[review part 1: aesthetics] Jochen Roller, "No Money, No Love", July
7th, 2005 - Melkweg Theater, Julidans Festival, Amsterdam (NL)

NOTA BENE: At Julidans, Jochen Roller only performed "No Money, No
Love", the first part of the trilogy "Perform Performing". I have not
seen the other 2 parts, I've only read about them.

Outside the Melkweg venue, at a nearby bar/club, Destiny's Child's hit
"Bills, bills, bills" blasted through the speakers and onto the street
as I walked by. Was that an omen? Maybe something to get me into the
groove for the "No Money, No Love" performance I was about to see.
Jochen Roller's music was a cheesy as this. But what to expect from
someone who does choreographies with titles such as  "Being Christina
Aguilera"? (I kid you not!) I suppose that this is the same headfucking
music he's forced to listen to when he's folding clothes for H&M. This
is the kind of music that would make people like me go postal. Better
make the most out of it, right? The most he could make out of it was a
choreography.

[nice little trivia note: At the time of the "Bills, bills, bills" hit,
Destiny's Child were accused of telling black women to rely on men to
pay their bills - yeah right, as if black women might need DC to tell
them this... DC got on MTV and insisted that they were not telling
black women to rely on men to pay their bills, just that they should
any chase after men who are able to do so. Ah yes.]

Jochen Roller isn't the only artist in the dance scene who makes work,
or rather an artists need to seek work outside the art field a primary
topic of concern. Just a few weeks ago at the P.A.R.T.S. choreographic
showcase, there was a choreography (which I did not see, I only read
about it) called "Portrait of the artist as a worker", by an American
P.A.R.T.S. student (Eleanor Bauer) about pretty much the same. For yet
more of this, just go down to your local bohemian sanctuary and you'll
find several artists who've made their (hatred of their) odd jobs into
an excuse for art. Andrea Fraser basically made a whole career out of
nagging about her inability to earn enough money to survive solely on
her art.

Nagging about your crap job also becomes a good excuse for good books:
"The Best of Temp Slave", "Bad Jobs", "The Murdering of my Years"...
I've got them all! If I were to choose the books stalled at the front
of stage for "No Money, No Love", it would've been all of the above
titles (plus The Managed Heart). Certainly not those body-language HRM
brainwashing books of his, lining the front of the stage: "So bewerbe
ich mich richtig", "Körpersprache", you get the message. I'd rather
have an onstage Satanic Book Burning Fair where I'd make a nice hot
fire with all these fucked up HRM books.

I am also very surprised at how everyone in the audience (and the
reviewers too) basically accepts Jochen Roller's stories about "his"
odd jobs at face value. Everyone thinks it's perfectly normal for
artists to have to go through this! Furthermore, everyone accepts that
Jochen Roller has really worked all these jobs - at one point, he lists
them all on a flipchart and it is obvious that this list of jobs is
exaggerated and absurd. But the overall sentiment seems to be that
everything he tells us onstage is based his own experiences. I am not
so sure. I strongly suspect that some of the anecdotes presented are
based on funny stories others might have told him about their jobs,
stories he heard and liked and decided to incorporate into his
performance to make it more entertaining.

I have a very weird emotional response to this work and having analyzed
the source of the impulse, I'm not very happy with it. I'm very much
against using a person, an individual in his own right, as a projection
screen for other people in one's life. Unfortunately, that's the
impulsive response I had to watching him.

You see, Jochen Roller is a cute little piece of German ass. A scruffy,
messy, nasty, perfectionist, lanky German whiteguy with a proper
middleclass accent... who reminds me of two other of-German-origin
lanky whiteguys, both (starving) artists, with proper middleclass
accents, both of whom I love, one of whom I've been intimate with.
Seeing (t)his torso reproduced onstage was a slap in the face. I truly
hate seeing men as multiples, because that's what men do to women. But
in being truly honest, I have to say that my response was that of
righteous indignation at seeing "a body that I know"(!!!) forced to
suffer capitalism. This "a body that I know"-impulse is total nonsense
of course. I don't know Roller or his body... but there you have it.
Yes, I have a, eh, "history" falling hard for lanky German guys, and
his body looks familiar. There are the totally irrational and unfounded
impulses that nonetheless provoke intense involvement and interest on
my part.

Lots of talking on his part, lots of objects, all very kitsch and
fetishistic, but none of them redeeming. Just dumb stuff lying there.
The only redeeming element amongst all this stuff is his own dancing.
Which certainly isn't as light and lithe as I had expected (maybe
something to do with his Laban background?). Some of the movements are
not brought to conclusion. He's clearly well-trained, but precision is
sometimes lacking. It also feels very grounded. For example, when he
stands up from having done something on the floor, there is no upwards
shift, and the thrust that pushes him upwards is barely noticeable; it
feels as if he has been on the ground all the while and continues to do
so.

