An underground is, by definition, one that exists outside the mainstream of popular culture. There may be no more potent underground of listeners in the UK than those who tune into National Prison Radio. The general population can listen to some past shows and podcasts online, if they so choose, catching up on highlights. But if you want to listen live, you’ll have to find yourself a prisoner first.
Things have been quiet around here the past few months. In late August, my partner was remanded to prison after being arrested for alleged involvement in direct action. Our separation has devastated me and all writerly energies have been going into exchanging love letters.
When I received an email from Chal Ravens — whilst waiting outside the prison walls for a visit, no less — inviting me to contribute to the second volume of No Tags: Conversations on underground music culture, I initially thought I’d have to turn down the opportunity. But a few days later, a short essay poured out of me.
Maintaining connection — maintaining our relationship — is a daily challenge. Prison is more inhumane than most are able to imagine. Nevertheless, we’re getting through it as gently and as gracefully as we can, taking one day at a time. The most effective way to feel grounded is to make time for a long phone call, during which they tell me about songs they want to hear and we listen to them together down the phone.
That’s what I ended up writing about. With my partner’s approval and Chal’s editorial insights, it became something I feel really proud of. It is a reflection on music listened to together and in isolation, revolving around a comment made by Oneohtrix Point Never in a 2023 interview with The New Yorker: “The goal isn’t to thrash against disconnection … but to somehow integrate it.” We have spent the past few months trying to do exactly that. I think it’s changed both of us profoundly.
You can buy a copy of No Tags, Vol. 2 here, and there are still tickets available for the launch at the ICA on December 11th.