Joy Division

I hope Thanksgiving treated all of you United Statesians well. I didn't stop all weekend until Sunday as the YS was in town and I spent Thursday, Friday and Saturday (until I dropped her off at the airport) with her. Mom was home for Thanksgiving but then hopped on a plane Friday morning for Hawaii (which I didn't even know about until last Sunday when I asked her what time sushi was on Friday and she said "I'm not going to be there." "Why not?" "I'm going to be in Hawaii.") Everybody else knew, just not me. She's harassing the LB and his girlfriend, so more power to them.

I've decided to tell you all how I got so into Joy Division, since so many of you have never heard of them (which, sadly, is not surprising).

When I was 15 I got a job at the local Burger King, probably ¾ of mile from my house. I met great people over the course of the six painful horrible horrific years I worked there. The work was all those bad words, the people, for the most part, were lovely. Just making sure you knew that wasn't sarcasm.

There was an automotive plant across the street from us which gave us a ton of business. We'd see them coming and yell to get ready. We just ran our feet off Monday through Friday lunch time. It was insane. After a couple of years I had to "moved up" to opening the store (back in the days before BK served breakfast) along with a couple of other people and Joe D. Joe D is the only one I remember, however. There was an old fashioned record player there, for some reason, and Joe would bring in records to play. The favorite for way too long was Pink Floyd until I finally begged him to bring in something else. Dear God, I hated them. I don't hate them now, necessarily, but every single day for months was just too much. Joe next brought in T. Rex which I liked better than Pink Floyd, but still after a while I got tired of that too. Joe finally brought in Joy Division's Unknown Pleasures album, and that was it. It didn't get nearly the playing time that the others had gotten, sadly, but I definitely liked it immediately.

Joe was my age and lived in my town, but I went to Catholic school and he went to public, so we only ever saw each other at work. He was a good guy, but he didn't take stress very well and he would get really cranky when it was stupid busy and we'd have to wait on food to "push" orders. We actually liked each other, but in the heat of a rush, we became known for saying, "I hate you, Kathleen." "I hate you, Joe D." I'm pretty sure he started it. ;-) Anyway, some fellow co-workers actually thought we were serious, but while it wasn't really said in fun, it wasn't meant. If that makes sense. Joe was a great guy, just not meant for the fast food life, not that anybody really is.

I stopped working at Burger King while in college, but still stopped by on occasion and kept in touch with numerous people. In 1985, Joe joined a punk band with another former BK-er (although he was pretty short-lived as an employee). I forget the name of the band, but I keep thinking it had something to do with dead kittens - classic punk rock attitude there.

One day I was driving past the old BK and decided to stop in. There had been some discussion of catching the band at their next gig and I was looking for information. I walked in and somebody saw me (don't remember who it was for the life of me) and she went to get Ruth (the manager). Ruth came out and said (this is total paraphrasing, as 22 years later I don't remember exactly what was said, and probably couldn't have told you five minutes after she told me), "Oh, Kathleen. I'm so glad you stopped by. Joe was killed last night." I couldn't believe what she was telling me, but he had been driving eastbound on Plymouth Road in Detroit where they were doing construction and they had the eastbound traffic merged over next to the westbound lanes, so instead of the usual two lanes in each direction and a left hand turn lane, there was now two lanes, one in each direction. Somehow Joe crossed the line and hit a SEMTA bus head-on.

Ruth gave me the funeral home information and that night I went up to the funeral home and as I walked in I heard Joe's former girlfriend say, "I wonder if Kat knows." There was much crying, as expected, and many memories shared about our days at Burger King, as a good many BK-ers had shown up. They had an open casket and although I'd have to say the funeral director did an amazing job, considering, it didn't really look like Joe. I visited his gravesite a few times, but it has been many many years since I've been there.

