on life, music etc beyond mainstream

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Archives: Howard Devoto

The first album of the British new wave expressionists of Magazine: wasn’t it called REAL LIFE? It was, wasn’t it? This is no quiz, so don’t bother, don’t look. The explosion of punk and post-punk (first wave of post-punk) was about a certain vision of „real life“, and, get used to it, real life is about the everyday, the lust, the burden, the thrill, the boredom, the fake, the excellence, it’s the agenda of living in wartimes and in protected areas. Have a look at outer space! It’s not funny. Fucking black holes. It’s real. Even here. Like the people you know so well via radio or TV, Roger Willemsen for example, he just died, aged 60. It’s like he went downstairs for a whisky and never came back. He loved jazz. There are no jazz bands in heaven. No cappuccino up there, too. I liked the way he created a sense of wonder. So he’s just another fine guy in a line of fine guys who shared their thoughts, travelled, loved, looked, thought, died. Here we are, in our real lifes left with what is left: a story of long goodbyes, great evenings, vanishing in never ending books, ashes to ashes, ready for love, through with love, listening to Blackstar or Astral Weeks or Taking Tiger Mountain (By Startegy), in Pittsburgh, Glasgow, Hannover, Frankfurt, Düsseldorf, Aachen, Schwerte, Stuttgart, Kronach, Leinfelden. Tutti forgetti? Entropy. Memories. Howard Devoto. Ghosts.


Mulder: I’m thinking maybe it’s time to put away childish things. The sasquatches, the mothmen, the jackalopes. I thought it’s be great to get back to work. But is this really how I want to spend the rest of my days? Chasing after monsters?

Scully: We’ve been given another case, Mulder. It has a monster in it.

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