1986 10 04 Melody Maker New Order Feature

ONE NATION UNDER A GROOVE

Uneasy in the charts, uneasy out of them, NEW ORDER remain an enigma. On the release of their "Brotherhood" album, Ted Mico takes to the road and discovers bliss in confusion.
Photos: Tom Sheehan

NEW Order are a good rock 'n' roll band. Discuss.

New Order are just a good rock 'n' roll band. Decide.

New Order are just another rock 'n' roll band. Dispute.

New Order are . . .

". . We're a little more than that!"

Sorry. Let's start that sequence again.

New Order are little more than that

"You've forgotten the 'a'! Disgusting. 'A' little more than that!"

Sorry. But that's New Order all over (again). A missing letter, a few lost words, and a mountain of mislaid paragraphs. There's always a missing link. There's always a lie between phrases. There has to be to keep the band alive.

Some music refuses to be contained within idle propositions and meek prepositions. It stands and falls on misunderstanding. The time has come to discover what has been missed and what has been amassed — the As are back in style and back on the road.

It's midnight backstage after New Order's first gig of the current tour. The man is Peter Hook and the drink is Lucozode. The place used to be a singles bar.

OR it's 5.30 in the morning back at the hotel in Newcastle. The man is Bernard and the drink has all been drunk. It doesn't really matter which is which. New Order hove never turned over the egg-timer.

Peter greets us with his usual words of welcome: "What the fuck are you doing here?" Bernard nods politely, smiles in a friendly kind of way, stares at the carpet and wonders what he is doing here. These are the polar extremes of New Order. Hooky — quietly benevolent and openly belligerent. Bernard — open to all suggestions. Gillian and Stephen, the silent lovers, oscillate between the two.

The last time the band played in this country live was at Manchester's G-Mex festival. It was a time when people thought it better to give than to receive. It was a time for establishing and reassessing the city's musical identity. It was . ..

"It was one of the nicest things that has happened this year." For Bernard "nice" things seldom come to pass. The band are still dogged by tragedy. Two days ago their American publicist was run over by a taxi and killed. Bad things come in threes, good things hardly come at all.

"It was dead good G-Mex. I rarely say anything is good, but this was. It must have been. The atmosphere was just great. There were just a lot of people transmitting feelings rather than just feeding off others."

It makes you proud to be British. There have been other times when pride has given way to abject horror, isolation, and sorrow. A document of such times is now in the charts. The single, "State Of The Nation" OR "Shame Of The Nation" depending on the letters of the day, was a discarded irrelevence from late last year. The band wrote it, recorded it, rearranged it, re-recorded it in another continent, and then finally dumped it because they had received new orders to scribe a song in a fortnight for the movie "Pretty In Pink". That project became a priority, "Shellshock" became the single. New Order became a more attractive proposition in America, and "State"/"Shame" lay embalmed in a studio vault.

Despite problems in working with film producers, the band ore set to put a theme to another film, "Salvation". Stephen, a man who seems to have slipped a couple of rungs down the evolutionary ladder, finds the coordinates of his mouth. Words form. Jaws drop. "They really mucked us around on that one. We originally recorded 'Thieves Like Us' with a particular scene from the film in mind. Then the producers said they didn't like it and took 'Shellshock' instead. Then they decided they liked 'Thieves . . ' after all, but put it in a different part of the film so that all the work on synching up the music with the action was wasted."

You have to laugh? Stephen is always smiling: "It was a laugh going to the grand opening at Grauman's Chinese Theatre in LA. Anyone who was in a band had to have their pictures taken, and then they asked where New Order were, we just pointed to a bunch of roadies hanging around the exit. They believed us!"

