Henry Rollins: The Column! In Praise of Outsider Music (and Outsiders in General)

Timothy Norris

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In Praise of Outsiders

As a young person, I sought to be a part of things. I wanted to be in the right place at the right time with all the cool people. So I tried to fit in. Clothes, music, etc. Once I got there, I found that the scene was not to my liking and that these people were not my type.

There is one image from that time that has stayed with me all my life. I went to a house party somewhere in Washington, D.C., in 1970-something. It was winter and the weather was cold enough that being outside was not the place to be. On my way into this house, I saw a group of longhair guys standing next to the porch, talking quietly and drinking beer in this freezing weather. It looked like they had no interest in or intention of coming inside.

I remember wanting to know what they were talking about. They were the uncool outsiders. I wanted to know what made them tick and definitely wanted to know what music they listened to.

For many years, I have sought outsider anything: art, music, literature or film. If the perpetrators of any of this lived and worked in relative obscurity for the entirety of their lives, that alone made me interested in finding out more. The idea being that if not many people appreciated their work, then perhaps these artistic outcasts were really on to something.

Of course, some artists perpetually toil away on the fringes because they don't have much to offer. However, there are many artists who, while never reaching a broad audience, are completely brilliant and capture the attention and great devotion of those who willfully stand outside of the party.

In 1984, I was listening to KCRW and heard a piece of music by composer George Crumb, Four Nocturnes (Night Music II). I was fascinated and wanted to hear more. This music made punk rock sound as out-there as ELO. Right around that time, I heard an album by avant-garde vocalist supreme Diamanda Galas called The Litanies of Satan, containing a track called "Wild Women With Steak Knives." It was an assault like no other I had encountered before. Thus inspired, I wrote her a fan letter. Incredibly mouth-breathing and moist-handed of me, yes, but I did it. She wrote me back and eventually we met in San Diego.

Diamanda loaned me some records that were to further fuel my outsider curiosity. One in particular blew my mind: Electro-Acoustic Music by Iannis Xenakis. This record, along with the work of Diamanda and others, permanently changed the way I thought about music. Diamanda and I remain friends to this day.

I guess it's perhaps the fact that I have always been a bit at odds with the world that this kind of music has such appeal to me. I also know that there are a lot of other people who listen to popular music and have absolutely no interest in it. Thankfully, there are many bright lights way beyond the city limits, and it's at these distant points that more and more I find myself listening.