The Eternal Return of the Durutti Column

Reilly has always been around, unlike his health. When journalist Tony Wilson and his friend Alan Erasmus decided to become a band’s managers, they built the Durutti Column around him. Their debut, *The Return of the Durutti Column*, arrived in 1980 with that famous Situationist-style sandpaper cover. Even back then, Reilly’s guitars – played without a pick and bathed in reverb – shifted the focus of post-punk towards a more ethereal and contemplative form, which would go on to influence musicians such as John Frusciante and unfold across more than twenty albums. Behind that sonic lightness, however, his life story takes a very different turn: the early death of his father, depression, anorexia, post-traumatic stress disorder and suicide attempts weave a harsher counter-narrative, to which are later added three strokes and arthritis, which gradually robbed him of his ability to play. Yet Reilly, supported by Bruce Mitchell, a legendary figure on the Manchester scene, continues to pursue a kind of music that seems to exist outside of time or, as Simon Reynolds described it, ‘as translucent as one would expect from a man practically devoid of flesh’.

The Durutti Column’s discography follows a path of gradual transformation, in which each album represents an evolution of their musical language without ever breaking its continuity. From their early works, which refined an increasingly minimalist and lyrical style, the project branched out into orchestral experimentation before returning to a more intimate and introspective sound. In the late 1980s, the introduction of electronic elements, sequencers and sampling further expanded the sonic palette, whilst retaining Vini Reilly’s guitar as the expressive core. In the years that followed, his output became more sporadic and personal, alternating between new works and the rediscovery of previously unreleased material, such as *Short Stories for Pauline*, which brings to light one of the most delicate and introspective strands of his artistic exploration. Thus, Reilly has unwittingly carved out a status for himself as a cult musician, adored by Brian Eno and Johnny Marr, and cited by Harry Styles, Frank Ocean and Blood Orange.

“Renascent” takes shape with the ethereal sound of “Echoes in the Memory”, re-establishing links with the past, thanks in part to Oli Wilson, Tony’s son, who included the album in the Factory catalogue. “Your Shadow at Morning” has a flamenco flavour and a dramatic flow that breaks into the flashes of “Time Present and Time Past”, almost reminiscent of an Apparat track. Both reference T.S. Eliot, a passion shared by the key figures of the early Factory era. Caoilfhionn Rose, Reilly’s neighbour, lends her voice to the ethereal “Agonistes” and plays the piano on the splendid “Sargasso Sea”, a track with an almost liturgical character. ‘Your Shadow at Evening’, on the other hand, has a nocturnal and sensual atmosphere, a far cry from the work that Mitchell and Keir Stewart have brought to fruition in the luminous ‘For Friends Everywhere’, an orchestral octet rearrangement of the old track ‘For Belgian Friends’. Against the backdrop of Lucas Elliot’s vocals, immersed in the Nordic soundscapes of “All They See Is Fire”, the light of an artist who deserves even more attention begins to fade.