Apart from the insult, the band now have the onerous job of convincing the American media that they are the real New Order who will be touring in November. Hooky stares around the flock wallpaper of the singles bar and dreams of the Gold Coast of Australia. He'd be off tomorrow if it wasn't for all the musical commitments synonymous with Manchester: "This huge American tour is a very big thing for us," he says with a mixture of fear and anticipation. "We've come to the sad realisation that, out there, you have to play the game by their rules or they just won't entertain you. Their industry is run purely by businessmen. At least in England there are a few idealists who think of music first. To get the power over there you have to worm your way in. In America there's a lot of give and take, whereas, in England, you can take all the time and people will give it to you."

The land of opportunity beckons. The land of the job centre awaits, but will New Order ever really arrive?

Hook: "It'll kill us, but we'll make it eventually. To make things worse, we've always made it our policy to play a different set every night. We tend to make such obstacles for ourselves."

There is one daunting hurdle to surpass. New Order are a pop band. Disjointed. A dance band. Distracted. Every time a single comes within sniffing distance of the charts Salford is deafened by the cries: "Sell Out!". Disgruntled.

Hook: "I'm tempted by the idea of selling out. We've never felt pressurised not to." Peter strokes a beard that no longer exists. "I don't think any of us would find it very interesting. I saw that poster announcing the return of Spandau Ballet and just thought, 'God Forbid'. No matter how bad we get or how much we sell but, we could never do anything like that.

"Even if I die and someone took my blace, I know New Order would never do that. If you reach a wide audience, you can only touch the surface. People that like our music tend to know our history, know our records, know that there is a depth. What the fuck is there to know about Wham!?

"When you become really big, you have to cater to people's bad taste. I'm content to do what I do and hope that I do it well. A lot of the time I don't because I drink too much, because I wear my bass too low, because I'm too aggressive. It's all me. We frown on things that have no substance. Anyway, I'd feel ridiculous doing things like lip-synching."

New Order are a Cult Band. Fact. They are living proof of Herman Hess's poignant maxim (paraphrased): "A pop star is something you are allowed to be, but not allowed to become".

The band are manacled by the fatuous euphemisms of the press and the myopic expectations of their fans. With a policy of "no sell out", they are doomed to shadowbox in their insulated and tidy corner - contented but not contentious, strong but never powerful, encased in marmoreal splendour, bathed in blue light, and eventually obsolete.

No one says a word. Cult bands breed off silence. New Order are beautiful because they are interesting, and interesting because they are beautiful.

"The press are the ones that make bands cult or not "

Does Hook mean us?

"You glorify shit half the time - bands that are pulled from obscurity for no reason and have no talent. A small portion of a cult band's appeal comes from the band themselves."

Cult bands create a world of their own — a world within a world — a detached myth so removed from reality it takes on all the characteristics of a new reality — a brave new world.

Hook: "It's all about atmosphere and people. I know what my audience is like. I meet them, I see them, I even talk to them . . . sometimes. They say "hello you're Peter Hook' and I say 'yes'. And then they say 'will you sign this?' and sometimes I do because I can't be bothered explaining to them how stupid autographs are. Sometimes they come up and say 'why did you release 'Subculture' — it was shite?'. I don't talk to people too much because usually I have nothing to say."

Hook's disdain for shit-chat chit-chat is obvious. If he likes you, he'll talk. If he thinks you're a joke, he'll walk out of the room. Going anywhere?

"Not yet. I don't bother with most journalists because they look a jerk, talk a jerk, and act a jerk. The last bloke who came to interview us was someone from Sounds. He was a kid and asked lots of questions which we couldn't answer because I couldn't take him seriously. He lied about us as well. They all do. You will. We do all the time. It makes life more interesting. The press are into perpetuating the same shite myths about us that have never had any foundations."

Stephen looks aggrieved. Bernard has a much more profound reason why New Order are cult uncult. It's much more than a death in the family of joy.

"I think we explore the darker side of human nature. We explore — chart groups just exploit people."

Bernard lies as well, but it's too late in the day for fiction. So "Blue Monday" and "State . ." are exploitation plastic? Splatter singles?

"It was a fluke! We never go out with the aim of selling records. The difference between us and a chart band is that we don't give a fuck if we sell or not. We do it because it tickles our brains. The most important thing a person can do is think. We make people think with our songs because they make us think. We won't have another hit like 'Blue Monday' anyway. That would be like winning the pools twice running. We like to stand in corners."

