You may be a Durutti Column fan without even knowing it. If you’ve ever enjoyed the giddy, unforgettable riff of Morrissey‘s “Suedehead” or the endearing charm of “Smile in the Crowd” from Martin Gore’s first solo EP, or, more recently, Blood Orange‘s mournfully gorgeous “The Field”, you have indirectly appreciated the Durutti Column.
The Durutti Column is Vini Reilly from Manchester, England. He played the guitar on Viva Hate; he wrote “Smile in the Crowd”, and “The Field” is a loose cover version of his “Sing to Me”. In the history of British indie music, not many other people have been so subtly well-known. Then again, not many people in the history of British indie have been so idiosyncratically original or as reluctantly influential as Reilly. Though he would, over the years, add some new approaches, collaborators, and instruments, his 1980 debut, The Return of the Durutti Column, remains his defining artistic statement. That’s ironic because it is the Durutti Column album in which he was the least involved.
After an early, four-person version of the Durutti Column broke up acrimoniously, Reilly became helplessly depressed. Tony Wilson, who had recently founded Factory Records, recognized Reilly’s singular talent and had a personal fondness for Reilly’s delicate, sympathetic nature. In an attempt to rescue Reilly from his morass (hence the Return of… title), Wilson signed him to Factory and endeavored to get him into a studio to see what happened. That was a brilliant plan. What wasn’t brilliant was cooping Reilly up with Martin Hannett, Factory’s volatile, self-absorbed, cocaine-snorting house producer.
Not surprisingly, Reilly and Hannett didn’t get along. Studio assistants recorded Reilly whenever they could get him to focus for long enough to play. Hannett, enthralled with a newly acquired synthesizer, did his own thing but still found time to berate Reilly, who eventually walked out of the sessions. Reilly was later presented with a mixed test pressing of the album as a fait accompli.
The entire story is told with first-hand sources in James Nice’s excellent liner notes to this new edition of The Return of the Durutti Column. A 45th anniversary may seem like an odd occasion for a celebratory re-release. However, there is a good reason for this particular salvo: remastered vinyl, CD, and various limited editions. It’s a great chance to capitalize on the Durutti Column’s raised profile in the wake of “The Field” and high-visibility soundtrack placements. Hopefully, it provides Reilly, who is 72 and has hardly been able to play guitar since suffering a series of strokes over a decade ago, with some income.
Even after all this time, The Return of the Durutti Column sounds fresh, strange, and arresting. The album and, arguably, Reilly’s entire career, hinge as ever on the indelible “Sketch for Summer”. With Hannett’s synthesized birdsong and simple drum machine pulse acting as a sort of sonic canvas, Reilly’s elliptical, delayed guitar playing unfurls and ripples like a dancer’s ribbon. It is at once intensely evocative, nostalgic, and heartbreaking. At the same time, as Reilly’s tempo picks up, a bright, almost joyous melody comes into focus. If ever music could make you smile and cry simultaneously, this is it.
The rest of The Return of the Durutti Column is only slightly less powerful. Ironically, “Sketch for Summer” is one of the album’s most fully formed compositions; it could even be considered a proper song. The rest of the first side of the album includes similarly long, more rounded pieces. Reilly’s playing is alternately lax and tense, his plaintive, fluid lines offset by percussive staccato passages. Hannett’s subtle electronics complement Reilly’s guitar nicely. The two elements mesh so well that it is difficult to believe their respective creators barely spoke with one another.
On several of The Return of the Durutti Column’s tracks, Reilly and Hannett are joined by a rhythm section comprised of Reilly’s former bandmates. This combination results in tracks like “Untitled” and “Jazz”, which, had they come out a couple of years later, could have been mistaken for Smiths tracks before Morrissey laid down his vocals. These, like most of the album’s second half, really do sound like sketches or, at their most effective, vignettes.
After Reilly left the sessions, it was up to Tony Wilson and the engineers to assemble whatever material they could salvage. Far from throwaway, though, this includes at least a couple of excellent solo pieces. Among these is “Collette”, which is second only to “Sketch for Summer” in terms of establishing a sonic template for subsequent Durutti Column work.
The Return of the Durutti Column has always sounded crisp, but the new half-speed vinyl master may be an improvement. Vinyl versions also append both sides of the contemporaneous “Lips That Would Kiss” single. The CD version adds a further trove of demos, live recordings, and detritus. These are interesting if not essential. The live version of “Sketch For Summer” features an awkward attempt at a rock ‘n’ roll backbeat.
To this day, Reilly’s self-disparaging statements and mercurial personality have helped ensure that some people will always dismiss his work as, at best, pleasant background music. To be sure, his subsequent work has included its share of hits and misses. For many, though, listening to The Return of the Durutti Column is like being given the key to a world that, while not as secret as it might have once been, is nonetheless well worth exploring.