Take a good look at this picture:

http://www.oskarhenn.de/ps-galerie-TWE04-jochen-roller/pages/TWE04-Ro...

The sloppily upheld arms (hardly a *port* de bras), the oddly-crossed
legs... there is no airbourne quality here at all.

I would also encourage you to look at the whole series:

http://www.oskarhenn.de/ps-galerie-TWE04-jochen-roller/index.htm

There isn't a single jump here in the dance sequences. Below is the
only instance of a (hardly related to the dancing) jump that I was able
to find in the series:

http://www.oskarhenn.de/ps-galerie-TWE04-jochen-roller/pages/TWE04-Ro...

"German humor" said a girl afterwards on the stairs behind me. If there
is any such thing as German humor I'm sure I hate it as much as Dutch
humor (sorry, but the Dutch are simply NOT funny). But his humor, I
really like. Yes, I actually like his humor, German or not. The kitsch
Hello Kitty bag, the glaringly white floor, the cheesy Top 40 Music,
the kind of music that would chase "customers" such as yours truly
straight out of the store (not that I'd ever shop at H&M, but still).
His sneaky humor, fantasies of a call-center where the dancers wear a
wireless phone headset and practice dancing while servicing
unsuspecting customers. Aren't these the type of fantasies one needs in
order to survive such brainkilling scut work?

When was the last time that an onstage CBA (Cost-Benefits Analysis) of
the performer's past choreographic endeavors was an integral part of
the performance?  Look at this picture:

http://www.jochenroller.de/_microsite/_images/nomoney_1.jpg

Yes, he actually did just that.

Let this be a stab at all the dumb MBA-in-a-nutshell courses that
artists (and students) are forced to sit through so that they might
become proper capitalists *sneer*. Roller would do a CBA, having danced
a segment of the choreography in question. So we actually got to see a
segment out of  "Being Christina Aguilera"; what I remember most is him
thrusting his back behind him, as opposed to Aguilera's usual frontal
pelvic thrusts in her musicvideos. Then he'd nod to the music and smile
contently as if to say: "Ah, those were the days!".

But the overall ruling sentiment for me is not "oh, itsn't it all
german-funny, hahaha", but that of a damoclean fear at being forced,
because of economics, to give up [see part 2 of this review for more on
this].

At one point he pulled out a five euro bill. For 3 minutes, he said, an
audience member, whoever felt like it, could to come onstage, claim the
five bucks and dance a little dance while Roller stood there licking
cards into envelopes, assembly-line style. Don't believe me? Check out
this photograph from his website:

http://www.jochenroller.de/_microsite/_images/nomoney_3.jpg

This is him, card and envelope in hands. He did this for 3 minutes.
There was something sad about him standing there mechanically stuffing
the envelopes, while nodding at people in the audience: "come on, pick
up the 5 euro-bill and dance for me! There's the money, pick it up and
dance!". No one did. No one in this audience would dance for him in
exchange for 3 bucks. According to the reviews I've read on the
internet, no one ever does.

Did anyone, ever?
In my mind's eye, I ask him this question:

"Mr. Roller, did anyone ever pick up the 5 euro bill and dance for 3
minutes in your place while you stood there stuffing envelopes in the
background?"

I imagine him asking me, in response:
"Well, why wouldn't YOU dance? You were sitting right there, first
row!"

I blush. "Well, I don't like the music. I can't dance to music I don't
like. I'm not a professional dancer who can dance to anything and
nothing whatsoever. If the music sucks, I can't dance. Next time play
some DEVO or something..."

He looks unconvinced.

"And besides, I'm too embarrassed to dance in front of a professional
dancer. What if you, or even the audience for that matter, go away
thinking: "Did she really think that THAT was worth 5 bucks?!" I don't
want you people gossiping behind my back about my fat lame ass!"

Roller picked up the 5 euro bill from the ground and walked towards me.
I still had a look of utter disbelief on my face ("You gotta be kidding
me..."), so he quickly darted away from me and gave the 5 bucks to some
older people to the left of me. "Here, please take this," he told them
in German, "It's a gift.". Thanks for skipping me over Mr Roller! I
could've used that money, I'm on welfare too you know...

It would be too easy to concentrate on Roller's economic survivalism
art as a trendy and engaging response to the capitalist violence that
is the source of all his trouble. However, an (anti-)capitalist
critique is completely absent from his work, and (as I've said before)
the reality he's forced to survive in is taken at face-value. The
capitalist attack against and destruction of the welfare state (esp.
where it concerns structural/long-term grants for artists) is never
explicitly pronounced [see part 2 of this review for more on this].

