Joy Division
Still

THE REVIEW

The music of Joy Division is either loved or hated. The same roughly goes for Ian Curtis's poetic suggestions. Pseudo-alternatives, anonymous and subordinate followers of trends (mainstream or underground), depersonalized critics, and John Vignola fanatics have not only never understood Joy Division but, most likely, have never truly listened to their tracks. Many of them will tell you that, in reality, they know all their compositions by heart, that they love this band immensely (after the release of "Control," it has become a daily practice), but I repeat, they will never understand much, and with almost absolute certainty, they will have only given a vague and distracted listen to the group's revolutionary proposition.

I, on the other hand, neither believe nor pretend to be the prophet of the Joy Division word, but aside from suicidal tendencies, I believe I have at my disposal the necessary requirements to understand at least in its fundamental aspects, this legend and to describe it effectively. What are, then, the necessary requirements for such an operation? A certain preference for stylistic sobriety, a sincere interest in cold and minimalistic artistic expressions, the rejection of the sensationalistic and boring media circuit (Curtis gave very few interviews and in an utterly reluctant manner), an acute intolerance of paralyzing and rigid stylistic paradigms, and a strong perplexity towards the easy political rhetoric that often assumes moralistic and chanting tones in rock.

Why this long preamble? To dispel a few clichés and to throw a bit of mud on the boring "connoisseurs" who, especially in recent years, are sadly celebrating an undefined cult, a revivalistic cult concerning the figure of the late Ian Curtis. In short, useless, childish, and solipsistic sectarianism is far from me, but upon closer inspection, the large ranks of boastful "critics" can never understand, especially in its fine details, the proposal of the darkest Mancunians in the history of rock. A punk, a mod, or a metalhead, on the contrary, will find it less difficult to understand Joy Division precisely because they are not accustomed to the sterile, immobilizing, and demoralizing chatter of certain press/criticism.

But back to us. I could have reviewed with absolute tranquility essential records like "Unknown Pleasures" or "Closer," but on reflection, the emotional bond that ties me to these two works would have led me to make rather risky statements. To avoid these easy, even illogical, favoritism, I have therefore limited myself to analyzing the posthumous "Still."

For some, a sort of third and unfinished album, for others a sufficient collection supplemented by a not-so-formidable live part, and for myself an indefinable yet poignant and tension-filled album.

"Still" intelligently assembles rarities and singles produced in the band's brief career. In tracks like "Ice Age" and "The Kill," it's the punk aspect, albeit glacial and sinister, that rules. In "Exercise One," "The Only Mistake," and "Something Must Break," it is the gloomy yet essential "dark" ceremonial that transports us to the circles of the Joy Division's inferno. Special mention to the hypnotic "Walked In Line," with its martial and cadenced pace, with a subdued and ruthless voice narrating war crimes (for some, it concerns Soviet crimes, for others Nazi ones; for me, it's a sincere accusation against all militarisms). There's also a cover, rather personal, of "Sister Ray" by... think about it a bit!

The second part of the album, however, offers one of the last concerts held by the band, on May 2, 1980, at Birmingham University. The concert, besides being intense and filled with suggestions that only our guys knew how to evoke, is a sort of sound and human testament, performed 16 days before Ian Curtis's tragic suicide. From the stage, our frontman merely sings composedly but tremendously sincerely, addressing the audience very few times with a faint, thin voice. The band's best tracks are performed here with ease, although, to be fair, the recording doesn't fully do justice to this performance. But, perhaps, such production has the merit of capturing the genuine and immediate spirit that has always characterized the four. The laconic "Thank you, good night," which Curtis addresses to the audience after the last notes of "Digital," is chilling. This is not necrophilia but a sad premonition confirmed by the facts for decades now.

Joy Division was indeed a product of their time, and this is evident from this album, but they had the great merit of being able to open perceptive slits beyond the space-time dimension. In a world of rubber and plastic, obsessed with continuous lights and annoying garish colors, with advertising signs everywhere, with empty and continuous chatter, and with omnipresent cheeky faces; the essential music proposed by these guys represents one of the last attempts to open up towards supra-individual and "other" dimensions. The comparison with Jim Morrison might seem banal and obsolete, but aside from singing skills, both frontmen managed to touch the strings of the soul of the most attentive and predisposed listener. Curtis, in my opinion, with a much more European style, perhaps for this reason, more fascinating. But let's leave continentalisms aside and turn off the light. The notes of "Still," however raw and eternally young, await us in all their fresh and dramatic splendor.