JOY DIVISION - UNKNOWN PLEASURES @ 45

Released on June 15th, 1979, the debut LP by Joy Division, Unknown Pleasures, is celebrating 45 years on the shelf today. It's an album that would define both the band and a genre of music, bringing to the fore the potential of studio production in a way that was as significant as The Beatles' Sgt. Pepper, elevating what could have been a mundane post-punk band to the level of visionary pioneers.

Joy Division's beginnings and career have been well documented in recent years, with both theatrical dramatizations and documentaries detailing everything from their inception following that infamous 1976 Manchester Sex Pistols gig to the tragic 1980 suicide of their lead singer, Ian Curtis. The creation of their first LP was a case of an unsuspecting young band falling into the clutches of an ambitious producer who was looking to redefine his role in the studio. Over the course of three weekends in April of 1979, Martin Hannett would impose his signature sound on the group, a move that would leave some members of the band feeling like they'd been misrepresented by the end product.

Once Joy Division got into the studio to record, Martin set about taking their raw, aggressive sound and deconstructing it, pulling the pieces apart and setting them out in a sonic landscape that emphasized distance and negative space. Akin to the approaches that defined dub music, Hannett utilized reverb, echo and abstract electronic ambience to push those pieces into a more expansive configuration where each element suddenly stood out in stark relief, accented and counterpointed in ways that were much more subtle than the "pedal to the metal" thrust the band would use on stage. The effect was to soften their sound, while also creating a menacing and brooding sense of depth and space, with its accompanying sense of isolation. It's an approach that engendered feelings of paranoia and apprehension. Of course, that tactic was greatly enabled by superlative songs and the somewhat unorthodox style of the band, which pushed the bass frequencies in to the upper register, an approach Peter Hook had developed simply out of a necessity to be able to hear himself on stage against the extreme volumes they favoured in their performances.

Once the album was mixed, some members of the band came away from the production feeling disheartened and frustrated by the way they were reshaped in the studio. Hook, in particular, had envisioned a harder, tighter and more concentrated sound from the band, and its only in recent years that he's been able to concede that there was method in Hannett's madness, and that the end results stand the test of time. Some critics were also ambivalent towards Hannett's indulgences, dismissing them as frivolous ornamentation and distractions from the band's essence. But the tides of legacy have seen the album codified as a comprehensive masterwork of innovation and originality. Nothing had sounded anything like it beforehand, with every instrument finding a distinctive new texture and tenor of expression.

The graphic design for the album has also gone on to have a life of its own as a distinctive item of iconography. It's become so ubiquitously associated with the band that one has to wonder how many of the millennial and gen-Z folks running around with the design on their T-shirts have ever actually listened to the record. Taken as a whole, they add up to an artifact that defines a generation and survives as a timeless example of musical risk taking at its best.

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