An Afternoon with Vini and Bruce (Part 1)

The Durutti Column 2013: An Afternoon with Vini Reilly and Bruce Mitchell (Part One) by James McGrath

Introduction

Guitarist and vocalist Vini Reilly, now 60, and drummer Bruce Mitchell, 73, tend to avoid discussing their band The Durutti Column in terms of genre or tradition. Throughout the interview on which this profile is based, the word both that both Reilly and Mitchell most often emphasise is music.

Their collection Return of the Sporadic Recordings (2002) – one of nearly forty Durutti Column albums since 1980 – ends the Manchester duo heard being pressed, and hesitating on, the question of category. In November 1986, leaving Toronto (with a tape recorder, evidently), they were asked by customs officials about their purpose for travelling to Washington DC. The drummer – who has also acted for long periods as The Durutti Column's manager – handled these formalities. Mitchell politely explained: "We're doing concerts. We're a group".

"What kind of group are you?" the official persisted.

Mitchell paused, then deferred to Reilly. "What kind of group are we?"

The guitarist answered: "Avant-garde jazz classical".

While Reilly's phrase has stuck, subsequent decades have seen the Durutti Column explore further areas, including electronic music, dance, ragga, trance, and folk. Originally managed by Alan Erasmus and Tony Wilson, Reilly was the first artist adopted by Manchester's anarchically independent Factory Records in 1978. The Durutti Column, of all Factory artists, remained perhaps the closest to Wilson, both personally and philosophically. Mitchell, primarily a jazz drummer, joined Reilly in 1981 and remains The Durutti Column's only other constant member.

Effectively affirming its celebrated ethos of prioritising aesthetic gains over financial profits, Factory culminated in bankruptcy in 1992. The Durutti Column continued releasing new albums on Wilson's next label, Factory Too, until 1998. Since then, they have prolifically issued a series of albums on further independent labels, mainly Artful and Kookydisc. Since 2012, several of their older, otherwise hard to find albums have been reissued in new editions by Factory Benelux (recently resurrected by author James Nice, who worked for the original, Belgium-based Factory Benelux in the 1980s).

The following profile of The Durutti Column is based on my meeting with Mitchell and Reilly in January 2013, as well as interviews with various collaborators and observers of this intriguing band. I approached The Durutti Column about an interview because, after completing a cultural history article on Factory Records for the journal Manchester Region History Review (June 2013), I remained frustrated by the relative scarcity of in-depth interviews with Reilly and Mitchell.

While Reilly is often profiled in connection with new projects and events, such interviews, while always intriguing, tend to be published in necessarily short forms. It was also noticeable that the band's two key members tended to be interviewed separately, almost as if reluctantly taking this in turns. Indeed, occasional media interviews to promote new releases are perhaps the only serious concessions the aesthetically independent Durutti Column make towards commercial concerns. I wanted to ask them about various aspects of their history, particularly in relation to Factory, as well as their more recent work and plans for the future. Kindly, they agreed. The interview ran to over 10,000 words, also yielding a separate, much shorter profile in The Big Issue magazine. As well as discussing their music at a somewhat uncertain point, amidst (by their standards) a long pause between albums, the conversation shows Reilly and Mitchell talking candidly about the guitarist's illness, and how fans supported him through a financial crisis.

Bruce in Didsbury

Phone calls to and from Bruce Mitchell to finalise arrangements for this interview were almost humorously brief, each ending decisively though cheerily with his "Okayee". We meet on a bright winter Saturday by Didsbury's clock-tower. Four miles south of Manchester's centre, Didsbury, where Bruce had other things to attend to earlier today, is a pleasingly suitable place to meet for an interview. Tony Wilson, Alan Erasmus and producer Martin Hannett lived here throughout most of Factory's 1978-92 history, as did a network of other key Factory figures, including Bruce himself, sometimes with Vini as a lodger. From 1978-1990, the headquarters of Factory Records were located in Erasmus's flat on West Didsbury's Palatine Road.

