Each week, I’ll share a conversation about art, media and/or existence that I’ve had with an artist I deeply admire.
I first met Cole Garner Hill, the mad genius behind the ambient noise project, Pharmakos, when we worked together at the New York Observer from 2014-2017. I was Cole’s direct report during those permalancer days. Against all odds and the steady mission creep of fascistic media overlords, we published some truly incredible, substantive art and music stories as a subversive force. We let our interview subjects speak to ideas like socialism and collectivism on our behalf, in lieu of outing ourselves, and we did a lot of good work together. We've kept in touch ever since.
And in the background, Cole, we have this amazing experimental ambient noise project of his own, called Pharmakos. He’s released four records since 2014, and the fourth, Destroy the System, arrives 2/5 on Totally Real Records.
I caught up with Cole ahead of the new Pharmakos release to learn why he treats his composition and improvisation process a lot like writing, where his love of cinema informs his creative process, and how he channels his anxieties constructively into his work.
What does ‘pharmakos’ mean? Not only to you, but I mean the word itself, the etymology?
I'm glad you brought that up. I'm a writer first and I find words to be inherently fascinating, and etymology in general. I spent a really long time trying to come up with a name for this project.
We are almost at the exact 10 year anniversary of the project — about 10 years ago I started recording songs for the first time in my bedroom in Dallas during an unusually large snow storm. After the storm, I recorded my first Pharmakos song.
The etymology of the word ‘pharmakos’ is similar to the idea of a scapegoat. Specifically, it's taken from ancient Greece and Rome, and the concept was that during times of societal blight or crop failures, and even during good years, they would choose either the ugliest member of society or in some cases actually the most beautiful. They would choose someone with heroic qualities, classically good looks, build and all that. And they would sacrifice them, basically, by throwing them off a cliff or stoning them to death.
This position was actually heralded as a chosen position. People willingly gave up their lives for the betterment of society. Even though it was kind of a gruesome tradition, it was something that survived for a really long time, actually. And obviously, it's something that's unified by their cultures across the world.
I'm really fascinated with history in general. That idea behind this is that I was a musician in a sacrificial way, too. I liked the idea of kind of channeling the unconscious and just sacrificing yourself for your craft.
There's also this theme about the state of media that sort of runs low key through your album titles, and through the song titles as well. Now that I know what a ‘pharmakos’ is, the parallel seems to be that anyone worth their salt working in media, a true media careerist, has to become something of a sacrifice in order to survive. The financial compensation, and other external existential rewards like praise and reputation, can be so much more fleeting than the internal sense of self worth that a good media job gives us. We often give a lot to get a little back.
Yeah, absolutely. That's totally a place where I was coming at this new material from in particular. In general, I always consider the song titles for this project before I've even written the songs. That's just kind of the way that I've done everything for the project so far. It might change at some point, but I just love words so much that usually I come up with song titles way in advance and then I kind of try and see what would fit.
The rare exception on the album is that the verse for one of the first tracks, “Press Release,” I actually created that song probably about six years ago. And it's probably one of my favorite songs that I've ever created, which I'm not sure if it's evident or not, but it's basically taken out of a sample of the late Genesis Breyer P-Orridge speaking in the movie Dig, the Brian Jonestown Massacre documentary.
Of Psychic TV fame?
Exactly, yeah. And I'm a huge fan of hers. Fucking loved Psychic TV. They're incredible. I think “Just Like Acadia” is one of the most brilliant songs ever written. But also, I really identified with where she was coming from, and the quote in general, which is that she's talking about how she has no respect for anyone working in the major record industry. She thinks that basically their mind and body are not connected. It's not a purist pursuit.
I guess actually it reaches back to the whole anticapitalist theme of the record too, to some degree. Grappling with modern society, being alternately fascinated and disgusted by it to some degree. But specific to the track, I named it “Press Release” because basically the hook of that song is saying, "no respect," over and over and over again. I like the idea that this would be my informal press release for the project.
Sonically, too, there's this great thematic parallel on “Press Release.” The tones have this cool brashness to them. They're very icy, but they're also very unsettling. I connect that to how I feel when I get 60 press releases in my inbox a day, you know, for places I may not have even worked at for a half a decade, like the Observer.
