THIS IS MEMORIAL DEVICE at Riverside Studios

★★★★

“The anecdotes and reminiscences are poetic in style and Higgins has an energy that rises as he slowly takes his foot off the soft pedal”

From 1983 to 1985, ‘Memorial Device’ was the best band that no-one’s ever heard of. Mysterious, post-punk legends, they hailed from (but never left) the small North Lanarkshire town of Airdrie, just a dozen or so miles East of Glasgow. They defined an era. Well, at least they defined the formative years of fledgeling fanzine journalist Ross Raymond (Paul Higgins). Forty years on, Ross has invited us to share his memories. To celebrate and resurrect the group that exploded in a haze of surreal glory before imploding again into the mists of unreliable memory.

Paul Higgins, in the utterly convincing guise of Ross Raymond, wanders onto the stage, slightly nervous at first, to spend the next hour delivering a mockumentary. Supported by press cuttings, recorded interviews, demo tapes and memorabilia he presents fiction as fact. Before long it becomes pretty impossible to differentiate reality from make believe. The gritty truthfulness of Higgins’ delivery recalls the time and the place perfectly, reinforced by Anna Orton’s minimal set that replicates the sort of back room dive that such a band would have rehearsed and gigged in. You can almost smell the stale cigarettes and musty beer fumes.

“This is Memorial Device” is unique and slightly odd. Adapted by Graham Eatough from David Keenan’s cult novel of the same title, it falls into a no-mans-land somewhere between drama and musical, lecture and parody. The anecdotes and reminiscences are poetic in style and Higgins has an energy that rises as he slowly takes his foot off the soft pedal. The further he delves into his memories, the more animated he becomes as he draws us into the nostalgia of a world he is building around him. He assembles the past band members from broken mannequins lying in a flight case as though resting in a coffin. When he dissembles them again to put them back, you know that he is mourning an age lost and gone forever.

Yet, for all that we are drawn into his enthusiasm (Ross Raymond is undoubtedly a die-hard fan), there are moments that drag. The use of video footage comprising a series of talking heads adds credence to the myth, but occasionally go on too long. If we were at home watching on our TV sets, these are the points at which we’d get up to make a cup of tea. Fortunately, though, Higgins is always on hand to pull us back in. The hypnotic effect is emphasised by the monotonic and metronomic music, composed by sound designer Gavin Thomson and musician Stephen McRobbie – the latter is the lead singer and guitarist of real life, Glasgow band ‘The Pastels’ who, unlike the eponymous combo, are still around.

It is testament to the writing and to Higgins’ performance that it is easy to think this is all real. We buy into the fabrication. Like the novel, this show will gain cult status. We almost expected to be offered merchandise on the way out, and the urge to look up ‘Memorial Device’ on Spotify was irresistible. We have been touched by the stories of these band members. Particularly of frontman Lucas Black, who suffered from having no short-term memory. Everything was written down in a little red notebook (his own memorial device) which Ross Raymond has kept for forty years. It is more than a history lesson; it is a dream-like journey into a music scene and its off-beat characters. Some died, some disappeared. But Higgins keeps them all alive. Even though they never really lived. That takes a particular kind of skill – one that Higgins and the co-creators of the show clearly possess.

It may not be to everybody’s taste, but I doubt it is looking for universal appeal. At curtain call, Higgins thanks us for coming to listen. The pleasure was all ours.

THIS IS MEMORIAL DEVICE at Riverside Studios

Reviewed on 26th April 2024

by Jonathan Evans

Photography by Mihaela Bodlovic

Previously reviewed at this venue:

ARTIFICIALLY YOURS | ★★★ | April 2024

ALAN TURING – A MUSICAL BIOGRAPHY | ★★ | January 2024

ULSTER AMERICAN | ★★★★★ | December 2023

OTHELLO | ★★★★ | October 2023

FLOWERS FOR MRS HARRIS | ★★★★ | October 2023

RUN TO THE NUNS – THE MUSICAL | ★★★★ | July 2023

THE SUN WILL RISE | ★★★ | July 2023

TARANTINO LIVE: FOX FORCE FIVE & THE TYRANNY OF EVIL MEN | ★★★★★ | June 2023

KILLING THE CAT | ★★ | March 2023

CIRQUE BERSERK! | ★★★★★ | February 2023

THIS IS MEMORIAL DEVICE

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★★★

“We want to dig deeper into the shadows, but the writing is reluctant to explore far enough to flesh out the ideas that are bubbling underneath”

As I came out of the premiere of Aaron Thakar’s debut play, “Artificially Yours” I played a game with my smart phone. I don’t use Siri, which probably puts me in the minority of the population, but I decided to ask it some questions. Whilst it was able to give me factual details (my next appointment or my partner’s phone number for example), when it was asked something more abstract that required an emotional reaction, it merely answered with the words ‘that’s an interesting question’.

