THIS IS MEMORIAL DEVICE | SCOTTISH TOUR @ TRAVERSE THEATRE, EDINBURGH
★★★
“There’s an element of mid-life crisis in the writing…”
The past is another country, a place embelished by the passing of time and a longing to recapture the visceral zeal of youth, just ask Ross Raymond. Obsessive, pensive and a bit geeky, Ross is a man lost to his memories, a fanatic dreaming of his days on the outside looking in as his favourite band, Memorial Device, the greatest band that nobody has ever heard of… outside of Airdrie, almost made it.
The mythic post-punk group were his obsession as a teenager and, 40 years on, they still are; Ross was and remains their biggest fan, clinging on to their myth despite the fact that their reign as ‘underground legends’ was short lived, only lasting from 1983 to 1985.
Ross has gathered us together to assist in his quest for memories and ‘the ghost of a feeling’, one that he experienced all those years ago. Surrounded by artefacts and mementos raised from his basement reliquary, he brings the band members back together piece by piece – mannequin pieces – as he recalls his first meeting with Big Patty and Lucas, the band’s driving forces. And so begins a bittersweet tale of faded dreams, dashed hopes and lingering obsession.
Adapted and directed by Graham Eatough from the book by David Keenan, This Is Memorial Device, is one-man show with a cast of six, Julie Wilson Nimmo, Mary Gapinski, Sanjeev Kohli and Gabriel Quigley all pop up on the big screen that dominates upstage and Martin Quinn makes his presence felt as Big Patty in an interview recorded on cassette tape. Their contributions woven through Paul Higgins’ engaging, performance
In his youth, Ross lived vicariously through the exploits of Memorial Device, something he’s still doing today. Always the outsider looking in, Higgins’ captures his angst, sentimentality and confusion with precision.
If there’s an element of mid-life crisis in the writing, it’s one that’s relatable when exposed by Higgins, but then, who hasn’t found themselves drifting back to their glory days at some point, glory days that become more vibrant on recollection than they actually were in real life.
Fanatical and forensic in his overthinking, Higgins’ creation holds his audience in rapt silence throughout, even when Eatough’s script is at its most verbose or finds the actor embracing the more experimental nature of Ross’ favourite band with some equally experimental ‘expressive movement’.
As the story unfolds and our protagonist works his way though Lucas’ little red book, a collection of thoughts and notes that capture his warped genius, so the power of music, or is it noise, is explored, snatches of Memorial Device blasting through the auditorium – Stephen Pastel and Gavin Thomson’s evocative soundtrack is hypnotically engulfing.
Does the past ever leave us? Probably not, but This Is Memorial Device’s 80 minutes of melancholic musings makes for a strong argument that if it doesn’t, it’s up to us to leave it behind.
