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).

NEW ORDER - BLUE MONDAY 12” @ 40

 

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.

NEW ORDER - MOVEMENT @ 40

 

November 19th marks the 40th anniversary of the release of the debut album by New Order, Movement, which hit the shelves this day in 1981. After the tragedy of Ian Curtis’ suicide, which put an end to the meteoric rise of Joy Division as one of the UK’s most respected post-punk bands, Movement faced the impossible task of overcoming the infamy of that sorrow while attempting to convince fans that there was still a reason for this band to continue under it’s new banner.

In a sense, it was always a no-win proposition to have to go up against the mythology of Joy Division and, in many regards, Movement wasn’t up to the task, at least for some minds of the time. It’s not that the band didn’t have it in them, as was decisively proven with their next album, Power Corruption & Lies and the mammoth companion single, Blue Monday. They most definitely had the ability to crawl out from under that shadow, but there had to be an inevitable transitional period to make that rebirth fully possible. And while the impossible expectations for New Order coming out of the gate doomed their debut to unfair comparisons, retrospectively, people have been able to go back and give the album a fairer shake and reassess its attributes without the weight of what had gone before.

The fact is that it’s a troubled album as it tries to come to grips with recent history, but it’s also true that it does so with a sense of steely determination. While there’s a lot of gloom to cope with, there’s light peeking out all over the place as the desire to move forward and survive burns determinedly from the very first song to the last. There’s sadness here, but it’s not hopelessness. That feeling died with Ian Curtis. This is an exercise in coming to terms with grief and finding out how to move past it and forge an optimistic future.

Even with that determination, there’s still a bit of hesitation going on here. The vocals are often buried in the mix and they weren’t sure who should take the lead, so the guys all take their turn giving it a go. It’s the only place where the album feels hesitant. It’s the first thing I noticed about it when I first played it when it was originally released. When you’ve got shoes like Ian’s to fill, it’s gonna be imposing for anyone to try them on. In the end, by the time the second album came along, they’d wisely set those shoes aside. But the vocal duties were not the only thing that needed sorting out.

The production chair was, by the this album, still held by Martin Hannett, but his relationship with the band was on the outs with Movement and it would turn out to be the last album he’d do with them. By this time, Hannett was embroiled in legal disputes with Factory and was crumbling in the grips of substance abuse. It’s been noted by the band that he was mostly uncooperative when working with them and the production may have suffered somewhat because of this. It’s not terrible or noticeable, for me anyway, but the band members have commented on being less than fully satisfied with the end product. There was even talk of re-recording the whole album at one point, but scheduling left that option in the dust.

Though it has a somewhat troubled genesis, it was essentially an unavoidable stepping stone the group had to take in order to find their footing again. I still find it a good listen and, these days, I can easily overlook any hesitancy in its execution. I tend to hear more of its positive attributes and the sense of survival that radiates from it. You can’t say they weren’t trying their best to deal with a shit situation and it still stacks up better than most other albums of the era.