Cuttings

NME - HOBBY WHORES REVENGE One True Passion (Factory LP/Cassette/CD) THOSE OF us no longer eligible for a Young Person's Railcard tend to regard the words 'solo project' with a suspicion bordering on downright fear. Once upon a time every major band would reach that stage in their careers when it was deemed necessary to 'take five' and 'do their own thing'. Invariably this meant that the keyboard player would produce some dire suite based around The  Hobbit , the singer would produce some tortured confessional about his divorce and the drummer would reveal a hitherto unknown fondness for reggae. That was then but this is now. Still, with the best will in the world and the strongest belief that Revenge are a bona fide band in their own right, there are bound to be legions of doubters to whom 'One True Passion' is no more than Peter Hook’s equivalent of DIY or embroidery; a diverting hobby. If so, who cares? The debut LP by Revenge contains

NME - POWER, CONVICTION, LIES! NEW ORDER Substance ( Factory ) WE CHUCK words at New Order. Words like funereal and ethereal and classical and awesome . We treat their music religiously as if staring, open-eared before a mountainous terrain of rushing torrents and echoing valleys; as if their creations rise and fall and rise again while the humble human elements struggle to stand firm in a mightly synthesised soundscape. That sort of stuff. Meanwhile they've packaged themselves almost anonymously. And they’ve offered us few explanations, few indications as to their collective states of mind. On stage they appear disinterested and distant; in interviews they behave like irresponsible tosspots, making it impossible to reconcile the people with the product. So here we are - precisely ten years on from Joy Division's raw inception - at Fac 200. "Now that we've grown up together" as Bernard (Barney) Dicken (Sumner Albrecht sings in 'True Faith"

VOX - GETTING THEIR HOUSE IN ORDER NEW ORDER Republic (London tba) When New Order last filed a despatch -with 1989’s Technique , recorded in a suitably blissed-out state in Ibiza - they set the mood for a brief era. Then, having released the perfect album to usher in the age of indie/dance crossover, they stepped back and watched an entire scene come and go under their benign gaze. Four years later, the backdrop to their return is one of upheaval, of Madchester’s visible disintegration with the Mondays burn-out, growing violence in the city, and, of course, the collapse of Factory. Rumours of splits have plagued them these past few years, fuelled by the varying degrees of success enjoyed in their respective solo projects but, seemingly against the odds, Republic is testimony that New Order are still together. It was not, however, a happy project, and people are already saying it may be their last. Nevertheless, Republic doesn’t exactly find New Order descending into th

NME - HOOK ON CLASSICS NEW ORDER The Best Of New Order (London/All formats) MEMORIES ARE made of this... Contrary to popular (dis)belief, Greatest Hits collections are not merely a mercenary sleight of hand by men in suits to empty already generous pockets. Nor are such compilations exploited to fulfil contractual obligations or pay off debts of the decidedly crushing variety. Especially when the artist(s) in question have already succumbed to the comprehensive cobbling-together of product that was ‘Substance’. No sirree. They are actually fulfilling a public service. See, this new New Order selection acts as a catalyst to the mind, triggering off all manner of hazy/hilarious memories half-lost to the vagaries of drink'n'drugs. It's the way the opening bars of 'Bizarre Love Triangle' immediately transport you back to doing the dance of the berserk mongoose at el crappo Goff clubs in Stratford. It's the way '1963' whisks you off to drunken p

Melody Maker - BROTHERS GRIM BROTHERHOOD Factory LIKE the trick life played on Orson Welles, a calamitous collision of accident and genius has chucked New Order’s career into reverse, doomed them to the bickering of retro-perspective. For everyone lauding their survival, there's someone resenting it. For every plaudit greeting their supposed pursuit of simple purity, there’s an upbraiding for their assumed lack of concern. “Brotherhood” can’t escape raising all the familiar questions. Or doesn’t want to. I can't decide. Infuriatingly enigmatic, every song strains between adrenalised instrumental passages of thundering majesty and lyrics of such embarrassing openness that the listener is repeatedly frustrated and forced to impugn motives to their apparent schizophrenia. Is this tension between frailty and fury a callous formula or shivering naked naivety? I can’t decide. When “Way Of Life” lamely lullabyes across Colourfield terrain, the starbursts of energised guit

