New Order - Sunderland 15 August 1984

NME - BLUE WEDNESDAY IN SUNDERLAND

NEW ORDER
Sunderland Mayfair Suite

THE FOYER of the Mayfair Suite - a large grey box on concrete stilts just a few hundred yards away from two massive half-finished oil tankers on the banks of the Wear - could be that at a Mecca ballroom almost anywhere in Britain.

The decor is the ultimate in sophisticated tack, bouncers roam the deep red carpets and the clientele are offered the opportunity to alternate pints of 'heavy' with hamburger suppers at the food bar upstairs.

But tonight’s crowd are not the kind that would usually frequent such a place. Tonight is the opening night of Nre (sic)  Order's most extensive British 'tour' to date: eight concerts already announced with others being added as the Smiths Of Sheffield transit hurtles south towards such rock kernels as Margate, Chippenham and Gloucester.

With over 1,000 tickets sold in advance and a couple of hundred on the door the venue is comfortably full if not exactly buzzing with tense anticipation. The fans arrive in ones and twos, the dress casual without the capital C. The hardcore element are identified not by black leather or green canvas, but by the portable cassette recorders tucked surreptitiously under the arm

Debbie, 15, from Hartlepool is there 'just to say I’ve been' and also in the hope that more bands will visit the town if this concert is well supported. Her friend Sharon is less enthusiastic: “I think they're a bunch of miserable bastards but l'd go and see any band that plays in Sunderland on a Wednesday night. We haven‘t had anyone here since Musical Youth."

The couple in identical Wayfarer shades (in a place this dark?) are more partisan, being committed fans who have travelled up from Teeside. He sees the whole thing as a carry-on from Joy Division. She just likes the lyrics and the 'depressing' sound: "The whole legend that surrounds them obviously has a lot to do with their appeal, and the death of lan Curtis just perpetuated the myth. But we‘ve just come for the music".

Joanne, 20, came "because I like seeking new bands and I heard this lot on the radio and they sounded good." Keith, 22, thinks that 45-minute, non-encore sets are disrespectful to the audience. His friend John, 19, brings up the supposedly fascist undertones of the band name only to add that he thinks any such allegations are totally unfounded.

Barry, 23, has been following the group since JD days and admits slight disappointment at the music they are making now: I'm not really that heavily into the dance stuff. They also seem to be more poppy now, but they're still good musicians. They're still one of the few groups worth bothering about. They keep on the outside of things, so you're always wondering what they're really about and the only way to do that is really through the lyrics. They appeal to me for what they do."

Richard, 24, and sporting a mop of unruly blond hair, is more succinct: "They're a heavy metal band who can't play... but they're a good heavy metal band that can't play."

In the event, Richard is wrong. Ner (sic) Order have played some truly leaden, stuttering messes of live sets in their time, but when they are at their best there are few to touch them. They possess a muscularity that is almost awesome but marry it to a textural and emotional range that still cajoles and suprises their audience.

They open with a newish song that should be their next single. Having only heard it once before at the recent Miners' Benefit in London, it could be called 'I Cannot Stand The Very Thought Of You', although will probably turn up as 'Obsession' or something equally enigmatic. Whatever, it is simply superb, a perfect sequel to the explosive pop rush of 'Temptation'. This rhythm and dynamism is the closest rock music comes to a racing pulse.

The song sets the tone for the first part of the set, the group rushing through 'Thieves Like Us’, a rigorous quartet of tracks from 'Power, Corruption And Lies' and even 'ICB' off 'Movement'. This music is far from cold or clinical, its raw intensity and drive one of the few remaining live rock noises that is positively uplifting.

One of the slightly more dubious characteristics of a New Order set rears its head as the group move on to unrecorded pieces like 'You Know We Love You' (?), which at the moment consists of little more than the 'title' phrase repeated endlessly over a rather old-fashioned jam. New Order, by virtue of their naturalness, are not perfectionists and have long made a habit of debuting half-formed songs. It's an interesting ploy, but one that doesn't always come off. As singer Barney remarks in one of his limited audience-asides, "We’re going to try a new song now, we might get it right. . ."

And the new pieces are liberally splattered towards the end of the set, 'I Thought I Knew You' being powerfully physical with more than a hint of an old JD bassline and 'Have Some Sun' developing the polyrhythmic dance sensibility of the group's flirtation with New York hip hop.

And what of 'Blue Monday'? As the Mayfair breaks into a massed chorus of 'Howay The Lads' - the North-East's answer to Scotland's 'Here We Go, Here We Go' - Barney informs them that the group no longer perform that particular opus.

“We're never going to play that song again. In fact we‘re sick to death of it!"

By now, the rest of the group are onstage, plugging in their instruments and beginning to tune up again. New Order no longer “don't do encores", of course, and withing seconds are into the opening bars of 'Blue Monday'.

The joke was probably on Barney.

Adrian Thrills