Joy Division
Unknown Pleasures

THE REVIEW

JOY DIVISION
UNKNOWN PLEASURES
Factory, 1979
Produced by Martin Hannett

Ian Curtis - vocals
Bernard Sumner - guitar, keyboards
Peter Hook - bass
Stephen Morris - drums

1. DISORDER
2. DAY OF THE LORDS
3. CANDIDATE
4. INSIGHT
5. NEW DAWN FADES
6. SHE'S LOST CONTROL
7. SHADOWPLAY
8. WILDERNESS
9. INTERZONE
10. I REMEBER NOTHING

The first black gem extracted from the Macclesfield mine by Joy Division, branded with the historic Factory label; the meeting point between punk and gothic, where anger wraps around desolation and inner oppression. "Unknown Pleasures" is the transformation of the four from a rough and dirty group to a magnificent conjurer of atmospheres, under the direction of the splendid wizard Martin Hannett. Unlike the subsequent (and final) "Closer", the debut LP is only slightly electronic, still loaded with all the genuine fury of the punk season, reinterpreted through the foggy and claustrophobic lenses of Ian Curtis's poetry. "Unknown Pleasures" is not yet surrender, the inevitable and rational abandonment, the acceptance of defeat in the battle against oneself: it is the preceding step, the question that gravitates in the brain and weighs on the heart, the flashes of deathly light in the dark tunnel of existence, life still shaking in search of an explanation or an answer, before the anesthetizing mists swallow everything.

It's the regular and dusty beat of Stephen Morris that introduces the masterpiece, throwing open the doors for Peter Hook's bass, always full, pulsating and in motion, now in the cavernous depths of sound, now in the spectral highs of the four strings. Sumner's guitar appears like a razor-sharp blade of light cutting through the surrounding darkness, reverberating in every corner of this mysterious and disorienting forest, before Ian Curtis appears in the background: with his crooning from Frank Sinatra's grave, he mechanically unrolls the mantra of "Disorder", a magnificent and driving opening track. The song's jerky movement is accompanied by Ian's echo-laden voice, while electronic specters are chased away in the distance by the guitar, both darting and rough at the same time; the vortex is continuous, impetuous and without an exit, towards the first realization, delicately shouted in a panic that is first moderate then violent: "I've got the spirit, but lose the feeling". The earthquake slowly dies out, spinning around itself, while a frightened but resigned Ian Curtis is swallowed up along with his now-lost feelings.

A steady, slow and relentless pace characterizes "Day of the Lords", accompanied by the icy presence of Sumner's rarefied guitar, now gentle now scratching, like a diabolical imp disturbing the funeral procession marching towards the places Ian describes: an abandoned, desolate, and bare room, where existential questions still float in the air. Tormented by the possible end of everything, Curtis paints his portrait of deformed life, outlined by a choir of very dark sounds, where shadows chase each other saturating the mind: after all, "there's no room for the weak", and terror is evident in the creased voice, submerged by anguish.
Rising from the mist is "Candidate", another page from Ian's personal diaries: the musical composition is stripped to the bone, skeletal and weak like the singer. The personal ghosts can be heard, though, as they gurgle and caress Curtis's thoughts, resigned to the idea of no longer being able to communicate and resonate with the people once loved and now so distant, hidden behind an impenetrable wall of foggy apathy.
"Insight" is metallic and claustrophobic, icy and impersonal. Shut inside a rusty prison, the four are immobilized by the glacial musical atmosphere, occasionally exchanging distracted glances, while the senses slowly abandon their bodies; outside, a fierce electronic storm batters the cell walls, but nothing is able to awaken the prisoners for an escape attempt: they are no longer afraid, enveloped in unconscious memories of youthful idealism nailed to their minds.
"New Dawn Fades" is a marvelous crescendo: it rises from the deep black bowels of the Earth and ascends towards a fiery sky, swirling in the air supported by a bass worthy of anthology, then gliding gently alongside nostalgic memories in the form of guitar ectoplasms. Soft and intimate, it becomes increasingly dark, slowly but inevitably falling into that chasm, once filled with emotions, crashing to the ground when Ian realizes what was haunting him ("It was me, waiting for me").

The sensations, the anxieties, and Ian Curtis's personal mazes become a chronicle in "She's Lost Control", a story about the death of an epileptic girl he met at work. Ian, who suffered from the same neurological condition, was understandably shaken, providing the lyrics for one of Hannett's production manifestos: melancholic, grating, obsessive, and disturbed, the song was one of the group's first successes, thanks also to the overwhelming rhythm that infused this dark and vivid fresco.
Even more pronounced and faster is "Shadowplay", true punk rock thrown into a pool of sticky black paint; Ian Curtis's lonely and barren landscapes are seen from a racing car, as mysterious and threatening figures loom over the journey. Sumner's guitar returns with force as the principal element, standing out in the background of the frenzied race towards the gray horizon of the song, surely the most energetic piece of the album.

"Wilderness" seems to mimic the puppet-like convulsions that Ian performed on stage, mimicking and accentuating the epileptic jolts he knew well. Beyond the critique of the Church in the lyrics, the song is the usual furious metronome enriched with dusty whirlwinds of guitar.
It's a chase of voices in "Interzone", based on Burroughs's tales of a cosmopolitan, fascinating, and Arabian city. Scratchy and swaying, it recalls the earlier, more direct experiences of "An Ideal For Living", for a passage that's less dark but equally intriguing.
If the last two tracks were raw, fast, and rough, "I Remember Nothing" is extremely slow, mired in a foggy limbo of anesthetic; the bass digs notes from the depths of the Underworld and the drums move forward tired yet determined, while the guitar fizzles in the distance, struggling with the usual electronic lightning that appears to torment Ian's existence. The march is relentless and tireless in its undead-like advance, heading straight towards the end and the relief of oblivion.

"Unknown Pleasures" is of immeasurable importance for the musical landscape of the '80s and '90s, a link between dry and direct music and dark and electronic introspection. The primordial rage is transforming into apathy, before the definitive renunciation of "Closer". The musical result is tremendous, fascinating and enveloping, a seminal manifesto of the gothic season that was to come, and at the same time a rare masterpiece that unifies spectral and black music with the disturbing and magnificent poetry of that sad genius, Ian Curtis.