Touching From a Distance (8 page)

As the musical rebellion against the power of the London labels grew, Ian’s excitement was obvious. Of the Manchester Musicians’ Collective Ian said,

The reasons for Ian’s absence from his Manchester job became apparent when I realized that more often than not he had taken time off to visit Derek Brandwood and his assistant, Northern Soul DJ, Richard Searling. They ran an RCA promotion department in Piccadilly Plaza, Manchester. Derek Brandwood had managed to acquire a display window in the ground-floor avenue which Ian and I passed every day, but apart from the display window, the office was unobtrusive and well hidden from the rest of the bustling city. It had become a meeting place for new talent in the city and, coincidentally, for Martin Hannett. It was Martin’s suggestion that he and Derek work with Sad Café as a team and he told Derek that he would be able to get them a TV spot on Granada if Derek could arrange an interview with Iggy Pop for Tony Wilson. It was this that set the ball rolling as far as talent-scouting in the North-West was concerned.

RCA was the same record label that had signed most of Ian’s heroes, including David Bowie, Iggy Pop and Lou Reed. Ian found it easy simply to walk into the office and have a chat with whoever was there. Ian wasn’t shy about pushing himself forward where his musical career was concerned and, having met Derek since, I can see how comfortable he would have made Ian feel. When Bernie Binnick of Swan Records was looking for a New Wave band from the UK to go into the American market, he contacted his friend John Anderson who just happened to run a Northern Soul label with Richard Searling. A classic case of being in the right place at the right time, Joy Division were chosen partly for convenience. They were still trying to sell the
An
Ideal
for
Living
EP and were keen to begin another project. Ian took the initiative to set up a meeting between the band, Richard Searling and John Anderson. Peter Hook was the only member of the band to raise any real questions or to appear remotely wary. Joy Division were desperate to do some more recording and
any queries Peter may have had were hastily pushed aside. Production or even the type of music they were to record was given little or no discussion. The only thing clear in their minds was the fact that someone else was going to pay for the recording.

Richard Searling, John Anderson and Bernie Binick agreed to put £500 each into the project, which was to be recorded at Greendow/Arrow Studios, Manchester, at £35 per hour. This was an expensive rate at the time, but it proved the serious intentions of the three investors. In April 1978 twelve songs were recorded: eleven composed by the band and ‘Keep On Keepin’ On’ by N. F. Porter, which was reworked and the riff used on ‘Interzone’. There are mixed views on these sessions. I remember Ian being very upset about the recording of his vocals. John Anderson had assumed the role of producer and Ian felt that whatever it was John wanted, he wasn’t prepared to do it. He complained bitterly that he was expected to sing like a soul singer – James Brown in particular. A great deal of sulking went on when it was suggested they use a synthesizer, but the idea was taken on board.

The studio time wasn’t all frustration and arguments. Some time was taken for the odd drink across the road and one night, when the band found their lagers devoid of lime, they changed the lyrics of ‘Walked in Line’ to ‘We wanted lime’.

The album tracks themselves are a strange mixture, for at the time the band were experiencing a metamorphosis. Classic songs like ‘Shadowplay’ jostled for position against amateurish compositions like ‘Novelty’, which were written before each member of the band had discovered his own particular forte within the group’s collective structure. Joy Division were unhappy with the recordings, realizing that they had moved on since beginning the project and had written new and more innovative songs. The three investors failed to recognize this and were disappointed with the band’s lack of enthusiasm. The band were so desperate just to make a record that they had brushed aside their inexperience. Apart from the obvious complicated facets of the music industry, they had no knowledge of how to deal with businessmen. However, despite their displeasure with the
work that had been done, the very fact that someone had paid for them to go into the studio appeared to kindle some interest from other sources.

Terry Mason was still struggling to book gigs for the band. Very often they played for free and on some occasions had to find the money to pay for use of the PA system. In the beginning Sue Barlow (Bernard’s girlfriend) and I would stand at the front of the stage trying to look like an army of fans. Very much the pariahs of the Manchester scene, the band became downhearted. It seemed to them that the Fall only had to step out of the door to be offered a gig. Although Ian had spent a great deal of time trying to nurture his relationship with the Buzzcocks, the feeling among the band was that the only reason why Peter Shelley would stand next to Joy Division would be for protection if a fight was imminent.

