1984 08 11 New Order Melody Maker

TANGLED UP IN BLUE

They play live infrequently and seldom give interviews, but NEW ORDER have steadily built up a massive following which kept their single, "Blue Monday", in the charts. Frank Worrall cornered singer and guitarist Bernard Albrecht and demanded answers. For once, Bernard obliged. Behind the lens: Kevin Cummins

IT'S one o'clock in the morning at Manchester's Hacienda Club - and all's not well. A beleaguered-looking Rob Gretton, manager and joint owner of the club, sips another beer and replies simply but honestly when I ask how well the club is pulling in the punters.

"Terribly," he sighs. "Bloody terribly!"

You can sympathise with the man. While he and New Order, who, of course, he also manages, have ploughed vast lumps of cash from their staggering record sales into the club, most Mancunians don't seem to give a toss.

It's outrageous really. Before the Hacienda, they would be constantly bemoaning the lack of clubs in the city. Now it's here, they can't be bothered to get off their fettle arses and use them.

No wonder New Order's Bernard Albrecht sits pensively in a corner of the club's dressing room after another cruelly small turn-out. Even the likes of the imaginative Paul Haig can't lure the spoilt moaners in tonight.

Bernard Albrecht (or Sumner, depending on the time of day) chats with A Certain Ratio's Donald Johnson. He allows a wry grin to cover his taut face as I approach.

We idly discuss an interview that appeared in MM with Order's bassman, Peter Hook, 18 months ago. Rumour had it Bernard hadn't agreed with all the highly-charged comments the irascible Hook had made. Rumour, as it transpired, was right.

Of course, much has changed since February 1983. Admittedly, they're still the same awkward buggers they've always been when it comes to talking to the media. They'll never be chat show hosts.

But how they've developed, matured and shocked us in other areas. You've got to admire the way they've thrown off the shackles of that dark cult status and obnoxious image to pierce the shallow boundaries of the Top 20. And we're not talking about just making a dent. Forget the claims of Norman (Wisdom) Goes To Elstree, New Order must surely be the biggest selling singles band around.

It hasn't meant a compromise of style or, as some would have it, "a sell-out". If Ian Curtis was alive now, I'm sure he would approve of the wicked mutant electronics that are the hallmark of "Power, Corruption and Lies" and the singles that have followed it.

Lyrically, the band continue to send shivers down the back with their potent explorations into life's most crucial everyday concerns - love, more love and even more love. Ironic, really, that this group are essentially the man on the street's group - in that they tackle the emotions that embroil us all, whether rich or poor — and yet most people see them as arrogant icons.

LET'S put it another way. Which was the first major group to declare its public support for the miners? While others hesitated, New Order headed South and played live to boost the strike fund.

And while Bernard now drives around in a Mercedes and is currently on vacation in Barbados, the money certainly doesn't dictate. They still make music "because it feels right" and since that interview with Peter Hook, the four of them have taken a wage rise of just £30 a week.

Bernard looks at the tape recorder much as a Puritan would contemplate a contraceptive. A bead of sweat drips down his forehead. He's his usual twitchy self, moving around like a slippery snake in a basket, his right hand continually ruffling through that famous shock of hair.

"Oh, turn the fuckin' thing on, then!" he declares. Right. News first. New Order have just completed a new single, under the working title of "The Perfect Kiss", Bernard has been working with Paul Haig, and New Order are all set for a mini-tour of Britain.

A couple of quick-fire posers to ease the tension. Why do New Order support the miners' struggle? "It's not something I really want to talk about," Bernard whispers. "What we did just seemed the right thing to do."

And what about the problems at the Hacienda? How long is the club off closing, or is that being far too pessimistic? "Off-closing?" he carps. "About two o'clock!"

We laugh. What else can you do? New Order have always responded with spiky wit when you try to pin them down in a corner. Anything they don't want to answer — or don't think is worthy of one — is dismissed with a joke.

But there are no smiles when I mention that many fans reckon New Order have lost their way, that they peaked with "Blue Monday" and everything since has been poorly camouflaged parodies.

"What we do is the emotional music," Bernard raps, his usual white face looking even paler. "I'm sick of people saying we peaked with that song. Personally, I believe we've not even been near peaking. We'll continue to get better and better."

I'd always been under the impression there was a natural link — love — between the "Blue Monday", "Confusion" and "Thieves Like Us" trilogy - but Bernard says this is not so. The former, it would appear, was a one-off. New Order see it as a weapon of attack - and defence.

Bernard explains: "The songs after 'Blue Monday' are totally different from it. 'Blue Monday' had nothing to do with love. It was spitting in the faces of people who criticised us.

"I wrote the lyrics 'How does it feel to treat me like you do' because I was sick of people telling us what we should do."

Some of the other lines in the song surely touch upon the theme of love, though? I mean, what about "I see a ship in the harbour" — isn't there any sexual undercurrent running through that?

'To be honest," Bernard laughs, "I just couldn't find anything else better to put at that point of the song! It just sounded good."

