I don't see that there has to be a contradiction between comprehending what it was like to be living in England in 1975 and being an artist. I never considered myself to be different from most of the people living on my street. Somebody said to me during the peak of COUM, when it was so successful "That's all fine, but would you be able to do that in the local pub?" Believe it or not, that's what made me really determined to see TG work. So it could have lots of artistic intent, lots of intellectual theories and concepts and satisfactions for me as an artist. But it also could be simply visceral. In other words, you took what you wanted from it and that was an interesting change. Entertainment was not the focus, nor was music really. It was much more out of control in terms of the actual moment of live performance and it was the voluntary refusal of "control" to set up an alchemical musical environment and then be equally at its mercy to some large extent compared to the usual concert set up. Be equally barraged by the sound as the audience. The sound on-stage was as loud, if not louder, than the sound in front. I had huge bass bins next to my ear. Sometimes we'd even have a second PA at the back facing us!

My favorite times were when I'd touch the bass guitar and the wood on the stage would start to vibrate my feet. My whole body'd kind of shake like a "Tom and Jerry" cartoon and that to me was the perfect acoustic to a TG gig because I was feeling it equally, if not more than, anybody else. My body was absolutely at the mercy of the sound. And THEN things would come through and then voices would come through and words would come through and dynamics and textures would come through . . .

In some of the live TG recordings, you sound as if you're possessed or speaking in tongues. It's pure glossalalia.

That's right. And in that sense there was a certain considered selfishness which is "I want to find out what this feels like. I want to see what happens to me." The best way to finance and to execute this is to have live situations to do it. Plus, I'm curious to see what happens to other people. So hey, guess what, a gig is a great way to do that and that's why we did so few. Cause it wasn't the primary reason, it was just one of the reasons we did it. Chris and I, in particular, did that stuff, in the Death Factory, to each other a lot any way. He had moments when he had tunnel vision, couldn't walk or stand up straight and so on from certain frequencies we hit. And there were times when we left the equipment running itself, a bit like [Lou Reed's] Metal Machine Music (laughs) for two or three days to see what happened when it was just there and we came and went and did other tasks but the same loops were just going and going and going and going and going in order to see what happened to our brains. Or not. It was a chaotic, in the best sense of chaotic . . . a chaotic research lab.

Assume Power Focus

During the 30 or so TG concerts, which you'd dubbed "psychic rallies" --the mood, the building of energies and the audience interaction . . .

It's a necessary part of the magickal process, it's even the invocation. Which is why sometimes I can become very uncomfortable with having to perform because I would be happy to stay at home. There are some times when there is no way to make "it" happen except to interact with "a public" and with the society and all the environment. Magick always works with the environment it's in and each form of magick is built from a reaction to its environment. And as the environment changes the magick should change, obviously and as my environment changes, so must my magick change. That's why I abandon personas, projects, magickal orders (laughs)!

Did an aptitude for magick come naturally to you? Did you just "get" it?

I've got a photograph that my mum just sent me where I'm one year old and I realized looking at it that I've made circles of stones all my life. I've been obsessive about making stonework. From a very young age I worked with stones to make symbols, circles, to make shapes, make tunnels and hidden chambers. And as soon as I knew how to masturbate I would use my sperm and I would eat it. Sex magick came completely naturally to me. It was like various flags were set there for me to find . . . And I didn't miss them. I was very fortunate. It was like a biological imprint. I could spot the flags. Whatever the interference that was going on around me, I could see the flags. And whether that is a gift, a fluke or a neurosis, who cares? That's what happened. That's the way it worked for me.

It's one of these things. It's a curse and a blessing to have hindsight. When I read Magick in Theory in Practice and I looked at the picture of Crowley I realized it was someone I'd met and talked to when I was younger. And that really was confusing . . .

Someone you'd "met and talked to"?

Yes.

He died in . . .

Yes.

1947.

Yes.

And you were born in 1950?

Exactly.

Huh?

Well, I was living in Gatley in Cheshire, 1957, and I remember very distinctly walking along the road in a very ordinary suburban place in Cheshire, which is dairy farming and the suburbs on Manchester combined. I started hearing footsteps and this old guy caught up with me and started talking to me. And I thought, oh, I'm not supposed to talk to strangers (laughs). He had a shaved bald head and he was telling me stuff. And as he was talking to me all the streets started to change: the houses started to look like they were made of bread. That was how I remembered it at the time. And everything was very unreal and it was if the street didn't get any shorter or longer as I walked along with him. I was going fast but I wasn't getting anywhere. And then he patted me on the shoulder and left. And I went home. It didn't strike me as very odd and I had thought about it over the years, but it wasn't until I read that book that I thought "Fuck, this is that person I was speaking to."

I don't exactly follow what you are trying to convey . . .