So many charismatic lead singers fronted UK bands in the 1980s – Morrissey (The Smiths) pranced around the stage in half-open silk shirts, bathed in crowd adulation and air-born gladioli; David Gahan (Depeche Mode) was all confidence and sex appeal, spinning a mic stand like a gothic baton; Ian McCulloch (Echo & the Bunnymen), like Jim Morrison, looked cool just standing there; Matt Johnson (The The) radiated intelligence, stalking the stage like a welterweight boxer; even Robert Smith (The Cure) had gothic, minimalist charisma, even if it was mostly all hair and makeup.
And, of course, Ian Curtis (Joy Division) was coiled intensity, thousand-mile stare, doing his maniacal Ian epilepsy dance.
And then Ian Curtis killed himself…
Into Ian’s considerable shadow stepped the 80s reluctant front man, Bernard Sumner, Joy Division’s erstwhile guitarist. Bernard Sumner looked like a fresh-faced school boy in 1980 when he stepped up to the mic stand as the lead singer of New Order (Bernard was 24 but looked 16, and he probably got carded well into the 1990s). His voice, a thin tenor, had none of the power, character, or beauty of any of the aforementioned 80s lead singers. And his stage presense, if I’m being kind, has always been net neutral – he does a little twirling thing on stage, and a little hopping thing too, neither of which happen to the beat of the music. And his stage banter – mostly non-jokes and non-sequiters – borders on embarrassing.
But the music, oh, the music! I’ve been listening to these great UK 80s bands for 30+ years and while my love and devotion for all of these bands (as well as several others from this period) burn bright, New Order might be – Might be! Don’t hold me to it! – my favorite band from that formative 80’s period.
I write all of this nostagic preamble because I just read Bernard Sumner’s autiobiography “Chapter and Verse: New Order, Joy Division, and Me,” a sort of slapdash romp through the life and career of the New Order lead singer and Joy Division guitarist.
Like Bernard’s vocals, “Chapter and Verse” is a little rough around the edges – it’s often repetitive or vague, it skips over whole albums or periods from the band’s history, and it’s far from being well-written let alone poetic or literary. But I read it, compulsively, over a 2-day period, my eyes glued to the page. Part of my focused attention was due to the drama surrounding the band, in particular Bernard’s rivalry with former New Order bassist, Peter Hook.
At this point I should point out that Peter Hook wrote a rollicking and amusing autobiography himself about Joy Division in 2013 called “Unknown Pleasures: Inside Joy Division.” Hook’s book reads like a drunken bar conversation, embelished war stories told by a semi-reliable witness. It is profane, laugh-out-loud funny, and often vulnerable – for every dig at Sumner, Hook offers an honest-to-god compliment. (For example, Hook says he prefers Bernard Sumner’s guitar playing to Johnny Marr’s – I kid you not!)
In contrast, Sumner’s biography is less personal, more dispassionate – he’s setting the record straight, telling it like it is, or was. Sumner waxes eloquent and nostalgic about his childhood in rough Salford, a suburb of Manchester; he’s open and straightforward about the devasatation Curtis’s suicide wrought on Joy Division; he’s vulnerable regarding his anxiety and apathy about taking over lead singer duties; he plays raconteur when recounting various scenes of on-the-road debauchery; and in some cases Sumner seems to be directly responding to Hook’s book – for example, Hook reports that Sumner hated to be called “Barney,” (and then proceeds to all him “Barney” for the rest of the book), while Sumner, in his book, reports that the nickname “Barney” never bothered him.
Hey, I loved both books. Hook was funny and amusing, and I loved his track-by-track analysis of the Joy Division records as well as his anecdotes about the rival bands he met and played with on the road.
But Bernard Sumner is the main character, the hero of the New Order story. That New Order even happened, let alone flourished; that it transcended Joy Division; that the boyish, sometimes off-key Bernard Sumner was able to step into Ian Curtis’s charismatic shoes… is something of a miracle. And reading Sumner’s autobiogrpahy helped cryistalize why – Bernard Sumner is a pramatist, a plodder, and an exacting task master, he knows what makes a perfect pop song, and he’ll work at it, musical layer upon layer, until he gets it right. Sumner recognizes Peter Hook’s genius bass work (“Do your thing, Hooky!”) and Steve Morris’s impeccable drums, and works them into every New Order song – but the rest of the magic is all Sumner. And after 2 Joy Division, 9 New Order, 3 Electronic, and 1 Bad Lieutenant records, and countless non-album singles, Bernard Sumner’s stellar track record stands for itself.
As for the ongoing he-said-he-said, Sumner-vs-Hook battle for ownership of the New Order story I’m not sure I care any more. If anything maybe we should be grateful – but for their breakup would we have these great behind-the-scenes, tell-all memoirs? (Peter Hook’s New Order memoir is currently in the works, his third following the aforementioned Joy Divison book and his “Hacienda: How Not to Run a Night Club” book about the legendary Manchester nightclub he co-owned with the other band members of New Order and executives from the Factory record label.)
I’ve saved the best thing about Bernard Sumner’s memoir for last – it will make you compulsively listen to all of your old Joy Division, New Order, Electronic, and Bad Lieutenant records on a neverending loop. And when you’re not doing that you’ll be doing a deep YouTube dive into the JoyDivision-NewOrder-Electronic-BadLieutenant-related videos, interviews, and live performances. “Up, down, turn around, please don’t let me hit the ground; Tonight I think I’ll walk alone, I’ll find my soul as I go home…”