When two London record labels, Stiff and Chiswick, decided to hold a ‘battle of the bands’ contest at Rafters, anyone who was hoping to be anyone joined a band, thinking they had a chance to be singled out by one of the record companies. Producers, managers, reporters, photographers – you name it, they were there, not in their usual roles but attempting to perform. In the clammy envelopment of the downstairs bar they jostled for a place on the bill.

Tony Wilson was already well known in the region after working on the local news programme
Granada
Reports
and, later, having his own programme
So
It
Goes.
Every band Wilson had chosen to play on the show subsequently became famous. These included the Sex Pistols, the Clash, the Buzzcocks and Elvis Costello. Ian was most impressed when his long-time idol Iggy Pop was featured, so he had an understandable determination to get to know Tony. Tony had already seen the band as Warsaw on the last night of the Electric Circus and, despite the fact that he had enthusiastically waved the
An
Ideal
for
Living
EP at the camera during his regional news programme, he had not yet been moved enough to get in touch.

As Tony Wilson walked down to the basement club to join that tiny elite, someone shouted to him, ‘When’s
So
It
Goes
coming back, T?’ Before Tony had time to answer, another voice said, ‘He doesn’t want it to come back. He wants it to be gone for ever. Then everyone will remember it as a cult thing and it will become famous in retrospect.’ Tony turned around and there was Rob Gretton. As Tony sat on one of the banquette seats near the pool table, Ian was a short distance away writing the most abusive letter he could muster. I was amazed that he thought he could get a TV spot by using such foul 
language. I blushed for him as he walked over and waited for the explosion when he had handed over the letter. Instead, he sat down next to Tony, obviously trying to summon the courage to speak to him. Being ill-mannered didn’t come naturally to Ian, but he forced himself.

‘You’re a fucking cunt you are, you’re a bastard.’

‘Oh yeah,’ said Tony. ‘Why’s that?’

‘Cause you haven’t put us on television.’

Tony reciprocated, not by giving Ian a return mouthful, but by telling him that Joy Division would be the next band he put on. Ian was elated that he had accomplished his mission. The next battle was actually getting Joy Division a place on the bill that night. When it became apparent that there would only be time for one more band to play, there was a ferocious argument between Joy Division and the Negatives, who included Richard Boon, Paul Morley and Kevin Cummins. Joy Division were justifiably indignant at the thought of missing their big chance because of what they considered to be a joke band and a scuffle broke out.

However, Joy Division got their way. At around 2.10 a.m. they took the stage and played three numbers before the plugs were pulled. The importance of the evening was magnified in the minds of the performers. If the whole show had been broadcast nationally, there could not have been more enthusiasm in that tiny club. Most people there were too naïve or inexperienced to know that groups who win competitions of this type disappear without trace. The event was significant – first, because of Ian’s chat with Tony Wilson and second, because it gave Rob Gretton the opportunity to see Joy Division at their most determined and enthusiastic.

Tony Wilson remembered that he had already promised that they would be the next band he would put on screen. So when he had the opportunity for a ‘What’s On’ spot during
Granada
Reports,
he arranged for Joy Division to perform ‘Shadowplay’. With monochrome footage of a dire cityscape taken from a
World
In
Action
documentary, the song came across as exciting and different. Joy Division would later be invited back to film ‘Transmission’ and ‘She’s Lost
Control’. Ian’s verbal abuse had triumphed over the fervent competition that existed between the myriad bands spawned at the time.

Initially, the boys in Joy Division were greatly lacking in aggression. They all found it difficult to barter for the gigs which were in such short supply. While other bands found Joy Division to be aloof, arrogant and perhaps unnervingly sure of their eventual success, Joy Division covered their doubts well and thought other bands were more streetwise and ready for a fight. There appeared to be a social gulf between Joy Division and some of their contemporaries, and despite joining the Manchester Musicians’ Collective, they didn’t make many friends within the business.

