Synchronicity can be bizarre at times. "Coincidence" is all around us, and when it happens, we introduce rich psychological significance to it. Spooky or otherwise, one thing is for sure; it's a good source of inspiration for blog posts. Read any more into things as you wish. Music is an area that's rife with coincidences, mainly because it can leave such a deep impression on us - that's what makes it such an important part of our lives. Songs are indelibly associated with people and events that matter to us personally; the most powerful songs are capable of shaping us as individuals.
The latest coincidence came together when I was building up a playlist of songs featured on a TV show. After far too long, I rediscovered an album that had been very significant to me several years ago, and the memories came flooding back; some painful, some that I'd long buried, and some which, yes, meant I'd never returned to these particular songs. To my surprise, the songs were as powerful as ever, and, no, they didn't cause me the pain I'd expected. Instead, they presented me with a hindsight, perspective, and outlook on those events of years past in a very healthy light. The album in question was Wild And Lonely by the Associates. (US readers can sample one of the tracks here; others feel free to use your favorite online music or streaming service to check them out). The synchronicity came when I discovered that, on that very day, a play about the life of the lead singer was opening at Dundee Repertory Theater.
Billy Mackenzie was indeed a remarkable individual - Wikipedia, for instance, describes him as 'peripatetic', which is a new one on me and pretty much became my word for the day yesterday. (Mum always told me to learn a new word every day and make sure I used it in a sentence). Literally, he wandered about a lot, disappearing to New Zealand to find himself, then hiking across the US, where he ended up getting married to avoid deportation - his wife's brother was at the time famously claiming one-sixteenth of the Howard Hughes estate. The music began when Mackenzie paired with guitarist Alan Rankine after his return to Scotland and formed the band which in 1979 became The Associates, producing post-punk and new-wave hits over the next three years with considerably more substance than some of their peers - musically genre-skipping and challenging; New Romantic, pop, dark surrealism and even cabaret. Singles like 18 Carat Love Affair and Club Country were moderately successful, but its the histrionics of Party Fears Two which left the greatest impact, Mackenzie's vocal being comparable to Robert Smith of The Cure.
Rankine left the band just before their 1982 tour, leaving Mackenzie with the name but little hope of continuing that initial success. Rankine was certainly the one capable of actually delivering and producing output, and so Mackenzie was left to do what he did best. He wandered about. He worked with several 'associates' over the next nine years and rapidly established himself as a musician's musician, appreciated for his craft and ability but seldom achieving chart success to the frustration of his record company, constantly trying to hamstring him towards more commercial ventures. Notable ventures during this time included lyric-writing for Swiss electronica masters Yello, including The Rhythm Divine recorded by Shirley Bassey - but Billy's own rendition was just as powerful, if not more so. Mackenzie's voice had developed to have a phenomenal range and dramatic energy.
Things became more difficult after 1991, following failed ventures into mainstream dance and an attempted reunion with Rankine that was massively hyped by the music press but never quite got off the ground, mainly because of Mackenzie's aversion to touring. He continued working with several other artists up until 1997, and there were always more projects in the pipeline which unfortunately ended up becoming missed opportunities. Following the death of his mother and the onset of clinical depression, he retreated to his father's garden shed on 22 January 1997, where he overdosed on anti-depressants, pain killers, and other prescription medication. He was 39 years old.
Several musicians responded to the loss with their grief and tributes, and with a significant body of work that they'd shared with Mackenzie prior to his death. Robert Smith penned Cut Here, Siouxsie Sioux wrote Say all about Mackenzie's suicide; Icelandic avant-garde singer Bjork even contemplated a duet with one of Mackenzie's older recordings. Two albums of the material he was working on at the time of his death were later reconstructed and released posthumously. His biography entitled The Glamour Chase (named from one of his most significant tracks, but deemed far too uncommercial for a single release) shortly followed, and material continued to be re-released as former Associates endeavored to retrieve his recordings, many of which had been deleted from the catalogs. Wild and Lonely was re-released, digitally remastered, in 2006, with bonus content.
It's Wild and Lonely that was the album I returned to, a phenomenal showcase of Mackenzie's astonishing vocal talent and, yes, an album that does indeed put me back in a certain place and time, with a certain love, and with the particular heartache that involves. While distinctly 'pop', and indeed in places over-commercialized presumably under the record company's guidance (attempting to encapsulate Mackenzie into a chart single means the horn intro to Calling All Around The World sounds suspiciously like the theme to a TV sports show), Mackenzie's vocals are almost operatic throughout, far-reaching and sweeping. Fever remains one of the deepest, darkest (and yes, sexy) songs I've ever heard; Just Can't Say Goodbye is an incredible breakup song, the classic The Glamour Chase is dark and brooding. Mackenzie's range goes into overdrive on Where There's Love and he hits and holds one phenomenal note on Strasbourg Square that simply has to be heard to be believed. Words however simply won't do this record justice, you have to hear it - no, listen to it. It's the sort of recording that captivates me, rendering me incapable of doing anything else while it plays, absorbing me completely. This isn't background music; it's music to be emotionally involved in. And it's worth it.
Billy Mackenzie's cult status is reflected in the play Balgay Hill, currently playing in his hometown of Dundee and named after the cemetery where he is buried. (I'd love to hear from anyone who has had the chance to see it). His death was an unquestionable loss and a tragedy - it's a crying shame that the best are always taken too soon. Billy will be missed, but I'm thankful to have rediscovered his music.
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