No Collective (Jay Barnacle, Ai Chinen, Kay Festa, Earle Lipski, You Nakai, et al.) makes various forms of 'time machines'---temporal works that examine and (re)construct different modes of temporalities. Most often, these have resulted in music performances which explore and problematize both the conceptual and material infrastructures of music and performance. Other formats of work include play-scripts, picture books, haunted houses, and 'performance art' (in the narrow sense). Since its inception circa 2007, members of No Collective have varied both in quantity (from one to fifty) and quality (from reluctant music novices to professional instrumentalists) according to each works’ objective and situational conditions. Recent concert works include "Concertos No.4," performed with ball-shaped speakers operated by blind performers in a completely darkened 16,000 square feet performance space (National Museum of Modern Art Tokyo, 2012); curatorial projects include the first concerts of the Argentinian composer Ellen C. Covito in New York city and Tokyo; publications include "Concertos" (Ugly Duckling Presse, 2011), a book which describes and prescribes the process of preparation, performance, and documentation of a music concert in the form of a playscript, and "Sonnet for Concertos No.4" (National Museum of Modern Art Tokyo, 2013), a score of a pop song whose lyrics are the entire instructions for making another ('serious') music concert. A brief portrayal of our activities can be found in "an interview with You Nakai" by Elizabeth Hoffman, published in Perspectives of New Music (Winter, 2013).
For You Nakai
Believing themselves to be quite progressive for their species, a group of ants get together and decide to form a collective. They gather the necessary documentation, fill out all the proper information in the correct little boxes, get photos taken in appropriate size and dimension and angle, and step precisely through every single hoop required of them to become an officially recognized collective.
Their application is denied, however, on the grounds that ants are an inherently collective species, and this designation would be redundant and downright unnecessary.
One ant is so upset by this verdict that it begins to cry, thereby forging a breach in the collective emotional unity of the group. This very breach, however, makes the officer falter, reconsider for a brief moment, entertaining the possibility of a radical change of heart, but this very possibility of a change in the officer's heart makes the ant's tears dry up, which lands them all back at their original, inherently collective state, and that's the end of that story.