Bernard will risk all to achieve the perfect sound, but he never gambles. He can't stand losing and sees winning as a long shot. There's no risk in doing what you feel is right.

"The charts are shit because people are shot with a gun. The gun is the radio. The gun is big business. To be a pop star. I'd have to have a permanent suntan, a voice like Zeus, take dancing lessons, and sign to a record company that knows how to beef up chart returns. I know of one record company who were deliberately selling duff records that were unplayable just so people would have to take them back and exchange them for another. It went down as two chart soles. We just couldn't play that game. We're not clever enough and we're not experienced enough. We're also far too lazy."

When Joy Division first released "Love Will Tear Us Apart", a certain well known record retailer phoned the bond asking whether they would give them the single at 25% of the cost in return for four times the chart returns.

"It's true. We told them to fuck off. If 'Blue Monday' had been released through o normal record company, it would have been number one for months. I'm too lazy to want to walk down Piccadilly Street and get mobbed in the pub. It's not worth it because, in this country, you're not allowed to earn money — real money."

Money. Can't sleep with it. Can't live without it. New Order are still financially supporting Tony Wilson’s communal dream, Factory Records, although they have no control over its day to day workings. Judging by the bonds the company has been signing, I doubt if anyone has.

Hook: "It's sad but true. There comes a time when you need the dosh to keep the whole thing going. No one listens to you if you haven't got money. Because we're a successful band, people who otherwise wouldn't give us the time of day are forced to sit up to attention. I like that. I like walking into a bank dressed as I do and making people listen."

He tightens the top buckle of his biker boots.

"It's like cocking a snoot at them. It's like, when I walked into a car showroom and the sales guy was looking at me like I was real suspicious. I asked him for a test drive and, just before he had a chance to refuse, I took out my wallet and told him I'd buy it! It's a childish way of getting my own back."

GILLIAN SPEAKS . . .

Softly.

Peddle faster will you Hook. We're travelling hard, moving fast but not getting anywhere. New Order hove a road with no destination Every turn is the right turn. Every other turn is the wrong turn. Everything depends on whether you like them or not. I do, therefore we drive.

"If you mean that the message is obscure or elusive I think you could be right."

Wrong. Everything is open to opposing interpretation. New Order are either the supergroup of a timeless work, or a Supertramp for the Eighties. Some of their songs do little to aid the latter impression. New Order have trouble thinking of an ending. The wrong-turners can't think of anything else.

"Sometimes we do go on a little long. Songs like 'Elegia' just go round and round like a tape loop. I think it gives us a continuity that most bands like Spandau miss out on. It's like getting on a bus. You get off and wait for the next bus. Spandau are still waiting."

Let us hope and pray for a transport strike.

"We try and make our music fresh and biting still. I think you write better when you don't think about."

Barney thinks a great deal, but doesn't listen to music much. He doesn't take buses either. "I try not to listen to much at all. It means that anything that does filter through must be really good."

At the moment the volume is only turned up for the likes of the new Cameo single, The Smiths, The  Cocteau Twins, and The The. Bernard wears an American Classics reversible jacket, but that doesn't mean he's a turncoat. He's turning to something new...

It's all a matter of choice.

New Order have a new album.

New Order have released the same album.

New Order have released a new album which is different it in the same sort of way.

The title, "Brotherhood", arrived through democracy in action. It beats fascism in Acton.

Bernard: "Democracy can be a little tricky when all members have different ideas. We can never agree on a title, which is why some of them end up really boring."

This time they put all the names into a hat and, on the last day, the name that had accumulated the most ticks became the title. Bernard is a fiendishly logical soul: "The Dr Spock of pop!"

This is the last time Bernard says anything flippant or cheery. As the night draws on the question marks grow larger. Hooky, on the other hand, marks everything with a full stop. Short volleys of down-to-earth punctuation.

