Showing posts with label Bernard Sumner. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Bernard Sumner. Show all posts

2023-05-02

NEW ORDER - POWER CORRUPTION & LIES @ 40

 

Marking its 40th anniversary today is the sophomore LP from New Order, Power, Corruption & Lies, which was released by Factory Records on May 2nd, 1983. After a tentative step out from under of the shadows of Joy Division and the suicide of Ian Curtis with their debut LP in 1981, New Order were clearly letting the world know they were freed of the shackles of their past and ready to move forward as a reconstituted creative force. Backed by the unprecedented success of the Blue Monday single released in March that same year, this double-barrelled assault on the underground proved to be irresistible for fans and critics alike.

Building on the foundations set by Blue Monday, which was not included on the album, New Order set their sights on a distinctly more electronic sound, incorporating more sequencers, drum machines and synths into their arsenal than their first album & singles. This helped give the group a more distinct sound than their debut album which still bore many sonic trademarks established by Joy Division. It wasn’t a complete stylistic departure and there were still hints of past ghosts in the themes. The brighter, tighter sound still had their essential post-punk DNA in it, but the greys and monotones of previous recordings were blushing with more color and intricacy. The mood was decidedly less introverted, with guitarist Bernard Sumner stepping up to assume the brunt of lead vocals, performing with more confidence while being less hidden in the mix.

The distinctive cover of the album was designed by Peter Saville and followed on from the Blue Monday graphics with their use of the color coded key on the sleeve’s edge, but this time featuring the painting "A Basket of Roses" by French artist Henri Fantin-Latour, which is part of the National Gallery's permanent collection in London. Saville had originally planned to use a Renaissance portrait of a dark prince to tie in with the Machiavellian theme of the title, but could not find a suitable portrait. At the gallery Saville picked up a postcard with Fantin-Latour's painting, and his girlfriend mockingly asked him if he was going to use it for the cover. Saville then realized it was a great idea because the flowers "suggested the means by which power, corruption and lies infiltrate our lives. They're seductive." The owner of the painting (The National Heritage Trust) first refused the label access to it, but Tony Wilson called up the gallery director to ask who actually owned the painting and was given the answer that the Trust belonged to the people of Britain. Wilson then replied, "I believe the people want it." The director then replied, "If you put it like that, Mr Wilson, I'm sure we can make an exception in this case." The cover was later among the ten chosen by the Royal Mail for a set of "Classic Album Cover" postage stamps issued in January 2010.

Upon it’s release, the album became an immediate critical sensation and has since gone on to achieve legendary status, regularly referenced as one of the best albums of the era and even of all times. In 1989, Power, Corruption & Lies was ranked number 94 on Rolling Stone's list of the 100 greatest albums of the 1980s, with the magazine citing it as "a landmark album of danceable, post-punk music". Rolling Stone also placed the album at number 262 on the 2020 edition of its list of the 500 greatest albums of all time (it was not included on the original 2003 and 2012 lists).

2020-05-18

INFLUENTIAL ALBUM - JOY DIVISION, UNKNOWN PLEASURES


On the 40th anniversary of the death of Ian Curtis (May 18/1980), it seems fitting to share some thoughts on what is, perhaps, Joy Division's most iconic album, Unknown Pleasures. Not that there's a lot of records to pick from, given the short lifespan of the band, but even from the perspective of the cover graphics, when you think of this man and the band he fronted, this is likely the first image that comes to mind.

I discovered Joy Division in the latter half of1980, by which time Ian's "deed" was done and the band had already become something of a myth in the alternative music press. I just recall hearing about this band that was so dark and depressing, their singer had topped himself, so there was this morbid curiosity shrouding the band. If I remember correctly, I ended up getting this in the little import bin at the Thunder Bay, ON, Records on Wheels outlet. At the time, I was in full fledged PiL mania and was still playing Second Edition at least once or twice a day, but I was also on the lookout for something that could compete with the brutal hardness of what was coming from that camp. "Post Punk", as a genre, was still fleshing itself out, but Joy Division soon established itself as the next front line.

When I got the album, obviously the first thing that struck me was the packaging. Not just the starkness of the cover graphics, but the texture of the sleeve as well. I'd never seen a cover like that before. Just holding the album was a tactile experience. The overall aura of it all seemed so very dark. This is a few years before Spinal Tap, but even with the white squiggly lines breaking up the darkness, this seemed like there were "none more black".

Putting on the album, the next thing that strikes is the weird production, especially Stephen Morris' drums and the way they were recorded. I didn't quite comprehend it at the time, but this was all down to the genius of producer Martin Hannett. He's somehow managed to take the thrash of this pseudo-punk band and turn it inside-out on itself. Everything sounded like it was in the wrong place, but in exactly the right way. Peter Hook's bass was played up high, most of the time, with the kick being used to hold down the subs.  Bernard Sumner's guitars seemed to be off in the distance, jangling and grinding away in a corner. And the whole thing was wrapped around with this foggy ambience of strange electronic ghosts.

In front of it all was Ian's voice. I have to say it was a bit jarring at first. It wasn't like any "rock" vocalist I'd ever heard before. Maybe, in a pinch, there was a bit of Bowie about it, but only vaguely. Honestly, there's more Bing Crosby about it than Bowie. For the most part, it was its own thing and took a bit of getting used to. There was no escaping the knowledge of his fate either. Listening to the words, you couldn't help but look for clues, reasons why he'd decided to end it all. It was a somber listening experience, not really something you'd put on and party with, but it was completely engrossing. It sounded like an entire universe into itself and each player was a million miles away from the others, but it all came together into this expansive whole.

It's a record which has taken on incredible proportions over the years. It still sounds futuristic and beyond the times. It's ageless and timeless. I can only speculate on what might have happened to it if it hadn't been framed by such personal tragedy.

RIP, Ian Curtis