The Night I Met Joy Division

Like any good story, this one begins on a cold night sometime in late December. I can't remember if it was snowing or not, but, for dramatic effect, we will say that it was.

My mother was living with me again and we were getting ready to move across the country because she'd just been divorced and she didn't want to live in the house her ex-husband had owned with her. She didn't want to be alone, either. So there I was--the only other person in the world she felt any kind of human emotion towards--packing up all my shit to move somewhere neither of us had ever been before. Sounds exciting until you take in the insanity of the situation.

The longest music relationship I've ever had has been with The Beatles. But I don't mean that as most people mean it, which is to say that the first music they ever heard was "Love Me Do" and they own a logo sweater. Everyone has that story, it seems. I mean that I've been in a committed relationship with those four Liverpudlians (mostly Paul) for my entire life. I own everything they've ever done on CD, LP, Cassette, digital... I have that obsession down to a science. I am a walking Beatles encyclopaedia. But I digress. The point of mentioning my relationship with 'the fab four' was to say that my second longest musical relationship has been with Oasis. More specifically, with Noel Gallagher. I'm not even ashamed of the music crush I have on that blue-eyed Mancunian. Regardless of (or maybe even in part to) his constant use of Em7 and constant talk of his soul. He has never bored me in the near decade I've known him.

That being said, sometimes, when you're in an emotional rut and you realise that you're nearly 25 years old and are still going after that seemingly impossible dream of a degree in GodKnowsWhat with nothing to show for it besides a few pieces of paper and a general confusion--and just when you thought you had something good going, the whole game changes and you have to pack up and move away--listening to "Talk Tonight" and "Don't Look Back in Anger" just doesn't cut it. So, Sally can wait. She knows it's too late as I'm walking on by. Her soul slides away. 'But don't look back in anger,' I heard you say. Yeah, it's lovely and it all rhymes but it was rather like a drug. It masked all the symptoms of my depression, but, once the music was gone, the depression came back.

I decided to branch out from Oasis and find something that felt more appropriate. Because sitting in silence (not the Oasis song, the literal action of sitting in silence) is heartbreaking. Noel introduced me to Paul Weller and The Jam was an even better drug for me because punk music is an outlet for everything you can fathom. But, at the end of the day, you're still an angry punk.

 For Christmas, I want these three in my garage. It would be the most epic jam session ever. 

I would forget everything I ever knew about music, though.

Often, while I listen to music, I will draw. I am a portrait artist. A real professional as I actually get paid for it (not well, but that's beside the point). I decided one night to draw Paul Weller. I went online to find a good photograph of him for reference and stumbled upon some blog post someone had done about their "celebrity crushes." Paul was there, Noel was there, and Damon Albarn was there too. As I agree with all three of those handsome talented men, I kept scrolling and I was stopped when I saw this picture:

Those are the saddest pale eyes I have ever seen in my life. Underneath the picture, it said his name was Ian Curtis, so I took this info and ran with it because I had to find out what those sad eyes were singing about. When I learned he was the lead singer of Joy Division, I was surprised because I'd learned about that band in an amazing course I took as a college elective called "The History of Rock and Roll." I knew three things about Joy Division: 1. "Love Will Tear Us Apart;" 2. The singer had epilepsy or danced like he did (I couldn't remember); and 3. Suicide. That's all I remembered. I did not remember seeing him like in that photograph. I remembered a video clip of him dancing and, well, the way he danced will stick with a person if that's all you'd seen of him.

It's beautiful.

So I went to my favourite website for learning about new music: Youtube (new music with a video bonus is how I view it) and chose the safety net of listening to the only song I knew from them--and the song most people know from them--"Love Will Tear Us Apart." The moment I heard what his baritone voice was actually saying, I started crying and I didn't stop for weeks. Three days later, I purchased a box set and have since hunted down live recordings; records; demos; and the joy of Warsaw. I even watched the 2007 film Control and bought Peter Hook's book Unknown Pleasures: Inside Joy Division.

Whereas Noel Gallagher had been singing about beautiful nothingness with a pinch of sadness (Slide Away, for example); Ian Curtis was saying all the ridiculously emotional and pitiful things I was thinking at the time. Mother I've tried, please believe me. I'm doing the best that I can. I'm ashamed of the things I've been put through. I'm ashamed of the person I am. (from the song "Isolation") Excessive flashpoints beyond all reach. Solitary demands for all I'd like to keep. Let's take a ride out: see what we can find. A valueless collection of hopes and past desires. (from "24 hours") and, the kicker of them all: Existence, well, what does it matter? I exist on the best terms I can. The past is now part of my future; the present is well out of hand. (from "Heart and Soul").

I could go on for days with the darkest lyrics perhaps ever written in such an honest way; but it's not just the lyrics. The song "Atmosphere" could be done completely instrumental and it would still break me down from the inside and force me to look at myself and face what I am. And, well, "Ceremony" was too much to handle even before I knew it was the last song. Now that I know that about it, I can barely listen to it. (And I refuse to listen to New Order do it. I'm not ready to accept them yet.)

Never before has any music affected me so deeply as the music of Joy Division. What I've said about it so far may very well be an advert against it, but, add to all of the forceful grounding and darkness that it is absolutely beautiful music. So much so that I can barely come up with a better description than to just leave it at that: "beautiful." Sure, it appears to be the darkest part of humanity put to symphony, but that in itself is glorious because it is the bareness and vulnerability of an entire species. The worst of fear and pain is still gorgeous as it is just as strong in the recipe for human as the happiest, loveliest moments are. No one had ever put that thought to music so strongly and so literally. It reads as the truth behind what Jim Morrison hid in metaphor.

Sure, there's a chance that I'm saying all of this and sounding ridiculous, but music is powerful. Joy Division is.

It actually changed my life. I have always rolled my eyes at people when they say some form of music changed their life. I'm sure many of you are rolling your eyes at me now. But I'd like to apologise for such disgust because apparently these things really do happen. And not just to 15-year-olds with black hair dye and eyeliner, either. It's actually okay to have feelings like this, you guys. Really, it is. It's the anonymous equivalent of someone telling you it'll all be okay, this music. Interpretation is everything.

Dance, dance, dance, dance, dance to the radio.