New Territories/Cabaret Futura, Glasgow

Since the death of Paul Burwell in 2007, Anne Bean has continued this collaboration, often also with Richard Wilson, using various invocatory devices to dwell on and beyond the Bow Gamelan Ensemble. In Glasgow, they worked with the musician Chris Gladwin, the film-maker Miyako Narita and the extraordinary improvisations of Rembrandt, the parrot. Using Spooky Drums by Baby Dodds (Paul’s favourite drummer) as a ‘threading’ through a lacerated score of splintered fragments from the many musical gifts into ones cells including Vera Hall, Leadbelly, Fever Ray, Yoko, Last Poets, the Shaggs, No Mercy, Screaming Jay Hawkins, the Wasteland, Anne improvised lyrics alongside Rembrandt, whilst his image imploded on glass screens.

The river bears no empty bottles, sandwich papers,
So we made our own computer out of macaroni pieces
And it did our thinking while we lived our lives
It counted up our feelings
You gonna break my magic potion And your bloodshot eye is gonna shine
You gonna be scared forever
The nymphs are departed. And their friends, the loitering heirs of City directors;
You gotta scream like an eagle
You gotta roar like a mountain lion
Trying to catch the Devil’s herd, across these endless skies
Where the sun never shine, I shivered the whole night through.
i don’t know what in the hell i’m gonna do anymore
CAUSE: the white man’s got a god complex
Sweet Thames, run softly till I end my song, Sweet Thames, run softly, for I speak not loud or long. But at my back in a cold blast I hear
The bells are ringing And their sail is going to sea
Yes I know why they’re ringing They ring on for me
I’m longing to linger til dawn, Dear
Dirt and worm both have a claim
And I guess that I just don’t know
Keeps raining all the time
And I guess I just don’t know



As part of the Liverpool Biennial, in Terror of the Imagination 2008, the A Foundation invited guests to join them to explore the politics and aesthetics of the contemporary imagination. Anne presented a series of conversations, performances and screenings including a performance with Richard Wilson and Phil the Messenger, a psychic from Liverpool who conjured Paul up in his bed-sit as a whirring sound of a swooping eagle whilst an ice-cream van played Greensleeves outside the room. Richard and Anne ate some of Paul’s ashes to propel the work into unknowable horizons.