For some, Joy Division is an acquired taste. At least for me they were.
In spite of an unabashed love for heaviness like TOOL or all things Grunge, somehow Joy Division was too dark, too mature for me. I was a sparky and impetuous young woman, I wasn’t especially introspective. I had to grow up a bit before they started to resonate.
Not until I was in my late twenties did my more mature self find room to accommodate them. Perhaps they were making up for lost time, because once they moved into that room, it took a long time before they left.
At that time, I had found myself in a state that only Joy Division could cure. Since that initial entanglement, I have revisited this state more than once and each time it remains true that only Joy Division can shake me out of it. I’ve come to identify this reoccurring state as a “Joy Division Phase.”
The Joy Division Phase feels a certain way. It feels grey and misty; it leaves a dull emptiness that sits just between fear and loneliness. It mixes worry with apathy so that it can always lay just out of sight, defying definition and skirting resolution. It’s a slippery sadness that has such persistence it almost becomes comforting.
Life seems pretty normal, but there is a shadow hiding at the end of the hall and it keeps catching the corner of the eye.
This state can be entered in various ways. It has been prompted by classics like a broken heart as well as the building insanity we might refer to as reality. Regardless of the trigger, it had been quite some time since I’d felt this way. I didn’t even recognize it at first.
As the holidays approached and stress increased, I felt the tension growing inside. Just as I was getting dangerously close to the red, about to bust open, something strange happened. I might have blown a microchip or something, but suddenly I felt the rush of calm, the strength not to give two fucks.
I felt the return of my Joy Division Phase.
Ian Curtis’ fingerprint weighs heavily on the band. His sadness and sensitivity, his kindness and sorrow are tightly wrapped in the music, almost softening it. The music is packed with both fury and love. That balance provides the only key to unlock the cure. Only this music can fix this feeling.
Occasionally I think of our rainforests, how some say that the cure to every disease known to man is hidden within them. I wonder if there is music that can cure every form of sadness or reveal unique forms of happiness?
The irony of Curtis, his heart overflowing with empathy and his leather jacket advertising HATE, supports a web of music unlike any other. New Order is great, but doesn’t hit the same button that Joy Division does because of his absence.
Out of frustration and helplessness, Joy Division have sown a strong and graceful garden. Out of the dirty, grimy streets of Manchester rose an organic sculpture of sound; beautiful, city wild and unlike anything else.
This is precisely the library I dive into to anytime I need the cure. The music wrenches out of me the very things that Curtis was trying to escape as well. Listening purges the pain and sadness, letting it drift away. It replaces the ugliness with something lovely.
Whether they are part of your prescription for good mental health or not, they have left a powerful and unique library of rock and roll for us to celebrate.
Similar to Radiohead, Joy Division became their own genre. There isn’t another band that would be a worthy substitute for either. This shared trait is extended in the art that they have inspired.
As though he was enamored with dark and slightly spooky bands, Grant Gee, the filmmaker responsible for Meeting People Is Easy, also made a film about Joy Division. Aptly titled Joy Division, the film is an enthralling way to spend a few hours.
The film explores the bands chemistry and inventiveness, it sets the scene out of which the band evolved. You realize that you can hear the drab, concrete city in the music. You can hear the isolation and feel the yearning for an escape from the hopelessness that surrounded them.
Should you prefer biographies to documentaries, Control is a movie intent on digging under Curtis’ skin and showing the viewer what it might have looked like inside.
Shot in black and white, the film puts distance between the era of Joy Division and modern day.
This is important to note because some bands are so far ahead of their time that they sound and feel contemporary no matter which point in space time you encounter them. Were they just sprouting up today, we’d probably still find Joy Division fresh and edgy, sexy and full of sullen swagger.
But things were vastly different back then…
One of the gems of my CD collection is the small boxed set: Heart and soul. Joy Division. It is a four disc collection decorated with photography that captures exactly what it promised: the heart and soul of the band. The feel of the band.
Many of the images posted here are photographs of artwork from this set. In addition, you’ll notice artwork from the albums.
So, now it’s your turn! Do you find music to be therapeutic? Is there a particular band that calms you or helps shake off the blues? When you’re feeling bummed, who’s your go-to? Or do you just love Joy Division and want to comment on that? Please don’t be shy; feel free to share here: