Joy Division 4: Substance

By the mid-‘80s, as New Order’s status in what used to be called college alternative grew, the legend of Joy Division grew with it. Their three albums were reissued, and a year after a New Order compilation of the same name, Substance collected many of the singles, 12-inch and EP tracks (more so if you got the CD, or certain countries’ edition of the cassette, which most consumers in 1988 were buying anyway) that hadn’t made it to Still.

Singles, by their very nature, had to be more immediate to make an impact, so most of the tracks sampled here are more upbeat, direct and gloom-free compared to much of Unknown Pleasures and Closer. Even more striking are the earliest songs, recorded with punk fervor while the band was still learning their instruments and Ian Curtis had yet to develop the lower-register croon that would become his signature. Listen to “Warsaw” and “Leaders Of Men” and try to convince yourself it’s the same guy on “Transmission” and the later 12-inch version of “She’s Lost Control”. However, the key selling point for the album is “Love Will Tear Us Apart”, the iconic single released just weeks after Ian hung himself. With near-jangling guitars, a bass line matching the synth note for note, the high-hat work coming this close to collapsing and Ian’s vocal blending gloom with pop, it was and remains a hell of a way to say goodbye.

Substance certainly fills in the Joy Division story, but it doesn’t close the book. Shortly after a New Order best-of came out in the ‘90s, so did one for the original band. Permanent offered a mostly chronological mix of single and album tracks, bookended by two different mixes of “Love Will Tear Us Apart”. For an even wider picture, the Heart And Soul box set presented “their entire studio output” on the first two discs, a third disc of further studio tracks, outtakes and BBC sessions, and a fourth disc sampling four live shows. (This pricey import was reissued, four years after its initial appearance, by Rhino.) Other compilations followed, one cramming songs from both bands onto one disc, others offering alternate mixes and more BBC material, but the choices remain the same as ever: 1) the two albums and the two compilations, 2) Permanent for the most succinct overview, or 3) the box set for virtually everything.

Joy Division Substance (1988)—3½
2015 remaster: same as 1988, plus 2 extra tracks
Joy Division Permanent (1995)—4
Joy Division Heart And Soul (1997)—3½

Joy Division 3: Still

To deal with the loss of their friend, singer and main lyricist, the rest of Joy Division simply went back to work making music. The trio morphed into New Order, using the smoother voice of guitarist Bernard Sumner, and added the drummer’s girlfriend on keyboards to take some of the pressure off their new singer. The band’s first single, “Ceremony”, was a new recording of a song played live at the final Joy Division show, a gig memorialized on two sides of a double album, Still.

It’s another Joy Division album with a title that could be taken any number of ways, the most common assumption being that it was intended to combat bootlegs. Indeed, the other two sides collected studio outtakes, mostly from the time of the first album and subsequent singles, but none of their extraneous singles save one rare compilation track. (The eventual CD left out one of the live songs, unlisted on the LP to begin with.)

The outtakes are interesting in their own way, but it’s often clear why they were unreleased in the first place. It may well have been pointed out that the melody for “Something Must Break” is identical to the Perry Mason theme. Meanwhile, on “The Ice Age”, the repeated chorus “I’m living in the ice age” sounds more like “I’m really, really angry”. “The Sound Of Music” is the most recent studio cut, and naturally sounds more developed than the other tracks (with the possible exception of “Glass”, from the first sampler that included the band’s music). Allegedly the surviving members applied some “post-production” sweetening to these tracks, but they’re still pretty rough.

As a document, the live half does show off the energy of the band, while underscoring their drawbacks—the bass has no oomph, drums rush and slow down, fingers miss frets and the synth goes way off-key for a full minute of “Decades”. The rest is hit or miss, “Ceremony” starting halfway through, yet leading smoothly into “Shadowplay”. Perhaps it’s a stretch, but performances like “New Dawn Fades” and “Transmission” predict early U2. And it’s almost fitting that the last song of the show, “Digital”, was also one of the first songs they’d ever released, providing a true bookend for Ian’s career. (The studio half ends with an encore cover of The Velvet Underground’s “Sister Ray” from a month before; it’s pretty sloppy, but does show some humor when Ian makes a “Louie Louie” reference at the end.)

Since it was never intended to be the final Joy Division album, it shouldn’t be treated as such, but should only be considered as an addendum. And as New Order would evolve and dominate the ‘80s techno scene, the legend of Joy Division would only grow, and inspire further epitaphs. (Keeping with tradition, the eventual Collector’s Edition included an earlier 1980 concert and soundcheck on a bonus disc.)

Joy Division Still (1981)—3
2007 Collector’s Edition: same as 1981, plus 14 extra tracks

Joy Division 2: Closer

Like most bands of the time, Joy Division kept writing and performing new material, releasing a few singles and EPs that would stand separate from their next album. And by the time that came out, their singer was dead, having attempted and succeeded at suicide the day before—that’s right, a whole day—before the band was to fly to New York for their first American shows. Instead of furthering their promising career, Ian Curtis was immediately cast in cement as a troubled icon, guru to sad kids, and influence on bands who could only know Joy Division through their handful of records.

Closer (we don’t know if it’s pronounced with a hard or soft ‘s’) became the band’s epitaph, its white sleeve contrasting with the black of Unknown Pleasures, its lettering evocative of gravestone etchings, its cover photo of a tomb. While recorded at Pink Floyd’s plush, modern studio, it still sounds like it was recorded in a hallway, with the vocals sent through a tin can, and at first listen is even more robotic than their debut. And like that album, the subtleties emerge and haunt.