One of their luckiest breaks came when Rob Gretton became their manager. A tough Wythenshawe boy, he was well equipped to guide them through the rigorous business of getting a deal.

Ian made up his mind to accept Rob Gretton. After meeting him and his girlfriend, Lesley Gilbert, he told me how amiable they both were but repeated it almost to himself as if to reaffirm the decision he had either made or been forced into making. He spoke about them as if they were his guardians, or surrogate parents. Indeed, when the shit finally hit the fan it was to them we both turned. Unfortunately, Lesley and I would be at a disadvantage when later on Rob and Ian’s relationship developed a confidentiality similar to that of solicitor and client, or doctor and patient. Ian had enjoyed organizing the deal with Derek Brandwood, but if he resented Rob Gretton taking over the situation, he never showed it. The most difficult thing for him to do must have been later when he gave up his job in the Civil Service and had to rely on Rob arranging regular monthly payments.

Ian was very lucky to fall in with such an easy-going bunch of people. They always accepted him the way he was. The white lies he told were taken simply as a part of him and never caused any major rows. Sometimes he would bitch about someone, but he would completely deny it when confronted. He hated it if anyone else went on holiday – not because he wanted to go away himself, but because he thought that time spent away was futile. He expected everyone to put all their time and effort into performing, as he did. Despite having more responsibilities at home than the others, he was much more dedicated and determined than they were. Once, when Bernard had taken yet another holiday, Ian put it to the rest of the lads that Bernard simply wasn’t a good enough guitarist and that they needed a second rhythm guitarist to join the band and boost the sound. He even told me that they were auditioning in Bernard’s absence. Bernard was furious when he found out and asked Rob Gretton whose idea it had been. Ian looked aghast. ‘I never said that!’ he said. It was this incident that brought Peter Hook’s bass-playing more up front and made it a much more dominant part of their music. Later, it became one of Joy Division’s best-loved trade marks.

Musicians’ Union Collective meetings were usually held on Monday nights at the Band on the Wall. These performances were not so much gigs as rehearsals, accompanied by the jeering snipes of the Fall. Chaos usually reigned. One night we went out to buy chips and the bouncer would not allow us back in. On another occasion the rest of the band forgot to tell Ian that they were going on stage. He was in mid-pee when the sound of his intro (luckily ‘No Love Lost’ – a long one) filtered through the toilet walls. Reviewing one of the Band on the Wall appearances, a weary Mick Middles bemoaned Joy Division’s ‘limited’ and ‘samey’ performance and suggested that the Nazi connection had been ‘exploited beyond tolerance’. While in complete contrast Paul Morley, writing for the
New
Musical
Express,
described them as ‘animated and volatile …with eloquence and direction’.

Ian and I often met at home for lunch, but this was usually by coincidence rather than arrangement. One afternoon Ian was sitting waiting
for me and told me that my parents had had to have my old dog, Tess, put to sleep. I was so inconsolable that I was unable to return to college. I felt stupid, crying like that over an animal, but being an animal lover too, Ian understood completely. Before the lunch hour was over, we decided that the only solution was to get another dog. When Ian finished work that evening we drove up into the hills to Windyway Kennels, the local animal sanctuary. A litter of chubby Border collies was just about ready to find new homes and we chose a friendly but frisky female. Ian named her Candy after the Velvet Underground song ‘Candy Says’ and was so delighted with her that I wondered why we hadn’t thought of having a dog before. While I took it upon myself to housetrain Candy and teach her to sit, Ian readily volunteered for the walkies. He never made any attempt to persuade her to walk to heel. I can still see them together – a lanky young man being pulled along, arm outstretched, by a panting, overexcited dog.

The first night Candy stayed with us was unusually hot. We put newspaper down all over the lounge and left a small window open. Ian settled her down in a cardboard box with a hot-water bottle and hoped she would not be too lonely. During the night I awoke to hear her yapping. I waited to see if she stopped and when she did, I turned over and went back to sleep. The next morning I found the front door open and £7 – all the money I had – missing from my purse. This intrusion didn’t worry Ian at all. He had nothing to say about it except that he was thrilled that Candy had guarded the house on her first night.