[Unedited version of article published in The Quietus, January 2015]
Formed
in the north-eastern town of Ferryhill
in 1976 in the wake of the Sex Pistols, Penetration were an enthralling burst
of punk energy. Led by singer and lyricist Pauline Murray, their songs of military
conflict and domestic servitude attacked the dictators and firing squads of
polite society, and as they gained momentum they threatened to invade the
mainstream.
By
their time of their second album Coming
Up for Air, however, Murray was finding the rock format intolerable. “I felt
I was drowning in some ways, hence the title.” She ended Penetration and began
writing new material with bassist Robert Blamire. “The dynamics of the songs
had changed since we weren’t writing around guitar riffs.” A new, more abstract
studio palette was provided by the decidedly un-macho sounding Invisible Girls,
consisting of Murray and Blamire, keyboardist Steve Hopkins and Factory
producer Martin Hannett (who had previously played under that name with John
Cooper Clarke), with contributions from Vini Reilly and others. The result was a
futuristic but highly accessible record which didn’t adhere to the industry
conventions of group or solo artist, major or indie, pop or post-punk. It was
sublime.
Originally released in September 1980, Pauline
Murray and the Invisible Girls
is an extraordinary work of art, a treasure not just of its own time but of any
era. Yet soon after completing it the singer followed her own backing band and
disappeared. Long unavailable, the album has now been reissued and hopefully
will be discovered by a new audience. Interviewing Pauline Murray by email, I
encountered a unique performer still striking a vital oppositional note in
today’s no-alternative culture of commodified rebellion, digital passivity and
talent show banality.
What does punk mean to you? Does
it mean the same thing now that it did in 1976? Is punk still possible today?
At
the time it meant opening your eyes and seeing things as they are. It was about
questioning tried and tested methods and doing things in a different way. It
was about not caring whether you could do something but more about having a go.
It was about contributing rather than passively consuming. It was about having
the courage to break away from the stifling confines of a society that bowed
down to “superiors”. It was about the youth of the late seventies turning their
backs on the middle class hippy generation. It was about thinking for yourself
and expressing your individuality. It was outside the system for a very short
time and showed what people could achieve with focus and direction of energy.
The raw music, anti-fashion, photography, art and design, writing, fanzines,
the 7” single and animated audiences. Exciting stuff! It was as if a window had
opened and real primal expression could emerge. It felt that you could
collectively change the world and it certainly changed the lives of those
involved.
Punk
now means a certain category where products of a certain type can be marketed.
It has turned into a stereotype and has no power to change.
I
don’t think it’s possible today to have the black swan that was punk as young
people have lived in a different world. They have been distracted and pacified
from an early age by video games, mobile phones, computers, the internet, fast
food and the American hard sell. They
are surrounded by unmotivated people, and there doesn’t seem to be anything
that brings them together. The culture
of music and art has been hijacked by the clean people and karaoke singing
appears on prime time TV.
Despite your achievements you
rarely feature in the endless BBC4 documentaries on punk and post-punk, which
are usually quite Londoncentric (or at best Manchester). It seems that if you lived
outside these places and there’s no stock footage easily available you risk
being edited out of history. Have you noticed this, and if so does it surprise
or annoy you, because your work might not be getting the recognition it
deserves?
Journalism
and the media have become very lazy and would rather print a press release than
analyse something themselves. The same old story and names have been repeated
again and again without any depth of research and it has become stock footage.
We weren’t part of the high profile London
crowd and didn’t have hit records so it’s easy to get overlooked. We are
sometimes more noticeable by our absence. It’s just one of those things - the
powers that be, write and re-write history.
How do you view the second
Penetration album now? The year after it came out you said it left a lot to be
desired but ever since I first heard it in the ‘90s I’ve loved it.
Obviously
I was too close in the making of it at the time. I felt that we were rushed
into it and could have come up with better songs with more preparation. We
worked with the fledgling producer Steve Lillywhite who had a different
approach to the producers of the first album. I know we gave it our best shot
as we always do. I was becoming uncertain about where the music was going and
things were pulling in different directions. Listening to it now brings a tear
to my eye, to hear such young kids taking on and generally succeeding in a
monumental task. There are some great tracks on there. Come Into the Open,
Shout Above the Noise.
From
Penetration to the Invisible Girls, from Shout Above the Noise to Screaming in
the Darkness - was there a deliberate connection between these two opening
tracks?
