1989 01 07 New Order NME

Come and join the BARNEY ARMY

NEW ORDER 
GREATER MANCHESTER EXHIBITION CENTRE

THE CRASH-FREE 125 that cuts it's steely way through the black heart of England towards Manchester Picadilly is overloaded with soldiers. An army on leave, they clot the exits, passages, and seats, resting on kitbags, draining McEwans, reading The Gunner, dozing, and jumping when nudged.

They are accompanied down the track by the infantry of another force, armed with wild eyed stares, Walkmans, lager, and intent on dodging the fare. They are The Barney Army, bent on getting ‘Shellshocked’. Her Majesty’s boys are returning to their wives, parents and children, so the BA want to see their wife and child. However, their family is the musical brilliance of New Order, which is very special because (like the doomed conscript in ‘Love Vigilantes’) it might be the only family they’ve got.

Outside the G-Mex centre the Barney Army are laying down their litres of vodka, treading the turd-like ticket touts underfoot, and hurrying through the crocodile queues to get into the former train station where Happy Mondays are already exploding like limpet mines under ice. 

Having been on (one) stage since before the doors were even opened the Mondays are at full throttle by the time they’ve got an audience. Strafing us with a set of ack-acne riddled tales disturbed by drug consumption, Shaun Ryder is clearly a white swan and Bez his mindwarped duckling. Unfortunately the early start also means an early end so before we can even get a complete Bumming or decently distracted from the stench of burning hamburger meat, Happy Mondays piss off into what probably used to be a complaints or ticket office.

ACR should probably have stayed in the left luggage department. Someone announces ‘Manchester 7 - London 0’ which seems a strange attitude to have when you’ve recently left Factory for the larger wads of A&M and your war reporter immediately heads off to a different front.

Better fun is to be had in the VPI (Very Pretentious idiots) Lounge where a host of not really very pretentious nor idiotic celebs, liggers, quaffers, scoffers, singers, journalists, musos, and Factory workers are checking out the width of each others’ wallets, the length of each others’ legs, and the depth of each others’ beers.

Power drinking is always a necessity at such a function, but unfortunately for the lump of London media lads and lasses who are well into the fifth or sixth spirit, it also blurs the vision. Consequently they miss out on the chance to snap up conversation with Johnny Marr, Matt Johnson, Vini Reilly, David Gedge and a drained image of Ian McCulloch’s former self.

Meanwhile, dry ice is pumped into the space between the eager army and the beautiful curved roof, and New Order appear, 'Touched By The Hand Of God’. Despite being slashed and speared through by a piercing display of bright green laser beams, the wet, white smog keeps pumping out and the most stunning band this side of Jupiter leave ‘Ceremony’ and ‘True Faith’ burned into our memories before we can even see them.

When they do materialize Barney looks like Jesus in plastercene, Hook is being run on the blood of axe heroes, Gillian is chewing away at her guitar, and Steven Morris is behaving like the Domestos-drinking lunatic he quite clearly is. Mad Faccers the lot of them, they pile through a set that is more noteabie for it’s speed and energy than it’s diversity...

Dipping into ‘Low Life’ and ‘Substance’ to bolster the new material, Barney tells us: “This is a new song, it’s called ‘Dreamtime’, but by the time we play here again it'll be an old song so you better start enjoying it now. Don’t worry, we’ll play all the old songs at the end.” As if it was really necessary.

As it happens they end two one-song encores with ‘Fine Time’ which despite being frowned upon by the part-time New Order fans in shitty media-land roars past the finishing line thumping, exhilarating, and totally breathless.

But before that New Order glide into a seam of creative dance music that could easily be compared to the best classically composed overtures without being unrealistic or pompous (roll over Beethoven!-Ed). And although Steven Morris later told me he considered it an “average gig for us”, it was the music and the open conversation with the audience, not the set’s delivery, that made it so special.

As Barney whispers through ‘Every Little Counts’ Hook’s bass buries itself deep in the audience's common gut alongside the love, hate, jealousy, fear and alcohol. A laser spray ejaculates over the roof and 'Bizarre Love Triangle' falls from the sky, infests The Barney Army, and has them twisting and yearning in milliseconds. More and more of New Order’s songs appear to be specifically about friendship, lines like "I never thought of you in a sexual way in my life before from ‘Touched’ soaked in trust and the power of affection.

The love flooding back towards the stage can’t all have been created by Ecstacy, Dynasty or Fantasy, it seems that New Order make such exciting and fulfilling music that devotion is unavoidable. Never have I seen so many people watch so much music that continually challenges and breaks the quality barrier.

James Brown