Joy Division

O God, grant us a vision of our city,

fair she might be.

A city of justice,

where none shall prey on others.

A city of plenty,

where vice and poverty shall cease to fester.

A city of brotherhood

where all success shall be founded on service,

and honor shall be given to a nobleman alone.

A city of peace

where order shall not rest on force,

but on the love of all for the city,

the great mother of the common light and weal.

I don't see this

as the story of a pop group.

I see this as a story of a city

that once upon a time

was shiny and bold and revolutionary,

and then suddenly, 30-odd years later,

is shiny and revolutionary all over again.

And at the heart of this transformation,

is a bunch of groups,

and one group in particular.

Go further back in time,

further back through time,

to another set of memories.

Time, you see?

5, 4, 3, 2, 1.

I can remember very precisely

what Manchester was like in the mid-'70s.

It felt like a piece of history

that had been spat out.

This had been the historic center

of the modern world.

We invented the industrial revolution in this town.

And yet, even though we did,

we also invented these conditions.

It was really grimy and dirty...

a dirty old town.

You were always looking for beauty

because it was such an ugly place...

whether, again, on the subconscious level.

I mean, I don't think I saw a tree

until I was about 9.

Here are your playgrounds,

your porches and sun lounges

and whatever else you can use them for.

I just remember factories and...

nothing that was pretty, nothing.

I like that!

I remember the first time I was in Manchester,

seeing all these hou...

end-to-end terrace houses.

And then the next time you went,

it was just a pile of rubble.

Then the next time you went,

there was sort of, like,

all this building work.

And then, by the time you were in your teens,

there was this big concrete fortress...

quite futuristic at the time.

Then, of course, concrete cancer set in,

and it looks horrible.

I was born in 1956.

I lived in my grandparents' house,

and they used to talk

about the war all the time.

My grandparents' history had been bombed.

The house had gone.

I remember we had a room there,

and it was full of, like,

gas masks, and...

tin helmets, British flags,

and, you know, old radio sets,

paraphernalia for the war.

I'm at Bernadine Salford Grammar School.

Um, when we're 11,

you get less for murder, don't you?

I guess, living in Salford,

you're a bit of a nobody, really.

You know, you didn't have much chance

of progressing in the world, really.

You were thought of as factory fodder.

So, um, we just sort of wasted our time together.

We were really, really normal, daft beer boys,

I suppose you'd have to say.

I had some myriad instructions

while I was working,

and basically,

it was reading the evening news.

When I was going through the adverts in the classified,

just scanning for anything of interest,

and the Sex Pistols 50p,

Lesser Free Trade Hall,

I thought,

"That looks interesting."

I thought it was sh*t.

It was like a car crash.

It was like, "Oh, my God.",

I've never seen anything like it in me life.

I mean, I'd been to see most groups...

you know, Deep Purple, Led Zeppelin.

I'd never seen anything as chaotic

or as exciting

and as... rebellious.

It was how I felt.

You know, you just want to trash everything.

It was a right racket, you know,

and you thought...

you just thought,

"F***ing hell, I could do that."

You know, I could just about do that.

We... We'd formed a band then,

that night, there and then.

We formed a group.

It's easy to form a group.

It's all the rest that's difficult.

We went to see the second Sex Pistols gig,

when the Buzzcocks supported them.

And, um, we were in it then.

We had a meeting with them on Friday evening

because they said,

"But we'd like to start a band,

but we need some help."

And because, as I say,

punk being an inclusive thing,

and we needed all the...

all the best similar minded people

that we could have,

you know, to make it, uh, a growing concern.

We advertised for a drummer and singer.

One guy called and he didn't sound mad.

I said, "What's your name?"

He went, "Ian."

I said, "Ian who?"

"Ian Curtis"

I said, "Oh."

Because there was two guys called The Two Ians.

They advertised for a singer,

and Ian answered it.

We met in the pub in Sale.

Looking at him, you think,

Christ, you know.

Quite frightening-Iooking guy:

Leather pants,

combat jacket with "Hate" on the back,

getting daggers from the locals,

like,

"What the hell is this? What's he?"

Pretty dangerous thing to do in 1976 Manchester.

I said, "Oh, The Two Ians, right?

We met you at the Clash gig the other day."

Or whatever, you know...

And I was going, you know,

like, punk ideals, yeah:

Being married, boring.

He went,

"Oh, I'm married."

Yeah, he shows me his wedding ring.

We thought...

"You're such a nice guy."

I thought,

"Oh, yeah, it doesn't matter."

He's like,

"Yeah, yeah, that's me, that's me."

I said,

"All right, yeah, yeah.

Yeah, all right, you've got the job."

And that was it, over the phone.

The first set of material we wrote

was just... was aping punk, really.

Completely aping it and doing it really badly.

Don't know what I'm doing,

don't know where I'm going

Leading me to ruin,

I should have traded you in

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