KLF Is Gonna Rock Ya.
Every Friday I post a “Friday tune” in the work WhatsApp group.
This week, because the Brits were on Saturday and corporate back-slapping season was in full swing, I dropped the 1992 KLF / Extreme Noise Terror performance.
Machine-gun blanks.
Noise.
Confused suits.
And the immortal line:
“The KLF have now left the music business.”
Still the greatest 3 minutes in Brits history. I will not be taking questions.
I’ve always loved The KLF, not just the hits, but the pre-KLF chaos and the post-KLF conceptual head-melt.
Here’s the (non-exhaustive, cos I am bound to have mised some) family tree.
BEFORE THE KLF
Big in Japan (1977–78)
Bill Drummond’s early Liverpool punk band. Brief, scrappy, influential. Future members of Frankie Goes to Hollywood and The Lightning Seeds passed through. Not bad for a “failed” band.
Eric’s Club (Liverpool)
Bill behind the scenes helping shape post-punk Britain.
Zoo Records
Co-founded by Bill. Echo & The Bunnymen. The Teardrop Explodes. Liverpool post-punk.
Echo & The Bunnymen (Manager)
Bill briefly steering the ship.
The Teardrop Explodes (Manager)
Managed Julian Cope. Creative tension levels: very high
Brilliant (mid-80s)
Short-lived band where Bill and Jimmy Cauty properly collide. The beginning of something beautifully.
The Timelords (1988)
Proto-KLF. “Doctorin’ the Tardis.”
Also produced The Manual (How to Have a Number One the Easy Way) a semi-satirical, semi-accurate guide to hacking the pop charts.
THE JAMMS (1987–1989)
1987 (What the Fuck Is Going On?)*
Sample-heavy chaos. ABBA sued. Records withdrawn and reportedly destroyed. Myth-making via litigation.
“Whitney Joins The JAMMS”
Pop culture smashed together like a rave-age collage project.
THE KLF ERA (1989–1992)
Chill Out (1990)
Ambient road trip across America that may or may not exist. Sheep. Steel guitar. Late-night motorway vibes before “chill” was a Spotify category.
The White Room (1991)
Stadium house.
“3 a.m. Eternal.”
“Last Train to Trancentral.”
“Justified & Ancient.”
Music dressed as a mythological cult.
Stadium House Trilogy
Remixing the same idea repeatedly until it becomes philosophy.
1992 Brit Awards Performance
Teamed with Extreme Noise Terror. Fired blanks into the industry. Left a dead sheep at the afterparty (allegedly). Announced their retirement. Deleted their back catalogue. Refused to elaborate.
Deletion of the Back Catalogue
No streaming. No CDs. Nothing. For over two decades.
Absence as art. Silence as statement.
K FOUNDATION (1993–1997)
K Foundation Award
£40,000 to the “Worst Artist of the Year.” Rachel Whiteread accepted. Conceptual trolling at national level.
Burning £1 Million (1994)
They burned a million quid on the Isle of Jura. Filmed it.
Art? Madness? Both?
Publications & Fallout
Books, debates, awkward interviews. The burn wouldn’t let them go.
BILL DRUMMOND (Post-KLF)
The 17
Choir of non-professionals. No recordings. No monetisation. Just presence. Anti-Spotify.
Walking Projects
Long-distance walks as art. Invite strangers. Keep moving.
Books
45, How to Be an Artist, The 17.
Penkiln Burn Projects
Ongoing rural art experiments in Scotland. Quiet. Odd. Persistent.
JIMMY CAUTY (Post-KLF)
The Orb (Co-founder)
Early ambient house pioneer before heading off on his own path.
Production Work
Behind-the-scenes influence on early UK rave culture.
Riot Shield / Stigma Installations
Dystopian police-shield artworks. Beautifully unsettling.
The Aftermath Dislocation Principle (ADP)
Miniature model villages depicting post-riot Britain. Tiny burning cars. Big commentary.
Now I could go on for hours about most of this.
But today isn’t about the machine guns, the million quid, or Mu Mu Land.
Today it’s about Bill.
And the Penkiln Burn Project.
I check the Penkiln Burn site fairly regularly, like some people check football scores or Rightmove.
A few days ago, something popped up.
So.
When Mr Drummond asks you to invoice him… what exactly do you do?
Because this is not a sentence I ever expected to type. Not in 1992. Not during my “burn a million quid and call it art” phase of fandom. Not ever.
And yet here we are.
Now, I’ve had correspondence with Bill on a few occasions over the years. Nothing dramatic. No secret Mu Mu initiation rites. Just proper, human exchanges. And to be fair to him, he’s always been surprisingly good at getting back to me.
Which, when you think about it, is slightly surreal.
This time, though, the contact was initiated by him.
Which changes the energy slightly.
If Bill Drummond tells you to invoice him, you don’t ignore that email. You don’t sit on it. You don’t overthink it (although obviously I have overthought it). You write the invoice. Carefully. Possibly poetically. Definitely with a raised eyebrow..
Will he pay it?
I suspect he will.
He seems like the sort of man who understands the weight of asking someone to value their time.
But this is Bill Drummond.
So it might also become something else entirely.
Either way, I’ll let you know what happens.
Stay justified.
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