As a rule I’ve always deliberately avoided reformations like the plague. Be it the Velvet Underground, The Stooges, Sex Pistols, whoever, I’ve kept my distance, stuck my fingers in my ears and sang ‘la-la-la’ loudly over any attempts to get me to even give it a try. This is mainly because I fear that what I once loved, mythologized even, would be ruined and forever tarnished in my eyes and ears. In my time I’ve seen plenty of bands struggling along well-past their notional sell-by dates tiredly struggling to muster some enthusiasm and to milk a final payday from dwindling audiences. Desperately trying to squeeze out some last enthusiasm for a limping, wounded shadow of their past heroes, audiences are usually indifferent to anything played except the ‘hits’. Some wise seer once suggested that you should never meet your heroes, I would add to that rule that you should avoid witnessing reformed acts trading on past glories, however brightly they once burned.
And yet, rules are there for breaking. Magazine, as Winston Churchill suggested (he was a big fan you know) were a riddle wrapped in a mystery, inside an enigma. Most people, if they remember them at all, recall the awesome debut single, ‘Shot By Both Sides’, possibly one of the greatest singles of any era, or vaguely remember Howard Devoto’s early brief tenure in the Buzzcocks captured on the debut EP Spiral Scratch. Magazine rarely get much in the way of serious coverage in punk and post-punk histories, even in terms of the Manchester scene. They are not so much airbrushed out as merely noted or footnoted. Like Devoto’s cameo in 24 Hour Party People, Magazine remain a shadowy presence unable to slot into any pigeonholes. Splitting in 1981 after releasing four albums, Devoto formed Luxuria before retiring from music almost two decades ago. Of the four original members, John McGeoch passed away in 2004 while only the bassist Barry Adamson has maintained any form of presence, playing for a period with Nick Cave’s Bad Seeds before going on to release a series of excellent (if somewhat underrated) solo albums and scoring soundtracks for the likes of David Lynch’s Mulholland Drive.
So who were and who indeed are Magazine? Would they still be any good? Above all, who would go and see them thirty-one years after that debut single that offered so much promise so early on and yet seemed to encapsulate Magazine’s commercial failure? Given Devoto’s famous reluctance to perform or become ‘financially dependent on my creativity’ why would he want to do this again? It was, after all, Devoto who wrote the famous lyrics for the Buzzcocks song ‘Boredom’: “I just came from nowhere / and I’m going straight back there”. And seemed to manage to do just that. So would the man from nowhere and his cohorts be able to pull it off?
In the weeks between purchasing my ticket and the band taking the stage I pondered all of this and worried along to a soundtrack of Magazine. Admittedly I was also excited about going to a concert in a way that I hadn’t been for quite some time.
The Academy was certainly filling up nicely when we arrived with a real mix of ages, from ageing former punks to teenagers and by the time Ipso Facto took to the stage it was getting quite uncomfortably packed. Despite being hampered by an unkind sound and looking quite nervous on such a huge stage, the all-female band were quite a revelation. At times their sound was quite skeletal and angular, at others rowdy and edgy. Driven by a strident organ sound Ipso Facto mixed a 60s garage punk sound with elements of post-punk which, at times, brought to mind Siouxsie and the Banshees. I really enjoyed them, as did a significant section of the audience and would love to see them again in a more intimate venue without the clunking acoustics as they had some pretty cool, interesting songs.
By the time the lights go down and the recorded intro music (‘The Thin Air’) begins booming through the PA there is a palpable sense of excitement and tension growing throughout the packed hall. As the band take up their positions on the stage in front of backdrop of the Real Life sleeve, Devoto’s voice, at once strange and familiar, briefly tells the story of the most unexpected of reunions, telling us that his motives were not financial but that he “had to impress a woman”. Then the opening bars of ‘The Light Pours out Of Me’ kicks in to the sound of several thousand people collectively beginning to breathe again. Magazine sound so majestic, the song full of ebbs and flows culminating in a series of gorgeous peaks. Tight yet fluid, they launch into the set with a vigour and energy that is intensely exhilarating. Devoto sounds equally fresh, his voice commanding yet full of expression and tension, moving around the stage, talking between songs, removing his jacket… clearly enjoying himself.
Guitarist Noko, formerly Devoto’s partner in Luxuria and a former member of Apollo 440, bravely steps into the late John McGeoch’s shoes with great gusto. The set is equally as majestic as the opener, building in intensity then pulling back to allow everyone to catch their breath. Drawing heavily from the first and third albums, they also interspersed this with a couple of songs from Secondhand Daylight and Magic, Murder and the Weather. Throwing in some rarer songs, they play ‘The Book’ and ‘Twenty Years Ago’ back to back. The ‘hits’ are pretty much all present and correct including ‘Shot By Both Sides’, ‘Permafrost’ and a coruscating version of my favourite Magazine song, ‘A Song From Under The Floorboards’. I’d heard Morrissey play a more than decent version on tour a few years back but this was the real thing and it leaves me utterly stunned. ‘The Honeymoon Killers’ and ‘This Poison’ from the much derided fourth album sounds much weightier than the recorded versions, full of punch and subtle little passages.
Devoto and Magazine appear to have the audience eating out of their hands with a varied set full of familiar friends and surprises, though when Devoto gave a brief reading while standing at a lectern with only minimal musical backing a rather large, middle aged gentleman standing close by me took offence yelling ‘bollocks! I didn’t pay for this shite’. Ah the warmth and erudite wit of the Glasgow banter. Mind you, thirty years ago he was probably doing the same thing. You can’t please everyone…
… Well sometimes you can! As the lectern makes a swift except stage right Magazine launch into ‘Shot by Both Sides’ and the place goes wild. They play it with such utter conviction, energy and passion before departing to huge cheers. They returned to do Sly & The Family Stone’s ‘Thank You (Faletinme Be Mice Elf Again)’. While I always thought it sounded a little clunky and stilted on record, live it really came to life as a shuffling, stuttering monster of a version, sounding like a prototype for the early Happy Mondays. ‘Motorcade’ was utterly gorgeous, really atmospheric as it built to a fantastic crescendo, encapsulating Magazine’s wide-screen cinematic sound. I was totally wide-eyed, energised and physically exhausted but they returned for a final song, the punk rock meets Beefheart of ‘I Love You, You Big Dummy’ which I think even our heckler friend could take to heart and appreciate.
Afterwards I couldn’t really speak or put what I’d witnessed and heard into coherent words. Perhaps some of you may think that I still can’t. Really though it was an amazing experience. Genius isn’t a word I use often but Magazine were that good even after such a long absence from the stage, marrying wit, erudite lyrics, charm and intelligence to some of the most amazing music ever made. That, in 2009, they still sound like one of the most important groups ever is not just a testament to the recorded legacy they bequeathed over such a short period but also to the intensity of this live performance.