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Michael Clark
As he has advanced into his 40s, the former enfant terrible has dispensed with some of the more visually garish elements of his earlier work, but has not lost his creative edge or zest for experimentation.
Significantly, the careful emphasis placed upon the music used by Clark has always remained inspired, unexpected, exciting.
For Michael Clark Company's New Work, it is the intertwined 70s sonic adventures of David Bowie, Lou Reed and Iggy Pop from which the soundtrack now comes. Here, Clark talks to Another Man about his formative interactions - musical and sartorial - with this holy trinity, and the ongoing inspiration that they provide for him.
Another Man: Do those first glimpses into thrilling other worlds' - of the sort provided to kids back in the 70s by artists such as Iggy Pop, David Bowie and Lou Reed - stay with us for ever, do you think? Michael Clark: Yes. I was brought up on a farm in the north-east of Scotland surrounded by cows, pigs and the occasional chicken, so even travelling ten miles on the bus to Aberdeen for my Scottish dancing classes every Saturday was a glimpse into a magical, dangerous, thrilling other world. Being the only boy, I gravitated towards the three toughest girls with the biggest fits, who taught me their shoplifting skills at Woolworth's pick'n'mix. So, yes, David Bowie was a revelation. Each new Bowie record was an adventure. I didn't understand half of the lyrics and even the music challenged me back then, but I was determined to get it because he fascinated me as a creation. Those moments stay with me for life and it's a feeling ! recreate when l embark on each new work. Into the unknown...
Can you cast your mind back to when you first heard and saw these three legendary performers? Various musicians, artists and fashion designers who were teenagers in the 70s have talked about their life being changed in an instant when they first saw Bowie performing 'Starman' on Top of The Pops in 1972. Was this the case with you? The 'Starman' moment was an epiphany for me, personally, too... but also a moment of profound identification. I knew I was different from my other school mates - so when David Bowie casually draped his arm around Mick Ronson I realised I might not be the only one. I had never seen two men make physical contact before, other than in drunken Saturday night brawls. I discovered the Velvet Underground not through Bowie, but through a mid-teen fascination with Warhol. Because I was considered brainy - in Royal Ballet School terms - I was entered for my English GCE a year early. I failed and was then made to do English CSE, where you could choose two books to study. Mine were Sylvia Plath's The Bell Jar and From A to B and Back Again 'by' Warhol.
Talk about a different world. I seem to remember in the first chapter Warhol had to tiptoe through chocolate-covered cherries in order to reach the bathroom. Warhol came and saw my company's New York debut, just before his death. He said he loved the work - that meant a great deal to me. Did you know before he became an artist he wanted to be a dancer? Lou Reed has always held a mysterious magnetism for me. The Velvet Underground, to quote Jonathan Richman, were 'kinda far away, kinda dignified'. The pure sonic breadth, colour, exuberance, and rigour. I couldn't say exactly when I first saw Iggy... but of this trinity, Iggy is the most physically awe-inspiring. He has the fearless abandon of the chosen maiden in The Rite of Spring one moment, then in less than a second can turn into a petulant child - throwing himself into danger in a way l have been known to attempt. The outcome for me: five knee operations plus two hernias. For Iggy: transcendence. I still return home from rehearsal and watch footage of Iggy circa the Stooges and ask myself, 'How can l achieve such total lack of self-consciousness as a trained dancer?' It's performance as apotheosis. I would love to make a duet for Iggy and Mikhail Baryshnikov.
During your teens, how did you show your love for David, Iggy and Lou? I spent an unhealthy amount of time hanging out at the local hair salon in Aberdeen, though sadly my hair refused to do anything like Bowie's. At that age, any article of clothing considered outrageous by my dad had to be returned to the shop - even if I'd saved up and paid for it myself. Having said that, my mother would always take a photo of me in said glad rags before they were returned, in tears.
Nowadays, is their earlier music familiar and nostalgic, or still something vital and fresh to you? Nostalgia is so last season...
How does your company's latest work respond to these three artists? For me, it is about the musical creative dialogue, which had begun for Bowie by the time of Hunky Dory, between these three. Iggy Pop's Mass Production', raising very Warholian questions regarding authenticity and authorship - what is the REAL thing?' - takes us into Bowie and Eno's instrumental work from the same year; naturally they inhabit a very similar sonic landscape. I only ever wanted to make this [new work] with Bowie's towering presence via video projection. He decreases in scale and becomes one of us. "Heroes" is deeply reminiscent of the Velvets Waiting For The Man', although the emotional building of "Heroes" is a very different train journey. The euphoric coda to Lou Reed's 'Satellite of Love' and Bowie's 'Somebody Up There Likes Me' are like brother and sister. Forgive me if I'm stating the obvious.
Are their earlier works still culturally relevant today? Do people need to be reminded of, or introduced to, their music from the 70s? Without the pioneering, risk-taking and sheer audacity of David Bowie, Lou Reed and Iggy Pop - and we mustn't forget Marc Bolan or Roxy Music - there would have been no punk. And without punk, born out of glam, the cultural landscape would be... worse than a perm. Beige and barren. Brushed denim loons. David Bowie's music is everywhere, don't you find? The Velvets are for days at home, or for walking from A to B in New York. Until Trainspotting came out, 'Lust For Life was my getting-up, shaking-the-duvet and preparing-for-the-day-ahead music. l often need to have a dance purely for my own mental health, with no one else around. All three of them keep me connected to why I need to move.
How often do you listen to music by them, irrespective of whether you are using it within your work? When I am working to the same song for six months, l use a method I am told is called interpolation. I create some distance between me and the song by choreographing to anything other than the very song it will be danced to.
Are there any new stars - real stars, not celebrities - comparable to this trio today? I hope so. Please let me know where they are hiding.