

What is lost now is just how unique The Return Of The Durutti Column sounded, a beacon of melody in a sea of post punk gloom and throwaway pop ephemera.
Everyone has their own view of Tony Wilson, the sadly missed impresario who meant many things to many people.
Known by most as the man who co-led Factory Records with Alan Erasmus, he was also well versed with being in front and behind a TV camera, turned his hand to hosting chat shows and dabbled in politics.
There was a hundred other Tony Wilsons as well of course, but the one we need to meet today is the one that, with Erasmus, persuaded Vini Reilly to finish The Durutti Column’s first album, confusingly entitled The Return Of The Durutti Column.
Reilly needed some cajoling as for years he’d suffered from a raft of mental health issues which included anorexia, leaving him debilitated and at the serious risk of leaving his boundless talent with a guitar unfulfilled.
Briefly in the unreconstructed Ed Banger and The Nosebleeds (single Ain’t Bin To No Music School fetches about £30 these days), an early version of The Durutti Column appeared alongside Joy Division on the near legendary A Factory Sample EP (which will cost you about £500).
As that vehicle dissolved, its quixotic lynchpin slid back into apathy, but then along came Wilson the life coach – and label boss – to offer some succour.
Flush (as flush as Factory ever were) with the money from Joy Division’s relative success, its head honcho greenlit what would effectively be a solo project, regardless of trivial things like sales.
In return, the artist’s gratitude meant he could also set out his musical vision, by turn a very different one to almost anything else swirling around him.
It was one rooted in simplicity – Vini Reilly wrote and arranged everything, whilst the mostly incidental bass and drums were provided by Pete Crooks and Toby Toman respectively.
Oversight was the job of label in-house producer Martin Hannett, who added the occasional synth line and continued in his role as a sonic architect extraordinaire.
Unlike Ian Curtis et al, his protégé here was very appreciative.
Released first in 1980, The Return Of The Durutti Column’s original version was ensconced in a LOL-having sandpaper sleeve and clocked in at a less-than-half-an-hour running time.
The 45th anniversary one is significantly expanded with the usual for completists; live and home demo material, along with the more of esoteric No Communication and the oddball poetry of Thin Ice.
If that summing up feels a bit cursory, there’s good reason, as the album’s main body is without question simply outstanding.
Reilly himself rejected outright any attempts to label it ambient, but its lack of words, use of counter melody and repetition was hypnotic and substantively dream-like.
Opener Song For Summer showcases his obvious virtuosity but without ego, whilst the jazzy Katharine reveals his inner Django Reinhardt.
It’s obvious that as a musician these songs provided an outlet away from a grimmer reality; Conduct meanders peacefully, a jam sunning itself somewhere, whilst Jazz is abbreviated and fragmental.
With few traditional song anchors, this is a place where getting lost is easy. As you float along to the glassy Madeleine and Lips That Would Kiss (written shyly about Curtis and Annik Honore), you can feel the breeze on your face during In ‘D’ and Sleep Will Come.
Hannett for his part offers some playful discord at times (The First Aspect Of The Same Thing/The Second Aspect Of The Same Thing) but largely was content to leave things mostly in their truest form.
What is lost now is just how unique The Return Of The Durutti Column sounded, a beacon of melody in a sea of post punk gloom and throwaway pop ephemera.
Not everyone would have heard it for what it was, but that ear for triumph as well as tragedy belongs to few men, and it’s saviour Tony Wilson had his share of both.








