Thursday, 25 September 2008
New Order deserve better than this. New Order were a band much loved, and much overlooked. Loved by a few, liked by many, often overseen during their lifetime, New Order changed the musical palette and defined in a single swoop with their work everything that their imitators could never capture. New Order were about the place where cool meets cold, where emotion meets electronics, where man meets and machine. In New Order’s hands technology became the tool that allowed expression to the inarticulate speech of the heart. It may sound a simple combination, but the cohesion of the bands work allowed searing guitars, slick and immaculately produced rhythms, melancholic yet euphoric keyboards, and Peter Hook’s unique bass style to create something that sounded like no other group on Earth. This, matched with the occasionally limited vocal of Bernard Sumner - a man who never wanted to be a singer but found themselves such by default - gave the group an emotional resonance and honesty far beyond the technically perfect but empty blabbering of people like Whitney Houston. Their body of work, the bulk of which is represented in these reissues, is a sizable contribution to the musical world.
Not only that, but New Order were one of the few bands to truly understand the artistic statement of the work : it wasn’t just the music, but everything about their work, that was a statement in itself. The packages the records were presented in were quality works of mass produced art : no mere wrapping like a chocolate bar, but an artistic statement in itself : promotional videos were obtuse, short art films. Record sleeves were assembled with care and a style by visual artists designed to stand as strong images in their own right. (at one point, the sleeve became more a typographical experiment that deconstructed the very nature of consumer technology and the sleeve itself instead of being a ‘mere’ image that contained music).
However, little of the virtues of their later work can be found in the first steps. In contrast to the Joy Division compilation “Still”, debut album “Movement” by title alone indicated that the group had moved forward : but not by much. The songs themselves are by no means bad, but they aren’t very good either. If “Movement” represents anything, it’s the sound of a band treading water, growing into themselves, making music through habit and determination but with not much to say. Lyrically, Sumner is repeating the themes of Joy Division, but following the law of diminishing returns : the words lack the potency of their previous work, and in them, it sounds like the work of an unconfident imitator. Curtis’ shoes were big ones to fill, and it was only when Sumner and the rest of the group grow in confidence and stepped out of the shadow to be their own men that their work became truly interesting. When they stopped thinking about the music, and started playing the music, New Order found their voice.
For “Movement” is swamped with a murky and verbose production from Martin Hannett, New Order sound like a band decapitated. The basic template of material had not deviated an inch from Joy Division, the same styles and themes, and sadly demonstrates a significant lack of progression. The band power furiously on with no shortage of style and imagination, but the effort is lacking in effectiveness as there is no core idea, no inspiration behind it. Vocals are muddied and hidden, barely detectable under the overeager production work. Even on the best songs such as “Dreams Never End” - a rampaging cousin of “Ceremony” - the song is buried with production tricks designed to hide the original and overcompensate for a lack of confidence. No amount of remastering can fix the core problem of the album : the production detracts from the songs and creates unsatisfactory results. Inside this average album some quite good songs are screaming to get out and being buried alive.
Somewhat bafflingly then, the production of the bands single releases around this time was clear and precise. The second disc of this reissue - like each bonus disc for the reissues - offers no more, and no less, than a compilation of the bands singles from the time. These discs are compiled without care or attention, without a moments thought as to what these songs would actually sound like when listen to an entity in their own right. As a result, each bonus disc is a disjointed compilation of about half the stuff the band put out at the same time. As a listening experience, each bonus disc is deeply unsatisfactory to listen to, lacking in any narrative or sense, yet often out of chronological sequence. “In A Lonely Place” is a funeral dirge, last played live to shattering effect as the finale of their first show in 5 years a decade ago in Manchester. Here it is shuffled after a euphoric “Temptation”, and followed by the racing “Everything’s Gone Green” : it sounds like a disco where Johnny Cash‘s “Hurt” is sandwiched between “Wannabe” and “Born Slippy”. The sequencing is frankly, appalling, and lacking in any discernable modus operandi.
Not only that, but the 7” and 12” versions of “Temptation” (the 7” doesn’t have an ending, the 12” doesn’t have a beginning) are repeated, instead of the complete recording of the song in its entirity.
The other drawback of these discs is that they are both highly repetitive and utterly incomplete. The bands numerous radio session recordings - offering far superior versions of the “Movement” LP tracks, as well as unreleased cover versions and embryonic originals far removed from their later official releases - are missing (and long deleted). The much bootlegged original first demo sessions, and material the band recorded for vocalist Kevin Hewick, is also missing. The picture presented by the “Movement” reissue is lacking and incoherent. It’s not a bad place to start if you want the original LP’s, and don’t already own the bands previous releases, but there’s no compelling reason to buy these again if you already have them on the multitude of “best ofs“ that have been released over the years. It’s only a fraction of the band’s work at the time.
