Bryn Jones ( Muslimgauze ) 1961-1999.
Written By Kristian Robert Carter
I was already familiar with Coil as Loves Secret Domain had been released recently and was a favourite come down album post-clubbing. I flicked through the vinyl marvelling with envy at the Test Dept & SPK records. Jealous because I hadn't managed to track many of them down myself yet. I remember stumbling across two types of vinyl I was intrigued by. I didn't recognise the artist, Muslimgauze. However, the sleeves were wonderful and my interest grew.
With a certain sense of trepidation, I lowered the needle onto the vinyl and sat back to listen. I wanted this to live up to the mystery of the sleeves. I was hoping for metal bashing occultist brutality. I didn't get that. What I got actually stilled my pounding heart and racing senses. The moment the bass started, a voice in Arabic began to mutter and a strangely disjointed beat began to unfurl I was hooked. Those two vinyls were played over and over again, I was unaware of daybreak and morning arriving. I sat there totally absorbed with the trance-like pulsation of the music, trying to make sense of the intricate calligraphy, patterns and artwork of the sleeves. Poring over all and every detail I could find. I was in one of those youthful moments of discovery. A moment and a passion that becomes rare as the years go by. From that moment I was hooked.
This was pre-internet days and looking for music was an adventure and a task. I dug out all my copies of fanzines like MFTEQ and began to hunt down anything by Muslimgauze I could find. Initial success was with Extreme Records in Australia and was lucky that Tower Records in London held their catalogue. I recall spending a week's wages in Tower solely on Muslimgauze albums. I was on an engineering apprenticeship at the time so spending a whole weeks pay was a pretty big thing to do. Did I regret it? Not a chance.
I never met Bryn. I sadly never saw Muslimgauze play live. I'm not sure how exactly I came by his phone number, It may have been given to me because I was hoping to interview him for a fanzine I had done some reviews for. One Sunday I nervously called him and was surprised at the soft-spoken gentle articulate voice that emanated from the earpiece. I had been expecting a gravel-throated granite-jawed hard man. We spoke for over an hour. I was young and nervous and when the phone call ended I kind of thought that he maybe he was glad it was over. Two days later Bryn called me back and this time the conversation was easier. More fluid and we discussed the situation in the Middle East. My neighbours were Palestinian Christian refugees from Bethlehem and my interest in Middle Eastern politics was now personal.
We spoke again for over an hour and agreed to talk again later in the month. In all, we spoke perhaps 7 or 8 times on the phone. Lengthy conversations, one even lasted over 3 hours. It was decided I would interview Bryn in Leeds after a live concert he had planned. I went out and bought a small dictaphone in preparation. Sadly I never made it to Leeds for the interview and the gig. That morning I lost someone very close. The interview was shelved for a later date and the next 18 months I disappeared into a maelstrom of self-destructive grief and self-loathing.
I received a nice letter from Bryn asking if I needed to talk I had his number. I never did call him. Then he too was dead. Tragically taken in the prime of his artistic peak. A rare blood disorder. I miss him, even though we never met. When he found out I was going to Jordan and the West Bank he was so excited for me. Asking me to take photos of anything and everything in regard to 'the struggle'. Thanks, Bryn for your music that remains a centrifugal axis on which my life rotates. Your missed every day.
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