The Long Prelude.

The genre that no-one had a name for had already been made by people who did not call it that.

I open the History department with an observation that the rest of the department will spend six era-essays elaborating on. The intellectual content of industrial music was assembled before anyone called it industrial. By the time Genesis P-Orridge and Cosey Fanni Tutti staged the Prostitution exhibition at the ICA in October 1976, every method the form would use across the half-century that followed was already in place, documented, published, recorded, exhibited and in some cases commercially distributed. The cassette network had been built. The synthesisers existed. The lock-groove technique was thirty years old. The cut-up principle had been described in print. The model of the small-edition art-music label had been worked out across two continents. The performance-art mode that the British post-punk generation read as confrontational was, by 1976, the standard vein of the European gallery scene and had been since 1962.

I hold that industrial music did three things its predecessors had not done. It bound the inherited methods to amplification; it pointed the resulting practice at popular culture rather than at the art world; and it commercialised the result on independent labels at a scale the Black Mountain College tradition and the European avant-garde had never been interested in attempting. Those three additions were considerable. They do not, in my reading, constitute invention. They constitute repurposing.

This essay walks through the prehistory in roughly chronological order. I am selective. The genre's debts run further than what is documented here: to Charles Ives, to Erik Satie, to the Italian Bruitists, to the early German radio plays, to the early American experimental film soundtracks, to the post-Cage tradition in American minimalism. I hold that the seven thematic clusters below are the necessary minimum a reader of the catalogue should hold in mind when reading any post-1976 entry and that the catalogue's filing convention assumes the reader has read this essay or something like it. Later History entries will assume it without further explanation.

One distinction matters at the outset. I distinguish between the inherited materials (the techniques, instruments, conceptual frames, founding models and documentary records the prehistory produced) and the inherited idiom (the editorial position those materials embodied: noise as legitimate musical content, refusal as compositional principle, the body as artistic site, repetition as substance). Industrial music inherited both. The materials were portable. The manner was harder to import and is, in my reading, what gives the genre its argumentative shape: the prehistory produced not just techniques but a posture and the posture was the harder transfer.

The seven sections below are presented in roughly chronological order, with thematic clustering taking precedence over strict date sequence when the clustering is more useful. Cross-references to catalogue entries appear in the dedicated table at the close of the essay rather than inline. I hold that prose reads cleaner without parenthetical pointers, and the catalogue's main navigation makes the relevant Forms and Manifestos entries reachable from any page.

VAGO · c. the Age of Discovery

I date the prehistory's opening to 11 March 1913, the day Luigi Russolo's manifesto L'Arte dei Rumori appeared in Lacerba, the Florentine Futurist weekly, formatted as a letter to the composer Francesco Balilla Pratella. The manifesto is short, formally and could be reproduced in full inside a page of the catalogue. At Russolo in this catalogue, it is the form's foundational document and I treat it as the prehistory's first complete editorial statement. Russolo's argument runs as follows. The history of music has been a history of progressively expanding the set of sounds the listener accepts as musical. The next expansion required is the inclusion of noise. Russolo classifies noise into six families: roars and thunders; whistles and hisses; whispers and murmurs; screeches and rustles; the sounds produced by striking metal, wood, stone and pottery; and the voices of animals and humans (shouts, screams, sobs, laughs). Each family is to be made playable on a new family of instruments. The instruments are to be called the intonarumori, the noise-intoners.

Russolo built them. Working with the painter Ugo Piatti through 1913 and 1914, he constructed a family of crank-and-lever wooden boxes containing tensioned strings, springs and skin-headed drums driven through resonating horns. The intonarumori first performed in concert on 21 April 1914 at the Teatro dal Verme in Milan; were performed in London at the Coliseum in June 1914 (where the audience, by contemporary press reports, laughed and threw vegetables); and were lost almost entirely in the bombing of Russolo's home in Cerro di Laveno during the Second World War. The instruments themselves did not survive. The manifesto did. So did about a dozen photographs and a small number of recordings I do not consider authoritative.

