and you are ready to express
yourself with no compromise.

[Norman Westberg] I had no idea that
Swans would have these kind of legs.

I felt that back in the day
we were doing something...

right.

You know, making a stand.

I felt it was important.

Michael's not a normal person. I
mean, to have that kind of drive.

You're not a normal person.

Michael, he's always had zero

tolerance for anything
that will get in the way of

him being able to do this.

Michael's always
whipping the sound

into a fury and into
an ecstatic release

of which, as an audience
member, I had to surrender to

or it would have been too
intense and probably driven me out.

That music is not for the weak.

It is about surrendering
to the sound,

because it's like, why fight it?

You can't fight it, you know,
just like, surrender instead.

The music becomes like a
vortex that sucs you in and

it doesn't let you go
until the music stops.

You become an animal
that consists of all of us

You could call it a beast.

There are moments
during a Swans show

that you're wrapped
up in that ecstasy.

The stage becomes
hallowed ground.

For a very brief moment, it
becomes a spiritual ceremony.

It's Michael shocking
us into presence.

I've seen him go into
these trance-like states,

where he's punching himself

and slapping himself
and hitting himself,

and he's doing that to
shake himself out of himself.

He's doing that to
get out of the way.

Behind that initial, very male and
aggressive and some of the brutality of Swans

there's something very very
sensitive, very very beautiful

and very very feminine.

Michael always

making a play for transcendence.

Reaching for divinity
reaching for peace.

I think it really is Michael
reaching for peace.

And you can see
it in the live shows

That's where the
shamanic quality of his

performing comes into play.

He's trying to claw
his way into heaven.

It's like self-immolation.

He's trying to
light himself on fire,

to just be free of the bondage
of this sack of fucking flesh.

It's a beautiful thing to see.

I've thought about
why that volume

two and a half hour bludgeoning
is so cathartic for people

and that I think
gets into the realm of

neuroscience that I am
not qualified to speak about.

Swans now, it's a minimalist
symphony orchestra

that happens to use amplified
instruments and goes to 132 dB.

That volume is part of what allows
what we do to transcend just music.

Michael wants to build the
mountain as big as he can make it.

It's not a wall of sound,
it's a mountain of sound.

It's a mountain range, it's
like Mount Everest of sound.

Swans, they are so massive but also
minimalistic in the way they compose music

using the same chords
over and over and over again

but it always grows into
something unpredicted and unknown

and the sound keeps changing all
the time so you have to be very present

and you have to get into
this meditative state of mind

and just be absorbed.

Much of the material
does not have

a time structure
or rhythm, even,

is that it's necessary
for me to conduct

the waves of sound.

So, I've discovered that if I
use my arms and my body,

it's almost like I'm
playing an instrument,

but it's five other people.

I can move it, like a classical
music conductor would

move the dynamics of
the sound, with my body.

Those are things I do naturally

because the music kind of
forces me to do those things,

and so I do them.

To me it's all
about just atomizing

and having the music
just completely erase you

for a brief moment of ecstasy.

They demand so
much of an audience.

They demand a
complete submission.

Michael as a
performer really forces

everybody in the room into a

eviscerated space

where time and

space itself becomes so
irrelevant to the experience.

Michael has suffered
trauma when he was younger,

physical, spiritual,
psychological,

and I think if you
look at the arc

that his songwriting and
music-making career has taken,

it goes through various stages,

almost like the stages of grief,

but I would say these
are like the stages of...

existentialism.

You start off with trauma
can induce this idea that

life is random,

it is violent and
it has no purpose.

And often horrific things happen

to people who are innocent
or have done nothing wrong

and it can take a lifetime to
reconcile yourself to this fact

and I think you can trace almost
like a history or time scale of how

you deal with existential
trauma over the case of a lifetime.

And now what I think you've
got in the autumn of their career

is something that's closer
to almost like Zen Buddism

You've got an
acceptance of like, yeah

life is random, it is
violent, and terrible things

kind of happen to people
who don't deserve it, or also

an acceptance of this fact
and an ability to celebrate it.

At the core of it now is a
celebration of life, I think,

and the possibility of love,

where you'd be
hard-pressed to find that

in Swans' early
music, though, I think.

Michael's creating a world

that takes you
outside of yourself.

You're transcending
yourself and your body

and the music
takes on a dimension

and I don't think it's any
accident that it has that dimension

with the volume, with
adding that dimension of feel

hitting you so loud, you actually
feel that resonating through your body

The music is so
physical, so circular.

You fall into it.

It's not there, it's all around
you and you're falling into it.

Definitely, that's
the very heart of it.