For sure. I probably approach it from that perspective as well, being on that side of it for such a long time. I mean, Christ, I was doing music journalism for over 10 years, close to 15, realistically. I've really been writing about music since I was 16 years old, starting out for some long-gone website called punkmusic.com, or something like that, writing record reviews.
I always wonder what experimental and ambient composers are channeling in their heads, creatively, and how those ideas inform their process of recording. It sounds like if you start with titles, to some degree, you also start with the shreds of narrative. How does that writing process manifest, and how does that bleed into your actual recording process? You’re recording improvisations, and then you're whittling down and editing and sequencing?
Yeah, I keep just a running journal of song titles, whether or not they're just combinations of words that I come up with, or things that I pull from books. One of my song titles on the new record is “Byzantine Erotica.” And that's a random phrase in the middle of [David Foster Wallace’s] Infinite Jest that struck me in the middle. It's only mentioned once, but I just loved the concept.
I really like double meanings in words, too, stuff like that. Like for instance, in “Press Release,” you know, obviously the kind of idea was that it was, ‘Yeah, this is a formal press release.’ But I also liked the idea of literally pressing ‘release’ in that song.
Like an actual, tangible release, a letting go?
Exactly, yeah. So that's kind of how I approach all the song titles to some degree. Looking for something that has multiple meanings and that can be honestly interpreted. Maybe it was just coming from my unconscious in general, when I'm creating the music. Rarely I will practice ahead of time, and maybe actually kind of get a melody down.
I approach this project from the same way that I think abstract art is approached, specifically painting and stuff like that. I like the idea of ‘automatic art’ in general, tapping into this primal state of consciousness in order to expand consciousness. Because your mind will take you places that you didn't know you could reach. And that's kind of how I approached Pharmakos in general.
Maybe it's because that's how I approach writing, too. Try and write as much as possible. And then you'll come back to it as an editor later on.
I'm the same way. You know, writing in that sort of state of lucidity, you often come up with shards of really good ideas, but they're like raw material or raw husks and they don't read well. And then the shaping comes later, I guess.
Precisely, yeah. So maybe it's actually something that comes from my work as a writer or an editor, because that's how I approach writing in general. But yeah, I kind of approach music in a similar way — I like the idea of doing these mostly improvised experiments where I'll basically just hit record and jam for who knows how long, like an hour and a half or whatever. I'll come back to it later, or I will take a large chunk of the music. Sometimes it's totally unchanged, and sometimes I get something that I really just love and it's like, "Okay, that works."
In the case of “Press Release,” the main sample that I used was from a recording session that was basically just a one or two minute sample from a very long recording session. I was like, "Wow, the speaker sounds fucked up and blown out. I love this."
It reminded me of Aphex Twin, or something like that, where it's just confrontational subversion, trying to fuck you up a little bit. But it's so blissfully defiant. It was electronic music, but it was very punk in a way, too.
So I like taking these long recording sessions, trying to find these moments of electricity, and then really just trying to almost use that, like Brian Eno, or David Bowie, either the cut-up technique or the, or what's the Eno thing called? The oblique strategies, or something like that.
Oblique strategies, yeah. Tripping yourself up, or adding an element of randomness or chaos in order to jog new ideas.
Exactly. I really let my id loose on the first album that I made. I literally was sampling running water, and clanks of the grates on my stove, and sampling Alyssa Milano commercials at 4:00 AM.
But in general I like music to surprise me. And so I kind of try. I mean, it doesn't always work, obviously, but I like it leading me in these surprising places. Because that's the best thing that my music can do for me. I like to be surprised every time I listen to it. And it gives it a longer shelf life, so.
Yeah, it makes sense. And I think that comes out strongest on Destroy the System as well, because you’re juxtaposing more ambient cuts with slightly more minimalism and tunefulness against the brashness. There's an ebb and a flow. There's a rise and a fall, that deliberately unseats expectations in a bit more of a meticulous way, I think, and plays to the effect of what you're saying about, you know, the punk electronica, Aphex Twin energy, something that fucked you up and disassociates a bit.
I also wanted to explore the theme of the record dealing with narrative for a second. Like this idea of mechanized systems are failing us. Late capitalism is just that. It's late, we're at the tail end. And yeah, I feel like your variety of sounds on this, there seems to be some hidden logic there. There's some cryptic meaning.
