Joy Division - Unknown Pleasures

June 15th, 1979.

Factory

The debut album from Joy Division set a new standard for dreary feats; a new sonic rock bottom for artistic endeavours. The feeling of desperation that Unknown Pleasures emanates can be off-putting, things that are brutally honest about their situation often are. You could say that it's the purpose of art in the first place - to see both ends and maybe open the floor to see more than what's in front of your nose - upset the soft and comfort the uncomfortable. With basslines for days, you'd think it would be the grooviest record ever made. The band had other ideas. 

Factory Records didn’t have any singles in order to promote Unknown Pleasures; it didn't chart. A bit of an invisible entity - hiding in the background; patiently waiting for people to catch on and for time to catch up. It bloomed in the dark. It's source of life was the agony of those that were unknowingly within reach. Fed drips and drabs to survive on. Never fully nourished. Unapologetically sullen; unashamedly fearful of the future. All paths narrowing on a fixed solution. One way in; one way out. Each step heavier than the last. No pity from your friends; no pity from yourself. Wet when it's going wrong. Wet when it's going right. You can't win. Out of sight. Out of mind. Out of reach. Crying out for something. Something to happen; something to begin; something to end. Waiting for you - hoping for something else. Eye-openingly cold. Mind-alteringly callous. Shut off from shore. Like a breath of harsh - it hurts to breathe - air. Weighed down by blankets of burden. Buried in broad daylight. Shot from a cannon with no safety net, by choice. 

The light at the end of the tunnel is a train. Make art. Be as blunt and to the point as possible in the process. 

A pillar of British music. 

RIP Ian Curtis. 

This is the room; the start of it all.