A little after the funeral I asked my friend Daiva at college if her boyfriend Dave would make me tapes of Joy Division, as I knew he was a huge JD fan. I still have those tapes he made for me 20+ years ago, along with every CD Factory Records has put out of Joy Division's over the years, including the reissues earlier this month with an extra previously unreleased live concert CD in Unknown Pleasures, Closer, and Still. I even bought the reissued LPs even though I don't own a record player. Could that be a sign of obsession?

At any rate, I thank Joe D for introducing me to Joy Division all those years ago. I love you, Joe D.

Reviews of Control

Yes, I know, I'm obsessed.

Here's a review of Control from the New York Times. Here's the final paragraph:

“Control” tells a sad story that is also a chronicle of success, and it declines to find an easy moral either in Joy Division’s rapid rise or in its lead singer’s early death. These are things that happened, both on the intimate stage of individual life and in the larger arena of popular culture. Mr. Corbijn, no doubt aware of what this movie will mean to devotees of post-punk melancholy, sticks to the human dimensions of the narrative rather than turning out yet another show business fable. You don’t have to know anything about Joy Division to grasp the mysterious sorrow at its heart.

Here's the Toronto Star's Review

Joy Division & Control

This Friday evening I will be crying. There are no ifs, ands or buts about it. The Joy Division movie, Control opens here in Detroit and I'm going that night with BST. We're both planning on going again on Sunday because most of our friends can't go on Friday night, but we can't wait.

I know I'll be crying because every time I see the trailer, I cry. I can't even imagine making it through the whole movie, but I will because Joy Division is my favorite band of all time and I have read every book about them and even bought the reissued LPs recently even though I don't even own a record player. They were so incredibly beautiful and I'm such a JD geek that I had to have them. The CDs will be reissued next week and I'll be buying them as well. Each comes with a previously unreleased concert. MUST HAVE.



Here is actual footage from a Joy Division concert. The sound is kind of crap and it's not my favorite song, although it's been covered at least a couple of times. I know Grace Jones covered it years ago.



And this is their most well-known song, Love Will Tear Us Apart, which are the words on his gravestone. One of my biggest dreams is to get to Macclesfield, England and visit Ian's grave. I know a guy who has a picture of it in his wallet. Yup, it too makes me cry.



This is my absolutely favorite Joy Division song. The video was done after Ian had died and was directed by Anton Corbijn who directed the movie. The pictures of Ian used in the video were taken by Anton himself. He is a brilliant photographer, as well as video (and now movie) director and took many of the iconic pictures of Ian.



I now have no mascara left. I'm such a girl.

Tigers at Tampa Bay Rays (apparently they've lost the Devil)

The weekend was a bust noise-wise. Not that I'm complaining, trust me. Friday and Saturday were quiet, not because Crave has discovered how to be good neighbors, but because the weather was crappy. Sunday night was good, weather-wise, but I went out dancing, so I have no clue what they did that night. It was way past 2:30 a.m. when I got home. I need to give my neighbors the phone number to the Night Commander's desk of the police department, so when I'm not home (a rarity), they can call and complain.

The decibel reader meter doohickey is no good against the blasted radio control boats across the street. The thingie only reads noise level, not the high-pitched-ness of the bloody boats. Schneider told me he's made signs so that we can picket them. Apparently the signs read "Go home!" and "Leave us in peace." I figure I better find out if we can do that or if we need a permit. We don't need tickets. I moved into these apartments back in 1989, so we're going on 18 years of this crap and it's only getting worse. Back in the beginning, I only remember them on the weekends. This 7-day a week, all freaking day crap is wearing on all of us. Today I sat outside to decibel check them out and they barely reached 79 which I'm sure isn't loud enough to complain, but as I walked in the front door, I flipped them off. Yeah, I know, it was an exceptionally mature thing to do, but I'm telling you, they SUCK!!!

I learned something important this morning (let's hope I remember). After you apply Icy Hot to the various areas of your body that are sore because you're really too damn old to be out dancing for five straight hours and wipe your hands with a tissue, the best thing to do is THROW THE TISSUE OUT!!! For some reason, I left it on my desk and then went to the restroom to wash my hands. When I got back to my desk, my allergies were acting up, so I grabbed a tissue and blew my nose. Yup, you guessed it. I grabbed the tissue with Icy Hot on it. Talk about clearing out your sinuses. I highly recommend NOT doing that.