We know we're making
something that's strong

and has truth in it,

and then seeing
an audience actually

receive that 'SonicTruth',
to quote Thurston [Moore],

seeing it going
into their psyches

and having them
really feel the kind of joy

that we experience
while were playing it,

is so incredibly rewarding.

Picture a snake moving along,

it's just, that's the music,
the snake just moves along

and finds new ground as it goes,

and that's how it's developed,

but it's just allowing
yourself to be enveloped

by the sound and just letting
the sound push you forward.

I'm scared, make me
not scared, Charles.

My children need this
to be a good record.

It's on you, my children's
welfare is on you.

With each chord change,
with the same tuning,

so at the beginning...

♪ Glittering hands ♪

Michael is not really a musician

in the way that I
think about a musician.

He's like a curator of noise,
or sound, or something.

The music is the
sound of the id.

This is what Swans
is all about to me.

It's something...

that can't be attained in words, is what he's
looking for, and therein lies the challenge.

It's a feeling and the only
way to understand that feeling

is to try to get
inside of his head.

But that to me is exactly
what makes Swans work.

He surrounds himself with these

intellectual musicians that
he beats to a bloody pulp.

It's just D-A-D

Right?

Low D, then A

then a high D

Thor, try dealing that last
downbeat on the big drum too,

so itf'd be...
da-da-dun dun — dun

Michael is not a fearless
human, but he is a fearless artist.

Michael is more like
a big picture visionary

with just a strange world view that
comes across in everything that is Swans.

It's hard.

These are some
lyrics that I wrote

when I was sitting
at my typewriter

in my rehearsal space in 1982

and Sonic Youth asked
me if they can use them

and I said, sure. It's
called World Looks Red.

It was a popular song they did.

It's on Confusion
is Sex, I think.

I haven't looked at them or
thought about them in years

that I was playing this
song, I'm gonna use them on.

I thought geez, I'll
just use those words.

Let's start with you
coming in before I sing,

doing what you just ended with.

It needs something else, it
just sounds, again, like Samba,

and I'm this close
to just ditching it.

I'm playing the, naturally
I would play the G

in the break there,
my part is in between.

Norman, I think you did,
when we played it yesterday,

I believe that you did
that strumming like that,

a little more often, I think that
added a lot of tension, which I like.

Yeah, that's the part I liked.

So, let's try to see
if we get in the song.

Otherwise, we're just
gonna ditch the song.

Working with him has challenges.

It's hard to understand
him sometimes, you know,

I guess the hardest
part is really like

just the communication,
misunderstandings

and the little details
and the nuances

that make it difficult to
communicate such weird concepts.

He just says conceptually
what he wants you to do

and it can be difficult,
and he can get frustrated

and everybody can get
frustrated in the process.

- Start lower.
- I know, I did.

- That's your lowest E?

- That's my, what
do you mean by low?

- Lower.
- I start lower?

On this final E.

That's my higher E.

You start lower on the final E.

- You do, you do.
- You said the opposite yesterday.

No, 'cause it needs to
go somewhere, start lower.

- Ready?
- I need...

- Ready, one...
- I need to understand.

- I need to understand.
- This is what you did.

I'm just confused,
explain it to me.

Go down the neck,
play your lowest E.

Right, that's where your
chord was, somewhere like that,

and you had a chord down there.

And then you do that for
a bit then you go up higher

"cause we're staying
on this chord now."

That's right, I went
to the high chord...

- Okay.
- Wait, wait, wait.

No, it's fine,
whatever you want.

It's fine, I'm not arguing
with you, do what you want.

Okay, let's just go
without him, ready?

No, no.

He'll be back in a minute,
he'll be back in a minute.

We gotta get this
straightened out.

What? What am I supposed
to say, that's the case!

I think I could've
explained it to him.

I get caught up in the
heat of the moment

and it's almost like
yelling, you know,

arguing with family members.

Michael doesn't compromise,
with us, as the band too.

He doesn't let things pass.

If there's something
that bothers him,

he voices it and it gets fixed

because we're all
adults here, we'll fix it.

That's the best yet.

I don't want you to
ever lose that feel.

That's totally
fucking righteous.

It sounds sonically great, too.

Michael sometimes has
a reputation as being...

difficult.

Oh, he's very difficult,
but you know, this is,

I learned this through
working with Nick Cave,

or The Cramps or
Jeffrey Lee Pierce.

All of these people
I've worked with,

and Michael is one
person I've worked with,

they share this
very admirable trait

of defending their
vision above all.

There's just no
room for compromise.

It's a life's work.

Stay on the E.

Add a little eh-eh
in the Es, okay?

Better feel.

You could pare it down
even a little more, just drama.

