TYLER MATTHEW OYER

BERLIN ALIEN

Tyler Matthew Oyer is a multidisciplinary artist in the truest sense, one who unapologetically and promiscuously moves into and out of, and between and across performance, nightlife, video, writing, photography and music. The promiscuity of medium is part of the queerness of Oyer’s project, an effervescent practice that has led them to show work in the most exciting high art venues and DIY clubs on earth, from Vogue Fabrics and The Royal Vauxhall Tavern in London to MoMA PS1, REDCAT, and the Volksbühne am Rosa-Luxemburg-Platz.

Born in the Bible Belt of rural Pennsylvania, Oyer has been a fixture of the LA queer art scene for over a decade, earning an MFA from CalArts in 2012. The challenges of being an artist in a city with so much emphasis on churning out global pop stars depends on the cultural mood at that time. Venues close, people move on or pass away, parties end.

“When I think about the last 12 years of living in LA,” Oyer tells me, “[everything] changes depending on who is President. It changes depending on the economy and what’s happening culturally. Are we protesting, or are we reserving our energy? Are we going out a lot, or are we taking care of ourselves? I think there are moments of radicality and then there are moments of conservatism. Right now it’s interesting because the generation I came to LA with, when Mustache Mondays was happening, Wildness and Grown with Wu Tsang was happening. All of those parties. Fade to Mind was having parties weekly almost. All of that stuff is over now, and now I feel like there’s new stuff happening to replace that. So, I guess it just comes in waves.”

On the heels of HOLLYWOOD ANGEL, a solo exhibition at Carlye Packer Gallery in Los Angeles, Oyer unveiled a thumping new project: BERLIN ALIEN, a six track faggy techno record. It’s a maximalist love letter to Berlin, inspired by Oyer’s 10 years of visiting, collaborating, partying and expanding their consciousness in the city. As you power through tracks like “UR LUV,” “TARANTULA” and “HEATHEN,” you can see the fog of dark Berlin dance floors and you can feel the sticky residue of alcohol, sweat and cum on your hands — the remains of partying for hours on end.

Over brunch on a chic rooftop in Downtown LA one Saturday afternoon in March, we chopped it up about the politics of partying, BERLIN ALIEN, dom tops, and the cathartic possibilities of aggressive music. Midway through our little kiki, a stray balloon floating in the air landed on a power line and exploded —- a sudden, fabulous burst of energy that, funnily enough, perfectly summarizes the brilliant spark of Oyer’s work.

MM: I’m always interested in people who disobey boundaries and move into, across, and beyond many different spheres — in your case, music art, writing, photography, performance.

TMO: I feel that everything speaks to each other. I refer to it as a constellation or an interweaving of genres and forms. I did music and theater as a child and a teenager. People would tell me, “Oh, you’re good at this. You should do more”. So, one thing leads to another. I’ve always been curious about trying things out and not being afraid to fail. Just like, I’m going to try it and maybe people will like it. Maybe people don’t, but in the process you learn something. That’s been a valuable method.

MM: That’s what it is, not being afraid to fail. It’s always “Succeed. Success.” We’re not encouraged to fail, even to fail softly.

TMO: I’ve never felt that need and I’ve made a lot of art over a long period of time.

MM: She’s a busy girl.

TMO: Yeah, but I’ve never felt like I needed to succeed in order to keep going or to keep making. I don’t feel I need a hugely successful song to keep making music. I don’t feel I need to sell everything I’ve ever made in my studio in order to feel I’m successful as an artist. The success is in the act of making. Then if people want to buy it, that’s great, because it can support my income. Or if someone likes the way I perform, they can book me and I will show up and perform. I’m not driven by preconceived notions of success. The success is in the output.

MM: How did BERLIN ALIEN come together?

TMO: This is the first album I produced entirely myself.

