Some Songs Considered

“Blue Monday (Single Edit)” – New Order
(Words/music: Bernard Sumner, Peter Hook, Stephen Morris, Gillian Gilbert, available on Power, Corruption, & Lies (U.S.), Qwest 1983 / “FAC SEVENTY THREE” 12”, Factory 1983)

I don’t know for sure, but I probably hated drum machines at one point in my life.  If nothing else, as a flesh-and-blood teenage drummer, I’m sure I hated the idea of a machine giving a song a pulse.  I’ve long since warmed to drum machines (and would love to own one, to be perfectly honest), and the first step toward this must have been “Blue Monday.”  I have strong memories attached toward replicating the opening drum sequence (kids – it’s a good practice warm up if you move that rhythm around the kit!) and reluctantly tolerating Orgy’s late-90s take on the song because “Blue Monday” is too good of a song to let a little Nu-Metal ruin it.  Without a doubt, it led me to the Substance collection out of the used bin, which led me deeper down the New Order / Joy Division rabbit hole. 

With no disrespect intended toward the rest of the song (I happen to love Bernard Sumner’s deadpan articulation, and the song is far more melodic than I often remember), the drum machine seizes the spotlight.  The signature fill belongs in the Drum Fill Hall of Fame (let’s talk about that another time, shall we?) and remains as memorable as any other licks – guitars and synths included – of the era.  The payoff of this fill is in its quickness – it’s quickened pace makes it feel even faster than its two bars – and the rapid return back to the song’s groove.  Where others (“In the Air Tonight” immediately comes to mind) might work better in isolation, the “Blue Monday” fill works well with its surrounding material.  For example, this summer I heard a DJ repeat this drum fill over (at least) sixteen bars without building up to anything substantial.  It was too much work with too little payoff – all he had to do was drop the needle on the fill and let the rest of “Blue Monday” spin itself and the crowd was his.

EDIT: In a reblog, morgenstern shares this interesting tidbit: 

In a recent interview Bernard Sumner stated it was a moog source on bass and a SCI Prophet V on top. Synth purists shake their head at the source, but it was a sign of the times. Personally i think the combination of moog bass and prophet leads is just perfect.

More on New Order: Allmusic | Amazon MP3 | Emusic | Last.fm

“Working Overtime” – New Order
(Words/music: New Order, available on Waiting for the Sirens’ Call, Warner Brothers 2005) 

My morning consisted of an uncomfortable level of humidity coupled with far too little sleep.  At a certain point, I hit the right balance of fatigue, atmospheric moisture, and frustration to channel back to my final week as an undergraduate.  At this point, I’ve been away from school longer than I actually spent there, so many of my memories now run together, but I still remember my final week spent sleeping during the day and finishing a semester-long research paper at night.  I usually speak of my nocturnal week the way someone speaks of a successful adventure, but a more honest reflection this morning points back to this week as reinforcement of a lot of poor creative habits (specifically, the idea that I can only be creative late at night).  Every year around this time, whether it’s “sympathy pain” for students preparing for finals or just a strong association with the first uncomfortably humid morning, I slide back into that same mix of sleeplessness, anxiety, and intellectual frenzy that producing a semester’s worth of work in ten days produces.

This morning, I really wanted to know what I listened to on those late nights alone in my apartment’s living room, so I started digging around to figure out what I might have listened to in May 2005.  I found the only playlist from around that time that’s made it through several different computers, and the oddest song was New Order’s “Working Overtime.”  Listening now, it sounds like a cleaner version of Primal Scream’s version of the Rolling Stones (nor is the irony lost on me), but back then it was the aggressive guitar that earned its way onto one of these late night playlists.  If nothing else, this was the kind of song I’d put on to try to spur my third wind of the evening and regain motivation to hammer out a few more pages before sunrise.

In all honesty, the Waiting for the Sirens’ Call album fell victim to this nocturnal phase and the corresponding gap in my memory.  I remember being surprised how much I liked the album yet remember very little about it.  Rediscovering it today, however, helped to recreate that moment in time.  I wonder if listening to the entire disc would do the same thing.  

