actually existing, pt. II
[ NB. This here is a (very) brief excerpt from what’s turned into a longer thing I’m working on, mainly just trying to make the argument for why we need better organization, which means we need more organizations. I’m always interested in feedback, but for these ones in particular I welcome all comers – please do be in touch! ]
Though there are many variations, the dominant story about how power works in so-called liberal democracies ultimately locates it in the formal political structure: insofar as democracy is “working,” citizens can demand that their political representatives enact legislation that will limit the ability of corporations to continue dumping carbon into the atmosphere, or place a moratorium on deportations, or route public funding away from the coercive arms of state power towards social services, and so on.
This can lead to official electoral activism, most obviously, though many of us often engage with this process in a critical and pragmatic fashion, organizing to exert more forceful pressures on the political class, knowing that though it won’t get us a revolution, we may yet wring some material gains out of it along the way. Surely that’s not a bad thing. And so there’s a spectrum of potential activity that falls under this umbrella, which we often describe in terms of “militancy.” We have the pamphlet, the slide deck, the rousing speech, most forms of “peaceful” protest, but also the sit-in, civil disobedience, so many iterations of “direct action”: we shut down summits or offices, we block roadways, we take it to their front lawns, and so on. All well and good, of course, but at the end of the day, whether we’re appealing to their consciences or their electoral prospects, and regardless of how aggressively we make our demands, these mostly remain modes of action which route their paths towards change through elected officials.
That is, we’re so rarely able to put hands directly on the real levers of material power, and if that’s the case, what are we doing if not lobbying the powerful (albeit with increasingly assertive forms of address)?
Now obviously, there’s plenty to do that can have more direct and material impacts, and indeed, something I think we’ve gotten pretty good at is developing our capacity for tactically effective actions at local levels: disrupting infrastructure, shutting down central business districts, blocking deportation flights, and so on. But when it comes to scaling up, in terms of how our actions fit within a broader strategic project that might actually lead to real substantive change, things tend to get fuzzier. The directness of an action – and the appropriateness of such directness – can be measured in relation to its intended goals. If the goal is to stop a particular shipment of weapons components to Israel, or stall the proceedings of a particular trade conference, or prevent the deportation of a particular family, we’ve shown ourselves capable of immediate successes. But if it’s to prevent economic intercourse with the Zionist state as such, or to dismantle neoliberal trade infrastructure writ large, or to put an end to all state practices of deportation and immigration detention – that raises a different set of strategic questions, of kind and not just degree.
Surely I’m not the only one who’s often felt as though we’re all so busy responding to undeniable urgency, so busy trying to act – because my god there’s so much to be done – that we skim over the steps wherein we plot out the long-term course that leads to our ultimate goals. One way of saying this might be that we confuse tactics for strategy; another, that we’ve got a strong philosophy of action without a clear theory of change. And so we tend to slide towards what some people call movementism: the demonstrations may get bigger, the demands addressed to higher levels of government, but we lack a modus operandi that goes much further than the public demonstration of dissent. Of course any organizer can tell you that the real goal of a demonstration isn’t the demonstration itself, but the increased movement capacity that’s built through the organizing towards it. But the same problem still seems to present itself: what exactly do we do with those capacities? What happens once we’re done demonstrating our outrage?
These are the big questions, of course, and far it be from me to try to answer them on my own. Luckily, the only answers worth having are going to be those that will be formed iteratively, through the process of the asking and the putting into practice, and we’re going to have to create them together, caminando preguntamos. But I do think we need to be asking better questions.
It's another mainly electronic ambient/experimental mix this time around, as the leaves crunch underfoot and we anxiously await the frosts. Stay warm, comrades.
First it's an excerpt of "X3," from Stockholm-based electroacoustic composer and instrument maker Amina Hocine's forthcoming contribution to the Portraits GRM series, an incoming tide of buzzing synth waves. Then it's Italians Marta Salogni & Stefano Pilia with "sopra l’acque scavate," from their collaborative LP Phren, which came out earlier this month. For the album Salogni, an acclaimed sound engineer and producer, runs Pilia's treated electric guitar compositions through a series of tape machine manipulations, creating a bristling melodic drone that's definitively more than the sum of its parts. After that it's new work from two Montrealers: first, the dense, shape-shifting cacophony of "Sun Dog," a thrilling standout from Bana Haffar's latest LP, Ancient Future (released in October); followed by Steve Bates' "Green as a ghost," drawn from his An Infinite Antenna LP (released at the end of September).
