ISDN cover notes

Radio quickly evolved as an area where people were inclined to use their ears. We could reach people at their strongest and most vulnerable – in the home. Radio had become jaded and misused rather like the other great citadel of entertainment – but people hadn't lost the power to conjure atmospheres. By combining the new technology (ISDN DIGITAL PHONE LINK) with it we entered a new phase where we were able to broadcast live from the studio in London to radio stations or any suitably equipped space anywhere in the world. Ideally we would play only once to hundreds of radio stations simultaneously via one link but this wasn't politically or technically possible at this time – however we quickly hooked into a radio network desperate for evocative broadcasting and thus over the next year were able to reach millions of people worldwide. The potential was immediately there for media games – we could turn it into a death of rock 'n' roll statement – it was more to do with getting away from the great bastion of the music industry – the performance – journalists who wanted to watch us perform were missing the point – we were evolving a new mechanism not based on the spectacle. Of course like most areas we find ourselves in a lot of questions arose and not all good. Art galleries quickly came a board for transmissions – without being in control of the environment into which we were transmitting we were worried – was piped musak the answer to the lost dynamic? We didn't think so – even if history was being made. Anyhow radio was merely the stop-gap for something far more interesting......?
Somewhere thousands of miles away people were gathered to hear us – we knew they needed to feel that we were physically here in Dollis Hill separated only by an ISDN line. We turned it over hundreds of times during the week – funnily enough the only way was to stare the very thing we were trying to escape squarely between the jaws – we had to talk to them. We'd come full circle – back to glaring lights, indiscreet blow jobs in chauffeur driven limos and all the things we thought we no longer needed. A cursory 'stop flashing those fuckin' lights' sufficed and then we submerged into 40 minutes of noizic – 50% control 50% chaos – multi-tracks fusing with vomiting samplers all held together by a stoical Yage. It was 3 in the morning we were knackered, the last shops had closed hours ago and there was nothing to do but watch Pins collection of old top of the pops footage which only worsened the feeling that our great vision for dynamic entertainment had somehow misfired. Somehow it helped as well – since most of the performances held by the bastions as icons of modern pop seemed remarkably stale in hindsight – maybe we could keep our resolve amidst the misunderstanding. Half an hour to go and we started making random calls to relieve tension – Mason Bentley put in a call using the Brighton prefix instructing the bemused recipient that 'the horse had bolted and that we would take the usual top floor suite at the hotel with allowances for a power entourage of sixty'. Bugs high on valium found this especially amusing. Finally it turned 4, 'we're ready for you' and we emerged somewhere to strange bodies somewhere in New York. Out of a reverb 'come fly the teeth of the wind' into this lonely landscape of our own creation – unsignposted – trying to keep the ability to objectively feel if this is working. Ultimately we felt nothing – maybe we were too aware that this is how we were expected to feel – Radio was different – there was no bodily gathering and therefore no allusion to rock 'n' roll – just millions of people being touched as remote units dotted and uncountable. We knew people hadn't lost the ability to conjure atmospheres and we knew they were lurking out there in ways too complex for stalwarts to imagine – open to suggestion far greater than through traditional means – we needed to push beyond this period of feverish technological know how – 'if I was as clever as these people impose I'd be hacking banks 'Where the fuck have you been?', Yage took offence and stalked out I ran after him – nothing – just a wet Dollis hill with the mild possibility of a booting. He was gone and the transmission went on without him.

— Future Sound of London • ISDN • 1994