A strikingly-dressed individual, often donning a monocle, Bruce also uses numerous distinctive vehicles, including a 1936 Austin 7. On tours, he takes a folding bicycle, which he transports inside his bass drum. Today however, he's in a Land Rover, the back of which is full of stage equipment. As virtually anyone who uses a stage in the North West knows, Bruce Mitchell runs his own sound and lighting company, and has done since the 1970s.

Bruce's onstage presence is famously charismatic. Even before he picks up his brushes at the drum-kit, he invariably draws boisterous applause, as do his intense yet jovial drum solos. Audience cheers for Reilly are equally impassioned, but carry a different tone, conveying a heartfelt welcome and perhaps also a sense of protectiveness, followed by awed silence.

Seemingly without exception, the drummer leaves it to Reilly to address the audiences from the stage, and it is hard to know what to expect when meeting Bruce, who has on occasion been ‘interviewed' on radio beside Vini, only to remain silent throughout. "Bruce is a real old gentleman", says Peter Hook, emphasising real. Dave Haslam adds: "It's always a pleasure to meet Bruce and I see him a lot. But he's choosy about who to hang out with. He's a busy man."

The impression that Bruce gives throughout this afternoon is that of a hard-working yet gentle, warm-hearted man, whose energy and work ethic wholly obscure the fact that he passed retirement age eight years ago. I begin by mentioning to Bruce that, like himself and his wife Jacqueline (an artist), I was a close friend of the American poet Linda Chase, who moved to Manchester in 1980 and died in 2011. Chase lived on Palatine Road in Didsbury, a few blocks up from Factory's headquarters. Opening an outbuilding (‘The Village Hall') of her Victorian home to a spectacular range of literary events and classes, Linda Chase was to poetry in Manchester something like what Tony Wilson was to music. These circles often linked. 

"I've always loved poetry", Bruce explains. "I was at Linda's memorial and I still have the photo from the service on my office wall. In my phone, in the notes bit, I'm always adding lines bits of poetry I've read. I read all sorts. I'm in bookshops all the time. I'm a big Christopher Hitchens fan, and have read most of his books, but I particularly love poetry. Larkin I especially love, and Betjeman. Every now and then, a Carol Ann Duffy poem gets me going. It's all about the right word, isn't it? The way it sits. And of course, there's John Cooper Clarke."

John Cooper Clarke was managed by the late Martin Hannett, of whom Bruce was a close, longstanding friend. Does Bruce still have contact with the poet?

"Yes. John is doing fantastic now. I recorded his show at Chester not long ago. He's written a modern version of ‘Beasley Street', where he calls it ‘Beasley Boulevard'. John's such good company. He'll come round the house, and just having him in the room, watching television and commenting on everything, it's a really good night. He never stops."  

As Bruce's Land Rover passes across South Manchester, he sounds greetings to various passing individuals who clearly know him, including several youngsters carrying guitars. While I'm still not sure where we're actually going, I ask if Vini will be there. "I'm taking you to Vini's place" is the reply. Bruce had conveyed a day earlier that with Vini's health remaining vulnerable following three strokes, the guitarist may or may not be present for the interview. However, "Today, he's having a good day". 

Vini

Bruce does not merely knock on Vini Reilly's front door; he momentarily treats it as a percussion instrument. Once Vini – after a minute or so – opens the door, the two bandmates embrace. The guitarist, wearing several layers of jumpers, then warmly shakes my hand, and the three of us sit in the living room of his small, rented house.

Like his sung vocals, Reilly's speaking voice is quiet but compellingly assertive, rarely hesitating or pausing for long. When Vini talks of past experiences, even those he has described in previous interviews, he seems to convey almost everything of the emotion he felt at the time. As well as some raw sadness, there is also plenty of laughter this afternoon, especially when Vini's reminiscences join with Bruce's.

In numerous interviews, as well as lyrics, Vini angrily denounces injustices, not least those emanating from the British government. His lyrics imagining the lives of war victims, whether soldiers or civilians, are as emotionally intense as his songs of personal loss. Depictions of Reilly in Factory-related writings often allude to (and reinforce) his reputation for possessing an unpredictable temper. Peter Hook affectionately but quite clearly summarises: "Vini does not suffer fools gladly". It's noticeable, though, that Reilly's angriest public statements usually refer to "some people", "some journalists", or, in political protest songs "you". Seldom, if ever, has he singled out individuals by name for any resentment.