Thanks, I really appreciate that. Honestly, maybe some of that comes from the fact that it's maybe my most heavily curated record. A lot of the other records that I've made, pretty honestly I guess every other one that I've put out, has been recorded in this specific time. And I went through this incredibly prolific period of recording. I still record occasionally and still do stuff, but not as much as I had been specifically, probably not as much as, yeah. I went through this incredibly... a lot of fires.
I went through this incredibly prolific period of recording specifically right after I finished recording my first album, Nude, which came out in 2014. I was living in Clinton Hill with a friend, it was right before Chelsea and I moved in together. And this incredibly prolific period of recording probably lasted from about 2014, really through 2018, specifically. Although some of the songs on the new record were recorded this year. Specifically “Byzantine Erotica” was earlier this year, and I think “Twilight Void” is also from this year.
And so I really I just recorded... I mean, I still probably have at least two finished albums besides this in the can, and I'm just tinkering around with that. I'll do different things, but I had this wealth of material, and so like you were saying, my two overall modes seem to be ambient experimental, and this confrontational electric mode. And so I really liked the idea of pairing them up.
One of my favorite tracks on the record is actually the first song, which is probably one of the most simple songs that I've ever made. But I just love how it sounds, and the idea that one of the softest songs on the record, and one of most classically pretty songs in my opinion that I've made, is called literally “Destroy the System.”
Although there's some softer sounds on this, it almost feels like you're kind of exploring maybe the middle space or the compromise between these two binaries or modes that you feel you so often gravitate towards.
Totally, yeah. The influence for a lot of my music, and for some in particular, is in sort of grappling with society. I look at the mental health aspect of it and the way that it impacts everybody individually, and specifically myself. And I like this idea of being stimulated by society, but also being overwhelmed by it at the same time.
Part of where the specific influence for the title track and the title in general came from, and this idea that softness can be subversive and softness can actually be heavy, they come from probably two places. I find one of my most influential bands to me is Stars of the Lid. You know that band?
Yeah. They're great. Kind of minimal and shoegaze-y.
Yeah. They record these epic songs that are so minimalist and pretty, but they honestly have an inherent heaviness to them, in some ways. And so part of it is that. The other part of it, too, is this great Tarkovsky movie called Stalker. I don't know if you've ever seen that movie before, but it's incredible.
No.
So it's really amazing, really interesting. It's one of those movies that really created, or popularized, a trope. Kind of like Blow-Up or something like that, where it's just been copied over and over again.
It's about this infected landscape where some horrible catastrophe has happened. It may be like a chemical leak, or something like that. Something has forever corrupted this environment, basically. And nobody is allowed in there.
But rumors persist years after the fact that if you go in there, your greatest wishes will be granted. And so people keep returning to it in secret, even though it's super dangerous and it's known that you can die if you go there.
So the titular stalker character is this man who leads people on journeys into this territory. There's a great moment in the film with this guy who's leading them, who is a really vulnerable, not your classic hard-ass type like fucking Clint Eastwood or Bruce Willis in an action movie leading somebody like a bad-ass into this area. He's just a really scared, vulnerable human being:
And he has this great quote:
"Weakness is a great thing, and strength is nothing. When a man is just born, he is weak and flexible. When he dies, he is hard and insensitive. When a tree is growing, it's tender and pliant. But when it's dry and hard, it dies. Hardness and strength are death's companions. Pliancy and weakness are expressions of the freshness of being. Because what has hardened will never win."
I love this idea of softness being a source of strength.
I love it too. And it almost sounds like the vulnerable person, even though they're being strong, is also a sacrificial lamb, or the martyr to pharmakos.
I'm thinking about 2020 and 2021 and the idea you just shared that rigidity is death. This idea, in the context of the fact that we've all had to be flexible over the past year, seems like a very profound, timely topical parallel.
I'm also connecting it to what you explained about the etymology of Pharmakos, and the idea that your first album was recorded amid a gnarly snowstorm. This seems to almost be like a zeitgeist project. Even though this particular record was recorded over many years, the curation of it, the sequence of it, the presentation of it, the timing of the release, very much has a parallel to the now. And maybe, I don't know, it sounds like you're suggesting the first record was informed at least by the climate and the weather of the time.