NME - ART OF THE STATE NEW ORDER Brotherhood (Factory) PRAY SILENCE for the thinking person's Andrew Ridgeley: “You look like a pig/You should be in a (heh, heh) zoo (heh, heh)!”  This is a wonderful LP made by very silly people. It comes complete with the stereo horseplay of vocalist Barney making stupid noises - a strangely diffident clown making this glorious hullaballoo sound so easy They could have taken it further. It seems that previous working titles for the record were 'Fuck' and 'The Smell Of It'. Boys will be boys . . . poor Gillian. 'Brotherhood' is the title of a book exposing freemasons. Two years later, the author dropped dead. Funny thing, life. 'Brotherhood' swings in a more blither fashion than the sulky 'Low-Life'. 'Paradise' bowls you over in the way that the Stones’ 'Miss You' should have done. Barney proves to be a man of many voices, and amidst these borrowed manners it sounds odd to hear h

NME - DRIVEN SNOW OF THE SOUL NEW ORDER Low-life ( Factory ) WHO CARES to be pure in this old rock music? Pop flesh bumps and grinds in our faces without respite - and any old piece of meat, whether it be Pete Bums or Pat Benatar, will do. The savage amusement this spectacle affords has grown cold. And now back come New Order, the driven snow of the soul, with a record to close everbody's mouth. Their titles always reflect cruelly on their content. As 'Movement' was immobile and 'Power,  Corruption And Lies' spotlessly true, so 'Low-life' is celestial: it seems to gaze down from heaven. The sound is all ice and glass and brittle bells. Hook's bass lines don't boom, they hum in an elastic brogue that pumps the heart of the songs. When Albrecht sings it's a sound so human that, in the midst of pop’s throng of digital voices, it seems unearthly. Just as Joy Division churned on the mark of Curtis’ sepulchral tones, so New Order - with t

NME - RE-ORDER NEW ORDER Guild Hall, Preston NEW Order are born again. As a rock group. That's the first thought that hits you the moment they hit the stage. But, if it’s true, it's certainly, for once, no insult. As the group's appearance is heralded, hordes flock towards them, the taut thread or anticipation is cut by a chord, and a voice speaks (New Order - communicating?). "We're going to start with a very old one. This is called 'Ceremony;." What else could it be called. under the circumstances? New Order, more than anyone else, you can either love or hate. This time it's love. The only way to take them is existentially: they're constantly redefining themselves. It's not the first time they've been reborn - they seem to have as many lives as a cat (and as much mystique). Tonight, there's a genuine warmth in the music which is too often lacking. It fills everything, mesmeric, committed, compulsive. It makes you want to s

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 e

The Observer Music Magazine - Please yourself March 2005 ARE NEW Order the best band to come out of Manchester? It’s a good question to which there is no easy answer. It depends, perhaps, not only on a band’s back catalogue but also on their current form. There was always something great about New Order — the fact that they didn’t give up when Ian Curtis killed himself almost 25 years ago; that they slipped with such ease between rock, and dance, providing the vital link between Seventies disco and Eighties house music; that when they could be bothered to put some effort into their gigs, they were nothing short of awesome — but over the years they have rarely been consistent. Perhaps it’s because they don’t always get on: after all, 2001’s guitar-led Get Ready was New Order’s first album for eight years because until that point they couldn’t stand the sight of one another. And now, a year before Bernard Sumner and Peter Hook will turn 50, they are back once more, with an albu