By contrast, when conveying admiration or thanks, Vini's compositions invoke a vast network of friends, through titles including ‘For Colette', ‘For Danny', ‘For Bruse' and ‘For Belgian Friends'. Similarly, when Vini speaks of individuals from Manchester's many music circles, there is, in a different way for each person he singles out, an affirmatively loving tone.  I start by mentioning a 2005 Durutti Column instrumental, ‘Alan'. With Wilson, Alan Erasmus was Vini's manager throughout the Factory years.

"Alan had a massively important role in the whole running of Factory," Vini explains. "I was managed by both Alan and Tony together, but Alan was the one that first mentioned me to Tony. Alan had seen me play with the Nosebleeds, supporting Fast Breeder. Fast Breeder were managed by someone else by that time, but Alan still knew them all. He was always very good at choosing people. Alan is very sussed. I'm still very good friends with him."

"When the two of them were thinking about forming Factory, Alan brought Tony to meet me. I was very depressed at the time, and I ignored him! Alan brought Tony Wilson in and I ignored him. I was living at my girlfriend's house, with her parents. But Alan and Tony came again. Tony wanted me to be involved, which I didn't understand. I was very depressed and thought it was a ludicrous idea. But the more I said I didn't want to be a part of this, the more Tony said he wanted me involved. Alan had heard me play, Tony hadn't. Tony had never heard me play a note. But he talked me round to being a part of Factory."

So ill was Reilly with a stomach complaint at the start of his career that NME's February 1980 profile of him was near-obituaric in tone. Max Bell began the piece by recounting Wilson's warnings to him about Reilly's precarious health, and of it being impossible to interview the guitarist at certain times of day, because he was in so much pain after eating. As well as modestly reflecting on The Durutti Column's newly-released first album The Return of the Durutti Column (January 1980), Reilly's own comments to NME addressed his longstanding and ongoing affliction with depression.

Although, by 1980, numerous musicians had died from overdosing, the subjects of depression and suicide were rarely discussed with any depth in popular culture. Some responses in the music press to the death of Ian Curtis in May 1980 would later be criticized for glorifying and/or trivialising his suicide. But perhaps these simply marked a less (or maybe that should be even less) helpful cultural vocabulary for discussing mental health at that time.

In different ways, figures including Morrissey, Paul Morley, and Stephen Fry have confronted the subjects of depression and suicide in their work and interviews. With comparable eloquence, Reilly, though less well-known, had already been speaking and singing about depression with rare candour for several years.

Blues is not usually a tradition associated with Reilly's music, but lyrically, there is comparable consolation offered in his recurring lyrical motifs, such as "another sleepless night for me" and "the first cigarette of the day". While often emotionally stark, Reilly's compositions are also statements of survival. Perhaps in some ways this is related to the deep admiration that he has inspired in fans around the world.

"Vini's got lots of serious fans," Bruce comments. "Nowadays, a lot of the expressions from fans come less in the post than in messages to the website. Some of them are disturbing, lots are illuminating. All of them in different ways are reinforcing how important the music is to people."

Love in the Time of Recession

The fortnight prior to the interview saw Reilly become the focus of an unusual degree of attention from the mainstream media, as well as online music communities. Since autumn 2010, Reilly has suffered three strokes. In April 2011, The Durutti Column played in York, and then at Manchester's Bridgewater Hall. At both events, Vini commented onstage that the strokes had affected his playing. "We love you anyway, Vini", an audience member shouted in York, prompting much applause.

Occasional updates on Reilly's health were later posted on the Durutti Column's website. In December 2012, it was announced that Vini was selling a set of headphones worth £2,000. It emerged that, having been unable to work for some time, Reilly was facing what was, for his modest living standards, a serious level of financial debt, and was unable to cover basic costs of electricity and even food.

