Stand By For Failure: A Documentary About Negativland

"What is Negativland?"

They're definitely not a band: they refer to themselves as such when it's convenient, such as to avoid getting lumped in with other experimental groups, but their output is far too wide ranging to be constrained by such a small word. They're not musicians, as founding member David Wills explicitly rejects that label for himself, and they disagree about whether what they produce even is music. Personally, I'd call them a multi-media art collective, but given that Wills feels self-conscious about the pretentiousness of calling their albums "works", I think it's safe to say he wouldn't embrace that label, either. All of which is unfortunate for you, dear reader, as it's quite likely you're wondering the same thing as that anonymous journalist.

The truth is they're whatever the hell they want to be. In their forty-five years of existence, their output has run the gamut of everything you can think of, and plenty of things you can't. They've released about fifteen albums of culture jamming sound collages, as well as multiple books and owner's manuals. They staged a hoax where their song "Christianity Is Stupid" was accused of inspiring a teenager to murder his parents, in a satire of the Satanic panic and critique of the media's gullibility. They continue to operate a radio show where they create sound collages live on air. One of their albums came with two grams of the ashes of founding member Don Joyce. After being successfully sued by U2, they had the opportunity to conduct an interview with The Edge discussing the nature of copyright and sampling and such, and after forty-five minutes asked him for money to help self-publish their next album. And that only scratches the surface.

All of this they perform with an impish glee, delighting in devoting their energy into highlighting hypocrisy, antagonizing systems, and generally being agents of chaos who staunchly refuse to listen to what society tells them. Their interest is producing media which uses media to comment on the state of media and its impact on the world and ourselves: "media about media about media". Their collages mostly consist of snippets rearranged to create meaning that was never intended, or else to reveal what's really going on with a given statement. Even just the nature of the clips themselves imbue the work with a deeper, more political meaning, as they're almost exclusively stolen media, rescued from wherever they can find it. As for the contents of their work, not only do they take aim at a set of topics in a humorous yet cutting way, but their presentation often mirrors the overwhelming volume of information and cacophonous nature of existing in the modern Information Age. A single track might include dozens of samples and snippets, mutating them in numerous ways to achieve just the right effect.

At least some of the previous five hundred words of context is needed for Ryan Worsley's outstanding documentary about the group to make any sense. She does an excellent job crafting a piece which is perfectly in line with their style, feeling like a doc made by Negativland about Negativland (which would be a very Negativland thing to do). It makes sense: she's worked with them a handful of times over the past decade, basically achieving member status without technically becoming one, similar to Sue-C.

I found it overwhelming at times to be so blasted with sound and video flashing by in an instant, which is not at all a criticism: as mentioned above, it's part of the point. Additionally, it serves to wonderfully punctuate the moments she slows down to focus on some event or some past interview. She pulls heavily from David's home recordings, especially in the first half, which gives us a pretty raw view into those early years and some of the dynamics at play. To see the members hanging out or recording the radio show or whatever strips away the layers of mystique and reveals just some guys who don't always see eye to eye, but are focused on finding new sounds and uses for them, who are skeptical of every element of the media landscape, and who ultimately just wanna have some fun. They have ideas, weird ones, ones they're not sure anyone but them actually likes, but ain't no way that'll stop 'em. All of these personal bits and peeks behind the curtain help sell us more on the moments in the group's history that are truly impactful: the fire that wrecked their first studio; being bankrupt after the Island Records suit; the passing of David's mother; and later, the death of various group members. Not that Worsley is interested in letting you dwell on the darkness: she hits those moments with deserved reverence, then moves on. But it can't help but highlight the passage of time, same as David's health issues and everyone's graying hair. Despite their youthful behavior, and how stubbornly they've remained in the counterculture for all these years, their unique flare won't be around forever.

Unfortunately, that it mimics their style does make the doc unfriendly to Negativland neophytes, or at least those unfamiliar with culture jamming. From its opening moments, you're blasted in the face with so many strange visuals and audio effects and seemingly random happenings. It's disorienting at first, but the key is to let it wash over you, and whatever sticks, sticks. Worsley aids in this by gradually shaping the narrative of the group. It's far from a straight line, and many details are not stated explicitly or are presented out of order or whatnot. But it does all generally march forward, and people's personalities and philosophies are painted such that we gain a deeper understanding of their animating forces, making us actually feel it when we learn of their passing. You do come away with a sense of what they've accomplished, how they've done it, and what they care about. It's just delivered in a way that dares you to keep up, rather than making efforts to bring you along.

Presently, the film is touring with Negativland in lieu of a traditional release. I was fortunate enough to catch it at The Luna Theater, where the screening was followed by their newest live show We Can Really Feel Like We're Here, accompanied by visuals produced in real-time by Sue-C, and a special appearance by David Wills via video call. While obviously separate from the documentary, it was part of and certainly enhanced my experience. They demonstrated having not lost a beat, using virtual reality and the metaverse as a jumping off point for discussing the way we experience all of reality through our screens and at a remove, and the impacts that's had on society and politics and culture. While it's concerned with many of the same things as And the King Said, What a Fantastic Machine, the way it thoroughly replicates the sensory overload of the modern world and injects it with humor and satire and irony better captures and thus better dissects the experience of it. It's hard to overstate just how freeing it is to cease trying to take it all in, instead letting yourself bathe in the otherworldly visuals and sounds, and feel the noise give way to patterns and deliberate choices and meaning.

Combined with the doc, this whole experience serves as an outstanding example of what the group is and does so well, immersing you in a sea of uncertainty and causing you to question what's happening all around you. They ride this murky, razor's edge, viewing the whole world as ridiculous, but never losing sight of the immense impact of the insanity. As such, maybe the one two punch of the doc and performance can actually serve as a reasonable entry point, so long as you're comfortable living in a sea of confusion which never quite resolves.