"When all's said and done, it's just a collection of riffs. We've done things that are trickier this time around, but I'm not sure if that's a good thing or a bad thing. It's an exciting thing when you think you've written a good one."

The new order of things is sharper, more focused, more melodic, yet more melancholy. Hook: "Maybe that's because we are melancholy. Maybe it's because we feel we've been wronged all the time."

There's a fine line between finding an original niche and being stuck in a rut. Always the same problem. The same energy. The same monumental thrusts of overpowering orchestration. The same epic. The same aspic. The same unfathomable meaning. The same meaningless words. The same missing phrases.

"It's so difficult," Peter says, shaking his head. "When you write things in a studio, it's tempting to overdo things. I think a lot of Joy Division's music was very very simple and it worked. In New Order it doesn't work as well, so we fill in the gaps."

Two tracks on "Brotherhood" evince that New Order are no longer afraid of silence. Hooky is the fulcrum around which silence and clamour gyrate. The same singing, the same keyboards. The same fragments of beauty. The same fragrance of nonchalance. New Order have a tendency to drop their Hs. Shame.

"I work within very strict limitations - natural limitations," Barney retorts, half insulted, half apologetic.

"At times in the past, I've felt I should sing more professionally so, when 'Brotherhood' come along, I managed to get everything at the right pitch and in the right place. It sounded really boring so I redid them my way. The way of mistakes."

The band's grasp on reality is as diffused and as acute as ever. The group don't understand politics. They do understand that no one can employ rhyme or reason to work out how things got so out of hand and why things are the way they are.

They are. That is enough and that is never enough.

Bernard: "I suppose we're more idealists than we are musicians. We can't tell people what to do because we don't know how to deal with things ourselves. There are no answers."

There are only nerves. The band are nervous before their first date. Time has slipped backwards. Barney had to soak himself in the bath for a few hours in order to keep his head out of the "Situations Vacant" pages of the tour programme. The stakes are high, the chips are down and the cabbage is underdone. The whole room was on edge until Hook arrived. Then the room was fine and the people were on edge. Must be all the weight-training and leather. His presence inspires a cold chill on a sweaty day.

"Someone has to stay calm, otherwise we'd all be running around like a bundle of nerves. I'm not that intimidating normally Some people just need intimidating. Most journalists for instance." He smiles and remembers. Just before the band were due on stage, the roadies' conversation shifted from their latest clap-clinic appointment to which sequencers should be turned up for which songs. Hooky strode into the babble of confusion, stared at each one in turn and whispered "get it right lads". No one spoke afterwords, but the keyboard volumes never went array. Hook doesn't suffer fools gladly. It's the fools that do the suffering.

"You meet some strange and interesting people in this line of work. That's not a problem because, when I don't feel like it, I walk away. My problem is that, if I see someone stepping back, I'll usually step in. It's an irksome habit and lands me in trouble sometimes. I get wound up by other people, try and protect them, and generally get involved where I shouldn't."

The man has mellowed with age and with necessity. Now he has a baby girl. While the rest of the band were sampling Washington Go-Go, Hook was at home with his girlfriend deciphering Manchester ga-ga.

“I think having a kid gave me an ending in my life that I never had before. The aim is now to look after her. I'm sure she'll survive - just like I have. I think she's on to a winner as long as she sticks with me!"

The day after the album was finished, half the band come down to appear in a Tom "Lofty" Watts video for his single. It was light relief. It was also curious that half the luminaries of Manchester showed up — as though someone had ordered a mass walk-on. Is there a Manchester mafia?

"Yeah there is," Bernard looks alarmed. The question was a joke. The answer is no laughing matter.

"It's real and it's organised. That's it. I'd rather not talk about it."

He retreats to the safety of drunken incomprehension, but still looks worried when the subject is mentioned again. He laughs nervously.

"Crude things make me laugh. Bernard Manning makes me laugh. Where I was brought up, everyone was like him. He says what English people sometimes think but never like to mention."

