Low-life: New Order face up

In 1985, New Order had already proven themselves to be one of the biggest musical innovators of the 80s, and absolutely the most successful new wave band in transitioning from post-punks to bona-fide booty-movin’ wizards. While 1981’s Movement was carved squarely in Joy Division’s shadow, 1983’s Power, Corruption, and Lies was their first true masterpiece, and the record’s iconic artwork is the first to come to mind to the surface level new waver when imagining New Order. The band had never put their faces on their records, even when Gillian Gilbert wasn’t on keys and Ian Curtis walked the Earth. 

Low-Life (1985) is the perfect New Order album. Even if Power, Corruption, and Lies is a nearly perfect record, it’s still in limbo between their old incarnation and the band they became. In the band’s story, it is on the upward trajectory, but does not break through the surface. Teetering between raving dance rockers and haunting serenity, New Order by ‘85 had taken over; they had nothing to fear and nothing to prove. Drummer Stephen Morris appears on the cover, and the other bandmates adorned the sleeves and promotional material. They had never shown their faces on a record. This is New Order’s day in the sun.

Of the eight tracks here seven would become dance club staples, ready for remixing, editing and stretching to a disc jockey’s desires. The eighth is possibly the greatest instrumental of the 80s. Everything clicks. Bernard Sumner’s singing is purposeful and streamlined, Stephen Morris’s drumming is superb, Peter Hook’s bass lines are powerful, and Gillian Gilbert’s synth work is no longer only ornamentation, but a necessary part of the formula.

In their past work, synth-pop leanings seemed distinct from post-punk spirit, but here the two happily meld and twist together. Opening “Love Vigilantes” is musically a more “Last Time on New Order” analogy for their previous album opener “Age Of Consent.” The antiwar anthem is a charming satire of what Sumner thought Americans returning from Vietnam must have felt like— dead or living dead. The charming guitar crunches at the end conclude the catchup: you are now prepared for an epic synth voyage. It’s really the second track,“The Perfect Kiss,” which sets the tone. Though many fans may point to the extended off-album version, this more succinct “Kiss” is charming, disorienting, and incredibly danceable. The kick-off blaring sirens knock your head back and forth before launching into Hook’s fantastic bassline. The sampled frog croaks and Hook’s epic solo at song’s end add to the eternal excitement.

If “Kiss” is a night out on the town, the two following tracks are the night through the early morning. “This Time of Night” may be one of Sumner’s most venomous compositions, hypnotic synths wash over you as the more restrained tempo and rhythm are relatively more composed. The claustrophobic goth undertones expand, speed up, and explode into the aptly titled “Sunrise.” Staying up all night, you aren’t tired. The time of your life has led to a new realization, and maybe in the cemetery or some grassy place you feel the cold air and the car ride home like you’ve just made a core memory. 

The true centerpiece is the instrumental “Elegia,” the mountain between the two sides of what New Order is on this record. 80s synth music often feels dated because of our connotations with it. Joy Division’s “Isolation” is a great song, but the juxtaposition between the synthesizer and Curtis’s lyrics bridges such a distance to the modern ear. It’s like a candy coating on blood sausage. That isn’t to say synths were very serious at the time, it’s just that they were experimental and sensitive to use, new territory that no one fully understood.

Low-life itself ends with one of the cheeriest instrumentals in the band’s discography. Still, this pristine tribute to Curtis is haunting and eternal, like the best of Joy Division’s music, though Joy Division couldn’t have made it. The 12/8 time, the morbid “funeral vibe,” the power. This resonance is a full realization of the technology at their disposal, and there is no cheer or awkwardness to this particular articulation. Curtis was a gifted writer, but his bandmates lived to be a more adaptable band, with more control over their craft. This album, a finely made urn, captures the best of both with grace, and without words. 

Once on the other side of the hill, you get “Sooner Than You Think,” which takes a surprise turn. The shimmering guitar is refreshing after “Elegia,” until the synth hits like a vacuum and sucks all of the oxygen out. Sumner remains fixed in the strobe lit dance floor for “Sub-culture” before the unbridled joy of “Face Up.” Pushing his voice to its limits, Sumner’s “Oh, how I cannot bear the thought of you!” is a perfectly New Order-esque lyric: ridiculously hopeful, unapologetically triumphant. The sentiment seeps through thirty-five years later into their new single, “Be A Rebel.”

I recently realized the joys of the album are too big for headphones: I was given the aux and unleashed Low-life’s power into my friend’s car. Either my headphones are giving out on me or this album’s existence requires a larger space to roam. Whether it was the sirens and frog croaks bouncing around the vehicle or the instrumental fakeouts that begin “Sooner” and “Face Up,” we couldn’t help but groove. New Order has an amazing discography, but to finally appear, to show their faces. This was a pivotal moment. At a time when it is hard to not be afraid or cynical, maybe bedroom dance parties and hope that teeters on “unrealistic” are necessary. The beauty in the dark and the embrace of the light; knowing the sun will rise, and with it, all of the low-life.

Written by Stanley Quiros

Design by Jessie Yang