The inheritance Russolo bequeathed is structural rather than instrumental. The intonarumori are gone; the argument that noise belongs in music is the argument every later practitioner the catalogue documents has worked from. Russolo's six families of noise read, in my view, as the form's first taxonomy of the material. Schaeffer's musique-concrète categories of sonic object are descendants. Cage's reframing of silence and chance as compositional content are descendants. The post-1976 industrial canon is, on my reading, a 63-year-late continuation of the argument Russolo opened in Lacerba.

If Russolo supplied the argument, the post-war laboratories supplied the techniques. I date the period of consolidation to twenty years between 1948 and 1968. Four founding centres did most of the work: the Radiodiffusion Française in Paris under Pierre Schaeffer; the Westdeutscher Rundfunk in Cologne under Herbert Eimert and, from 1953 onward, Karlheinz Stockhausen; the Black Mountain College summer programmes in North Carolina, where John Cage was a recurrent presence; and the BBC Radiophonic Workshop in London from 1958. The four were not strictly contemporaneous but their working windows overlapped and a person reasonably plugged into the European new-music circuit by 1960 had heard work from all four.

Schaeffer's breakthrough was both methodological and broadcast. On 5 October 1948 the Radiodiffusion Française aired Cinq études de bruits, five short pieces constructed from recordings of train wheels, locomotive steam, struck saucepans, spinning tops and the human voice, all manipulated on lacquer disc by tape-loop techniques and variable-speed playback. The pieces were the first sustained programme of musique concrète, the term Schaeffer coined to describe music built from concrete recorded sound rather than from notated symbol. The Groupe de Recherche de Musique Concrète was founded at RDF in 1951; renamed the Groupe de Recherches Musicales in 1958; and remained, through the 1960s and beyond, the European centre for tape-music research. The technique Schaeffer codified, in which any recorded sound becomes raw compositional material, sits beneath every method in the musique concrète keep in this catalogue, beneath the cassette-network technique the industrial proper industrial-proper form rests on and beneath the lock-groove practice at drone minimalism and harsh noise wall.

Stockhausen's parallel programme at WDR Cologne developed the synthesised counterpart. From 1953 onward the Studio für Elektronische Musik in the WDR offices produced a sequence of works constructed entirely from oscillator-generated electronic sound: Studie I 1953, Studie II 1954, Gesang der Jünglinge 1956, the foundational Kontakte 1958–60, and Hymnen 1966–67. The Cologne approach treated electronic sound as primary material; the Paris approach treated recorded sound as primary material; the two approaches converged through the 1960s and the distinction softened, but the dual lineage is set down in this catalogue as musique concrète and elektronische Musik and the post-1976 industrial canon inherits techniques from both.

Cage's contribution was at once philosophical and technical. 4'33" premiered on 29 August 1952 at the Maverick Concert Hall in Woodstock, New York, with David Tudor at the piano and the work's argument that ambient sound is music transferred, by the late 1960s, into the editorial frames of the European Fluxus tradition and the post-1976 industrial scene. Cage's Williams Mix 1953 was the first piece composed using chance operations applied to magnetic tape, with cuts and splices determined by I Ching consultations. The prepared piano, developed across Cage's earlier career, established the principle that any instrument is a system that can be modified to produce other sounds. I hold Cage's three contributions, silence as material, chance as method, and the instrument as a modifiable system, as among the heaviest single inheritances the prehistory passed forward.

The BBC Radiophonic Workshop, founded 1 April 1958, was the prehistory's most curious centre: a state-funded experimental-electronic-music studio operating inside the British Broadcasting Corporation's Drama and Light Entertainment department, producing soundtracks for radio plays and, from the mid-1960s, television. Daphne Oram co-founded the Workshop and left in 1959 to develop the Oramics drawn-sound instrument independently. Delia Derbyshire joined in 1962 and produced, among many other works, the arrangement of Ron Grainer's theme for Doctor Who that aired in November 1963 and that, I hold, was probably the most-heard piece of electronic music in the world for the next twenty years. The Workshop's method (oscillator-and-tape, splice-and-loop, manipulate-and-mix) is at musique concrète in this catalogue and is the direct technical ancestor of every post-1976 home-studio synth-and-tape practice the form rests on.

