45 years ago today
Forty-five years ago today, Ian Curtis took his life.
I was in Calgary, and getting ready to start at Carleton and later – I figured – a journalism degree. In Calgary, I had been involved with the punk scene for many years. I had my own record label, I put on shows with my great friend Nasty Bob Haslam, and I was a member of a seminal prairies punk band, the Hot Nasties.
Punk rock had started to break my heart, however. Skinheads were showing up at our shows to start fights and to promote neo-Naziism. The violence and destruction at gigs was insane. Ras Pierre Schenk and I led the Nasties, and we had had enough.
Punk rock, too, seemed to have lost its way. The Pistols had broken up, the Ramones were getting over-produced by Phil Spector, and the Clash were starting their bizarre dalliance with Rockabilly. It felt like the punk scene was dying, or dead.
Then, along came this band from Manchester that was totally and completely different than anything we had ever heard. Joy Division were dark and (seemingly) despairing, but nobody had done before what they were doing. Their sound, their songs, their words: it was all just so unprecedented. Unknown Pleasures was their first record, and listening to it, for me, was like listening to someone’s soul. A lost one.
The lost soul at the centre of Joy Division was Ian Curtis, a young and married civil servant who was the antithesis of every rock star that had preceded him. He struggled with epilepsy and many demons. On the eve of their first tour in North America, however, he hanged himself in his kitchen. Shortly afterwards, the group’s second and final record, Closer, was released. It is still one of the best records ever made.
Joy Division had a huge, huge influence on me. One of Curtis’s lyrics – from the final song he performed with the band, Ceremony – is tattooed on my arm. “Lean towards this time.”
I still do that, and I remain so sad that he did not. Gone, too soon, too young, 45 years ago today.