CEMENTING AN IMPERIOUS RUN THAT STRETCHES BACK OVER THE PAST DECADE, OMD’S NEW ALBUM BAUHAUS STAIRCASE COMPLETES A HAT-TRICK OF MAGNIFICENCE STARTED WITH ENGLISH ELECTRIC IN 2013. IT EVEN PROVES ANDY MCCLUSKEY AND PAUL HUMPHREYS DON’T NEED TO BE IN THE SAME ROOM AFTER ALL TO LIVE UP TO PAST GLORIES. SO WHY ARE THE DUO THINKING OF CALLING IT A DAY IN THE STUDIO?
JOHN EARLS
We only started this band because nobody else wanted to play with us.” Andy McCluskey’s reminder of how the essentially insular world of Orchestral Manoeuvres In The Dark began serves notice that, even by the standards of synth duos, McCluskey and Paul Humphreys are an unusual pair.
Of course, in Britain at least, OMD invented the synth duo template the moment they began playing their first shows at Eric’s in Liverpool in 1978, initially as a side-project from prog six-piece The Id. The pair have much in common, aesthetically as much as musically: they’re interviewed separately, but both choose to greet Classic Pop from their respective home studios. Not just because it makes for a good Zoom backdrop, but because they both enjoy showing the workings of fabulous new album Bauhaus Staircase. (Andy: “If Bauhaus name their next album OMD Carpet, I’d be very flattered.”) Paul occasionally plays riffs on his keyboard that inspired new songs, while Andy reaches over for the ring-binder containing handwritten A4 notes and lyrics: “Much as I love the digital age, I find it easier to have paper that I can move around from page to page, rather than something locked on the digital screen.”
They share an easy sense of humour, too, a natural warmth that’s surely been heightened by knowing that OMD might never have had it so good. Not only is their music back to the forward-thinking and infectious standards of Architecture & Morality and Dazzle Ships, but they no longer have a record company demanding that they make another album that good again by the end of the week, or else...
It’s how their humour comes across that highlights the duo’s essential differences. If he hadn’t been half of one of our most inventive synth-pop groups, Andy McCluskey could easily have become an observational stand-up. You can see something of Lee Mack in his knockabout, brash charm. Paul Humphreys? Probably everyone’s favourite lecturer: he doesn’t have his bandmate’s ‘Here’s one...’ approach to comedy, but his gentle, quietly
