Word leaked out before any promotion started.
New Order and The Smiths were sharing a bill at GMEX that summer. The lads were buzzing with the news. To young working class lads in the North West with an eye on fashion, a burgeoning record collection and both feet immersed in youth culture, New Order and The Smiths were the ultimate. Most liked both bands, but the ones with their feet more in the Casual camp preferred New Order, the more alternative types favoured The Smiths. Both on one bill was going to be the highlight of our summer. Personally, I was New Order mad. My obsession had grown to other Manchester bands so as news came out of the full bill, the potential of seeing A Certain Ratio and The Fall live was extremely exciting.
By some feat of logistical genius, we got the bus into town as soon as tickets went on sale and six of us committed ourselves. I couldn’t wait.
When the day came, we met up at 8am in the precinct. It was a half hour bus journey into town so we stocked up on cans of cheap bitter and dope the night before. The bus was due in 20 minutes so we cracked open the first of many beers. By the time we approached town, the six of us, on the back of the bus, upstairs (of course), had smoked 15 fags each, drunk four cans each and were so desperate for a leak that we couldn’t even talk. Paul Harris couldn’t wait and pissed in a beer can. It overflowed all over his hands. We laughed until our sides and bladders ached. This was going to be a day to remember.
Around the brand new GMEX building, the streets were paved with band t-shirts. Xmal Deutchland, Echo and The Bunnymen, The Fall, the ubiquitous Joy Division and, everywhere, The Smiths. I remember hoping that New Order upstaged The Smiths because they were my band.
There was something distinctly Factory-esque about the GMEX, inside. It was huge, echoey, minimalist and slightly surreal. We only had eyes for the toilets and practically ran through the corridors behind the seats. The bar was next, of course. I remember making a tactical decision to buy pints in twos. The bands hadn’t started. We bought two rounds each. It was around midday and we had had way too much beer. When the first band came on Murph was already asleep.
Memories become blurred around this point. I remember hearing the jazz/funk/punk pitter patter of A Certain Ratio echoeing around the arena and it seemed completely fitting. To this day, when I hear “Flight”, I am back there, wideeyed, charged on alcohol, slightly stoned and awestruck. Mark E Smith walked past us in Wellingtons. The Fall played later and were absolutely awful. We didn’t care. Later, we sat smoking and wasted on a balcony outside. I remember all six of us taking a long walk around town in the afternoon to clear our heads. Word spread around the arena that The Smiths were playing at 6 o’clock and New Order last. I was delighted as I didn’t want my heroes to support anyone.
Expectation built prior to The Smiths and the place was suddenly flooded with bespectacled youths in cardigans. I still remember Morrissey marching around the stage, waving a banner and playing the crowd for all he was worth. They were excellent. During their set I bumped into Nick, an older lad who loved both bands and who had taken me to my first New Order gig. “New Order will never top this!” he screamed in my ear and was sucked off back into the moshpit. After The Smiths, as I queued for the now overflowing toilets, it seemed as if an awful lot of people were leaving. I was worried for my heroes. Was this going to be an anti-climax?
Derek Hatton came on stage to thank Factory for a recent benefit gig. “You Scouse Bastard!” roared the crowd and he hurriedly backed off stage under a hail of plastic glasses. OMD were attacked with a tray by a stage invader. This was Rock n roll. The gig was to celebrate ten years since The Sex Pistols came to Manchester and this all seemed entirely fitting.
Our second wave of alcohol had taken hold by the time New Order came on stage. The crowd sang “Here We Go”. In true, inimitable New Order fashion, they opened with the drumless sound collage of Eligia as the crowd surged this way and that. This was the perfect antidote to The Smiths' crowdpleasing.This was New Order at their most beligerent, most majestic. Others used to pay little attention when new songs were played, but to me they were the pinnacle of the show. I remember the opening bass sequence of Paradise and committing it to memory. It sounded incredible. The whole arena was rocking, literally, as the set reached its climax. Ian McCulloch joined the band on stage looking cool as ice smoking a fag. Then they were gone. The place roared for an encore and they duly re-emerged to more football chants. Then the lights were up: game over. I was suddenly grabbed by a delirious Nick who I bumped into again in the surge to leave. He was ecstatic. “I said they wouldn’t top it but they did!”
They certainly, certainly did. I had lost my watch, spent all my money, had a raging hangover, had to queue hours for the bus home, but had had a day to remember.