Am I bluntly political about such things? You bet your ass I am. It
might make for cool art, but I still have to deal with my own boys
complaining to me and telling me "I expect it any day to just sort of
end, and I'll be selling yogurt, in the mall..." (actual quote from my
friend).

The performance ends with Jochen Roller in a plastic bag, the lights
slowly fading out, as Madonna's "Vogue" intro music is oddly looped
over and over into silence. Right before this scene, he told us: "When
no one pays for my dance, my dance is worth nothing.". The reference to
unclaimed groceries was painful. But there is absolutely nothing I can
do for him. All I can hope for is that some "enlightened" (hahaha!)
curator or programmer might invite him back to perform the whole
trilogy, but this is highly unlikely.

Tex.

POSTSCRIPT: dingdong the dingdong = blingbling!

I still want to see part two and three of Perform Performing, but, for
the record, I do NOT want to see his cock! I have read the online
reviews, and apparently, towards the end of either part 2 or 3, he just
stands there shacking his dingdong to Jennifer Lopez' "Love Don`t Cost
a Thing" for three minutes (bah! this guy has NO taste in music! He
puts even Ohad Naharin's use of m.f. gangstarap to shame!)

I already know that I can't stand this. What would I have done had I
walked into this unprepared? I probably would have unlaced my shoelaces
and would then proceed to demonstratively tie them up again, as I
usually do when a performer annoys me.

Yet every damn German reviewer seems to be impressed with Jochen's
exhibitionism and just *has* to comment on that:

"Am Schluss kommt Jochen Roller nackt auf die Bühne und wedelt zu
Jennifer Lopez "Love Don`t Cost a Thing" sprichwörtlich mit dem
Schwanz."
http://www.tanz.at/KRITIK_2004/texte/KRIT_04_11.html

["He metaphorically shakes the tail"? Maybe he can replace the
gawdawful Jay Lo song for Ray Charles/The Blues Brothers: "C'mon, let
me see you shake a tail feather! Ahhhhh, twist it, shake a shake a
shake tail feather!" Hahaha!]

"Am Ende zieht Jochen Roller sich splitternackt aus, stellt sich vor
sein Publikum und wackelt sachte mit den Hüften. Das traurige Hin- und
Herklatschen seines Geschlechts ist der Applaus, den der kluge
Anarchofatalist der blöden Welt zollt. Jochen Roller war natürlich
nicht der einzige Nackte auf der Tanzplattform. Aber er war der
Einzige, bei dem das Ausziehen aufklärerisch wirkte."
http://www.zeit.de/2004/08/Tanzplattform

[hehehe, the argument employed here by the reviewer to justify his
liking of the dingdong is rather interesting: "Oh, we don't accept all
the dingdongs, not just any ole dingdong, we only like the
*aufklärerische*, analytical dingdongs!" *rolls eyes*]

"Sein Geschlecht klatscht an die Oberschenkel, rechts, links, hin und
her baumelnd, wie vergessen. In die Stille der Tanzfläche hinein
klingt es, als klatsche ihm sein Penis Applaus."
http://www.kampnagel.de/ycms/sites/kampnagel/cms.php?template=presses...

[Best of all! "It's as if his penis is applauding for him"...Wuahahaha!
If I were the performer, I'd take this as an insult!]

Some of you might say: "Hey, you just said nice things about Dave St.
Pierre getting his whole company out of their pants!" True, but that
really was the exception to the rule because it was a GROUP of naked
people, and not one person alone (oh, and the Dave St. Pierre male
soloist got his dingdong out of the way!). 99% of the time I can't
stand nudity in dance-performances and I particularly can't stand
people playing with their genitals. There is absolutely NOTHING
intelligent or progressive or whatever to be said through such acts.

I breathed a sigh of relief when, earlier that week, at the Le Salon
dance-theater performance by The Peeping Tom Collective, the demented
family-patriarch refused all forms of nudity last-minute. It was great!
He last-minute refused to fuck the servant, and he last minute refused
to show off his dick as the servant slipped him on a pair of diapers.
More of that, please! After decades of artists desacralizing (excuse
the religious term) their own bodies and throwing their privacy and
sanctity of the body to the dawgs, some dance-people are *finally*
coming to their senses. They are now realizing that there are other
ways to address and display loss of privacy and loss of personhood,
ways that are a relief to the audience (and I imagine the performer
too!) and provoke a sympathetic feeling towards the onstage character
as opposed to mere abjectness and dissociation.