Venetian Snares: Bathrobes are the future

Aaron Funk, a.k.a. Venetian Snares, performs in Poland last year. “I like going to Poland, that’s a weird place,” he says. “They have so much vodka there.” Katarzyna Kordus

Aaron Funk thinks he’s no good at talking about his music, so we talk about pizza, beer, sports, ninja swords and hip hop.

“I’ve written out a list of questions that I wanted to ask another man who happened to be named Aaron, to see what similarities we might have,” the prolific and world renowned electronica artist, who performs under the name Venetian Snares, says by phone from his Winnipeg home.

And so we talk about bathrobes.

The 35-year-old’s girlfriend has suggested that for Halloween, he be The Dude, the iconic character Jeff Bridges played in the classic 1998 film The Big Lebowski. But, he doesn’t have a bathrobe.

“Do you ever just rock a bathrobe?” he asks me. “Do you want to go bathrobe shopping?”

We agree to go bathrobe shopping and I ask him about My So-Called Life, the album he released in August.

“I’m fucking terrible at doing this shit, like talking about my music in any way,” Funk says. “I really don’t like doing (interviews). I don’t really believe in hype. I just like to make music and see where things go (based) solely on that.”

The music in question is an intense and challenging brand of electronica featuring rapidfire beats often in odd numbered time signatures that some refer to as breakcore or glitchcore.

Overtop of surreal synthesizer lines, Funk includes vocal samples that showcase his scatological sense of humour.

“We suspect she might be retarded” and “Chef Boyardee in your punani” are two of the refrains on My So-Called Life, which shouldn’t be surprising considering one of his albums is called Winnipeg is a Frozen Shithole.

The places music has taken Funk include: releasing more than 22 albums and 20 EPs since 1998; selling more than 100,000 albums; touring across North America and Europe, playing to crowds of thousands of people; earning critical acclaim; befriending former Red Hot Chili Peppers guitarist John Frusciante; and starting a side project with Frusciante called Speed Dealer Moms.

Funk doesn’t know exactly how many records he’s released or how many copies they’ve sold. The business side of music genuinely does not interest him.

“It’s so ridiculous when you think about it. The whole idea of people having bands and, you know, trying to fucking sell records and stuff, it’s just preposterous. It’s just automatically fake.”

Funk makes music because it’s what he gets the most enjoyment out of.

“It’s just always been (about) doing what I love, as opposed to really trying to find a way to sell it to anyone.”

So we talk about jazz and sushi and Belgian beer. We say our good-byes and after I hang up, I realize I’ve forgotten to ask him for some high-resolution photos to accompany this article.

I email him looking for some, and he responds within a few minutes:

“I asked people on my Facebook if they have any (pictures) but they just tell me to Google it, which I already did but perhaps you’d have better luck. Sure if you email (my label) they have some.

“Can’t wait for bathrobe shopping!”

Published in Volume 65, Number 9 of The Uniter (October 28, 2010)

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