A Facebook group was swiftly established by fans expressing their wish to support Vini by establishing a PayPal account to help raise the funds. After considerable persuasion, Vini's family agreed to this, with his nephew, Matt Reilly, dealing with most of the practicalities. The donation account was swiftly publicised thanks to websites such as Quietus, and even before the story was picked up by the BBC and The Guardian, the funds were raised, and the account had closed.

"When the money came in, I was shocked. Absolutely stunned," Vini emphasises. "It gave me enough money to pay the most important debt, which was to the landlord. The landlord's a really nice guy and he's let me live here without paying any rent, but I couldn't go on like that. There were also bills. That debt's now paid off, thanks to all those people. And throughout all of this, Bruce and his family have continually supported me."

Bruce returns the subject to Vini's fans. "I think a lot of the PayPal donations came from outside the country." Vini has a strong following in Japan, as well as across South America and Europe (particularly Portugal).

Does Vini himself use social media?

"I've got iTunes, I've got my photographs, but that's all I have. I don't use the internet. I've got an iPhone, but I don't know fully how to use it. Bruce's son-in-law set up an email account for me but I can never remember the password. I can't use the stuff."

Bruce to Vini: "I tell you what, it'd do your head in, kid."

So how is Vini, healthwise, at the start of 2013?

"I've not been well but there are people a lot worse than me. There's a hospice down the road where there are children dying. There are a lot of people a hell of a lot worse than me. I've had a life. I've been all over the fucking world playing music. It's been the best thing in the world.  I've got my dream. I'm alright."

However, throughout their career, the Durutti Column's live performances have been irregular. "We don't really tour, do we Bruce? We never really have. We do three gigs and then we're alright."

Bruce: "When I'm actually up there, playing the drums, it's the best part of the day. It's the only decent part of the day if I've spent the last few hours trying to get Vin along to the gig in the first place."

Despite the infrequency of their live work, and despite the extensive financial troubles that Vini has experienced in the 1990s following Factory's decline, The Durutti Column's onstage performances have often been for charities. The recent support for Reilly seems well-deserved.  Health permitting, what are his next musical plans?

"I'm doing a record for the children's hospice.  We've started to plan it. Hooky is going to play bass. John Cooper Clarke is going to do some poetry, and I'm playing guitar. It's a version of ‘All Along the Watchtower', and it's going to be a really tight rock version. And the other idea is going to be for a rap tune; this bunch of rappers, and me doing a guitar solo."

The Durutti Column's 2013 line-up – and a new album?

The Durutti Column's current line-up, Vini clarifies, consists of himself and Bruce with Michaela Turner Nolan, Keir Stewart and John Metcalfe.

"Michaela Turner Nolan, a new singer I've found, is ridiculously good", Vini enthuses. "She's a wonderful lyricist and she sings just beautifully. She has a great natural voice and a serious talent. So as regards the next album, I'm feeling in full flight."

"Vini in full flight", Bruce proudly states, "can knock out an album a week."

In the past, Vini has recorded numerous tracks at home. Does he still?

"I record wherever I can. Usually at the moment, it's with Keir in his studio, in the basement of his house". Keir Stewart began working with the Durutti Column in the mid-1990s, subsequently becoming their main producer. Onstage, Keir oversees the various samples used, also playing bass, plus acoustic guitar. He has also worked with The Fall, Badly Drawn Boy and Elbow.

Bruce: "Keir's doing well. He also does a lot of work for film-makers. He's just finished dubbing various things for a new Tom Hanks film. He had a good run, which meant we could never get him because he was always fully booked for these cartoon and film projects. But he's just about got enough room coming up for some brief instrumentals."

Another key musician for the Durutti Column remains violinist John Metcalfe.

"John's been playing with us on and off for years", Bruce explains. "We first worked with him on Without Mercy [1984]. We recorded it in a barn, near Moston, and John just came into the studio. We were frightened to death weren't we – you remember, Vini?" They both laugh. "Tony had booked him. John came along as the advisor to the horn section. Shaved head, looking as though he'd just committed a couple of murders on the way. He's an astonishing musician. Vini and him used to fight, though".

