ABSTRACT
Grinderman is the performance of stripping down and starting from scratch; it makes the communicative process itself, the use of language and gesture, the focus of attention'. The scene of the basement' or garage' has long assumed an idealised status within rock n' roll ideology as a sanctified space of musical solidarity and collaboration, away from the dizzying excesses and pressures of show-business'. Listening to Grinderman is akin to being granted a back-stage pass; it offers to take the audience behind-the-scenes', to hear and see the machinations of the rock n' roll event is being constructed. The cover-image is a computer-animated depiction of a baboon cowering beneath the spotlight of an empty stage while a neon sign, bearing the band's name in bold letters, flares up above: GRINDERMAN'. Grinderman appears to strip away the trappings of fame and stardom, to take the audience behind the scenes, and to expose a glimpse of the real me' behind the rock star.
