Magazine - The Synthetic Formula

Unfaithful to the Line

In an England consumed by punk fever, there were also those already looking ahead. Curious, impatient, and ultimately awkward types. Because in the punk era you had to be, and sound, punk. And whoever abstained from the fight... was at the very least a turncoat. Like Howard Trafford "Devoto". A man who had already written punk history, right from the start, among the pioneering Buzzcocks. But also a contrarian, who wanted to be "ahead" at all costs. A tendency that at the time was also infecting bands like Stranglers and Ultravox!, who were determined to ditch the punk formula learned by rote in order to - horror! - open up to keyboards and sophisticated arrangements. Devoto thought along the same lines, looking in particular to the tradition of British pop and to the high-class glam-rock of Bowie-Roxy Music, but also to the more melodic side of kraut-rock and to the "icier" side of funk and soul. On top of that, as a good (former) philosophy student, he enjoyed writing lyrics rather more cerebral than the period's average. Enough to make the punk purists despise him - and to make everyone else take notice.

So, while "God Save The Queen" was still shaking up Buckingham Palace, in Manchester Howard Devoto had already left the band and founded Magazine. The lineup also included Scotsman John McGeoch (guitar and saxophone), Barry Adamson (bass), Martin Jackson (drums) and Bob Dickinson on keyboards, soon replaced by Dave Formula. It's the latter who proves to be the key element, destined to form a tightly-knit creative partnership with Devoto. Formula can rightly claim the copyright on much of the following decade's sound. His keyboard filigrees, in fact, would become a decisive point of reference for bands like Simple Minds, Ultravox and Japan, who would carry the gospel of synthetic pop (and rock too) to its fullest splendour.

Signed by Virgin, Magazine immediately deliver a hit, the single "Shot By Both Sides", co-written by Devoto with Pete Shelley, his former Buzzcocks bandmate: a sticky pop refrain is plunged into a paranoid atmosphere, amid killer guitar riffs, shifting rhythms and an increasingly paranoid vocal, culminating in McGeoch's liberating solo. Practically an anthem. It shoots straight into the UK chart and earns the title of "best punk song of the year" (despite already being something else entirely). John Peel would list it among his all-time favourite singles. Not a bad way to start.

"Shot By Both Sides" is, depending on how you read it, either the last gasp of punk Devoto or the missing link to his new direction. What's certain is that in Magazine's subsequent work that sound would drift ever further from its original imprint, chasing an impossible synthesis between Clash and Roxy Music. The result would be one of the key albums of post-punk and new wave as a whole.

Paranoid Androids

Real Life came out in 1978 and kick-started a new era, that of more synthetic new wave, of electronic pop-rock, which would dominate for almost the entire following decade on both sides of the Atlantic, much to the chagrin of the purists mentioned above (not coincidentally, the more punk-oriented critics would snub it almost entirely).

The opening notes of “Definitive Gaze” have the flavour of a back-to-the-future moment, an early synthesis of everything still to come: funk bass, organ and sci-fi keyboards stage a convoluted dance for vampires, in which the guitar sound is almost imperceptible, right up to the final crescendo, with the synths modulating at ever-increasing speed as the melody fades away. The shadow of pioneer Brian Eno looms large, but it's above all a masterclass from Formula, now a latter-day Mike Garson with his surreal lounge pianism, now a celestial organist, now a man-machine with his synthetic, android-like riffs. “My Tulpa” brings the guitars back to the fore, with a distorted lead slashing across an organ score laced with funky undertones, before the blistering closing sax solo; Devoto throws in one of his delirious lyrics, where “Tulpa” is a child's imaginary friend, invoked on the brink of a nervous breakdown (“I want to see you, dont you want to see me?… I've lost my way in my feelings”).

After the aforementioned “Shot By Both Sides”, it falls to “Recoil” to reinforce the punk lesson: two minutes of frayed nerves, amid buzzing feedback, hyperkinetic refrains and irreverent lines (“You scratch my back and I grow claws, falling in love awkwardly”).