Would you accept the lyrics weren't that important to the record-buying public? That "Blue Monday" sold basically because it had an irresistible dance beat?

"No," he decides. "Lots of records have a good beat but they don't sell as many as 'Blue Monday'. Doesn't that mean it's got something else? But it's not for me to say what that is — it’s up to the people who bought it."

WE take a breather before arguing over the merits of the songs that have followed New Order's biggest-selling record. Bernard agrees the word "love" has become more important to the band recently, but he gets annoyed when I suggest they haven't fully considered its implications. Isn't it a cliche they've latched onto, without exploring it in enough depth?

He rises to the bait, unaware I'm merely trying to provoke him.

"Why's it cliched?" he demands. "So it's been used so many times. So what? So has the word 'the'! It means something to me. Whether it's cliched or not is less important."

But why should love be important these days?

"Because," Bernard mouths slowly, "where else can you go from love? Nowhere, because you've reached your destination.

"Just think about J. R. Ewing sitting on his big fat arse. For all his money, the one thing he craves deep down inside is love. He wants Sue-Ellen more than anything else!"

Reeling from the shock of discovering that New Order watch "Dallas", I just manage to compose myself for a final assault on the subject. What, I wonder, do you know about love?

It's Bernard's turn to reel. "What do I know about love? What I've experienced of it during my lifetime. But I'm not prepared to answer any personal questions. I'd rather write about it than talk about."

Why not write about the Lebanon? 

"I'm not dead yet! I'm not finished! I don't know enough about it. I write about love — because it feels right."

Bernard often writes his songs not really knowing why he's writing them. He explains: "When I write songs I like to put them down on record and forget them - that way they don't become boring. Then a while later I'll go back and listen to them and analyse them. It's at that point I understand why I wrote certain things."

As for the mechanics of the curiously addictive New Order sound, Bernard is "happy" with the overall impact producer Arthur Baker has had on the band's sound. And he reckons the "Power, Corruption And Lies" album - before Baker arrived - is nothing short of a classic.

He says: "I thought the mix of '586' could have been more powerful, but apart from that I look at the record as being completely successful."

Would he agree the album's cover was not as successful? That it was really just another attempt to bolster the provocative self-image New Order often like to engender?

"I don't give a shit about provoking people!" he storms. "We're the least provocative group in the entire world! If any other group chose that cover it wouldn't be provocative. But because New Order did it, it is. That's how ridiculous people are.

"I mean, what's there to understand about your cassette recorder? There's nothing to understand. We wanted to put a beautiful painting on the cover. It's as simple as that." 

If it were, New Order would probably still be a major indie band, not the big commercial name they undoubtedly now are. The power of mystery has always boosted the band along the road to riches. From the moment Ian Curtis and Joy Division died, New Order were on a winner commercially. Bernard disagrees vehemently.

"Why should the past help us become big time?" he raps. "Joy Division weren't just about Ian. You're saying people have bought our records because Ian topped himself. That's crap.

"As Joy Division, we sold records in countries we'd never played in. Joy Division were big before Ian topped himself."

How important is to be "big"? How important is it that the cash continues to roll in?

"It may be another cliche," Bernard concedes, "but we don't need the money. I mean, we do make money - it's good and we enjoy it! "But I'm no semi-millionaire. I get 100 quid a week. I've got a nice car and I get my telephone bill paid."

THE talk of success prompts Bernard to mention his schooldays - which don't bring back happy memories. Bernard is rightly proud of what he has achieved in the light of them.

"When I was at school I used to be hung up about people passing more exams than me," he admits. "I was a complete lazy c***.

"I used to just sit there on my arse doing nothing all day. At the time, I couldn't understand why I was like that. I was told I had to be like the other kids, but it was so boring.

"Now they're all drawing dole and I'm doing my own business - like I always wanted to. The difference is what I'm doing now isn't boring - it's a great feeling to make music."

What if New Order became boring? "I'd go on the dole and then get a job. I wouldn't be happy doing that but at least I'd have done what I'd wanted to."

Bernard scratches his head when I ask him if the members of New Order always get on wonderfully well together.

"All four of us have our own opinions," he says. "Obviously we don't agree about everything. I mean, Peter said some things I didn't agree with when he talked to you last year. There was something about not giving a shit about the audience and what they think. That's crap! But that's his opinion."

One thing Hookie and Bernard do agree on is that the name New Order has no relevance other than being a name. It wasn't chosen out of any political, social or whatever other leanings critics have wrongly claimed New Order kindle.

"The name's not important," Bernard confirms. "It's just a name. I mean, I've got loads of 12-inch singles and I don't know who they're by."

Bernard grabs his jacket, stands up and throws it over his shoulder. It's two o'clock at Manchester's Hacienda club - and all's not well. The club's closing, the bouncers are ushering people out and our talk must come to a premature close.

Bernard wants the final word. "You can sum it up like this," he tells me. "I've not been trying to put any impressions over. I've just been telling the truth. You take us too serious, Frank - most people do.

"A lot of what we do is tongue-in-cheek. We're just four normal everyday human beings."