Where the post-war laboratories supplied the audio techniques, the performance traditions of the 1960s and early 1970s supplied the editorial palette. I hold that industrial music's confrontational presentation, its use of the body as material, its insistence that performance is the work rather than the document of the work and its tolerance of audience discomfort all descend from two specific traditions: the New York Fluxus circle and the Vienna Actionists. The two traditions are not identical and I note that the European art-history reading distinguishes them sharply. The post-1976 industrial canon read them as adjacent and inherited from both.

Fluxus is the harder of the two to date precisely. George Maciunas's first Fluxus festival was held in Wiesbaden in September 1962; Maciunas's manifesto-as-document Fluxus Manifesto dates from 1963; the precursor movements (the John Cage Class at the New School, La Monte Young's New York loft concerts, the early Yoko Ono Lighting Pieces) run back to the late 1950s. The movement's defining contribution was the event score: a short text instruction, typically a single sentence, describing an action to be performed. La Monte Young's Composition 1960 #5 consisted, in its entirety, of the instruction Turn a butterfly (or any number of butterflies) loose in the performance area. Yoko Ono's Painting to Be Stepped On consisted, in its entirety, of the instruction to leave a canvas on the floor for visitors to walk on. The event score is the form's foundational compressed-text gesture and the Gerogerigegege closing manifesto in 1985, the Vomir manifesto in about 2007 and the TG postcard at The Mission Is Terminated in 1981 all descend, formally, from the Fluxus event-score tradition.

The Vienna Actionists were a parallel European development with a good deal more confrontational editorial mode. Hermann Nitsch began the Orgien Mysterien Theatre in 1962 and continued it, with periodic refinements, until his death in 2022; the performance practice involved animal carcasses, blood, ritual processions, ceremonial robes and a duration that scaled, in its full version, to six days. Otto Mühl, Günter Brus and Rudolf Schwarzkogler developed parallel practices and the four were associated through the 1960s with the Wiener Aktionismus group. The British post-punk underground encountered the Actionists mainly through Peter Christopherson's documentary photography work, through the V/Search documentation that appeared in the late 1970s and 1980s and through Genesis P-Orridge's personal contact with Hermann Nitsch in the early 1970s. The Actionists supplied the body; the rest of the industrial canon's relationship to the body, from COUM through SPK through Whitehouse through later industrial-noise practitioners, runs through the Vienna inheritance whether or not the inheritance is acknowledged.

The cut-up principle is, in my reading, the prehistory's most portable single technique. Brion Gysin discovered it in October 1959 at the Beat Hotel in Paris by cutting through a stack of newspapers with a Stanley knife and noticing that the resulting fragments, rearranged, produced sentences neither of the source texts had contained. William S. Burroughs, who was sharing the Beat Hotel residence, absorbed the technique and applied it across the following decade: to text (the Nova trilogy of novels, 1961–1964), to image (the cut-up scrapbooks), and progressively to audio. By the mid-1960s Burroughs was running reel-to-reel tape recorders with deliberate splice-and-replay technique, producing audio works such as Nothing Here Now but the Recordings (assembled across the 1960s, eventually issued on Industrial Records IR0016 in 1981) and The Sound of Vienna. The filmmaker Antony Balch worked with Burroughs from about 1961 onward, producing the cut-up film The Cut-Ups in 1966 and Towers Open Fire in 1963, both of which apply the cut-up principle to image and soundtrack simultaneously.