The second half of the record is perhaps less immediate, but just as evocative. “Burst” dissolves into glam languor with Bowie-esque overtones; “Motorcade” conjures the ghost of John F. Kennedy amid icy downpours of keyboards, frantic rhythm changes and an almost glam-metal solo; “The Great Beautician In The Sky” is a mechanical ballet for bass, organ and synth, framing one of their sardonic lyrics (“roses are red, violets are blue”); “The Light Pours Out of Me” showcases McGeoch as a kind of acid-drenched Manzanera; while the closing “Parade” lets a bluesy sax slide over jagged walls of keyboards.

If the album's central themes are alienation and paranoia, heightened by a deliberately pompous touch, the most attentive listeners won't fail to notice that typically British irony that, from the Kinks to Xtc, has always run through English pop.

Real Life is the ground zero of post-punk, but also a precious handbook for aspiring synth-poppers. It marks the handover from the masters of art(glam)-rock (Bowie, Eno, Roxy Music) to a new generation of musicians eager to modernise rock using the most advanced know-how available.

The follow-up, Secondhand Daylight (1979), benefits from the more fluid drumming of John Doyle, who replaced Jackson, and relies on even more ambitious arrangements, moving further and further away from its punk roots, to the point of brushing up against Bowie's “Low” and even certain progressive shadows reminiscent of Van Der Graaf Generator. A glacial, impenetrable mood prevails. And the change behind the mixing desk, with new producer Colin Thurston replacing John Leckie, is reflected in a weightier, more layered sound that highlights Formula's virtuosity. The emphasis on keyboards and atmosphere is a bold gamble for a band that had just made pop-rock choruses its mainstay, and it's further confirmation of Devoto and co.'s avant-garde leanings. The lyrics, by contrast, become simpler and more direct, without losing their pointed edge.

The overture of “Feed The Enemy” is a paranoid symphony about the Cold War and ranks among the band's absolute masterpieces: the instrumental intro conjures Siberian landscapes, with glacial layers of synth and keyboards reiterating a stubborn drone for about a minute and a half, before the song veers off in another direction, propelled by a great bass riff, into a sort of mini-suite that culminates in a reprise of the opening theme. No punk band had ever dared venture so close to progressive! Another heavyweight track is “Cut-Out Shapes”: a distorted guitar phrase is pierced by organ stabs and syncopated percussion, before the refrain explodes, carried by piano, with Devoto unusually “restrained” on vocals.

But the record also thrives on tracks like “Rhythm Of Cruelty”, a successful marriage of McGeoch's nervy guitar work and Formula's futuristic keyboards, the instrumental “The Thin Air”, majestic in the way it crosses beams of synth with apocalyptic sax blasts, and the closing “Permafrost”, an exercise in decadent art-rock delivered with a brash, Iggy Pop-like swagger, which condenses the album's icily nihilistic aesthetic into a single line: “I will drug you and fuck you on the permafrost”.

Ultimately, Secondhand Daylight is a difficult, dark record, one that probably disappoints both fans of catchy choruses and avant-garde purists alike, but which can win over everyone else. What's certain is that it confirms the talent of a first-rate ensemble.

Make-up artists, soap and Luxuria

But courage, as we know, doesn't always pay off. And so Secondhand Daylight brings Magazine little money and more than one cloud hanging over their future. The most doubtful is guitarist John McGeoch, who, after recording the new single “Sweetheart Contract” (which will also be Magazine's last hit), leaves the band to join Siouxsie & the Banshees, to whom he'll gift some memorable performances. McGeoch will, however, reunite with Adamson and Formula in Visage, the supergroup born out of a kind of twinning between Magazine and Ultravox. The line-up gathers the cream of the era's synth-pop crop: Billy Currie and Midge Ure (respectively violin/keyboards and future voice/guitar of Ultravox), Steve Strange and Rusty Egan, already stars of London's coolest club nights, plus the aforementioned three-quarters of Magazine.