"Yes we did," Vini smiles. "But I gradually realised that I couldn't play with any other string player than John Metcalfe."

The Durutti Column's live shows of the last ten years have had a very different sound to their earlier performances, as heard on, say, Live at the Venue (1983) or One Night in New York (1987). In their stage performances since the mid-1990s – none of which have been released as recordings, frustratingly – there has been, it seems, a much greater element of improvisation between Vini and Bruce, often building on guitar feedback.

"After a certain point, the live shows sounded different because I like to take this Stratocaster". Vini touches his favourite guitar – the only musical instrument in his living room. "It's got a fast, narrow neck. When I first saw it, I thought it was a Les Paul. It's handmade. It was ridiculously expensive. I was in a music shop in Hazel Grove and I took it down off the wall. It just felt right. This was about twenty years ago. It's a great guitar. Wilson paid for this guitar".

Bruce: "The shop was run by a guitar player, Garry. He's a guitar expert. Vin goes to him for consultancy. I remember Garry calling me and saying ‘Vin just chose the most expensive instrument I've ever had'. But an instrument is expensive for very certain reasons. And this one suits Vini's playing really well. But you didn't take it into the studio last time, did you?"

Vini: "No, because I was so unsteady on my feet. I didn't want to drop it or bang it. But that guitar's a beautiful piece of work. It's got such a tone. On Fleetwood Mac's ‘Albatross', it's a similar guitar that Peter Green's playing."

This is news to Bruce. "I never realised that!  I stood next to him when he was playing that at the BBC for Top of the Pops."

At this point, Vini's sister Loretta calls by for a quick visit, and I am privileged to hear Bruce Mitchell improvise a song, ‘Loretta, I Feel Better'.

While she and Vini chat, Bruce describes the complicated background to the Durutti Column's most recent album, Chronicle (2011).

Chronicle 1 and LX: Chronicle 2

"There's got to be a fairly even putting out of music," Bruce explains. "Some of the time, it has to be back catalogue. It keeps Vin's royalties at a certain level. It's a very modest level, but most of the time, it keeps him rolling along. It's like this for a lot of musicians. Thank God I've got a proper job as well."

"So there are two versions of Chronicle. We did a special edition for the gig at the Bridgewater Hall, where people could get the album as part of a premium ticket deal. In 2011, we premiered the music there, with all Vini's photographs up on the screen. That was the last gig really. The following day, Phil Cleaver from Kooky said he'd got back home to find his emails full of requests to buy one. So they all sold out, immediately. Then some titles changed. But Vin had become really ill by then."

"It was a big, expensive recording, Chronicle. And Vin did this second version, taking all aspects of musical life. So there's Chronicle 1 and Chronicle 2. What I wanted Vini to do as a composer was something similar to Elgar's Enigma Variations. A piece of music about certain people in a life. I wanted him to do this and link the music to photographs he'd taken over the years. Vin's a great photographer."

However, Reilly remains the Durutti Column's indisputable leader, and had the last say. Bruce continues: "I didn't quite get what I wanted, because in the end, Vini wanted the album to be about the break-up with his girlfriend. We just couldn't afford to get it out at that time because Vin was in such a bad way. Plus, I was busy helping him to organise things with benefits. But it's there, and we've got some very interesting, very powerful music on this."

Rejoining us, Vini asserts: "For the next album, I want to do something different."

Part Two of this profile includes Vini and Bruce discussing The Durutti Column's early work and key figures in Factory's history, plus – albeit somewhat enigmatically – the climactic closing piece of their live act for a decade, the unreleased ‘Revolver'. Peter Hook, CP Lee, Dave Haslam, and jazz drummer Katie Patterson also share their observations of The Durutti Column. © James McGrath, 2013.

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James McGrath lectures in English and Music at Leeds Metropolitan University and
writes for The Oxford Dictionary of National Biography. His poems have appeared in Smiths Knoll, International Times, PN Review, Shadowtrain, The Beast at Cards, DreamCatcher and The Interpreter's House.