There’s
no conscious connection at all between these two tracks. I had put Penetration
behind me and was writing new songs. Shout above the Noise is very external
whilst Screaming in the Darkness is internal.
Over what period were the
Invisible Girls songs written? Did any ideas date from while Penetration were
still going, or was the split the starting point for them? Were some written in
the studio?
Penetration
finished their tour at the end of 1979. I had nothing planned after the split
but somehow Rob and I gravitated towards each other. We bought a Teac four
track and set up a recording studio in his parents’ house. By March 1980 we had
recorded a John Peel session (with a temporary band) and soon after that teamed
up with Martin and Steve to record Dream Sequence as a single. None of the
ideas were left over from Penetration.
We came up with them all as new. I had also written some on my own -
Sympathy, Dream Sequence, Drummer Boy, which I had never done with the band.
Most of the album was written before going into the studio. Only Time Slipping
was worked on at the time. It was a backing track idea of the Invisible Girls.
I took it away and wrote the tune and lyrics and we re-recorded the backing
track though none of us can remember doing that!
How would you describe the
experience of recording the album?
We
were living in Martin Hannett’s house for the duration in Manchester recording at Strawberry studios. I
remember Martin playing Atmosphere by Joy Division, which was very poignant at
the time. The first week was backing tracks with bass drums and piano moving
through the process in the conventional way. As it progressed we were working late
into the night then starting later each day. I began to become more withdrawn
and couldn’t speak to anyone and had to go home after the second week. When I
returned, I felt disconnected from the album and did vocal tracks again and
again without guidance. I think Martin did an amazing job with the production
but the content and playing by all of the individuals involved should never be
overlooked. There’s something magical, deep and intense.
The lyrics on the Invisible Girls
album are so strong but rarely appreciated. The album is lyrically very intense
- I’d say it’s as poetic as, for example, Joy Division’s Closer - but the depth is deceptive, because rather than announcing their
profundity in a rock type way, the words are encased in this kind of blissful
pop exterior… What were the chief influences and experiences which inspired
them?
I
have never made a big deal of my lyrics though I do spend a lot of time working
on them! I have to be happy with what I am singing and they have to fit the
feel of the music. The lyrics are usually inspired by the structure of the
music. An idea has to inspire me in the first place. I can’t really say where
they come from as each song is quite different from another. I spend time in
quiet contemplation and concentration until I settle upon a subject that can
unfold into a song. Something like Thundertunes reflects upon the village where
I was born and grew up - a place that no longer exists. I try to look at things
from all angles but ultimately the subject matter has to fit the framework of a
song and flow with the vocal melody. I think my lyrics are quite deep but the
tunes and singing are accessible but perhaps unsettling to the casual listener!
Many of the lyrics were written through the night when everyone is asleep and
there are no distractions.
The mixing up of dreams and
reality is a recurring theme; not just in Dream Sequence, but in Sympathy,
“imagination seems to be real, reality is just a dream”, and elsewhere. Was
this a ‘conscious’ decision or did it just emerge? Was it a case of real life
seeming unreal and the creative rush of the imagination?
This
theme of dreams and reality was something that just emerged. Dream Sequence and
Sympathy were written before the album. The line “somebody wake me before I go
to sleep” just popped up of its own accord but the song was inspired by
recurring dreams. Sometimes dreams and
reality can come together. Creativity is opening yourself up to bring dreams to
reality. Pulling ideas out of the air and arranging them into solid matter for
a while.
Another theme is suspicion of
fame and celebrity, in Shoot You Down and most obviously in Mr X. Does this
reflect a pressure for punk or alternative culture to become part of the
showbiz machinery? Was it something you feared happening to you or saw
happening to other people? What are your views on fame, then and now?
Punks
generally steered away from the showbiz machinery. I’m quite a private person
and would struggle with the pressures of fame. We are in a society where people
will do anything to be famous. This celebrity culture is driven by the media
and to stay famous you have to be in the public eye on a regular basis.
Everybody watches everybody else, passes judgement and projects their thoughts
onto who they think someone is. I’ve always preferred to be myself than be
famous. Fame means everybody looking up to you until you fall from grace and
are fed to the lions!
When Will We Learn is
interesting: “This restless feeling falls upon the humble/stupid people”, “Mother
Nature’s face is scarred to death...” Is this about a general frustration with
humanity, or is there a sense of some wider threat - environmental disaster,
war, even nuclear annihilation (the track ends with a sound like missiles
falling...)?
