The Durutti Column: Without Mercy Box Set

When I first got into The Durutti Column, the amazing and little-known project built around the mercurial and remarkable guitarist Vini Reilly, in 1986 because they were one of the two opening acts (along with The Fall) for the mega-popular New Order, one of my favorite albums was Without Mercy, released in 1984.

Reilly was pushed to make the album by Factory label impresario Anthony Wilson, who was a dedicated supporter of his first signee to the famed label, but who wanted him to take a different direction from the first three (and all excellent) albums, The Return of the Durutti Column, LC and Another Setting.  Wilson was especially interested in something more classical and expansive and suggested a work based on a poem of John Keats, La Belle Dame Sans Merci, and Reilly, while not happy with the idea, dug in and came up with a recording of two side-long suites.  The album's packaging, the first ever done by the great 8vo design firm, befitted the music with delicate and undulating lettering and a reproduction of a painting by Henri Matisse.

Playing much of the work on his first instrument, piano, as well as guitar, Reilly came up with a simple, but beautiful theme, and then built something around twelve stanzas of the poem for the first side and a "Without Mercy 2" for the second side, that incorporate drum machines, electronics, a greater emphasis on his gorgeous guitar and, interestingly, funk-based beats and horns to really turn things inside out.  Reilly's accompanists, including long-time percussionist and manager, Bruce Mitchell; violinist and violist Blaine Reininger; trumpeter Tim Kellet; and viola player John Metcalfe (the latter toured with Reilly for quite some time, including when I saw DC in 1986); and others do a tremendous job.

Last year, Factory Benelux issued a 4-disc Without Mercy box that put the original album with other recorded material from the time, both studio and live.  Having not heard this music for close to thirty years, I was happy to find that the intense admiration for the music was still there. So, in addition to the original album,  the Say What You Mean, Mean What You Say EP from 1985 and including the haunting "The Room" and "A Little Mercy" and four live tracks of the "Mercy Theme," "A Little Mercy" and related pieces make up Disc 2.  Then, the third and fourth discs are complete live performances from London (1984) and Oslo (1986) that include "The Mercy Theme," "A Little Mercy," and "Mercy Dance," the latter bringing in those funk-infused elements, along with other LC standards like "Tomorrow," "Blind Elevator Girl," "The Missing Boy," "Pauline" and others.

With the original album holding up beautifully after 35 years and all the fantastic extras with the additional three discs, this set has been listened to a lot and demonstrates some of Reilly's most interesting work as The Durutti Column, even if he has been less than enthusiastic about the results, calling it "a learning process" and shrugging it off saying "it doesn't really work."  In the liners for the box, though he allowed that having "very, very excellent musicians" meant that, "in retrospect it ended up being a very good move to do Without Mercy."

The Durutti Column: LC

This second album from Vini Reilly's The Durutti Column takes its name from Lotta Continua (Continuous Struggle), a far right-wing organization in late 1960s Italy and which is a sort of analog to the band name, which is a misspelling of an anarchist group from 1930s Spain.

Recorded on four-track tape at Reilly's home, the album is a stellar one, featuring Reilly's superb guitar and piano, the first appearance of long-time drummer and manager Bruce Reilly, and a slew of great songs.

These start with the relatively up-tempo "Sketch for Dawn (I)," which has a driving drum beat from Mitchell and rhythm guitar from Reilly to anchor this excellent song.  There are many who don't like Reilly's monotonal vocalizations, but this listener finds it better to have the creator sing his own songs, even if his abilities are, technically speaking, lacking.

"Portrait for Frazer" highlights Reilly's uncanny way with achingly beautiful melodies and atmospheric playing, while Mitchell, who is a master at this, plays with great sensitivity and understatement.

"Jacqueline" has one of Reilly's most memorable melodic lines and is another fine example of his playing exactly what needs to be played without overdoing it or relying on flashy solos to show that his gift for simple, spare, but compelling composition is balanced by his talent with the guitar.  Again, Mitchell provides the right time of percussive accompaniment.

"Messidor" has a more aggressive percussive element and Reilly multi-tracks guitars to great effect, with another one of his recognizable melodies.  While it has a stronger rhythmic element and a faster tempo, it contains a contemplative feeling that is typical of so much of what makes The Durutti Column's music compelling.

"Sketch for Dawn (II)" is a darker and more somber affair.  Part of this is Reilly's vocal, but there is a rare bass line, played by him, and a particular percussive feel that contribute to the feeling.  Reilly's piano sounds like it is played on an old, beat-up upright, but it may be the 4-track recording process that is much of the reason why.

"Never Known" uses drum machine percussion, a ghostly atmospheric electronic effect, and one of Reilly's most heart-breaking melodies to create another downcast, but achingly beautiful pieces.  That peculiar flat vocal, which sounds like he recorded it in an echo chamber, again seems perfectly suited to the emotional content of the piece.  That melodic line on the guitar is something else.

"The Act Committed" is brighter and more upbeat, backed by Mitchell's low-key drumming and by a drum machine, with Reilly's bass and more fine multi-tracked guitar, with another excellent set of melodic shapes generated.

"Detail for Paul" has more multi-tracked guitar that utilizes echoed effects and a rising main guitar line almost like a continuous solo, backed by drum programming, that is another absorbing tune, though it ends rather abruptly.

The original album ends with what is undoubtedly Reilly's masterpiece.  The astounding "The Missing Boy" has another excellent melodic guitar line, with accompaniment utilizing Reilly's bass and piano, as well as Mitchell's exemplay drumming and propulsive guitar and piano rhythmic accenting.  The lyric is said to be about the recent death of Ian Curtis, the troubled and tormented singer from Joy Division, the great band that was, like The Durutti Column, one of the early groups to record for Factory Records.  Again, that odd flat, nasally vocal recorded low in the mix seems perfectly suited for the song, which closes out a remarkable record.

Under the Factory Once imprint of remixed and expanded releases from the catalog, the 1996 reissue has several bonus tracks, including the brooding piano piece, "The Sweet Cheat Gone"; the whimsical and strangely affecting "For Mimi" with an angular guitar and Mitchell's simple drumming used to fine effect; "Belgian Friends" which has another strong melody on guitar and piano in a very lo-fi setting, which is only amplified by Mitchell's basic, but perfect, drumming and Reilly's bass, but which makes for a great song; and "Danny," which has another of those great guitar melodic lines that seemed endless in Reilly's long catalog of recordings--this being another exceptional piece.

Rather than throw-aways, the eight additional pieces seem truly more like the "Related Works" that they are described as in the liner notes, with all but one being from the period (1980-81)--the other is "One Christmas for Your Thoughts" from 1988, which is more of the era of The Guitar and Other Machines, which was highlighted here before.

Vini Reilly is truly a remarkable talent and one who doesn't fit the "alternative" "post-punk" environment that surrounded the other groups signed to Factory in 1978.  Label owner Anthony Wilson was a devoted champion of Reilly's music, even as he worked in obscurity for so many years, and remained so even when Factory and its successor labels shut down.

For this blogger, discovering The Durutti Column in 1986, wanting to know who one of New Order's opening acts was, remains one of the most memorable discoveries of an unsung musician of them all.  Reilly, who was always of delicate health, has been inactive in recent years, but his music over thirty-five years remains inspiring and affecting.