Loki’s Motive George Williams promotes local artists and musicians throughout the city and beyond By Kevin Forest Moreau (reprinted by permission)

In Norse mythology, Loki is the god of mischief, the classic trickster antagonist of ancient folklore. A constant pain in the rear to the other gods, he works behind the scenes, covertly manipulating events with the malevolent glee of a moustache-twirling villain of a 1930’s film serial. In short, he’s an instigator, constantly challenging the staus quo.

Take out the “malevolent glee,” part and you could just as easily be describing jack-of-all-trades George “loki” Williams. As the mouthpiece and guiding force behind the Silver Machine, a local event-production company, Williams is himself an instigator, working to elevate the public profile of under-the-radar musicians and artists while struggling to change people’s perceptions of the arts culture in New Orleans.

“I’m a native,” Williams says of his calling. “My roots go back as far as this city’s history does. I grew up here, and I just got tired of watching bands leave because they can’t make it on a national level using New Orleans as a home base, tired of watching artists leave because they can’t support themselves here. Having spent time on the West Coast and in New York City, I’ve seen what the perceived art and music meccas are like. New Orleans needs to assume it’s rightful spot among those cities. This is the third coast; there’s so much going on down here. It’s a shame that when people think of New Orleans, the think only of jazz or artists like (”Blue Dog,” painter George) Rodrigue.”

Which is where the Silver Machine , a Carnival barker’s megaphone aimed directly at a complacent citizenry, comes in. Unlike his namesake, Williams isn’t at all publicity shy. If anything, there’s a ceratin irony attached to his nickname: “loki” sounds like “low key,” and there have never been two words less applicable to this agent provacateur. Speaking in a genial Southern drawl, Williams projects his every utterence as if performing in a Shakespearean drama, which is understandable, even forgivable, given the passion he brings to his mission.

“Basically, the vision for the Silver Machine is to create an internet prescence for the art and music scenes,” he says, “creating a series of both large and small multidisciplinary events in order to allow the music and art, a lot of it coming from the grass-roots level, to be exposed to a wider segment of the population.”

Williams and a handful of co-conspirators pursue that goal through a three pronged plan: First, utilizing the Internet - www.thesilvermachine.com- to create awareness and exposure for musicians, painters, sculptors, and other like-minded creators that “don’t necessarily fit into the conventional perception of New Orleans;” second, providing a “one-stop shop,” where developing bands and visual artists can access various resources, from legal advice to equipment to web design; and third, in the process, trying to create a “(greater) global awareness of what’s happening here.”

If that sounds like a lot of grand talk, Williams and his Silver Machine cohorts have already more thatn backed it up. The Machine often develops and produces events featuring eclectic area musical acts (such as Morning 40 Federation, Veloka, Liquidrone, Iris May Tango, DJ Tom Harvey and acclaimed local folk singer Gina Forsyth), as well as cutting edge local artists (including Ryan Dufrene, Clayton Waddel, Errol Hesse, Misha and Shawn Kavanaugh). From helping to stage a showcase for underground bands at a club like the Howlin Wolf to booking exhibits for oft-overlooked visual artists at Lionel Milton Gallery, Williams is putting his money where his mouth is: firmly pressed against the ears of the populace.

What’s more, he’s providing exposure with potentially far-reaching implications. Through a strategic alliance with Here And Now, a “Real World,”-type Web site chronicling the minutiae of the daily lives of a group of housemates, Williams has exposed his stable to worldwide audinces via the internet. Before frequent live web-cast parties, “we go into the house and install (Silver Machine artists’) art work throughout the building,” he says. Throw in live entertainment by such area bands as Water, Awkward on Land and Electrical Spectacle and you’ve got a handful of non-mainstream New Orleans artists being exposed to worldwide audiences. “The artists can benefit hugely from the exposure,” Williams says, “and the city of New Orleans itself can benfit hugely from the exposure as well.”

Like any missionary, Williams, who cut his teeth working at local venues such as the House of Blues and Hard Rock Cafe and later as producer of the Anne Rice Vampire Lestat Fan Club’s annual Coven Ball, is constantly courting recruits for the Silver Machine’s cause. Among these are Todd Voltz, head of Atomic Productions, who is developing plans for a Silver Machine film-maker’s co-op. “There’s not a lot of common ground” among local filmmakers, Voltz says, adding that the Machine has the potential to “develop a community to assess each other’s scripts, share equipment and experience.”

Another is Webmaster Jason Core, whose work includes maintaining the Web site, as well as developing a recording studio to offer Silver Machine bands a low cost alternative to local facilities. “I really believe in the agenda and the scope of (the Machine),” he says.

But no matter how many cooks have their hands in the Machine it’s Williams who is the executive chef, masterminding what he deems to be nothing less than full scale revolution against the staid conventions of the Julia Street arts scene and the preconceived notions of the city’s artistic and musical endeavors.

“The objective is a total renaissance from the ground up, and we will not stop for anything,” he says with all the practiced sincerity of the revolutionary. “This is going to happen one way or another, and it really doesn’t matter how long it takes.”