Sunday mornings as I get ready for church, I listen to Time Warp on 89X with Christina. Last Sunday she announced that she was going to be spinning at my old bar Memorial weekend Sunday. I called DWD & Miss Anne to see if they were up for it. DWD said it depended on family obligations as he had been out of town on business for almost two weeks straight and he's pretty responsible for his mother and his grandpa. Miss Anne took a few days to get a hold of, but when I did, she had a nasty cold, so I didn't expect her to make it. Sure enough, her cold got worse and DWD was busy with family stuff, so I went alone, knowing that Pamela was definitely going to be there. I got there right at 9:00 as I like to dance on a non-crowded dance floor.

What is it about gay men and dance remixes? Christina's DJ partner is gay and bloody hell, he loves ten minute dance remixes. I friggin' hate them!!! If a song is a three minute song, there is no reason on earth it needs time filled with some lame bassline added to it. To me that does not make it more danceable. In fact, I become bored with the beat and keep wishing for the song to end. Now, mind you, I'm not adverse to dancing to long songs, one of my favorites is This Corrosion by The Sisters of Mercy and it's almost 12 minutes long, but it's not the same beat for five minutes!

Now, if you're a DJ and you're being paid to do an 80s night, it might be nice to have updated your collection. I got there right at 9:00 in order to ask for Atmosphere by Joy Division which the old DJ (a good friend) simply refused to play. He said it was too slow and nobody would dance to it. My argument was always, nobody is going to dance at this hour but me anyway!!! Why not play what I want? But he never did. I figured I'd try this DJ, for all the good it did me. So, I ask and he said, "I only have that on vinyl." *sigh* I sit for a few seconds and then ask for Madame Butterfly by Malcolm McLaren. "I only have that on vinyl." ARGH!!!

He was playing some bloody DePeche Mode remix (mind you, I love DePeche Mode, it's the remix issue), but I went out there and started to dance. The next song was a remix and I'm bored dancing to it, but I'm there to dance. I came up with songs that I thought he might have (Echo & the Bunnymen, Higher Hell or The Cutter, Bauhaus, Love & Rockets, Go! by Tones on Tail, and No Pain, No Slogan). While I'm writing them down, a guy walks up and says "Hey! For old times sake, can you play Swamp Thing?" I nodded and said, "Yes, that'll work." in agreement. Guess what the answer was. Yup, only on vinyl.

Within a few songs, he plays No Pain, No Slogan, so I can't complain too much, right? Christina shows up by 10:00 (not that I knew what she looked like before that night) and starts her set with Isolation by Joy Division, followed by Dominion/Mother Russia by The Sisters of Mercy and then a few more songs. I was dancing my little heart out! Then she blew it with a New Order song. I will dance to crap I hate to save my spot on the dance floor, because, in case you couldn't figure it out, it's all about dancing. I figured out though that I could leave the stage and still get my spot back, so I went over to talk to her. That morning she had talked about the Ian Curtis (lead singer/lyricist of Joy Division) movie that premiered at Cannes last week and I wanted to talk to her about it. I told her about the book I had just finished and she was intrigued enough about it to write the title down.

A bunch of old friends showed up and it was a good night. I literally danced from 9:05 to 2:00 a.m. (that included two nasty New Order songs - don't ask me, I have no clue) and a whole lot of great stuff. I've always bitched that it seems that Christina plays the same stuff every Sunday morning which is ridiculous when you realise she's working with the years (1977 to 1990-something), but she did such a great job on Sunday night that I might have to cut her some slack. At the end of the night, she thanked me for the tip on the book and I thanked her for the great dancing.

I just hope my muscles give up their bitching soon, because I haven't slept well the last two nights I'm in such pain. One of these days I will figure out that I'm too old to dance like I used to, but not yet. I might be moaning and groaning all day long, but it was totally worth it.