New Order - "The Best Of" Review

NME - HOOK ON CLASSICS

NEW ORDER
The Best Of New Order
(London/All formats)
MEMORIES ARE made of this... Contrary to popular (dis)belief, Greatest Hits collections are not merely a mercenary sleight of hand by men in suits to empty already generous pockets. Nor are such compilations exploited to fulfil contractual obligations or pay off debts of the decidedly crushing variety. Especially when the artist(s) in question have already succumbed to the comprehensive cobbling-together of product that was ‘Substance’. No sirree. They are actually fulfilling a public service.

See, this new New Order selection acts as a catalyst to the mind, triggering off all manner of hazy/hilarious memories half-lost to the vagaries of drink'n'drugs. It's the way the opening bars of 'Bizarre Love Triangle' immediately transport you back to doing the dance of the berserk mongoose at el crappo Goff clubs in Stratford.

It's the way '1963' whisks you off to drunken pool-shooting sessions in downtown Walthamstow, where this particular track (a shy B-side at the time) received an inordinate amount of pub plays because 'True Faith’ had been put in the jukebox the wrong way round. It's the way in which you can equate the musical with the personal, and feel completely justified when you recall sniffing haughtily at the cold sleekness of 'Technique' - "S'not half as good as they used to be," you‘d mutter, gleefully ignoring the fact that everyone else on Planet Dance was convinced that the new record was the equivalent of The Second Coming.

And why not? At their very best, New Order were such a mass of contradictions the mind could hardly fail to be boggled. The live soirées were either astounding or astoundingly awful. The lyrics careered from the blindingly banal to the soul-destroyingly poignant (see "There’s too many ways that you can kill someone/Like a love affair when the love has gone"). And, on the likes of 'Thieves Like Us' and 'The Perfect Kiss’, New Order somehow married Peter Hook's thuggishness and Bernard Sumner's vulnerability with a level of brilliance that scarce few bands - British or otherwise - have even threatened to reach.

Looking back, the poetic observer can view New Order's career as a rather long, drawn-out sunrise: from the nascent, grim rumblings of 'Ceremony’ and ‘Everything's Gone Green' (neither of which are included here, natch) all the way through to the insanely cheery chant-a-long that was the footie-tastic ‘World In Motion'. Along the way they slipped from House to housewives' choice and, in 'Blue Monday', achieved the quite miraculous feat of a crossing over from indie saddoes to dancing queens without blowing their bedsit cool. Because, unhampered by the cultural blinkers of say, The Smiths, New Order were free to roam (and moan) as far and wide as they blinkin' well pleased. And so they did.

Thanks to the cheeky non-chronological running Order, 'The Best Of...’ swings like a well-hung elephant from the burbling hysteria of 'Fine Time', replete with crazed gizmo overload, to the fearsomely arrogant rifferama that is 'Regret'; from the crunchy minimalism of ‘Shell Shock' (now sounding uncannily like an East 17 demo, for some unfathomable reason) to the vaguely mournful ‘Ruined In A Day'. And, of course, this being a supremely personal experience, there still lurks a vast - nay, ocean-like - gulf between New Order at their finest and New Order at, well, their smoothest.

This is the very thing that separates an early album like 'Lowlife' from a later effort like ‘Technique'. It's almost as if in the mid- 805 New Order were still learning about what technology could do for them. They were (harrumph!) tech-ing the piss, if you will. They were cool for the very same reason they were uncool, clumsily finding their dancing feet and abusing the most basic dynamics at their disposal. That's why the explosion of galloping sound that seals The Perfect Kiss' remains one of the most extraordinary moments ever committed to vinyl, blessed as it is with a mixture of joyful naivety and drop-dead flash basslines. It still boils the goosebumps.

And that’s why the likes of 'Run 2' and ‘Round And Round' sound relatively sterile by comparison - having seemingly learnt all the necessary tricks of the trade, New Order became merely polished instead of leaving innocent punters pole-axed. They glided along, one part sarky stubborness, several parts Average White Bland, none more streamlined and ’perfect' than with the ersatz soul of 'World (Price Of Love)’. They had become nothing more (or less) than A Good Pop Band. But - hey! - that's just a saddo's personal opinion, right? The dancing queens grooved on, regardless...

As they should. Just listen to Bernard deadpanning "Oh, it’s called love, and it’s soooo uncool..." and you too will be whisked back to times you'd (probably) rather forget and confronted by a future you’d rather not contemplate. That's how good New Order could be. Simply? The Best. (8)

Simon Williams

Released on November 27.