The principle's significance for industrial music is structural as much as technical. Cabaret Voltaire's reel-to-reel method, from about 1973 onward at their Western Works studio in Sheffield, was an explicit cut-up practice: tape loops of broadcast radio, found speech, advertising fragments, all spliced and overlaid. Throbbing Gristle's later releases applied the same principle. The catalogue documents cut-up as a method at cut-up and notes that the cut-up principle is, with the lock groove, the prehistory's most-replicated portable technique in the post-1976 form. Both originated in mid-century continental experimentalism; both arrived at the industrial scene through specific British post-punk channels; both remain in active working use half a century later.

The final five years of the prehistory saw the inherited techniques cross from laboratory and gallery into commercial release. I mark the threshold at three records: Kraftwerk's Autobahn (November 1974), Cluster's Cluster II (1972), and Lou Reed's Metal Machine Music (July 1975). The three are different in vein but related in argument: each takes a method developed inside the European or American experimental tradition and releases it through commercial channels as commercial product.

Kraftwerk's arc across the early 1970s, from the Kling Klang studio in Düsseldorf, ran from drone-rooted improvisational sessions (Tone Float 1970, working as Organisation) to the four-piece electronic-rock format of Kraftwerk 1970 and Kraftwerk 2 1972 and through the structural breakthrough of Autobahn 1974 to the commercially-distributed conceptual albums that followed (Radio-Activity 1975, Trans-Europe Express 1977, The Man-Machine 1978). I note the editorial position that Kraftwerk are placed in this catalogue as adjacent to industrial rather than central to it; the method is electronic-pop rather than industrial-noise. The technical and conceptual influence is nonetheless documented and the krautrock coverage in this catalogue picks up the surrounding territory, with Cluster, Neu!, Can, Faust and Harmonia all sitting in the immediate adjacent space.

Lou Reed's Metal Machine Music requires separate treatment. Released in July 1975 on RCA, a major label, as a four-side double LP, the record consisted of about 64 minutes of feedback and overdriven guitar through arranged amplification, organised in four sides each of which ran from one side-edge to the other with a locked final groove (the listener required to lift the needle to stop the record). The intent has been variously characterised by Reed himself across later decades, with different versions emphasised at different times. The record exists. The label distributed it through standard commercial channels. I hold it as the prehistory's last threshold artefact: the moment at which the laboratory tradition's noise-as-material idiom, the gallery tradition's confrontational performance manner and the lock-groove practice all appeared together inside a commercially-released long-player on a major label. It was kept by RCA, recalled by RCA about three weeks after release and has remained in print or in circulation continuously since.

By the autumn of 1976, the materials industrial music would use across the half-century that followed were on the shelf and could be inventoried. I list them in summary form. Techniques: tape splicing and loop manipulation (Schaeffer 1948 onward), oscillator-and-filter synthesis (Cologne 1953 onward), the lock groove (sporadic classical use 1960s), the prepared instrument (Cage 1940s onward), the cut-up applied to audio (Burroughs and Gysin 1959 onward), the event score (Fluxus 1962 onward), chance operations applied to compositional choice (Cage 1951 onward), drone composition (La Monte Young 1958 onward), feedback as compositional material (Reed 1975 the proximate example, with earlier precedents). Institutions: the state-funded experimental-music studio (BBC Radiophonic Workshop 1958, GRM 1951), the academic electronic-music studio (WDR Cologne 1953), the small-edition Fluxus publishing house (Maciunas's editions, 1962 onward), the commercial conceptual-album record label (Kraftwerk's Kling Klang releases via Philips, 1970 onward).

Concepts: noise as legitimate musical material (Russolo 1913), silence as music (Cage 1952), chance as compositional principle (Cage 1951), refusal as music (Fluxus 1962), the body as artistic site (Vienna Actionists 1962), the recording as physical artefact (Reed's locked-groove vinyl 1975), the performance as the work (Fluxus and the Actionists). Every one of these concepts has a date earlier than 1976. Every one has a documented practitioner. Every one is in active use in the post-1976 industrial canon. The materials were on the shelf. The British post-punk underground in October 1976 was the first community to take all of them down at once. The next era essay, The First Wave, records what they made with them.

Cross-Reference.