According to Strange's own definition, the name “Visage” stood for the group's “visual” attitude (“Vis”) and the new era (“Age”) of dance music. The delicious fruit of so much grace is an atmospheric dance ballad in pure new romantic style, with the enticing title “Fade To Grey”. Basically a bomb, one that would send the charts into meltdown, hitting No.1 in 21 countries. “Fade To Grey” would be the driving single of Visage's self-titled debut album, followed by two patchier efforts (“The Anvil”, “Beat Boy”) amid constant line-up changes.

But Magazine are still alive, and it will be an ex-Ultravox man, Robin Simon, who picks up the guitar on the Manchester band's third record, The Correct Use Of Soap (1980). This time production duties go to Martin Hannett, already known for his work with Joy Division. What prevails here, though, isn't dark shades but rather the funkier, punkier tones found, for instance, in the cover of Sly & The Family Stone's “Thank You (Fallettin Be Mice Elf Again)” or the opening “Because You're Frightened”, almost a post-punk-era “Do The Strand”, with its sparkling rhythm and its near-“generational” slogan: “Look what fear's done to body!”.

The sprawling arrangements of the second album once again make room for choruses. And the rhythm section of Doyle and Adamson steps into the spotlight, their huge potential perhaps not fully exploited on previous records. Formula, too, still manages to land a couple of striking blows, on the sinuous “Sweetheart Contract” and “A Song From Under The Floorboards”, sketching out scenes of pure synthetic ecstasy not far removed from those of their “cousins” Japan. Tracks like “I Want To Burn Again” and “You Never Knew Me”, on the other hand, skilfully pick up the lesson of Roxy Music, updating it to modern new romantic standards.

Magazine have by now dropped the mask, folding – rightfully so, having been among its forerunners – into the surging synth-pop current sweeping Britain, even if, in this realignment, they may have lost some of their lucid madness. Still, they remain a strange creature, resistant to compromises, poses and the glamourous masks that would make the fortune of many of their fellow travellers.

The Correct Use Of Soap nonetheless achieves solid success, prompting the band to set off on their second American tour, the Australian leg of which would yield Play (1980), a live album recorded in Melbourne. Everything is going smoothly, and yet the end is already in sight.

In 1981, right after the release of the album Magic, Murder And The Weather, Howard Devoto announces his departure from Magazine. The official split is confirmed by the surviving members shortly after. The final chapter of a story that lasted just four intense years is preceded by yet more line-up changes (with Bob Mandelson on guitar in place of Simon), and it hardly leaves anyone pining for more. The Mancunians cross the finish line gasping for breath, clinging to Formula's magic touch, which however cannot always work miracles. What results is a handful of bland synth-pop tunes ("About The Weather", "So Lucky", "Honeymoon Killers"), which mostly delights the genre's detractors.

Howard Devoto would stubbornly carry on his own path, between solo work and a couple of albums released as Luxuria, alongside Noko, a multi-instrumentalist from Liverpool. A project as convoluted as it is pretentious: Unanswerable Lust is topped by the single "Rainy Season", while the rest ranges from Proust to Rimbaud, via egocentric ravings ("I am the street where you live"), set to turgid techno-dance beats as well as delicate acoustic textures. More focused, if anything, is Beast Box, in which Noko shows off his guitar skills, leaving the stage to Devoto for a couple of dance numbers ("The Beast Box Is Dreaming", "Jezebel") and as many megalomaniac outbursts ("Stupid Blood", "We Keep On Getting There"). The former punk apostate, however, has lost his trademark irony, and his pen, too, has by now run dry.

Having closed this schizoid chapter of his musical career, Howard Devoto would retreat into a photographic archive, until his surprise reappearance in 2002, once again alongside Shelley, in Shelleydevoto's Buzzkunst.