It very much was, yes. That was the genesis of it in general. And then the rest of it was recorded during this super fucked up breakup that I went through. I never told you this before, but I moved to New York for a girl originally. It was not Chelsea. And so I had recorded some songs separately that were not about this, like “Kim Novak.” Actually it was about a fling that I had with a voluptuous redhead, so I named it “Kim Novak.” And also it was full of these weird movie samples, like the MGM lion growling.
But the rest of the project, the majority of it, was recorded in the fallout of this terrible breakup. And when I moved to New York, I hardly knew anybody. I lived with one of my closest friends, but basically I knew no one else here. So when we broke up, I was on my own.
I had this super shitty job. And I think I told you about the content factory type place where I was writing like six or seven stories a day. I remember it was the most depressed I've ever been. I remember that Thanksgiving was the first time I wasn't able to go home because I had to work. And I remember going to fucking Crown Fried Chicken and buying a 40, having to work on Thanksgiving and just being like, "This is like the worst. Yeah. This is the most depressed I've ever been. This is like the saddest day of my life."
I was so wrong, because the following month was I got even more depressed. It was one of the coldest winters I'd ever experienced. I'd only been in the city maybe a year or two. I remember days when it was literally three degrees outside and I just couldn't go anywhere. And I was just, you know, isolated and freezing my ass off.
My roommate worked a service industry job at the time, so he would leave at 4:00 PM and get back at 4:00 AM. And since he was my only outlet to the world, I would hang out with him and his friends sometimes. But like other than that, I wasn't really going anywhere. Stayed up super late and had these midnight recording sessions, getting drunk and just trying to create this super fucked up music. What actually ended up becoming that record were those songs. Initially I was heavily influenced by the band Earth.
I was into this idea of creating this kind of post-Western metal album. And that's about what half of it is. That whole album is just about vulnerability in general and the nuclear fallout of emotional collapse, like in the wake of a really terrible relationship. And that was why I called it Nude.
This is ultimately a happy story, because from that low point in your life is born the catalyst of a project that you've been able to really adapt to every sense of impending doom in your own life, and in society. Do you save the other records you have in the can and finish working on them? Like when they burn the Capitol building down, is there another record you have on deck?
Yeah, I do. I definitely have two other records on deck right now, at least. One of them is almost a kind of a post-classical album, and that's probably some of the prettiest music I've ever made. I'm really proud of it. Hopefully I will release it one day. The songs are shorter. I really tried to approach it as something pretty, classical. I think some of the songs are definitely still in flux. Like it's definitely not totally done, but that one's called Pale Imitation.
The other one is called the Wife of Your Youth. And that one is named after a very strange phrase that was uttered by my uncle at Chelsea and I's wedding. He is very religious and he gave this speech, which was very sweet and well-meaning honestly, but that phrase really stuck out to me.
And Chelsea and I just kept discussing it afterwards. We were like, "What is this?" It's just such a strange concept. And it's one of those things where I think he meant well by saying it, but the more that I thought of it, I was like, "This is honestly a little bit inherently demeaning to women in general."
Yeah.
The whole speech was about, "You want the wife of your youth throughout the rest of your marriage." And it basically means just like, "Keep the magic alive," I guess.
Some version of ‘hold on to that idealized version of your partner, even when reality and responsibility sets in’?
I guess so, yeah. But I definitely don't intend it that way with the title and its usage. I look at it as more of a literal usage and like, what is the wife of youth as a concept, effectively.
And maybe another exploration of sadness or something more abstract. I'm still forming that one overall, conceptually.
You mentioned Stalker and that line, but there's something about watching cinema and especially foreign films, and watching the way that abstract phrases or concepts are translated and seeing them edified as a sentence on screen that has a great power. I can tell that your love of phrases in general comes somewhat from your love of film. The connection between image and phrase and sentence. Because I think we absorb things differently when we see them written like that.
Totally. That was one of the things that drew me so strongly to foreign films in the first place, the originality and the impact of these stark, beautiful, otherworldly images. I felt like they were even even more profound having the texts laid over them with the subtitles and all of that. And there was just a real inherent poetry to all of it, too.
This conversation has been edited for length and clarity.