You were playing
more dramatically, too.

Then, come in after all
that thing is what it needs.

We do this thing
before all of our shows

where all six of us hug each
member before we go on,

and it's a huge
important part of the show

because sometimes
when you're touring,

the day is just
miserable and boring

and maybe you're getting
on each other's nerves a bit,

but then there's that
hug right before the show,

and it's like, remember,

we're here to do this
thing for these people.

And it's good, important
work, you know.

Swans have always been
an epic sounding band.

And now finally the music
has literally an epic form.

They're big pieces
with lots of layers.

It is ear-damagingly loud.

On stage it is, doing
it every night, yes.

That's another
reason to wind it down.

I'd like to hear my
children's voices.

Michael wants to
stand in the middle

of the maelstrom of the sound

and I don't know how
he's done that for so long

and still has any hearing left

because I have hearing damage

and I can't handle
loud volume for too long.

There's these operations they
can do now for ear damage.

They replace every little hair.

I would like it, my
hearing's fucked.

[JG Thirlwell] Do
you have tinnitus?

I'm beyond it.

But did you ever have tinnitus?

Not until this
version of this band.

Yeah, because you know you can
have hearing loss without tinnitus

Oh, I have tremendous
hearing loss.

Every once in a while, I
get the musical note thing.

But generally, it's like
the waves of the sea,

it's just

If I'm in silence,
it's like just...

Oh, so you do have that.

We had a great bonding moment
the last time they came to Atlanta

about everything that
was going on in his life.

We began to reattach as friends
and really have the connection again.

For Michael to ask me to come
and to sing Blood On My Hands,

it was a very healing
moment for me, so it was

a very very important gesture.

I had a tremendous
spiritual bond

and downright love
affair with Swans.

It was something that you've
given so much of your heart to

and you've worked so
hard in for so many years.

Like you kind of feel
invested in an intimate way

like your spirit
is connected to it.

And of course I consider
all those guys brothers.

I understood every millisecond of what
was happening up there as an architecture.

I understood it and it felt weird
to not be part of it. It felt weird.

At the end, the way
they finish the shows,

they all come to the
front of the stage and bow

and they're all
smiling and happy.

You really feel they've
gone through a battle

and they come out of it
and they've done brilliantly.

And they stand there and
they're smiling on stage,

they feel they've
done a day's work

And I love that.

A lot of groups would just do
feedback and walk off stage.

It all makes it very special

because he's so intense on
stage, it's so 'other' onstage.

And then Michael goes
straight to the merch stand

and starts interacting
with the fans,

which I think is great.

I suffer from anxiety

and tonight shifted
something for me.

- Oh good.
- Thank you very much.

I'm glad it's positive.

It's like fuel to me when
someone comes up to me

and tells me that the music

has helped them
through hard times

or that they found
something true in it

and how much it means to
them, that's incredibly rewarding.

It's fortifying to know that
I'm not doing it in a void

and that it actually has
had an effect on people.

It's so sick how the way people get
sucked up into the whole celebrity thing.

What a stupid way to look at existence, you
know, you have this short period on earth

and you're going to
wasted it thinking you're

some big deal. It's just stupid.

So people, they care about the music,
they pay to come see it, they buy things.

I think it's important
to meet them.

Find out what they're about.

Hello, I'm really unprepared,
I don't have anything to sign.

Oh, I'll be happy
to sign on that, yes.

It's my ticket.

Thank you for being here.

To Be Kind blew my mind

and it's changed the
way I listen to music.

The way it's so brutal and vicious and hard
to listen to, but the emotions are so raw.

It feels bigger than
you are in a sense.

Something about
it is kind of moving

in a weird sort of
transcendental way.

When I listen to it I don't feel
like I'm in control whatsoever

or I know what's going to happen even
though I know the songs a million times

and it feels kind of
like leaving my body.

Can you sign the
back of my shirt?

Tonight, you really
moved me to tears.

Thank you, just, thank you.

How old are you?

It's all there.

It was an amazing
show. Thank you so much.

Thank you. Where'd you get this.

The sound is just amazing.
Mindblowing stuff. Absolutely brilliant.

Yeah, first show.

It just completely blew me away
like nothing I'd ever heard before.

Hey, you got a bootleg
shirt on, take it off.

It's fantastic that
some of these kids

are the children of people
that went to the shows.

It's definitely the I word,
legacy, I mean it definitely is.

[Michael] For your dad?

Thank you for the concert.

Sorry about my voice.

No, it was really good.

And the song from
your wife point of view,

- I cried and it's amazing.
- Oh, good.

I don't know, I
cannot express it.

But it was really good, so thank you very much.
- Thank you.

