|2007-11-04 22:22:00||Decades – Joy Division|
My hostess and I saw Control last night. As far as I can tell, most of the sound-track was actual Joy Division recordings, from live events or from Unknown Pleasures. If not, it was a brilliant recreation of Ian Curtis‘ fantastic voice, physical beauty and weird on-stage presence, along with the grot that inspired this strand of ‘post-punk’. I admit that some of the attempts to compress 5 or more years into under 2 hours occasionally clunked, but such compression is probably bound to be lossy.
Even though I knew the ending, I was in tears as I came out. My hostess was aghast – she hadn’t known this story. I think we left a damp trail down Lothian Road. Most of today, the tense waves of sound that end Atmosphere have been reverberating through my head.
Since last night I’ve been remembering, semi-fondly, all the time I spent with punks, late-model hippies, speed-freaks, the Special Brew crew, queens and tokers in the late 70s and early 80s, and being utterly in love with a school-friend who introduced me to Joy Division and later Pink Floyd via The Final Cut (still one of my ‘Desert Island Discs’). One of the people from this time, leader of a Wiccan group, was my inspiration to become vegan, with her promise of a massive spiritual high. So far the chemical kind has been stronger, but being vegan has provided a quiet, lasting satisfaction.
OK, a lot has changed since then and I have little to no excuse for unhappiness. However, some of the melancholy that arose or found expression then has stayed with me ever since, much to the confoundment of anyone who has tried to be close to me. I guess my laughter is often stoner-manic in an unconscious attempt to layer a thick enough skin over my failures and the unhappiness I’ve perpetrated on others.