During pandemic, Ben Babbitt taught me how to use Ableton. I made an album that was called TENDERNESS that I released last year, which is electronic and has some of the same aesthetics, but it’s more melodic, there’s vocals on all the tracks. It was a learning album. And with BERLIN ALIEN I was like, “I want to make electronic music that I would want to dance to and DJ at parties.” This album presents the opportunity to imagine live performance that isn’t just me singing with a microphone.

I was in Italy last spring doing shows and I started making beats on the plane. I was traveling alone so would have lunch and sit at a cafe and work on the songs, watching people walk by. Then I was in Berlin for six weeks last summer and finished the album.

MM: Where did you stay in Berlin?

TMO: I was staying in Kreuzberg. My friend Bendik Giske lent me his studio at Funkhaus while he was on tour. He told me it was Laurel Halo’s old studio, which is funny because she just moved to LA and we’ve been hanging out recently. I recorded all my vocals and polished the record there and brought it back to LA for perspective. It’s six tracks. Some of them are quite long. I was like, “This feels like a finished project.” I’m not someone who sits on projects for too long. I’m not someone who’ll make an album and wait 10 years to release it. No, I want to put it out.

With BERLIN ALIEN I released myself from feeling I need to always make vocal melodies because I’ve identified as a singer for such a long time. One of the songs has a very simple vocal. This campy, acid house track UR LUV. But yeah, just letting the music be what it is, because it’s like a painting to me. It’s like, do I want it to be really graphic and tight or do I want it to be expressive and messy? So, I just make it and then look at it. Step back and see how it looks.

MM: I love this project, and my favorite two tracks are the last two ones. HEATHEN and PARADISE. They are so smooth. I was actually listening again today, getting my smoothie, and I was just feeling it, making the stank face.

TMO: Yeah. Okay, that’s a good sign! They’re kind of funky.

MM: Yeah, that’s what I’m saying.

TMO: That’s why when someone was like, “Oh, what kind of music?” I’m like, “It’s definitely aggressive techno, but it’s also kind of faggy and campy and funky.” I feel like there’s a little bit of swish in them, even though sometimes it gets a little bit aggressive, even HEATHEN. It definitely pushes you sonically but then there’s something that’s pats you on the shoulder while it’s pushing you.

MM: Yes, like caressing you.

TMO: Yeah.

MM: It’s like a dom top.

TMO: Yes, exactly.

MM: Pounding you, but caressing you.

TMO: Exactly. Exactly. Identify very much. Haha!

MM: Berlin has a really special place in the hearts of a lot of queer people, and BERLIN ALIEN is something of a love letter to Berlin. So what does Berlin mean for you? And why do you think it’s a space that facilitates so much queerness?

TMO: Well, I think Berlin still identifies as a leftist city. Of course it’s gentrifying and capitalism is doing its thing. But there is an identity and a spirit in Berlin of resistance to this kind of global hegemony of turning everything into an Apple campus or an Amazon distribution center. People organize. There is a political, punk resistance to hegemony, which opens up a space of, “Okay, if we’re saying we don’t want to look like everything else and we don’t want to behave like everything else,” it opens up a space of imagining, “What do we want to be? We want to have sex clubs. We want to be able to take drugs. I want to be able to cut my hair or wear an outfit that I wouldn’t feel comfortable wearing somewhere else.” It is a city that still parties really hard.

MM: They party in Berlin like it is the last day on earth.

TMO: Yes, which is a spirit.

MM: And I find that really energizing, actually.

TMO: Yes. That’s the spirited part. It’s a decision to say, “We want to party as part of how we experience life.” And I feel in the US, there’s such a puritanical, Christian idea around substances, around sex, and about being together. I mean, they are passing laws right now to ban drag performances for fuck’s sake. This is in the United States today. It’s like, “Do not drink, do not have sex, do not party, do not stay out later than 9:00 PM, keep the lights off when you have sex, and you should only have sex to make a child.” You know what I mean?