Seeing Michael again
after all these years

was seeing like, my brother.

- How's it going?
- I'm good, how are you?

Great to see you.

Historic occasion.

There's very few
people I know in my life,

that I can just sort of like
see after 10 years or so

and it's like, not
a day has passed.

You alright?

Michael's certainly like that,

and it's been
longer than 10 years.

I mean, he's still got his band. I
don't have Sonic Youth anymore.

Oh, he's making
huge statements now.

And Swans, their concerts
are complete experiences.

Are you ready, we're gonna do a
collaboration on I Wanna Be Your Dog

You wanna do that?

I'll play the bass,
even though I can't...

To see Swans being
so accepted right now,

that's really great for him.

And this place is
completely sold out

and everybody's
is standing there

and they're listening
and they're all loving it.

For Michael to experience
that in that part of his life,

finally, is such a
glorification of being an artist.

Thurston Moore!

I was so happy and I
was so proud that he was

able to be there and doing that.

I think Michael stands
in the pantehon of

committed

artists.

Artistes!

Here was a guy who had a vision
and he was not fucking around.

He did it and then he kept
doing it and he kept doing it,

and he unflaggingly
committed himself

to his muse and his inspiration.

He's had a huge
impact on a lot of artists.

That's what matters.

I always thought that history

would be very kind to the Swans

because their output
has always had

an honesty to it,
and a real mastery

and an artistic vision
that is so unique

and impossible
to imitate really.

So they carved for themselves

the hard way, a very, very
definitive, artistic niche.

And it will always be, I
think, a really fertile well

of artistic content
for people to return to,

in 20 years and 50 years

because of its integrity
and purity and mastery.

There always has to
be a next, an evolution.

As an artist, you're always gonna
push until you fall over the edge,

so maybe Michael just
hasn't found the edge yet.

I felt like as a group,
as these six people,

that we have kind of
reached the pinnacle,

the top of what we can do.

Anything else
would be starting to

eat your own
fingers or your hand.

It's just time to
breathe a different air.

But we'll see you again.

It's incredibly spirited
of Michael to call time

on this iteration of Swans.

When it's still building

and people now have
very much a love for it,

and he can play to very large
audiences around the world.

I think he's once again

doing the true
artistic thing of saying,

this feels like it's
about to get comfortable

and comfort doesn't
equal good art

and now I'm gonna
scrap it and start again.

The last one...

- Thor.
- Such a pleasure and an honor.

You big galoot!

I arrived from [Republic
of] Georgia from Tblisi

to New York City,
especially for Swans concert.

I came from Tempe, Arizona.

I came from Providence,
Rhode Island.

So, tonight I came
from Montreal.

My son Joshua and I came
from Vermont to see Swans.

Love of Life was the
first album, I think,

I listened to by them and I
was just really into it, yeah.

I flew in from Mexico City.

From Latvia, from Riga.

I came from Denmark.

I come from Sweden.

I came from Tulsa,
Oklahoma today

to see Swans for the first time.

I'm 13 years old, I've
been a fan since late 2016.

To Be Kind was my first listen.

My dad is also a Swans fan.

I got him into Swans, actually.

So, this was extremely
important to me.

Swans is very
special band for me

It's really emotional because
it's Swans last shows.

Friends of mine
came here from Paris..

And yeah, it's a
big deal for people.

With some kind of quite
stunning ups and downs,

they've had the kind of career

and dogged self-belief

and self-determination

that will make them an
enduring name in music.

I think it's a name that will
only kind of grow in time.

I want the music
to continue to exist.

I think it's a positive force.

It's definitely an act
of love, I've realized,

so that's a good force
to have in the world.

And meeting people
who experience it

and get something true from it

is a huge reward for me.

To feel like I've
done and am doing

something
worthwhile with my life.

I think I called Michael
last year in a drunken state.

Not him, I was drunk.

I told him that I
still consider him

a fellow traveler on
the same strange path.

Unless you're making
something, creating something,

you can't be
actualized or whole or,

kind of, have a sense of being
in your skin or in your body

unless you're doing it,
you just have to keep on.

Some people might say it's a
compulsion, but it's your DNA.

I can't see why he would stop now. You
carry on till the bitter end, till you drop.

You drop and that's it.

You've had it.

Yeah, Michael Gira will never
stop until a Samsonite shaped

tombstone rests six
feet above his head.

I have to work, you
gotta keep working.

A person's life is consumed
largely by the work they do.

And if you're tenacious
enough and fortunate,

you can figure out a
way to, at least, subsist

on doing the thing that
you were put on earth to do.

I mean, giving up is
not an option anyway.

What else am I gonna do?