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**The Durutti Column - LC**
★★★★☆

There's something deeply poetic about Vini Reilly naming an album after the initials of his beloved late guitarist friend, but then again, The Durutti Column has always trafficked in the currency of melancholy and remembrance. Released in 1981 on Factory Records, "LC" stands as both a love letter to departed collaborator and a crystalline statement of Reilly's singular vision – one that would cement his reputation as post-punk's most unlikely romantic.

The album emerged from a period of profound loss and creative upheaval. Following the departure of original drummer Chris Joyce to join Simply Red (a move that still rankles purists), Reilly found himself increasingly isolated, crafting his gossamer guitar tapestries in the shadow of Factory's more bombastic acts. While Joy Division commanded headlines and New Order packed dance floors, The Durutti Column occupied a parallel universe where instrumental beauty mattered more than commercial appeal. "LC" – dedicated to Reilly's friend who died tragically young – became the vessel for this aesthetic philosophy.

Musically, "LC" defies easy categorisation, existing somewhere in the liminal space between ambient, jazz-fusion, and what would later be termed "post-rock." Reilly's approach is deceptively simple: layer upon layer of clean, reverb-drenched guitar lines that interweave like conversations between old friends. His technique owes as much to classical fingerpicking as it does to the angular geometries of post-punk, creating soundscapes that feel both intimate and expansive. The album's eight tracks unfold with the patience of a master storyteller, each piece building its emotional architecture through repetition and subtle variation.

The opening salvo, "Sketch for Summer," immediately establishes the album's contemplative mood. Reilly's guitar lines cascade like gentle rainfall, supported by understated percussion that never threatens to overwhelm the delicate interplay. It's music for late-night drives through empty cities, or quiet moments stolen from the chaos of modern life. "Katharine" follows with perhaps the album's most memorable melody – a serpentine guitar figure that winds its way through your consciousness and refuses to leave. The way Reilly develops this central motif over nearly six minutes demonstrates his understanding that the best instrumental music functions like wordless poetry.

"Danny" serves as the album's emotional centrepiece, a piece so achingly beautiful it borders on the unbearable. Here, Reilly's guitar work achieves an almost vocal quality, each note carefully placed to maximum emotional effect. The track builds slowly, adding layers of harmony and texture until it reaches a crescendo that feels both inevitable and surprising. It's the sound of grief transformed into art, pain alchemised into beauty.

The album's second half maintains this high standard, with "The Beggar" offering a more rhythmically complex exploration of similar themes. Reilly's classical influences become more apparent here, as his fingerpicking technique creates intricate patterns that would make Julian Bream proud. "Lips That Would Kiss" closes the album on a note of tentative hope, its major-key resolution suggesting that beauty can emerge from even the darkest circumstances.

What makes "LC" so enduring is its refusal to conform to the aggressive masculinity that dominated much of early 80s alternative music. While his Factory labelmates were busy deconstructing rock's established forms, Reilly was quietly constructing something entirely new – a music of subtlety and nuance that prioritised emotional honesty over stylistic innovation. His influence can be heard in everyone from Godspeed You! Black Emperor to Explosions in the Sky, though none have quite matched his combination of technical precision and emotional vulnerability.

Today, "LC" stands as a masterclass in the power of restraint. In an era of maximum volume and minimum subtlety, Reilly's gentle approach feels almost revolutionary. The album has found new audiences through film soundtracks and streaming algorithms, introducing younger listeners to the radical notion that instrumental music can be both challenging and accessible. For those willing to surrender to its unhurried pace, "LC" offers rewards that reveal themselves slowly, like photographs developing in a darkroom.

This is music for the long haul, designed not for immediate gratification but for the kind of deep listening that modern life rarely permits. Essential.