“Atrocity Exhibition” turns things on its head by putting the guitarist on bass while the bass player creates abrasive noises on the guitar. Ian repeats “This is the way, step inside” as if directing lambs to a slaughter. “Isolation” may be the catchiest tune written on the subject, with a danceable beat and a synth part that launched innumerable New Wave combos. It’s very well constructed, repetitive but not redundant, and developing as it goes. A neat backwards effect leads into the simple drum beat of “Passover”, which mostly hangs back to spotlight Ian’s developed melody, letting the guitar wander only in between verses. The robotic feel continues on “Colony”, circular and jagged, and on “Means To An End”, with a basic descending riff that sounds like Peter Hook keeps changing his mind as to which notes to include.

Side two has the more satisfying set of songs, in terms of developed arrangements. “Heart And Soul” purrs along with an undercurrent of travel (think Pink Floyd’s “On The Run”, or Steve Miller’s “Swingtown”) with the simplest of guitar strums punctuating Ian’s rumination. The influence of “Twenty Four Hours” would be felt all the way into the ‘90s, with its use of dynamics and strummed bass, alternate driving and tense sections, and the surprise ending. Then, with a hiss of crickets, “The Eternal” wafts in, decorated by funereal piano. After the sad verse the crickets return, now sounding more like locusts, but recede again for another litany of lament. Finally, “Decades” presents the most developed integration of synth into their sound, a grand finale that predicts the likes of Yaz and Depeche Mode.

Revisionist opinion to the contrary, Closer is not a matching bookend to their debut, but the sound of a band having not quite arrived at their potential. And it’s too bad, because it’s clear they were on to something, but as with many legends of rock, there’s no way of knowing what else they might have done. Ian Curtis might have waited another couple of years before killing himself, he might have gotten over his demons and lived into a ripe old age, or the plane carrying the band to the USA could have crashed into the Atlantic. It’s moot, but their fans can be thankful for what they have. (Like its elder sibling, the bonus disc in the later Collector’s Edition added a concert, this one from about a month before the album was recorded.)

Joy Division Closer (1980)—3½
2007 Collector’s Edition: same as 1980, plus 12 extra tracks

Joy Division 1: Unknown Pleasures

While not every punk band was ignorant musically, the genre did inspire many to pick up instruments and learn as they go. That’s pretty much what happened with Joy Division, a band that literally self-destructed on the eve of their arrival in America. They still managed to gain enough of a following to become more than just a cult curio; at the same time, their limited career keeps their legacy nice and compact: two studio albums, a bunch of collected singles and some live recordings. Because of their capabilities, nobody sounds like them, though many have tried.

With a cover image resembling a mountain range but revealed to be radio waves, Unknown Pleasures was split (on vinyl and cassette) between “Outside” and “Inside”. The sound on both sides is cold, claustrophobic and somewhat industrial. (They were, after all, signed to Factory Records.) Drums sound almost electronic even when they’re not, and the bass player drives a melody without any notice of what the rhythm is. The guitar parts are inventive in a way that only someone with limited ability can find, and that’s meant as a compliment. Over it all, Ian Curtis sings with anger and frustration, emotion compensating for pitch, occasionally echoing Iggy Pop and, dare we say it, Jim Morrison. The band’s devoted following have spent decades ingesting and interpreting the lyrics, so we’re not about to try and do that; these brief descriptions will have to suffice for now.

With an invitation to pogo, “Disorder” is an excellent opener, even with sound effects that appear to be a toilet flushing. Things slow down right away for “Day Of The Lords”, describing a scene of some remembered horror, culminating in repeated queries as to “when will it end?” “Candidate” seems a lot longer than it is, possibly because it’s so low-key—mostly drums and a bass sounding like a cello, with atmospheric noises here and there. “Insight” is about as minimal, except for the truly silly synth-drum hits and electronic meltdown in the bridges. Things truly coalesce on “New Dawn Fades”, which deftly pairs a poetic lyric with a song structure.

The nearly robotic “She’s Lost Control” is an “important” track, being apparently about witnessing somebody’s else’s grand mal seizure, which will loom large in his legend. In any other band, the bass and guitar would play the same riff in unison, but not these guys. “Shadowplay” begins very slowly before acquiring more energy through minimal changes. Some of those seem so arbitrary that one occasional deviation sounds like a mistake, except that the band hits it at the same, seemingly random instance, that it’s either genius or a happy accident. As for “Wilderness”, this time the guitar and bass do move mostly in unison until they get bored and start wandering, well, off into you know where. With an intro borrowed by Devo for “Whip It”, “Interzone” is downright energetic, with its dueling Lou Reed vocals. It’s also the shortest song on the album, coming right before the longest, the gloomy and foreboding “I Remember Nothing”, the machine eventually running out of fuel to the sound of breaking glass and crashing metal.

The influence of Unknown Pleasures can be heard on the debut albums by such bands as U2, R.E.M. and The Smiths, so it’s safe to say that college alternative started here. The production does make it sound dated, but it’s also a style that indie bands are still trying to emulate. It’s also a case where the real thing does justice to the legend. (The eventual Collector’s Edition upgrade added a contemporary concert on a second disc.)

Joy Division Unknown Pleasures (1979)—3½
2007 Collector’s Edition: same as 1979, plus 12 extra tracks