All that is in the past. History has conferred an importance on New Order. They are part of Manchester history and therefore must always be relevant to the present. They are a blue plaque on the dentures of pop.

Barney: "I always wanted to be blue plaque."

Hook always wanted to be Mad Max or Kirk Douglas in "The Vikings". For the past five years, all that most new Manchester bands have wanted was to eradicate the shadow New Order cast over the town.

Hook: "Those who live under our shadow just aren't good enough to get out from under us. No one has dared to tell about it."

Bernard: "I know there must be a lot of animosity toward us out there. If I were in a group, then I'd hate us. We're twats — they're quite right to write us off. They should hate us. We're hopeless."

Barney lacks Hook's speed and willingness to attack. Self-doubt is a depressing sight lost thing at night, but self-pity . . . come on Bernard, you're breaking my heart!

"No, really. We're hopeless at achieving the sound we set out for. The side-effects are luckily quite interesting, but not all that satisfying. In the past we've tried to do cover versions. The first was 'Seven And Seven Is'. It was a complete disaster. Then we tried 'Keep On Keeping On' which ended up as 'Interzone'!"

Hooky regrets nothing from the past. He's proud of it. It's worth remembering that history is always written by the winning side.

Bernard looks back with anguish: "Because I'm so melancholy I suppose. I'm always unhappy with everything we've done. Our first album I thought was terrible crap. The production on 'Animal Pleasures' is bloody awful as well. I don't like the production on 'Brotherhood' either. On this album, we've got Rolls Royce songs crammed inside Cortina bodywork."

Barney doesn't have Hook's thick skin. Cut him and he bleeds. Bleed him and he dies. He hates leeches almost as much as his recurring depression. Inspiration nuzzles uncomfortably close to desperation.

"It's only me that's so fucked up," he whispers. By now things are quite serious and surprisingly honest.

"Morose more like. The rest of the band are all happy. Or, at least I think they are. I never ask them because it's too dangerous to ask questions like that. I think we're interesting partly because I'm so fucked up. Sometimes I think how good I was when I was a boy and what a twat I am now. Most of the time I'm nothing now. Experience is supposed to make life richer, but it's making my life empty.
I think people like Iggy Pop were great because they were so screwed up too. I'm not great though."

Iggy isn't either now. He's happily married.

"It's better to be happy than be great."

It's clear why Bernard can't write a straightforward love song.

"I know. They're always sad. I wish I knew why. It s quite horrible really.

Bernard doesn't like to think too much on such things, but the confession booth stays open.

He likes to go out, stay amid crowds of people, get drunk, and dance. On one of many notable occasions, he combined all these ways of forgetting while in Sydney and was found at six in the morning eating fruit salad sitting in a dustbin. He can't remember how he got there. I can't remember if he really was there. A passing woman was so impressed by this extraordinary behaviour she gave him a cucumber. No one remembers why. Unfortunately his prize vegetable was confiscated when the band entered America. They couldn't believe that a member of a rock and roll band would carry a common-or-garden cucumber. It must either be some health-food sex-aid or a new way of smuggling drugs. The cucumber was last spotted rotting away in a police warehouse next to $50 million-worth of cocaine and contraband. Bernard is still spotted slumped near the closed bar.

"What motivates me to write songs is to do with what the years do to me. The years hack away at you with a knife. They hack at your feelings. Some music in this world is so good it can instantly neutralise all those hacks and scars. I just want to play that music. I want to write songs that will live forever."

The songs may well last longer than the band. There's a general feeling in the air that New Order will disband before too long.

Hook: "We're a very close band. Sometimes I think we're too close. Sometimes I think we'll . . . never mind."

Letters have gone missing, words have been lost, and now whole explanations seem to be going astray. The news from the band is that all's well.

Hook; "We won't part company just yet."

Bernard: "Well, not quite yet anyway."

The difference is well. The ending welling up. How will it end?

As all things New Order must end. We shake that thang. Hands!

The rest of the meaning is lost and forgotten and cherished.