1985 08 31 Sounds New Order Feature

NEW ORDER 

a new ordeal in low~life

It’s a dark day in downtown Manchester and New Order, on the eve of their US tour, are insisting show business is a lie. Incensed at this blasphemy and heedless of the danger, MAURICE LOMAS puts up his dukes and argues. Referee: KEVIN CUMMINS

IT WAS a blue Friday. I was in a grey mood. If a black cat had crossed my path, I’d probably have kicked it.

I’d had a bad day and I felt like staying home and cheering myself up with a few chapters of Franz Kafka.

Instead, I had to content myself with the ready wit and razor sharp repartee of a band called New Order.

After three attempts to secure an interview with these crazy swingers, their manager, Rob Gretton, finally arranged a meeting in a downtown watering hole called Hoyts. After ten minutes Barney, the guitarist, appeared, explaining that his comrades would soon come merrily skipping into my life. Barney’s a friendly chap so I tried the direct approach.

Why had it been so hard to get an interview with New Order?

“That’s a misconception, really. It’s just that we’ve been so busy lately. We’re touring America for four weeks and we’ve been heavily into rehearsing. We’ve nothing against journalists but, if we’ve got something better to do like watch telly or go for a drink, we’d rather not be interviewed.”

I admit that I’d almost failed to recognise him.

“That’s one of the useful things about being in New Order. Our faces don’t appear on album covers and there’s no frontman. That means it’s possible to go out for a drink without being hassled. I hate it when people recognise me. It can be really embarrassing.”

I asked Barney about his singing which, to my mind, has always sounded rather frail and nervous.

“When Ian died, one of us had to be the singer and I was the best of a bad bunch. If you’ve noticed, I find it impossible to sing and play guitar at the same time, so Gillian and Hook double up for me while I’m singing. Before New Order, I literally never sang. Not even in my bedroom or in the bath.”

AT THIS point, Hook the bassist, Steve the drummer and Gillian the synthesiser maestro appeared, accompanied by Gretton, a bespectacled, grey-bearded businessman. With everyone assembled, the atmosphere altered considerably. Barney’s spirits were noticeably dampened by the presence of his rhythm pals and suddenly I was surrounded by four deaf mutes.

“Well,” I said. “You’re all obviously overjoyed to meet me.”

Steve laughed. The others remained silent. I decided to chance a question, just for the hell of it.

Did they seriously trust Tony Wilson? A ripple of reluctant merriment.

“I trust him as a manager,” said Barney, “but I wouldn’t trust him with a penny of my money.”

I mentioned a Channel 4 documentary in which Tony, whilst being interviewed in the bath, kept his hand coyly clasped over his members.

“Ah,” explained Barney with a laugh. “That’s where he keeps his money."

Changing topics, why, I ventured, — unwisely, on reflection — had the band got such a lousy reputation?

“We haven’t got a lousy reputation,” retorted Gretton, “except with journalists and they don’t count.”

Hook surfaced from his quagmire of moodiness to throw in an idea. “Journalists are just voyeurs.”

“They’re not creative,” continued Gretton. “They just write about other people who are creative. Journalists themselves aren’t creative at all.”

Bang go Charles Dickens, Raymond Chandler, James Cameron, George Orwell, Dylan Thomas and J M Barrie, successful journalists all. In view of this opinion, why had they agreed to an interview with me?

“Because, when I spoke to you on the phone,” replied Gretton amidst general hilarity, “it was obvious that you knew hardly anything about us. We thought it’d be nice to talk to someone without too many preconceptions. We also liked the idea of encouraging a journalist who lives in Manchester.”

Barney went to the lavatory. I commented on his weak bladder and his amiable disposition.

“He’s got a gob like a dustbin,” said Hook. “He’s like a little kid. He’ll talk to anyone for a toffee."

So, was there anything the band would particularly like to say?

“Yeah," said Hook. “Why do you ask such dumb questions?”

Why did I ask such dumb questions? What difference did it make?

Clearly, Hook was in no mood for conversation.

“You obviously don’t like a challenge,” he followed up.

“I don’t like a challenge?”

“If you repeat what I say one more time, I’m really going to have doubts about you.”

“Do you want a fight?” I inquired.

“Do I want a fight?” said Hook. “Why?”

“It just seems like the logical conclusion to the way you’re acting. If you want to fight, just say so. Let’s fight.”

Not exactly a rejoinder worthy of Oscar Wilde, I must admit, but the best I could manage at the time.

