In the swirling landscape of 21st-century music, where business acumen often clashes with artistic integrity, photographer Joe Dilworth’s latest project harkens back to a more raw, untamed era. His book, “Everything, All at Once Forever,” takes us on a nostalgic journey through the gritty underbelly of London’s indie scene in the late 80s and early 90s, capturing a breed of bands who lived for the sheer passion of making music, unconcerned with commercial success.
Dilworth recounts a conversation with a drummer from a currently successful British rock band, a stark contrast to the DIY haze of his past. The drummer, Dilworth learned, had approached their musical journey with a calculated business plan, securing loans and paying themselves a modest salary until their big break. This anecdote sparked a reflection on the bands Dilworth had documented in London’s dingier pubs and ramshackle squats - bands releasing music not as a meticulously calculated investment, but as an act of pure, unfiltered creativity.
“Everything, All at Once Forever” is a visual time capsule filled with grainy photos capturing the electrifying energy of these bands. Some achieved a level of cult success, their music becoming an inspiration for generations of artists – My Bloody Valentine and Stereolab are prime examples. Others enjoyed a brief flirtation with fame before fading into obscurity, like Silverfish and Th’ Faith Healers, the latter a band close to Dilworth’s heart, having played drums with them. Some remain largely unknown, their names lost to the annals of indie obscurity.
No bank would have considered these bands a sound investment. Their music was a cacophony of diverse styles that defied easy categorization. My Bloody Valentine’s hypnotically repetitive shoegaze stood in stark contrast to Silverfish’s explosively raw punk, frontfused by Lesley Rankine’s fierce vocals. Yet, they were united by a shared disregard for traditional notions of success, showcasing a willingness to challenge musical norms and societal expectations.
Dilworth’s photos capture the visceral energy of these performances. He recreates the chaos of a My Bloody Valentine show at Dingwalls in 1988, where the venue’s soundman simply walked out mid-set, unable to decipher the band’s sonic onslaught of distorted melodies and deafening noise.
There was a sense of rebellious liberation in these bands. Forming a band in that era, Dilworth recounts, was a declaration of artistic autonomy, a rejection of the materialistic aspirations that defined the 80s. It was “declaring yourself a total loser,” a conscious rejection of the yuppie dream that permeated the cultural landscape.
The photos take us to a grimy underworld of late-night gig venues, a world where the air thick with cigarette smoke, stale beer, and the raw energy of live music. These weren’t sanitized spaces. These were vibrant, pulsating hubs of creative expression, where the grittiness was part of the experience, reflecting the raw, unfiltered reality of the music at its heart.
Dilworth captures a sense of fleeting euphoria, a moment in time before Britpop swept the scene, bringing with it a new wave of commercialism. This era, Dilworth suggests, wouldn’t be replicated; it was a product of its time, fueled by a combination of societal discontent, artistic freedom, and a DIY ethic. My Bloody Valentine, even after signing a major-label deal, vanished for decades, reemerging after years of creative toil, embodying the unwavering artistic spirit that permeated this scene.
“Everything, All at Once Forever” is more than just a collection of photographs; it is a testament to a bygone era, a celebration of the raw, unbridled energy of a time when music was forged in the crucible of rebellion, fueled by passion, not profit. It’s a reminder that sometimes, the most meaningful musical experiences born not in boardrooms, but in the shadowy corners of sweaty, subterranean clubs.
Interview between Time.news Editor and Joe Dilworth, Photographer and Author of “Everything, All at Once Forever”
Editor: Welcome, Joe! It’s great to have you here. Your book, “Everything, All at Once Forever,” is such a fascinating dive into the indie scene of the late 80s and early 90s. What was your main motivation behind creating this work?
Joe Dilworth: Thanks for having me! My primary motivation was to capture that raw energy and passion that defined a unique era in music. It was a time when bands weren’t consumed by commercial pressures. They created music purely for the love of it, and I wanted to document that spirit through my photography and personal anecdotes.
Editor: You reference a conversation with the drummer from a currently successful British rock band, who discussed their calculated approach to the industry. How does that contrast with what you witnessed back then?
Joe Dilworth: It’s a stark difference. In the past, bands like My Bloody Valentine and Silverfish were driven by genuine creativity, not business plans. They often played in dingy pubs and squats, fueled by passion rather than profit. Today’s artists often navigate the industry with a strategic mindset, securing loans and thinking in terms of investment returns. It’s a far cry from the anarchic, spontaneous atmosphere of the late 80s.
Editor: Your book is filled with raw, grainy images from that era. Can you describe a particular moment that stands out to you?
Joe Dilworth: Absolutely. I vividly recall a My Bloody Valentine show at Dingwalls in 1988. The intensity of the performance was overwhelming. The soundman actually walked off mid-set because he couldn’t handle the sonic chaos. That moment encapsulates the essence of that time—bands pushing boundaries and testing the limits of what music could be, both for themselves and the audience.
Editor: You’ve mentioned in your book that some bands like Stereolab achieved cult status, while others faded into obscurity. What do you think determined their differing trajectories?
Joe Dilworth: It often came down to timing and a bit of luck. Some bands had a strong creative vision that resonated with the cultural climate of the time, while others, despite their talent, didn’t capture that same spark. What’s interesting is that even those who remain largely unknown greatly influenced subsequent generations of artists. Their contributions can’t be understated, even if they didn’t enjoy mainstream success.
Editor: You describe a sense of rebellious liberation among these bands. What do you think that meant for the musicians then, and how does that energy manifest in today’s music scene?
Joe Dilworth: For those musicians, it was about freedom—freedom of expression, freedom from the confines of commercial expectations. Today, while some artists still reflect that spirit, many are caught in the cycle of algorithms and marketing strategies. There are still pockets of rebellion, though, especially in local scenes. I hope that through my work, I can inspire new generations to embrace that rawness and authenticity.
Editor: What do you hope readers take away from “Everything, All at Once Forever”?
Joe Dilworth: I hope readers come away with an appreciation of the power of unfiltered creativity. Music isn’t just about success metrics; it’s an art form meant to be felt. I want people to remember the importance of passion in music, to recognize the often-overlooked contributions of those who played for the sheer love of it, and perhaps to reflect on how we might reclaim that spirit in today’s music landscape.
Editor: Thank you for sharing your insights, Joe. It sounds like your book is not just a collection of photos, but a manifesto for artistic integrity in music.
Joe Dilworth: Thank you! I appreciate the opportunity to discuss these important ideas. I truly believe that understanding our musical past can help shape a more authentic future.