“Nostalgia for an age yet to come” sang Pauline Murray on Penetration’s first album ‘Moving Targets’. And while her band, which split in 1980, have since reformed to great effect, it’s an unexpected delight that she has now revived her electronic-based solo incarnation, revisiting the Invisible Girls’ sole, self-titled album.
And it’s well-worth the 40-plus year wait. Whether too young, or stymied by the restrictions put in place by student unions at the time (not bitter at all), the vast majority of the crowd would have missed out on the original tour. However, this retreading of what is a massively-underapreciated release almost didn’t happen. The planned full, headlining playback of the album was scaled back due to Covid-related issues, but tonight we still get a decent chunk of the original release, reproduced expertly by the new ‘Girls’.
‘Sympathy’ opens, Murray pacing the stage, and the first point of note is how strong and pure her voice is so many years on. The sound, and indeed vision, in SWG3’s Galvaniser’s Yard is also excellent, suggesting that (the less-than-central location aside) it could be the replacement for the ABC that Glasgow really needs.
A chiming ‘Dream Sequence’ is delivered early followed by ‘Shoot You Down’, but since it’s not a track-by-track reprise, we’re instead treated to a segment of three tunes from Murray’s latest solo album ‘Elemental’. ‘Secrets’, and ‘Shadow In My Mind’, and ‘Weeds’ are all decent tunes on (my) first hearing, very much in the same vein as her solo work from four decades ago, and suitably removed from the Penetration material Murray has recorded in recent years.
One question which receives an answer is, with the pandemic throwing the originally-planned tour into chaos, how has Pauline Murray managed to draw together six musicians who are a more-than-able replacement for those who played on the 1980 release (a star-studded incarnation of John Cooper Clarke’s backing band not limited to Vini Reilly, John Maher, Martin Hannett, with Wayne Hussey and Bernard Sumner also involved – indeed aside from Bill Nelson the only Girl not in the studio with Murray would oddly enough, have been writer of ‘Nostalgia’ Pete Shelley (writer of ‘Nostalgia’, of course).
Instead, we learn that tonight’s band lineup is very much a “family affair”. As well as husband Robert (Blamire, of Penetration) on bass, their son Alex is on keyboards while daughter Grace provides harmonies – mother Murray is in no need of additional vocal power as anyone who has seen Penetration on a similarly long-awaited post-reformation show will attest, but the extra vocal aids in replicating the multi-tracked nature of the original arrangements. “What’s the point of having kids of you can’t utilise them later on?” the frontwoman laughs. Sadly there’s no time for ‘Mr X’ or “Searching For Heaven’ although as well as an excellent and aptly percussion-heavy ‘Drummer Boy’, there’s an exercise for any aspiring songwriters in the art of a hook with ‘Thundertunes’. A short but highly satisfying set ends on a poignant note: ‘Judgement Day’ dedicated to the recently-passed Jordan, title aside a fitting tribute to another punk icon.
So, the Psychedelic Furs have work to do with such an explosive opening act. However,
blasting off with ‘Highwire Days’ and following it with a towering, sax-infused ‘Dumb Waiters’, there’s never any danger that their audience – some having waited, like Pauline Murray’s, four decades to see them – would be anything less than ecstatic. Frontman Richard Butler exudes cool charisma, and clearly enjoys the adulation that such a highly-anticipated return can bring.
Of course, there’s a new release to accompany this tour, ‘Made of Rain’ – well-received it seems, but the band know their audience with many of them there to wallow in, well, nostalgia. So while we get, most notably, ‘Wrong Train’ and ‘The Boy That Invented Rock & Roll’ from the current album (and it feels good to be able to say that), there’s maybe just half-a-dozen deviations in the 90 minutes from the playing of The Hits.
‘Ghost In You’ and ‘Mr. Jones’ are both present and correct, though personally I could live with never hearing ‘Pretty In Pink’ ever again. The newer material, ‘Ash Wednesday’ in particular, has a decided Bowie tinge to it, while ‘This’ll Never Be Like Love’ also seems to evoke Scott Walker a little – though that could be Richard Butler’s hair and dark glasses (which neither he or sibling Tim remove for the entire show). A side note, the frontman also is the spit of an imagined big brother of Josh Widdicombe.
Speaking of family, the band have also welcomed original guitarist Roger Morris back into the fold, into a lineup which also sees drum tech Dennis (I gather) take on guitar at one point, though the band are actually at the height of their powers as a tight four-piece doing a sax-less ‘Heaven’. ‘President Gas’ is also rolled out, perhaps inevitably given the current worldview, the frontman’s straight-arm salute becoming a throat-cutting gesture.
‘Heartbreak Beat’ is for me a weak ending to a fine set but with an audience hungry for more back catalogue, the band oblige, a brooding ‘Sister Europe’ eventually fading out (!) before they close with a towering ‘India’, which opened their debut album, and which takes takes up right back where the band started, 45 years ago.
Who says nostalgia was dead?
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