THE STORM passed over and I attempted to ask the band about their favourite writers and film directors. Gretton quizzed them each in turn for me. Steve likes James Herbert, Gillian couldn’t think of anyone. Barney likes H G Wells. Hook admires Sven Hassel. They shared an admiration for the films of Werner Herzog. Barney took the opportunity to express a deep feeling of empathy with the work of Bernard Manning.

And what about contemporary musicians?

“I love The Jesus and Mary Chain,” said Hook. “I think they’re absolutely brilliant.”

Really?

“No, not really. They’re the biggest load of shite I’ve ever heard in my life.”

Let’s get a little deeper. ‘Love Vigilantes’ is one of my favourite tracks on ‘Low Life’. It’s basically a song about the pain of being separated from loved ones. Were they close to their own families?

“I’ve got a little girl,” revealed Hook, “and Barney’s got a boy. We want to see them grow up. That’s one thing I’ve got against this business... it can ruin relationships. We don’t want to go on world tours and miss years out of our kids’ lives.”

Did Steve and Gillian live together?

“Now and then,” replied Gillian laconically. “Don’t you want to be quoted in this interview?” I asked.

“I’ve got a headache,” she replied.

THE BUSINESS of families apparently plumbed, we moved on to discuss the business of songwriting, a more than fruitful new subject. By consensus, the Order stated that one of the main advantages of recording for Factory is that albums don’t have to be made to satisfy contractual demands, thus leaving the band free to record when the creative urge takes them. They all own home recording gear on which they store their musical ideas, and when they jam together, these ideas are pooled and if all goes well, songs develop.

“We usually start with a strong rhythm,” Barney developed. “Then Hookey comes up with a bass line.”

“I try to provide a good riff,” interjected Hook. “Songs are sometimes written around that riff, but there’s no rigid formula. We like to leave room for spontaneity.”

“The lyrics grow with the song,” continued Barney. “The music suggests feelings and the words grow out of those feelings. I write about 60 per cent of the lyrics and the others throw in the odd line here and there. Lyrics are never written over the top of a finished piece, they are an integral part of the music. That’s why we never enclose lyric sheets. We want each song to be listened to as a corporate whole.”

And supposing - as on the album version of ‘The Perfect Kiss’ - the words are almost inaudible?

“That can be more interesting, sometimes," said Hook. “It’s nice to retain an element of mystery.”

New Order now produce their own work. ‘Low Life’ took four weeks to record and two weeks to mix. As mixing is such a vital process, were there ever arguments? How could four people reach an agreement on a final mix, when everyone’s aural preferences are different?

“We have to compromise,” Hook expounded. “We vote on where we want the levels and, if you’re out-voted, you just have to learn to live with it. If we didn’t compromise, we’d never get anything done.”

Were they still recording on digital equipment?

“No ... the ‘Power, Corruption and Lies’ album was recorded in a digital studio but we found the sound was too clean for our style of music. ‘Low Life’ was recorded with antiquated equipment because we wanted the dirtiness back, particularly on the lower, bassier levels.”

Glad that we were getting on better, I asked whether New Order made albums solely for themselves or whether they cared about their fans. Hook turned his nose up at the word ‘fan’. “Well, let’s say we care about the people who listen to us. For instance, when we came to record the album, we realised we had only seven new songs worth recording and an eighth that just wasn’t good enough. So, rather than put something sub-standard out, we re-mixed ‘The Perfect Kiss’. We spent 48 hours re-mixing that song, and I’m talking about two days without sleep. So of course we care." If their dedication to their music is total, however, their enthusiasm for show business appears to be slightly less than wholehearted. Surely, like all entertainers, they secretly yearned to top the bill at the London Palladium?

“Show business is a lie,” declared Steve vehemently. “It’s completely false and I don’t want to be part of it.”

“We’d never have a fan club,” added Barney. “We think it’s unhealthy to encourage worship. People should learn to respect themselves.”

“That’s what we’re all about,” emphasised Gretton, and that’s why journalists resent us. Journalists are all part of the music establishment, but we won’t play the game. We won’t promote ourselves.”

IN AN attempt to discourage their popularity. New Order have now embarked on an American tour. Perhaps they hope that, by playing to as many Americans as possible, their failure in the States will be assured. Given their avowed distaste for the concept of stardom, I wondered why these
people were working in the music business at all. Their school careers officers had obviously failed them miserably.

“Sometimes,” mused Hook, “I drive to a gig at about eight in the evening and I see people going out for the night. Their working day is ending as mine’s just beginning. It sometimes pisses me off that music takes up so much of my time — being in New Order is a full time job. But we stay together because we work well together and besides, we actually happen to like each other.”