“Real Live Wires”

• By Robert Mills
• Systems Magazine
• 01-Nov 1996

Better known for otherworldly warblage and Bambi-like shyness, the “high-tech lo-fi” Cocteau Twins are the latest rockers to go Internet mental. Robert Mills witnesses their first on-line gig and talks “cybercasting” with guitarist Robin Guthrie: “I don’t want to be a Luddite,” he says.

“Whatever we play tonight, it’ll all go down that tiny white wire.” Robin Guthrie is pointing with wonderment at what is nothing more than a skinny telephone cable, precariously gaffer-taped to his studio ceiling. “Isn’t that just amazing?”

Others might argue that sounds travelling via a length of string knotted between a pair of tin cans is equally amazing, but thanks to our new pal the Internet, plus an array of usefully applied software enhancements and a willing bunch of cyberwise surfers worldwide, technology’s cutting edge just hoved blindingly into view. Still, there’s a catchphrase fluttering ‘twixt the brick dust and polish of the Cocteau Twins’ Twickenham recording nest: “high-tech lo-fi.”

While soundcheck finalities are cemented, there’s a tangible sense of anticipation among the assembled Twins (plus drummer Vinny Lammi and guitarist friend Mitsuo Tate, where appropriate), and the attendant crew of cross-fingered technicians and well-wishers. The decidedly private (so far, at least) Cocteau Twins, recent purveyors of swirling Milk & Kisses LP and late of the British post-punch indie rock scene, are getting on-line and going global to send the fanbase their first multimedia e-mail.

Here’s the deal. May 22, 1996, 9pm: Cocteau Twins play a live set in aforementioned Twickers studio. Distinctly “rich and spiralling” music for which the band are universally treasured is simultaneously piped upstairs to eager mixing desk. Thenceforth to digital conversion system and onwards to computer, hooked, in no uncertain terms, to the World Wide Web. The digital mix is chopped and shaped into easily downloadable packets and sent down the line to a server in Seattle, USA, whence Webular acolytes can load up and tune in—while its actually happening.

Meanwhile, live action video is given parallel digital therapy, which, when fed up-line to a “reflector,” allows Netheads to watch as well as hear the experience.

Known in the trade as Netcasting or, in some circles, cybercasting, the likes of Orbital and Supergrass have already aired their wares on-line in this manner, but for the Cocteaus, no longer known—it must be said—for their cutting-edge status, it’s a more unexpected move, motivated by their increasing involvement with the Net through their very own Web site. “It’s something we’ve been wanting to do for ages and ages; ever since we first knew it was possible,’ enthuses self-elected spokesman and Cocteau Twins guitarist Robin Guthrie. “The technology was holding us up. Once people start putting the Internet into their homes via cable TV, this kind of thing could be very viable.”

Curiously, it’s the Internet’s exploitation of the simple phone line that makes the concept all the more interesting and, naturally, all the more difficult to pull off. Guthrie enlarges: “I’m a huge fan of the Internet and I’m the first to condemn it at the same time. The problem is, the more people who watch it, the worse quality it will be for everybody else.”

Of their official Web site, ‘Treasure,’ Guthrie insists: “Our site is run by the fans, for the fans. It was started by a student, Jack Huynh, in Berkeley, California. I saw it and was like, Wow, this is great! So I sent the guy an e-mail and took it from there.”

Guthrie is unperturbed by the fact that Scottish West London’s finest have a Web site run from across the Atlantic. “The Internet community is so much larger over there,” he asserts. “It’s much more advanced, at least a couple of years ahead. Our site had something like 600,000 hits over the last two months. It’s the first line of contact we have with our audience. I mean, you can’t trust journalists…”

A cocky grin breaks above the bestubbled Guthrie jaw, showing off the silver stud that newly pierces his sarcastic tongue. He continues, adopting a serious tone of voice: “Some bands are sinking huge amounts of money into developing these Web sites. Sites that do everything, like video and music, but they’re a pain in the arse because it takes hours to load the fuckers.”

Lack of speed is one of the most frequent criticisms levelled at the Net, but the potential to idle away whole hours at a time in the company of a favourite browser is not something that bothers Guthrie.

“I’m not a great person for aimlessly killing time on the Net,” he explains. “It’s like the whole thing about computers; so many people felt the need to get a computer because it’s what society says. They get one and all that happens is it just sits in a corner. And it’ll remain in the corner until they need it. In a lot of ways, I was interested in the Internet, but I didn’t really need it for anything until we got more involved with giving the fans something.”

