Marking
its 40th anniversary today is the landmark 12” single from New Order,
Blue Monday, which was released on March 7th, 1983. It would become the
song which would rehabilitate the disco beat of the 1970s and open the
floodgates for dance music’s reinvention in the 1980s. It would also go
on to be one of the biggest selling 12” records of all time.
After
the loss of Ian Curtis and Joy Divisions subsequent demise, the
remaining members regrouped along with Gillian Gilbert to be reborn as
New Order in 1981. Their debut album and initial singles all found
themselves heavily shrouded by the legacy of Joy Division and the
group’s attempts to reconcile their loss. Those records were certainly
of high merit, but they were mired in the past and the sense of
searching for a way forward. You could hear it in the hesitancy of the
vocals in the songs, with the band even unsure of who should handle the
job. The release of Blue Monday, on the other hand, was their first to
come out of the gates completely freed from any sense of that tragic
history, displaying a band who had worked through their trauma and
indecision and were now fully committed to the future and looking ahead.
The
genesis of the song actually kicked off as a bit of a prank planned for
their live audiences. The group had often received criticism for not
playing encores when they preformed live, so they thought it would be a
bit of a laugh to create a song completely reliant on drum machines and
sequencers, such that, when it came time or their encore, they’d merely
push a button and let the electronics take care of the job. However, as
they began to dig into the track’s composition, the group found they
were really getting into the piece and it took on a life of its own.
The irony is that the song actually did become a staple of their encores
in later years, albeit without the ease of merely pushing a button and
splitting to the after-party.
The song’s style is derived from a
few key inspirations. The electronic groove hearkens back to Donna
Summer and her work with Giorgio Moroder as well as being influenced by
NYC club music, particularly by the likes of Arthur Baker, with whom the
band would work on their followup single, Confusion. Then there’s
Peter Hook’s bass line, which is a direct reference to the spaghetti
western guitar twang of Ennio Morricone. These elements created a
magical dynamic between the futuristic groove of the electronics and the
romantic retro-nostalgia of the bass. The signature rhythmic
underpinning of the song comes from the Linn drum machine’s kick stutter
intro, a riff which is so immediately identifiable that you instantly
know what’s on deck within a couple of seconds of the song hitting a
turntable. The overall arrangement completely sidesteps standard
verse/chorus song structure, which makes it a surprising contender for a
hit single, but nonetheless, that attribute didn’t seem to hinder its
success as the strength of its rhythmic hooks more than made up for any
deviation from pop formulas.
While the initial conception of the
song was that it be “set it and forget it”, the actual implementation of
it proved somewhat problematic when it came to the realities of live
performance. Getting and keeping the drum machine and sequencers all in
sync could be a touchy proposition, especially given the primitive,
still evolving state of synchronization then available for electronic
instruments. MIDI was still in its infancy and the older protocols
could be unreliable. Their performance of the song on Top of The Pops,
where they insisted on performing live rather than miming, was fraught
with technical problems. I got a chance to see them live in Vancouver
in 1983 and I distinctly recall the excitement when the song’s signature
intro kicked in, only to have the whole thing derail right after the
first “bap-bap... bap-bap” break. Suddenly the hall went silent as the
audience were caught breathlessly anticipated the groove coming back
after that pause, but then… NOTHING! GASP!!! The band were troupers,
however, and bravely reset their gear, started the song again and
managed to keep it on the rails for the rest of the performance, much to
the satisfaction of the crowd.
The packaging of the single,
created by Factory designer Peter Saville and Brett Wickens, was also an
example of extreme innovation, although it would cost the group and
Factory records dearly to execute it. The complexity of the design,
with its die-cut cutouts, meant that they actually LOST money on each
copy sold! The design was meant to emulate a 5 1⁄4 inch floppy disc,
with no text on the front or back and the release title and catalogue
number encoded in the color blocks on the edges of the sleeve. The
decoding key of that information was included on the sleeve of their LP,
Power Corruption & Lies, released shortly after the single.
Subsequent editions of the single dropped the die-cut elements in order
to reduce production costs.
The single became an immediate hit
upon its release, making itself at home on the indie dance chart and
staying there for a historic length of time. The single was a hit three
times, including its reissues and remixes in 1988 and 1995. It came
along at a time when “disco” music had been severely demonized after its
unprecedented success in the late 1970s, but Blue Monday’s success was a
major factor in reviving that classic 4x4 beat for a new generation,
creating a critical cornerstone upon which House music would be able to
build later in the decade.
For me, being that I was just
discovering the whole alternative club scene in my new home of
Vancouver, songs like this and Perfect by The The, were siren calls to
the dance floor. I wasn’t a dance enthusiast before hearing this music
and was too self-conscious to let loose in public, but these records
battered down my defenses and obliterated my reservations. The shudder
of that kick drum cracking the atmosphere was irresistible and
immediately got me grooving. Tentatively at first, but then with
abandon soon after, especially after a bit of “inspiration” kicked in
with whatever was on the menu in terms of stimulants at the disco that
night. Hearing that song always gives my heart a jump-start, tripping
off an immediate adrenaline surge like a Pavlovian dog. When I look
back on that time, it amazes me how many classic club hits emerged
during that little window in 1983. There was a definite sense of a
renaissance for dance music happening and Blue Monday was right at the
forefront of it all.