When
Will We Learn is a comment on the ignorance of the human race and how people
never take responsibility for their own actions. It has gone on for forever
where the majority don’t question anything and are led into the next drama.
People will only notice that something is wrong when it is all too late and
wonder how this has happened. We have used and abused nature and it will always
have the last say. I see the breakdown of structures that hold everything
together.
The album seems to move from a
mood of personal or existential anxiety towards a feeling of impending doom,
through the warnings and wilderness of Thundertunes, and When Will We Learn
where “the end is coming”, to the ominous bassline of Mr X, and finally
Judgement Day. It is as if the people making it thought it might be the last
record ever made (and what a record!). Is that theme and direction something
you were aware of during writing/recording, or am I imagining it?
There
was no conscious theme to the album. The songs were written separately and put
together at the end. It was a very organic process. Maybe subconsciously I felt
all of those things you mentioned, as my life was about to change and we were
about to enter Thatcher’s Britain
which can never be underestimated. I could maybe sense that I wouldn’t get a chance
to make another album. The songs and production came together at a point in
time, never to be repeated. There’s lots of intensity in all the records I’ve
been involved in. I’ve always felt that every album could be the last.
Listening again to Judgement Day;
“You have no possessions, you have no illusions, no arrangements and no future
plans…There’s no breathing space inside this place, there’s no escaping…” It is
an extraordinary set of images and an astonishing cliffhanger on which to end
an album. Can you say anything about where that song came from and what it was
pointing towards?
My
grandmother had died while I was still with Penetration and Judgement Day was
my observations of the final scenario. She was in hospital, had given up her
home and had nothing other than the fact that she was leaving this world. It’s
very close up. We will all be in this position one day and I have seen the same
with parents and friends. It came last on the album as it’s really intense and
definitely a final song.
Was there much encouragement from
other people in the indie sphere after the album and follow-up single, when RSO
went out of business? After such an innovative but still commercial-sounding
album, you’d think that some of the established labels would have been keen to
get involved. Or did you decide, after this phase of intense activity, to take
a step back for a while?
None
of the singles were hits, which makes a big difference. There were companies
interested but at that time I was going through a massive personal crisis.
Everything around me had changed and I couldn’t focus on anything. I was
perhaps mentally and physically burned out as I hadn’t had a break for five
years. I got half way through a vocal take and just gave up, walked out and
turned my back on everything and everyone connected to music.
Later with Robert you set up
Polestar Studios, which is still going strong, and the Storm Clouds album came out in 1989. Did you get involved in the technical side of
production, and have you been pursuing other interests and doing other things
alongside music?
Polestar
was originally set up as a record label to release our own material in the
early ‘80s. In 1990 I took on the lease of a building and set up music
rehearsal studios and a recording studio. Robert is the technical maestro in
the recording studio as I have never had any interest or ability in the
production side of things. We bought a derelict building almost four years ago,
undertook a massive building project and relocated the studios. I have managed
bands, promoted gigs, studied reflexology, formed a community choir and brought
up two very fine children! I am always busy with one thing or another.
In recent years you have reformed
Penetration and also played some solo shows. What has that been like?
I
think the band has been better since it reformed as the songs and playing have
matured in a good way. It was perhaps unfinished business as we split up very
abruptly but people have had the chance to see us over the past few years. We
have always been a good live band and have done some great shows. We manage
ourselves, operate independently and still play for the enjoyment and
connecting with people. We’ve put out a couple of singles but are reaching a
point where we need to make an album to challenge ourselves!
I
have been doing solo acoustic shows with new material. It’s a whole new thing
for me. The songs are written on acoustic guitar and cover topics such as
family history, depression, people going missing and being plugged in to
technology. This is work in progress as I plan to write more songs, record them
acoustically and then experiment with the music. At the moment I am
concentrating on Penetration, writing and recording a new album.
What do you think of music today?
Are there any performers who still inspire you and are there any current
artists who get the Pauline Murray seal of approval?
Music
today is very fragmented. There are so many different genres, labels and
specific interests and the mainstream is unintelligible. There’s nothing that brings
people together in an emotional way. The digital format means that we can
access music very easily but it’s more disposable and doesn’t hold your
attention. I have to say that there is
nothing in particular that excites and inspires me at the moment but there are
many creative individuals swimming against the tide. I am lucky to have heard,
first hand, the great music of the ‘60s and ‘70s, which was the soundtrack to
my youth. Most things have been done before but genuine passion and energy will
always have an impact.