The band have since put this into practice by writing the Web site’s band biographies and slipping in the occasional e-mail for ardent fans to peruse. When schedules permit, Guthrie can often be found at home, playing with his own “fuck-off” PC, or with a recently acquired digital camera: “I’ve got big, digital photo albums of my daughter—you know, dad’s stuff. Plus, I’ve been taking lots of photos while we’ve been on tour so I can post some on the Net.”

As techno-ambassador, he is spoiling you…

Despite its high-spec trappings, the quality of the Cocteaus’ cyber-gig, compared to satellite broadcasts and radio transmissions, would be relatively poor in the eyes of the end user. The system is ultimately restricted by each individual’s modem connection. For most Net folk, this will mean a standard telephone line and a 28.8kpbs modem to yield a measly four frames per second of black and white video and sound quality akin to AM on a cheapo [transistor radio]. However—and this is very much the norm in the States—many cyber cafés and big offices employ high speed ISDN digital lines, thereby boosting the sound quality close to mono FM levels with “almost” real-time video.

“It’s the limitations of the system,” Guthrie apologises. “We’re trying to squeeze all that sound down a narrow phone line. It’s like a 100-year-old technology. But unless people like us try it out, there’ll be no need for anyone to push this technology forward.”

“The broadcast is a 45-minute live set lifted from the Cocteaus’ current tour repertoire, combining highlights from Milk & Kisses and energetic reworkings of a number of early favourites, such as “Wax and Wane” from their Garlands debut album and from 1984’s Treasure, old nuggets “Aloysius” and “Pandora” (the latter of which just happens, spookily, to be the name of their new PR).

Despite performing before such a tiny, necessarily studio-bound crowd, they are on top and zesty form, maintaining that magical balance between the accuracy of their recorded material and the weighted spirit of a live show.

“There can’t be anything more comfortable than playing in your own studio,” Guthrie concedes before the gig. “I don’t know exactly what it’s going to sound like out there; everybody’s got a different soundboard in their computer. We’ll just do the best that we can.”

What with working against the grain of technology, surely it would be easier to records a session or two from the tour and release it on VHS, or at least have a shot at live radio or a satellite TV broadcast? Not, it seems, as far as Guthrie is concerned. “It’s just one night, one moment in time. We’re not recording it for posterity and frankly, I don’t see cable companies queueing at our door looking for us. Oasis, we’re not!”

The future potential of the Net is far-reaching, with the advent of a whole range of on-line services for music hungry consumers, not to mention marketing angles for record companies and the like. The time when all music will be “purchased” and downloaded over the Net (no need for pesky records, etc.) appears to edge ever closer to a place just around the next technological corner. Guthrie is looking forward to a general quickening of the speed at which the Web operates, but is cynical about its wider implications.

“At least in the future you won’t be waiting for the Web site to load up because it’ll be about 30,000 times faster. It’s difficult to say when that might be; just a few years ago I was reading that by 1996 nobody would be buying CDs any more, they’d all be getting music pumped into their homes. That’s just bollocks. I don’t want to be a Luddite but there’s something wrong with it. Okay, so I can download a track on my phone line. But what have I got except some space on my hard disk used up? I don’t have a box, I don’t have a cover…I don’t have fuck all.”

For the Cocteau Twins live Internet gig to succeed, a barely fathomable string of technological connections had to be cajoled into line. Strictly speaking, the band’s performance itself was probably the easiest component to get right. Traffic Interactive’s Rob Lawrence set up the markers on the Net that allowed users around the globe to participate. The AMX Digital team of Simon Scott and Rachel Reynard monitored the system direct from the Cocteau Twins’ studio and ensured the sound and pictures wound up at their designated locations.

The music was broadcast using RealAudio software, and was fed onto the Net from RealAudio’s server in Seattle between 9 and 9:45pm GMT. The self-installing player software is available gratis over the Net from [Real Audio website] and works with either 14.4kbps or 28.8kbps equipped modems.

Video footage was encoded and then decoded using CU-SeeMe software, a statutory video software package, also available on the Net at [CU-SeeMe website]. The video pictures, two inches wide and in all their glorious grain, were piped to a “reflector” in central London. This reflector is essentially a huge digital meeting place where on-line users can tap in to retrieve the encoded picures, and judging by the ensuing e-mail posted on the Cocteau Twins Web site during the gig and over the next day, it proved to be somewhat over-subsribed. In fact, it dived into overload about halfway through. As the sparse post-show applause died down, a concise but telling e-mail appeared on their fan forum page. “Robin Guthrie writes: Did anyone see or hear us tonight?” ▣