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| They mean it M-a-a-a-nchester
By PAUL MORLEY MANCHESTER as a Rock and Roll town just didn't use to exist. It fed dutifully off London, and there were frequent visits from groupS to the big halls; Free Trade, Belle Vue and Hard Rock. Manchester had its place on the provincial touring lists alongside Birmingham, Newcastle, Liverpool, and Glasgow, but towards the end of 1975 it looked like losing even that position among the the groovy out-of-town venues. There were a few low lit dives where bodies jerked moronically and automatically to what was at times termed 'progressive' and 'underground' rock; records churned out repeatedly and monotonously until it reached a stage of spoon feeding. A few local bands performed proudly, regurgitating the same spoon-fed sounds. Some of them smiled occasionally. I tell you, it was a very boring place to be - it had no identity, no common spirit or motive. It was probably a reflection of the country at large. Just as Manchester was about to fizzle out completely, Howard Devoto formed a group, Buzzcocks, and wrote the words to a song "Boredom", "You know me I'm acting dumb 'you know the scene, very hum-drum Boredom, ' boredom, boredom." A year later, people smile, know each other, help each other, are part of each other. It's a recognisable community. There are more venues, smaller and friendlier; the glorious Sunday nights at the Electric Circus, Rasters, the late lamented Oaks and the Ranch Bar. A lot more minor groups visit and 90% of the time are eager to return. Manchester is a great place to be now. There is grimness, determination, humour and awareness. The scene has unfolded rather than-exploded but it's very much there and alive. |
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| In the summer of '77 Manchester was rapidly becoming the new breeding ground for up and coming British punk bands. This scene report done with a slight bias written by fellow Mancunian Paul Morley was first published in the New Musical Express on July 30th 1977 and offers a brief but interesting snapshot into the citys prototype punk scene. |
| HOWARD DEVOTO is not acting dumb anymore. The scene isn't humdrum anymore. Certainly not in the Devoto vicinity. He resides comfortably among his favourite homely artefacts in a place called Lower Broughton, and spends his tIme answering the phone, taming weasels under the cocktail cabinet, and smiling at the quasi-Brechtian get-up-and-go influences in a great deal of what is quantly termed 'new wave rock'.
Lower Broughton lies messily with plenty of those red-brick, cracked-window location's popular in mid-sixties pop snaps, just outside Manchester. And right now Manchester is the centre for a happening, menacing, attitude-rich movement that - to use an easy and no doubt misplaced equation - rivals the mythical creative flush of '60's Liverpool in its fun, potential, and importance. Things are happening in Manchester. Devoto knows, quietly. Devoto is important, quietly. Unique; a stupid word, but in this case true. Devoto used to be the singer and lyricist for Buzzcocks, Manchester's first new wave band, but he discovered that he is perhaps more a dramatist than a performer. Typifying his skilful, almost absurdist dialogue technique with lyrics is "Boredom", surely a genuine classic. The song is a curious assimilation of the central force behind Samuel Beckett's play Waiting For Godot, which, equally curiously, relates to the initial idealism of punk/new wave; that the pattern is desperate and yet the movement paradoxically hopeful. Devoto left Buzzcocks six months back, one of the reasons being a cleverly masked reluctance to perform on stage. He's still searching for a comfortable way to perform his work. His importance, and that of Buzzcocks, cannot be overlooked in terms of Manchester's growth to what it is now; a pretty hot place to be. For a start, it was Devoto who first brought the Sex Pistols up to Manchester - twice - thus establishing an early reputation that Manchester was a good place for punk bands to play. This was back in June '76. Devoto realised the importance of the Pistols from early on; "The Pistols certainly helped lead the way for me. Some of our songs had been around not quite formulated for a few months before I saw them play. I'm not very good at envisaging finished musical product. I knew what I wanted to say but I couldn't see how. The Pistols made me realise how I could express what I was trying to say." The Pistols were the final influential ingredient in a strange creative stew. Devoto already knew that the music should be fast" ... The Stooges, obviously. It was so simple almost anyone could play it, but it was effective. That was what I wanted." Devoto is an individualist, more in love with vitality and vigour of personality than morality. He has more control of language than any of his Immediate contemporaries and more complexity. This was another factor in his quitting Buzzcocks: a frustration that fans and critics alike tended to overlook the subtleties of his presentation, ignore the rich and lIvely language of the songs. "I formed Buzzcocks" - a pop group whatever else - "because I wanted to get across what I was saying In the market place, not in a small offIce in a tower block. People, I wanted people to hear." That people largely missed in performance the intense overlay of repetition in "Boredom"; the vain and humilihating urgency of desire in "Time's Up"; the sharp fusion of terror and habit in "Breakdown"; and the odd surrealistic vitality of "Friends of Mine" (all tracks off their "Spiral Scratch" e.p.) is, to understate, unfortunate. |