Thakar takes this notion a step further with his one-act play and, in turn, asks some interesting questions. It centres around an advanced AI device, called Agapé, that is not just a personal assistant but also one that can act as a relationship therapist to its bickering owners. Under Hannah McLeod’s slick direction, the narrative follows the effects this has on three different – though connected – couples as they navigate the usual hurdles that interrupt the smooth run of their affairs. Billed as a ‘dark comedy’ it yields some rich comic moments but never really explores the darkness. Agapé is given a bit of an underwritten supporting role here, and the piece often feels like just another sitcom. A perceptive one, nevertheless, which grapples with issues beyond AI’s limited capabilities of which the young writer has a mature grasp.

Agapé’s most accomplished skill is that of distinguishing a lie from a truth, and as such is more judgemental than its human counterpart therapist. But still the three couples decide to choose what they only want to hear. First up we have Pippa and Martin (Leslie Ash and Paul Giddings). Recently divorced, Martin is trying to get Pippa to agree to him introducing their daughter to his new girlfriend. Meanwhile Lilah and Ash (Destiny Mayers and writer Thakar himself) sport matching pyjamas but a clashing reliance on their artificial counsellor. Further clashes ensue when they go on a double dinner date with Ellie and Noah (Ella Jarvis and Jake Mavis). The connections between the six individuals are gradually revealed through disagreements, quarrels and occasional reconciliations: but no real resolve.

The cast spar well together, and while Thakar’s writing is thoughtful, we do often forget that Agapé is in the room as the characters’ idiosyncrasies take centre stage. Destiny Mayers is convincing as the frustrated Lilah who silently laments her partner’s reliance on artificial communication. As jobbing actor Ash, Thakar has the strongest arc which culminates in the play’s only distinct self-reformation. Leslie Ash’s Pippa makes the most of her underwritten mother-of-two. Ash excels, however, in depicting her internal tug-of-war between affection and disdain for her ex – equally convincingly illustrated by Paul Giddings’ Martin, wrapped up in his over-padded mid-life crisis. Ella Jarvis’ unhinged, overwrought Ellie and Jake Mavis’ maddening, fitness-fanatic Noah dish out the lion’s share of the laughs. Bordering on farce, the cast collectively manage to avoid artificiality.

Yet the serious questions, and the darkness that is teasingly dangled in front of us never really materialises. We want to dig deeper into the shadows, but the writing is reluctant to explore far enough to flesh out the ideas that are bubbling underneath. Yet we must remember (and just in case we don’t, we were reminded at curtain call) that this is Thakar’s debut as a writer and an actor. Depending on which way you look at this it can either be an excuse or a celebration. I lean towards the latter. In its own way it is quite an achievement. “Artificially Yours” might not yet be his hallmark, but Thakar has made his mark and, in time, is someone to watch out for.

THIS IS MEMORIAL DEVICE at Riverside Studios

★★★★

“The anecdotes and reminiscences are poetic in style and Higgins has an energy that rises as he slowly takes his foot off the soft pedal”

THIS IS MEMORIAL DEVICE at Riverside Studios

Reviewed on 26th April 2024

by Jonathan Evans

Photography by Mihaela Bodlovic

Previously reviewed at this venue:

THIS IS MEMORIAL DEVICE

THIS IS MEMORIAL DEVICE

ARTIFICIALLY YOURS at Riverside Studios

★★★

“We want to dig deeper into the shadows, but the writing is reluctant to explore far enough to flesh out the ideas that are bubbling underneath”

ARTIFICIALLY YOURS at Riverside Studios

Reviewed on 11th April 2024

by Jonathan Evans

Photography by Andrew Fosker

Previously reviewed at this venue:

ARTIFICIALLY YOURS

ARTIFICIALLY YOURS