NME Postcards

https://www.theguardian.com/theobserver/2001/aug/12/features.magazine37 The Observer - Northern rock For 17 years, they lived the rock'n'roll dream. But then drink, drugs, debt (and a packet of crisps) tore them apart. Now, almost a decade later, the Manchester band is back. Miranda Sawyer gets ready for the second coming of New Order Miranda Sawyer Sun 12 Aug 2001 13.45 BST Tokyo, July 2001. Japan is in melt-down: Sony's quarterly profits have dropped 90 per cent; the state health programme is set for collapse; juvenile violence and unemployment are at a record high. And tomorrow the general election will be won by a man whose principle job qualification is a nice head of hair. Not that any of this is of concern to the motley crew of middle-aged Westerners hanging outside the Hotel Okura. They have far higher matters to consider. 'Where's the Hello Kitty shop?' demands Bernard Sumner of the nearest taxi driver. 'Take me there. To Kitty World!

The Guardian - 'Suddenly the reality hit me' https://www.theguardian.com/film/2007/sep/22/periodandhistorical How does it feel to watch the life and death of your father being re-enacted on film? Natalie Curtis, daughter of Joy Division singer, Ian Curtis, went on set, camera in hand, to find out Natalie Curtis First published on Sat 22 Sep 2007 03.00 BST I was about three when my mum first told me that my father, Ian Curtis - who died when I was one - was a singer, but it just seemed normal, like having an uncle who was a tradesman or whatever. I remember hearing Love Will Tear Us Apart on the radio and realising he was known in some way, but I never thought of him as famous. When I was growing up, neither myself nor my mother were in the public eye, and Joy Division were more cult than mainstream. The first time I heard their album Closer, I thought it was out of this world. I assumed all music was done with that level of style and intelligence. As I gre

NME - CRIES AND WHISPERS New Order North London Polytechnic NEW ORDER at the London Poly was sold out before it was announced: by Christmas most outlets were starting to turn people away. The straggle of fans desperately searching for touts outside the hall demonstrated how popular New Order have become. It would be easy to put their popularity down to the legacy of an inherited legend, but they've not so easily dismissable. That they have something valuable to offer in their own right was evident a long time ago from a Peel session recorded early last year, which sounded a lot more confident than their live appearance at the time. When they played Heaven in February, they were nervous and unformed, a condition catalysed by the heavy cloud of anticipation hanging over everyone, and the obvious scrutiny with which they were observed and assessed. At Walthamstow in early autumn, they sounded old and tired, almost jaded before they'd fully begun.  Maybe they were disi

NME - SURE BEACH WORKING NEW ORDER Technique (Factory LP/ Cassette/CD) WHAT HAVE New Order been doing since their last studio LP? The creative lull which, despite the odd single, has stretched for what seems like aeons has at last come to a close. We've been presented with 'Technique', certainly one of New Order‘s most consistent works to date, and one which avoids the usual flaws and imperfections they've borne like minor disabilities since their inception. It's an impressive polished edifice erected like a monument to a newly-discovered maturity and confidence, shining with the lightness of being. Almost optimistic, in fact. Gone are the doubts, half-guesses and hesitations which characterised their music for so long. A recurring sense of discovery permeates each song as the spectrum of human emotion is explored and investigated, be it loneliness, inarticulacy, joy or (most essentially) love. 'Technique' doesn't deny the darker experiences

The Observer -  It won't make you cringe, but... NEW ORDER Waiting for the Sirens Call FOR SUCH A celebrated musical force, New Order have, occasionally, been underwhelming. They may have written the biggest-selling 12in single ever, ‘Blue Monday’, in 1983, and, a clutch of sublime songs that cleverly congealed the guitar-bass-drums blood of rock with electronics. But there has always been an evenness about their momentum that could quickly slip into... well... boredom. They have been masters of steady, steely percolation rather than build and climax. Get Ready, New Order’s 2001 foray out of their Manchester boltholes after eight years away, amped up the rock, but to no earthshaking effect. Working back, 1993’s Republic album had its idle patches, as did 1986’s Brotherhood, the record that preceded New Order’s totemic Technique record of 1989, the album Waiting for the Sirens’ Call reputedly harks back to. The ordinariness of Bernard Sumner’s vocals and the blandness