“Power, Corruption And Lies” saw the band move into their own. Whilst New Order hadn’t quite got the hang of writing a brilliant album by this point, there’s certainly a fine albums worth of material here. Their insistence on slicing a couple of their best songs off the album and putting them on singles in their own right meant that LP space was occupied by the occasional poor song that really should’ve stayed on the B Side of a 12” single. “Blue Monday”, the depressives version of “I Feel Love”, never appeared on a New Order album until five years after it came out. “Power” sees the band demonstrate that, if nothing else, their production ear was and is immaculate, and that they could occupy the space between being a powerfully effective, weird art rock band (“Age Of Consent”, “Leave Me Alone“) and sad disco (“586”) whilst sounding like the same band at the same time. At this point, the band were at the apex of their experimentalism, producing material that sounds like it was written by psychotic robot clones of the Velvet Underground and heartbroken dancers at the same time. As a package, the album is an almost complete artistic statement : including the oblique sleeve art that sees a reinterpretation of a classic artwork, and reducing the need of typography to a colour code (each colour represents a letter, and thus, the titles are listed on the cover, albeit by colour and not by any recognisable language). As an audacious concept, New Order took the desire of design and the concept of music as art beyond what most other musicians could even concieve.
Again the bonus disc is frustratingly incomplete and lacking in cohesion : there’s no sign of the 1982 Radio Session that saw prototypes of these songs recorded, no sign of the cassette only “Video 586” soundtrack, no trace of the legendary Christmas Flexidisc which saw the band tackling Christmas Carols, nor the odd occasional live cover versions they would indulge in such as live jams with Section 25, or “When I‘m With You“. This neglected, experimental side of the band provides a skewed version of their history : let alone the traditional out-takes, demos, and other stuff that we don’t know exists but lives in Manchester basements. Everything on here is a A or B-side, and has been out before on various compilation releases and other, equally unsatisfactory box sets. Sure, the music is fantastic, but almost everyone has heard it before. Let’s not mention the large number of old concert VHS tapes released and broadcast between 1985 and 1993 that are now deleted that could be quickly and easily transferred to DVD. These reissues fail to satisfy any fan of the group with anything more than the basic knowledge of the band. It’s by no means a poor package, but is very much the sound of an open goal in providing a package that would please fans of the band’s work. Again, the bonus disc sounds like a hastily assembled filler mixtape with no thought as to how it would sound when listened to as a whole.
“Low Life” sees the band strike out into a slightly different territory. Opening with a quirky disco country and western number, the album sees a harder edge to their work, a more effective song writing partnership that moves away from sheer experimentalism into a welding of technology and sound to melody, and sees the first consistently good New Order LP with no obvious stinkers on it. Mid-placed “Elegia” is a brilliant mood piece designed to soundtrack a thousand BBC documentaries, whilst the rest of the record assuredly powers along as a hybrid of rock and electronic soul that creates a meaty, powerful sound that the bands lesser imitators never approached. “The Perfect Kiss” is possibly the most perfect single New Order song of all time, starting with a quiet drum machine workout, before effortlessly, and ridiculously exploding into a Storm-Und-Drang epic of sound that is the sonic equivalent of all the Star Wars films at once, complete with a burping frog chorus and a cowbell solo. Sadly, the additional passage from the instrumental 12” (a selection of phased gasps that push the song beyond the 10 minute barrier), are not here.
The rest of Low Life is equally effective : the band confidently stride into a distinct unique territory, where euphoric synth sweeps are replaced by a precise single picked keyboard sound based upon arpeggios, giving the music a less majestic, more intimate sound. This is matched with odd imperfections : an out-of-tune vocal here, a cough there. It’s not a flawless LP performance or production wise, but an accurate reflection of the groups enthusiasm and energy at the time with a consistent set of solid and interesting material. For the first time in their career, there is not a note of it that sounds like the work of a group trying to fill space because they’d put the best songs on a 12” single.
The bonus disc is again a disappointment for the knowledgable. Several songs are missing from the “Salvation” soundtrack album. Not only that, but alternate versions of “Sunrise” and “Subculture” that appeared on magazine EP’s, as well as a much-circulated vocal version of “Let’s Go”, are missing for no apparent reason. In the middle of two, fairly upbeat tracks, we get a 17 minute, mogadon instrumental which really should bookend any collection. Again, its assembled with no apparent thought for what this record will actually sound like in one go. Not only that, but the pretty awful - albeit experimental - John Robie remixes of “Subculture” are here : these two tracks are, not to be polite about it, exercises in post-modern minimalist boredom. Passages are repeated ad nauseum, the song sliced and diced into shards and endlessly repeated like a scratched vinyl record, and barely listenable. Quite why the band chose not create ‘master’ versions of these songs, taking all the different passages that were recorded and placed over endless 12” remixes, into one coherent, long version of the song I do not know. It sells the epic vision and experimentalism the band were working on short in favour of tedious repetition. Not only that, but it appears that the band have chosen to duplicate the John Robie remix of “State Of The Nation” - which is also on “Brotherhood” - in a largely unforgivable act of lazy duplication. In the meantime, the alternate recording of the song (“Shame Of The Nation”) is absent. Lets not even mention the complete absence of any previously unheard music throughout these releases. It’s a poor bonus disc made of 12” versions that have been frequently reissued and available across the years, assembled in a way that defines any conventional sequencing or common sense.