It’s this mentality of so many things being “bad”. I feel like that mentality isn’t the same in Berlin. It’s kind of like, “These things are not bad, and actually we have a system of how we do it to keep people safe and to keep the party going as best as we can even as the world changes.” I love that at parties in Berlin there are still rules. When you’re the most fucked up, when you’re the most out of your mind, and maybe even compromised, there are still socially agreed upon rules in place. And that’s what keeps the party going. With the rules in place, you can experience loads of freedom.

MM: I mean, the sort of irony of the kind of crackdown here in the US right now around increased queer visibility over the last few years is that it’s always the conservatives writing the laws who are guilty. They are in the bathroom, tapping stalls, looking for dick, doing drag when they were in high school.

TMO: Absolutely. I mean, fear comes from very specific places.

MM: But it’s not only just that, it’s those people being able to actually create an infrastructure so others can’t do it.

TMO: People who repress themselves so strongly are driven to want to repress others. It’s the illusion of power. It’s an illusion of power that then becomes actual power, because your repression affects other people’s ability to live. It’s fucking infuriating.

MM: It’s also a throwback to previous times. I mean, this is not the first time that drag or cross-dressing has been banned. It’s only recently that it was not banned. So, the fact that we’re going back to this is like, I hope people don’t forget that it’s part of our history.

TMO: It’s also pathetic grasping. People don’t have healthcare. Funding for education is being cut. Children and teachers go to school afraid of getting shot, but let’s make legislation about drag shows. You know what I mean?

MM: Culture wars.

TMO: Yes, it’s so much theater. It makes me angry.

MM: You should be. For me, being angry is partially what techno is about. It’s not necessarily a music of joy. It can be. There could be joy in it. But I think overall, even when it’s joyous, techno is a music of rioting. It’s a music of insurrection, of discontent.

TMO: There’s an aggression to it, which I like, and that’s something that drew me to Berlin and to the techno raving scene. There’s an emotional space there. It’s cathartic. There’s a release. And it’s poetic and beautiful because you can share that in a space that is aggressive. When you go to Berghain, there are moments where it can feel really aggressive. When you go to certain clubs, there are so many people, the disorientation of the lights, the sound, and dancing, and substances. It can be really aggressive, but then there’s a release that happens when you surrender to it.

MM: It’s funny you mention release because for me, techno is a music of endless endurance — going and going and going and going. Some people say that the bass drop in dance music is the money shot, the sonic load. Everybody loves when the bass drops. But actually, I think that it’s more complicated, because techno is a music of endurance. So for me, listening and dancing to techno less of a money shot and more like edge play, being brought to the edge, over and over, and having that feeling over and over for however many hours you’re out.

TMO: And each time it’s different, depending on who’s playing and what their vibe is. It’s like you’re edging in different ways. That’s the fun part. It’s interesting to make a sexual metaphor, because sex can also be aggressive, and tender, and scary, and exciting, just like techno.

MM: Is there something that feels exciting to you about teetering on the edge?

TMO: Yeah. I think it comes back to curiosity. It’s like, how far can I push this? Or where is this going to get pushed to? And if I pull back, what’s that going to feel like? And if I keep going, what’s that going to feel like? It’s similar to my relationship to partying, when I ask myself should I have a little bit more and see where this takes me? Or is it time to back off and then let this wind down and see where that takes me? It’s always a negotiation.

MM: It’s about being in your body and being reminded that you have a body, because so much about being alive under capitalism is to reduce you to a robot who is productive and doesn’t have feelings.

TMO: And that brings up consent and also collectivity. What I’m thinking about with the edge is also pushing boundaries, pushing oneself. When I started partying in Berlin 10 years ago, I remember being intimidated. I’m born in the countryside. We don’t party the same way in LA. Even when I was going out all the time in LA, you don’t party like Berlin. Luckily I was with people who taught me very quickly to just check in with each other. One of my party sisters casually asked, “How are we feeling? How are you?” And I was like, “Oh,” that was such an epiphany. I realized, “Oh, you can push your boundaries. You can push edge, edge, edge. But you can also be comforted and cared for while you do that.”

TYLER MATTHEW OYER

Written by Madison Moore

Photography: Erik André Nes