Since seeing Fennesz perform his legendary Endless Summer at Mutek in August, I've been spending a good bit of time revisiting some of the genre-defining Austrian composer's other earlier records. 2008's Black Sea is perhaps a less significant entry in his catalogue than 2001's Endless Summer or 2004's Venice, but the excerpt from the title track that I've included here is a stunner all the same, seamlessly covering a huge range of sonic territory within a single composition. That fades into "Let me know when you're pure," from Temporary, Berlin-based electronic composer Aimée Portioli's latest under her Grand River moniker, an unsettled and stuttering ascent into luminescent clouds of overdriven synth.
After that it's the decidedly more earthy sounds of BETHLEHEM, an incredible new project bringing together Beirut experimental musicians Sary Moussa and Abed Kobeissy with Lawrence Sammour, the choir director of Bethlehem's Church of the Nativity. While "Fasil I," which I've included here, is exclusively comprised of electronics and buzuk, the bulk of the record is built around the transcendent voice of Sammour and his choir, and I cannot recommend strongly enough that you give it a proper listen.
(And while we're here, you'll have to forgive me for giving an extra nod to my alma mater, who have been on a fucking tear this year: from Bellbird's The Call in February, to Radwan and Frédéric D. Oberland's Eternal Life No End in April, to the above-mentioned Steve Bates LP, to Bilal Nasser and now BETHLEHEM, CST have been ushering some of the most exciting and genre-exploding music of 2026 into the world, and to top it off, they've just announced a beautifully packaged double vinyl reissue of Thee Silver Mt. Zion Memorial Orchestra & Tra-La-La Band's 2005 classic Horses in the Sky.)
Back in the mix, it's a couple of oldies: first, Japanese guitar-drone master Saito Koji with the sublime minimalism of "Ocean," which he released as a CD-R in 2010, another one that's been in my ears frequently again lately; and then it's Markus Guentner, a giant of German ambient music, whose 2001 breakout album In Moll is about to see a 25th anniversary reissue thanks to Rafael Anton Irisarri's Black Knoll Editions. Finally, it's New York ambient techno producer Eden Aurelius, whose debut album Entre Nous released in August. "Acquiescence" opens the record with a dream-like swell of shimmering, reverberant synths, slowly letting dub-inspired tectonic bass creep in before the proper beats arrive to take us out.
• Mixcloud: actually existing, pt. II (oct 2026)
Real quick, here are four events coming up in November that the Montrealers among want on your radar:
• Saturday November 7, 19h : We'll be hosting a screening of The Promised Land (Ziemia obiecana), a 1975 Polish film directed by Andrzej Wajda, at Error 403. Set in late 19th century Lodz, Poland, during an era of early industrialization, it tells the story of three factory owners (a Pole, a German and a Jew), and the ecological and social destruction left in the wake of their capitalist greed. We're asking folks to please RSVP (email me to confirm your attendance and I'll pass you the address if you need it), and we'll be starting at 19h30 sharp (the film is 3 hours long!)
• Tuesday November 10, 19h : Thee Jody Chan will be in town to launch their incredible new poetry collection, Madness Belongs to the People, at Pulp Books in Verdun. It's Jody's third book, this one "an investigation of madness as resistance and political strategy," and it's absolutely stunning.
• Friday, November 20, 20h : Ottawa's Mark Molnar, whom I'd follow into a burning building, will bring the glorious noise of his cello/drums/sax trio Horseman, Pass By to Error 403 (again, ask a punk, or me). They'll be joined by Mer Agatha, the new quintet led by Naomi McCarroll-Butler which promises to expand your brain (I haven't seen them yet but I hear it's a wonder).
• Saturday, November 21, 21h : RIDM, the Montreal International Documentary Festival, will stage a special screening of dear comrade Sharlene Bamboat's twenty-five years swayed between our teeth, accompanied by a live performance from local heroes Mili Hong, Emna Mâaref, DJ Lia Plutonic, and Habib el Bardi. The work has been evolving over the last several years, this iteration expanding its vocabulary to include semi-improvised musical performance as another way into its themes of friendship, comradeship, solidarity, and all the messiness therein. More info here.
Okay that's it. As always, I've very grateful to everyone for reading and for listening. If you're into what I'm doing with this and want to help me keep it up, you can throw some coins my way by becoming a paid subscriber (right here).
All power to the kids in the streets.
xo, graham