“Brotherhood” is New Orders fourth album. Aside from the wonderful “Bizarre Love Triangle”, it has largely and unfairly written out of history. This release sees the band abandon John Robie’s dated production techniques (squelchy bass and histronic female vocalist squealing) in favour of a more conventional, heavier approach. I remember trying to get my brother to listen to one song and telling him it was heavier than Aerosmith. Oh folly of youth!
Nonetheless, side one sees New Order at the heaviest they would be for years. Largely abandoning the synths in favour of a stinging two guitar assault, the material is driven and driving, fuelled by a desperate hopeless resistance, and frantic bass playing. Unlike “Movement”, where sparse songs were swamped in production, this sees dense material matched with clear and pristine production. Aside from the brief interlude of “As It Is When It Was”, the material on side one would be rarely visited live after release, as it started to morph into one largely homogenus mood piece. Side two is a more rewarding listen : New Order revisiting their more electronic side to produce a suite of luxurious, expansive material of no small beauty. “Bizarre Love Triangle” (despite containing barely any human elements bar bass and vocals), is perhaps their second finest moment - a glorious epic of near perfect melody. Matching the original CD release, though really it should not be here, is “State Of The Nation” at the end. It does not flow with the traditional end of the album (“Every Little Counts”), and jars the listener out of the moment. I wish they’d paid a little attention and removed it from the disc.
The ‘bonus’ disc is again, the usual assortment and hodge podge of 12” mixes from around the same time. It lacks the instrumental version of “Bizarre Dub Triangle” (only available on a US CD single and some 12”s), tracks from compilation albums such as “Theme A La MGM”, and the re-recorded material that was on the “Substance” album. In short it’s an incomplete mess that misses out some obvious material recorded at the time, adds some fairly useless remixes that are far beyond the era covered by the disc, and sounds like an incomplete and ill thought mixtape. Frankly, the omissions of “Temptation” and “Confusion” which have been completely re-recorded - whilst including the partially overdubbed “Blue Monday” 1988 is baffling and utterly inconsistent. It’s, once again, an incomplete disc lacking in thought or care and only worth getting if you don’t already have everything on it.
“Technique”, meanwhile, is possibly the finest single New Order album there is. It straddles, effortlessly, the gulf between euphoric/melancholic guitar-disco in a way that thrillingly combines the possibility of man and drum machine in perfect harmony, as well as moving towards some of the bands more traditional group work. It kicks off with the All Guns Blazing, definitive balaeric beat of “Fine Time”, if nothing, a daft, silly, brilliant song about sex, complete with rampant drums, overloaded kitchen sink bleeps and bloops, random guitar swipes, and a general air of hands-in-the-air craziness. It makes perfect sense at 4am in 1989, and it makes sense now. The other thirty five minutes are equally exciting : a particularly English blend of joy and joy division, with material that offers consistently excellent song writing and immaculate production, as well as far outstripping almost every other act of the time in terms of imagination, innovation, and independence. Side two operates at a high point, with “Vanishing Point”, “Mr Disco”, and the glorious prog-rock snippet of “Run” that forms a cohesive, definitive New order album, ,demonstrating their work at the height of their abilities. If you own nothing else of theirs, start here.
The bonus disc, true to form with the rest of the set, fails to satisfy the knowledgable fans of the band. Despite canvassing fan opinion, the finished product appears to ignore completely any suggestions. Despite several live shows from their career being prepared for release and on the cusp of inclusion, “Technique” again features a selection of meandering instrumental bsides, stodgy remixes, and absolutely nothing of interest to anyone who bought the records when they came out. Even well known unreleased track “The Happy One”is omitted. In addition, the re-recorded, remixed, and extended “Round & Round” is presented not in the New Order 12” mix, but a generic house mix from Kevin Sanderson that is dated and a bit boring. This reissue features “World In Motion” (but not the alternate recording of “The B Side”, which takes a parody of football to laughably brilliant levels), and yet another pointless remix that demonstrates the moment when New Order started farming out their material to ‘contemporary’ remixers who produced generic one-size-fits-all club nonsense when they couldn’t be bothered anymore. About the only truly great rarity on the disc is the “Making Out Mix” of “Vanishing Point” which takes the great song into the realms of a musical, instrumental journey with new parts, ideas, and variations that takes its cue from the large amount of out-takes from the “Technique” sessions the band reworked into television soundtrack material.
At one point the perfect combination of euphoric techno-pop, the other side of “Technique” is an effective melancholy : in many way, this vibrancy is matched with the knowledge of the hangover, the morning after, the inevitable fall of what has risen, which in many ways sums up the joyous disappointment that is human experience and these New Order reissues in a nutshell. Unlike the previous Joy Division reissues that added to the legacy by expanding the known universe with unheard recordings, these reissues fail to satisfy the dedicated or knowledgable fan of the band by presenting an ineffective, and seemingly randomly ordered collection of B-sides from the time, with no previously unheard gems. it’s the sound of brilliant music and also an open goal, a missed opportunity, a wilful failure to take the care and attention music this important deserves. The music is brilliant, the extra tracks are random and appallingly sequenced without reason, consistency, or narrative, and with no real reason to buy them if you were there at the time. New Order deserved better than this.Only registered users can write comments.
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