Ludus
The Seduction

...and Manchester was never so close to Canterbury, despite what any map might say. I could also start this page like this. But it's better to go step by step.

Now, does anyone by chance remember the (famous) cover of "Real Life" by the Magazine? Of course you do - I'm especially addressing those of my generation, collectors (and not) of English new wave, who will surely be well represented on this site. Know, if you didn't already know, that this cover (that no small piece of artwork, indeed) was thought of and designed by a certain Linda Mulvey better known as LINDER STERLING. A punk artist from Liverpool with a penchant for collage and Pop Art in all its forms, she studied at the Manchester Polytechnic and had fun collecting magazine clippings from fashion magazines and pornographic pamphlets, giving free rein to every whim with an iconoclastic and irreverent flair - adjectives that are indeed too mild. She turns to objects, practically creating art with any object of chance that comes to hand; she even invents her own "menstrual jewelry" (what??): that is, necklaces and earrings made with pieces of hangers and gauze stained red to make them look like a real tampon. Her other outlet is rock, and it wasn't hard to guess: she has been in Howard Devoto's circle since the Buzzcocks days (she will also be Devoto's "girlfriend") and creates the absurd cover for their single "Orgasm Addict" (a naked woman with an iron instead of a head). Then in '78 she founded the Ludus; and here begins the part of the story that concerns us more closely.

She put the Ludus together almost "for fun" (excuse the pun), and debuted - as well as one could - opening for the Pop Group, still in '78. They are the "new thing" par excellence in the most underground Manchester of the period, while Sterling takes up residence in Whalley Range, the artists' district, and attracts around her the curiosity of young promising talents of the scene (among her friends, one Steven Patrick Morrissey, who later will be known by just his surname, elbows his way in). Internal reshuffles, changes and an endless series of concerts lead within months to the departure of founding guitarist Arthur Kadmon and bassist Willie Trotter, and the entry of multi-instrumentalist Ian Devine, which preludes the (definitive, this time) take-off of the group. In two/three years, several LPs and EPs arrive on the market (for the discography I refer you elsewhere), part of the new wave audience is disoriented by the band's unique proposition but critics cry miracle. And there was indeed a valid reason.

Listen, for example, to "The Seduction", second full-length effort (1981) and try to explain in your own words what you hear. Well, gentlemen, if this isn't R.I.O it's close; music for "playful" purposes, sure, but easy music and "uncommitted" a horn. It may also be a game, but behind this game lies a sound culture that is prodigious - bordering on the paradoxical. So much so that in my personal (very personal, mind you) ranking of English albums of that year, I would comfortably place this "game of seduction" in second place, just behind "God" (Rip Rig + Panic, clearly). And many of those who stubbornly refuse to consider new wave as fertile ground for great guitarists, I'm afraid, will have to rethink, listening to Ian Devine. And no, the time of suites isn't over, as strange as they may seem, if it's true that pieces like "Unveiled" and "The Escape Artist" live through several moments and an unpredictable creative madness that you wouldn't really expect on any record of those years. And all with a very Wyatt-like attitude, from Linder's unusual bizarre singing to the rhythm section that invents, suddenly stops, starts again amid sobs and time jumps.

Far from easy, this game, but as a game of seduction in the end, it captivates you. Inevitably, and without being able to understand WHAT in particular makes this record so damn cool. Perhaps it’s the guitar you can’t quite identify, at one moment it's jazz, then it screams at the edge of noise, then again it beats time as well as more than the bass - it's easy to get lost. The sensation is that of climbing a spiral staircase drunk, with steps at varying distances and without knowing well where - this blessed staircase leads. However, it all pleases, even when - as in "The Dynasty" - it departs significantly from rock and almost brushes against the avant-garde. And ecstasy has already arrived, but for that, the first eight minutes' listening would suffice you.

Masterpiece. I meant to say: MIRACLE.