Barry Adamson would become one of the legendary Bad Seeds of Nick Cave, before embarking on an ambitious solo career.

McGeoch, after his glorious stint with the Banshees, would become a mainstay of Pil, confirming himself as one of the finest guitarists of his generation. He would die in his sleep, at just 48, on 4 March 2004.

Brief and tormented as it was, Magazine's trajectory marked one of the cornerstone experiences of post-punk; their influence would stretch across the entire following decade, and beyond: even one of the emblematic bands of the '90s, Radiohead, would acknowledge their debt to Devoto and co., covering "Shot By Both Sides" live and even letting its guitar hook surface on their own "Just" (1995).

There would also be tribute covers from other illustrious disciples, such as Morrissey ("A Song From Under The Floorboards"), Peter Murphy and Ministry ("The Light Pours Out Of Me").

Among the anthologies of their work, particularly worth noting are the 2000 triple box set Maybe It’s Right To Be Nervous Now and the double album Touch & Go – The Anthology, which gathers the best of their output from 1978 to 1981, including the singles that never made it onto an LP.

"I hope I die before I get really old": the comeback

In 2009 the band reforms for a handful of live dates, with four original members and guitarist Noko, who had already worked with Devoto in Luxuria. The event is accompanied by a series of deluxe reissues of the band's entire catalogue, but it would take until 2011 to see Magazine back in the studio to finish a brand new album, No Thyself, released by Wire-Sound (the edition sold via the website contains one extra track and comes packaged in a digipack). The ever-busy Barry Adamson, however, does not take part in the recording of the new album.

The pleasure of finding Devoto, Doyle and Formula in enviable form is matched only by the genuine joy the grooves of the new record bring to our ears. Howard's lyrics are, as ever, intriguing, sarcastic, raw, unsettling, steeped in noir suggestion and open to multiple readings. If anyone today considers Chris Martin the model of the brilliant British frontman dispensing clever lines, they can barely hide a wry smile thinking of what a Devoto is still capable of saying, for instance in "Hello Mister Curtis (With Apologies)": "mister Curtis, mister Cobain, I've made my decision to die like a king, like Elvis, on some goddamn toilet". Equally unambiguous are the words of "Other Thematic Material", with its (highly effective) juxtaposition of two distinct narratives – the raw description of a sexual act, down to the minutest detail, and a worldly, theatre-of-the-absurd conversation about novel readings and lemon sorbets. There's also room for a reflection on religion in "Physics", which serves as a bridge between the album's two halves and appears to have been inspired by listening to Bob Dylan's recent Christmas album ("religion isn't for everybody, and even the truth can be a negative thing", sings Devoto in a delivery almost worthy of Richard Hawley).

The arrival of the two new musicians has spurred songwriting that is classic, yes, but never stale. Noko does everything he can to ensure the excellent predecessor isn't missed, and succeeds admirably, avoiding mere emulation, while Jon "Stan" White's flanged bass slots perfectly into the picture. Today's Magazine may not have the appeal of WU LYF, but the new songs stand out for their stylistic fluency, for the richness of their instrumental invention (certain guitar-and-keyboard duets are unforgettable – just consider the opener "Do The Meaning", written with the help of old friend Pete Shelley, and the closer "The Burden Of A Song") and for the sophisticated elegance of an art-rock that's never trivial or pretentious, often steeped in nocturnal, decadent moods bordering on the bleakest expressionism ("The Worst Of Progress...").

In an age of overflowing wave revivalism, where clones and nondescript imitators jostle for their fateful fifteen minutes of fame, recalling the synthetic formula of these four Mancunians is practically an act of duty.

Contributions by Francesco Giordani and Alessandro Liccardo (“No Thyself”)

Ride the wave of great music

Add OndaRock to your favorite sources on Google Discover. Don't miss our reviews, milestones and latest news straight in your feed.

Follow on Google