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| FOR THE first few months of what must loosely be termed 'The Movement', Buzzcocks evolved alongside The Clash, The Damned, The Pistols and the rest to much the same universal misunderstanding and were the only new Manchester rock band. They played one of their first gigs at The Ranch in Manchester, the congregation centre for those with pins in their sleeve, frustration (however mild or forced) in their heart, and action in their mind; much the same as the lower level of the Roxy. "It was from here that we thought that something would happen, that bands would form," says Devoto. "A lot of what Buzzcocks tried to do in the early days was inspire." In fact, not a lot happened. Slaughter and the Dogs gradually remodelled their ideals, and The Drones cautiously materialised out of some hazy previous incarnation. Little else. At the end of '76 Manchester had two visits from the 'Anarchy' tour, whIch undoubtedly intensified the city's reputation as a place to play and insplred many more fans into the fold, so to speak. During 1976 Buzzcocks had led the way in Manchester, showed what could be done. Early 1977 was when Devoto bade farewell and "Spiral Scratch" was released. Buzzcocks now gained Pete Shelley whose warmth and sympathetic psychological acuteness is in direct contrast to Devoto's mystery and invulnerability, and who contributes Peter Pan vocals and off the wall guitar. Steve Diggle plays furious elbow-tugging rhythm guitar, Garth is on courteous bass and John Maher on almost technoflash drums. Their abstract avant-garde style has set them way apart from anyone else on the Manchester scene. Shelley's new songs are propelled by genuine soclal and personal indignation, his interpretalion of Devoto's work possibly the correct procedure - a natural performer idiosyncratically delivering the songs of a natural writer. There is something precious, special and different about Buzzcocks that's still waiting to be exploited. Howard Devoto, meanwhile, has not disappeared. No way. His involvement with Buzzcocks still exists, via both management and New Hormones, the label which released "Spiral Scratch", and which he co-owns with Richard Boon, Buzzcocks' manager. But it's as an artist that Devoto can and should excel. Devoto is not a minor writer! As far as I can see he is not content to sit back and accept a passive role. Like Samuel Beckett, who has surely influenced Devoto more than anyone or anything, his prominent theme is the absurdity of existence. Devoto is forming a group to play "fast and slow music", probably for record only. Wait. |
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| FROM-HIGH brow to glorious low brow pop music and Manchester's two top shots for the huge gap only Eater and the Hot Rods ever looked like filling; Fast Pop. The Drones and Slaughter and the Dogs are the groups in question, and if Buzzcocks are by far and away number one, then these two bands have worked admirably hard for the number two spot in popularity. It's been a good few months since I viewed the lamentable debut gigs of both these bands, and since then it's been intriguing and gratifying to see them both sharpen their ideals, dragging their previous faiths into new disciplines. Surely this is the initial basis for what has sprouted into an increasingly ugly monster - speed, aggression, beat enthusiasm, a variable amount of ego fulfillment plus frustration and that essential anti-apathy ingredient. The differences between the two bands date from previous incarnations - the Dogs very much Bowie-Ronson/Reed, The Drones a wishful attempt to supply the missing link between Quo and Iggy. Probably both would still be turning out the same thing if not for The Ramones, Rotten and Strummer. And that's the point; their songs are now faster, tighter and sharper and more exciting. Both bands are unrecognisable compared to their beginnings, and that's the way it - should be. Both have commercial possibilities and neither mind a little manipulation as long as they're stars and get to sign a few autographs. There was some talk a while back of them doing a tour together, which would have been a whammer if not for conflicting personalities (aah .. healthy rivalry) and difficulties about who would go on first (it would've had to be a sharing arrangement!). The development of the Dogs has a slightly perverse quality about it. At the beginning their hammy theatrics detracted from whatever quality their flashy glam rock had, but gradually the frills were dropped and they concentrated emphatically on sheer musical impact. Playing with The Damned in London at the end of last year they were a shameless bubble-gum rock band, thrashing out with enthusiastic abandon rough, . cute, speeded-up "Suffragette-City/ Queen Bitch/Sweet Jane" variations that couldn't but fail to delight. They played it refreshingly straight visually, which was thought by many to be a hindrance. Playing with the Damned didn't help, and these days The Dogs are visually just plain silly. Lead singer Wayne Barratt covers himself in talcum powder, which once was a neat idea, and guitarist Mike Rossi, who knows all the right moves, mercilessly crams them down the audience's throat. Visually they impose when they don't need to; their music does it all for them. Simply, the band seem to have become sloppy, appear reluctant to continue the shrewd sharpening of their approach and, since the beginning of the year have become static. But who can deny that they've a great future? I want to see them on T.O.T.P. It's their natural habitat. The Drones' natural habitat is the stage. At times they echo the thrill and thrash of Quo at full throttle, but their songs are too short and well constructed for any monotony to set in. They have no great songs but a series of up-front sharp moves that aim purely for the body and the feet. Their improvement since the early days is marked. The difference between, say, the early version of "Hard On Me" (a track off their new e.p. "Temptations of a White Collar Worker") and the new version like the difference between Kiss and The Ramones, On stage they refuse to let up, and although it's difficult to see in which direction they're are fine entertainers and definitely for you if Led Zep flipped you until the Damned swayed you. CONTINUES.... Part Two |
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