More on New Order: Allmusic | Amazon MP3 | Emusic | Last.fm

“Atmosphere” – Joy Division
(Words/music: Bernard Albrecht/Ian Curtis/Peter Hook/Stephen Morris/Bernard Sumner, available on Substance, Qwest 1988 / Factory Records single 1980)

If Ian Curtis’ suicide dominates Joy Division’s general reputation, most of their catalog does little to refute the gloomy associations.  Whether it’s dark overtones in the lyrics or the general tautness of their sound, most would find bleakness in their music before finding beauty.  Even their most famous song frames love as a destructive force.  As with any generalized reputation, Joy Division’s reduced biography paints the band as completely one-dimensional.  Songs like “Atmosphere” show the band putting a twist on their sound, foreshadowing the more nuanced emotions New Order put into their records.

“Atmosphere” frames the iciness of Joy Division’s sound in a different context.  It still sounds cold and barren, but it feels like the peaceful quiet of a chilly pre-dawn morning.  The humming synthesizer and huge drum sound feels like a busy street before everyone wakes up.  It’s this setting where Curtis and his second party find a sort of public privacy while the rest of the world sleeps.  Whether Curtis, who sings in a deep and rich tone, intends his plea as a final desperate act or just as a reaction to a disagreement, his request for this person to remain and talk rings through the emptiness.  Where emptiness in other Joy Division songs might signify isolation or loneliness, this emptiness creates a sense of intimacy only available in these very early (or very late) moments.  As the hum of the rest of the world builds, Curtis feels increasingly sincere and urgent.  In a scene with few other signs of life, we’re given a glimpse into the kind of private moments we never know about.  Out of this emptiness comes a sense of warmth, largely from the same ringing arpeggios and “Be My Baby” beat that “Just Like Honey” would use a few years later.  Just as the song reaches its climax – the moment where the rest of the world wakes up – “Atmosphere” fades out.  Even without resolution, it’s a rare glimpse into a side of the band that rarely gets mentioned.

More on Joy Division: Allmusic | Amazon MP3 | Emusic | Last.fm

“Bizarre Love Triangle” – New Order
(Words/music: Bernard Albrecht, Gillian Gilbert, Peter Hook, and Stephen Morris, available on Brotherhood, Qwest 1986)

Pop music rarely treks into the gray area between “I love you” and “I hate you,” and even then it’s usually in the “I hate that I love you so much” vein.  “Bizarre Love Triangle” sits squarely in the middle, with its protagonist feeling both the pull of love and hate.  He acknowledges his confusion, yet he’s closed himself off to outside advice.  Instead, he’s firmly inside his own head, offering a reaction to every thought and a con to every pro he considers.  Perhaps because he’s so wrapped up in his emotional quandary, the narrator tells a vague story.  It’s hard to tell where he stands with this mysterious second person; immediately, I assumed this was a long-time love who started to make him more frustrated than euphoric and he’s trying to decide whether to reconcile or find someone new.  However, this might be a case of lusting over someone who’s already involved and feeling guilty about it.  Either way, our narrator feels heartbroken and frozen by love.

The narrator’s vague situation does two things.  First, it makes the song relatable to people in a variety of situations.  Even if we haven’t been in a “love triangle,” most of us know what it’s like to have a crush on someone who won’t reciprocate the feelings.  “Bizarre Love Triangle” is seductively catchy, and relatability will finish the job that wonderful synth arpeggio starts.  However, the vagueness helps bring out the duality in the lyrics, especially in the chorus.  “Falling” could either be a falling down (as in weakening) or swooning, depending on the narrator’s perspective.  It also suggests a “pray/prey” pun, with the narrator either praying to be noticed or preying on his fallen former love.  Ultimately, it makes the words the narrator wants to hear but can’t say either “I love you” if he’s the “other man,” or “we’re through” if he’s secretly hoping to end things but can’t drum up the courage to do it.  It makes it hard to root for the guy without knowing what he wants (and I’d argue that he doesn’t know what he wants either), but with such a wonderful track pulsing behind it, it’s easy enough to get lost in the melody and leave this guy alone to deal with his emotional baggage.

More on New Order: Allmusic | Amazon MP3 | Emusic | Last.fm