Joy Division have recently been at the hands of a critical resurgence, aided by the Anton Corbijn film "Control", the "Joy Division" documentary, the namechecks from the large number of up-and-coming-bands who will never be as good as Joy Division, and the recent messy split of NewOrder. This then, is an ideal opportunity for the band to rectify the unsatisfactory original CD releases, and follow the latest trend for deluxe editions by adding extraneous live material (one can hope that a similar attempt occurs with the New Order releases to ensure the more obscure ends of their catalogue are made available in digital form).
"Closer", the second LP, and Joy Divisions final actual album, came a mere 11 months on, but the difference isn't merely time, but distance. Since the debut, the band have moved on from the frozen wastes to a glacial desperation. Curtis - plagued by ill-health, domestic strife and infidelity, has become ever more entrenched in his battle against life. Musically, Hannett's production is stronger than the debut - the drums no longer sound like blocks of ice but a fierce, clipped military power keeps the rhythms barely in restraint. As was the bands preference this album does not feature the 'big hit' singles (buy a copy of "Substance" or "Heart And Soul" to get those), but instead 9, seperate standalone tracks which will be barely familiar to the casual fan. Opening with the escalating "Atrocity Exhibition", the album - and it is an album, a suite of songs designed to operate together as a cohesive experience, not just a bunch of songs in some dumb order - move the listener through all manner of emotional crevices before the final strata. Clearly, this is the song of a band at some kind of precipe. It's easy to retrospectively fit this, and claim it be Curtis' suicide note, but in reality, like "In Utereo" it's no such thing. It's the sound of the eternal struggle between what we want life to be, and what it actually is. The album draws to a close with the harrowing trilogy of "Twenty Four Hours", "The Eternal", and "Decades" : as if the fight has gone out towards the end of the record, the music draws to a haunting keyboard motif that gently fades into nothingness. Possibly in fact, the most poignant closing song on any album of all time.
As per "Unknown Pleasures", the second disc contains a live recording (taken from London's ULU during the Closer sessions), and reflects the bands ethos of the time. A well honed, near-fierce aural assault played by committed, passionate, troubled men. As one could expect, the sound of the time, and the limitations of the technology are such that the live experience doesn't reflect the latest in audio standards, but captures the spirit and feeling of the time (as much as I can tell) accurately. The recording is by no means a stunning example of audio fidelity, but it provides a snapshot of an evening in the groups life. Good value for money, definitely.