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Jon Casimir, smh.com.au
Not new but still in working Order
The handful of shows New Order played in Sydney in the 1980s were truly hit and miss. The songs were not the problem. Sometimes the musicians had, em, more than petrol in their tanks.
Sometimes they forgot how to play what they'd chosen, which can be an occupational hazard when the set list changes every night.
And sometimes, their reliance on gremlin-ridden, pioneering technology defeated them. One memorable night at the Dee Why Hotel was so ceiling-dripping humid that the machines pretty much refused to come out of the dressing room, leaving the band to make their excuses.
When they got it right, New Order were sublime, a genuinely exciting and innovative blend of trad rock and dance-floor electronics, one of those pop experiences that made you feel you were in the right place at the right time.
Fifteen years on, everything and nothing has changed. It's a perverse pleasure to report that New Order have not morphed into the edgeless tribute act most reunion bands seem to become. Slick professionalism continues to hover just out of their reach, if it's on their agenda at all.
What's important is that New Order 2002 still look and feel like a band rather than an accountancy project.
On a stage dominated by a lightshow pointing at the audience rather than the musicians, brilliantly propulsive drummer Steve Morris went quietly about his business at the back, singer/guitarist Bernard Sumner jigged and yelped excitedly and bass player Peter Hook was as comically exaggerated as ever - his bass slung unfeasibly low, he looks part Quasimodo and part someone who has lost a contact lens and is hoping to spot it before the song finishes.
They still haven't worked out how to structure a list so that the show won't go flat in places.
They're still fighting the equipment - Sumner had problems with the stage sound and was occasionally to be found singing, rather hopefully, in keys known only to himself. And they still have a tendency towards raggedness. The four tracks from the excellent new album, Get Ready, were more blustery than necessary.
But to balance this, they have charm, personality and an unflagging commitment to the songs, a seam they mined as far back as 1979, digging out four Joy Division tunes.
They made more than good fists of Transmission and
Love Will Tear Us Apart, and turned Isolation into dance-floor pop.
Only Atmosphere lacked its recorded majesty, sped up and strangely neutered.
Bizarre Love Triangle was as messy as True Faith was disciplined. Ceremony bristled with power and Your Silent Face was all elegant restraint (the melodica is such a rockin' instrument). Rock the Shack swung its hips and Blue Monday finally got the rather polite full house on its feet.
Sometimes they forgot how to play what they'd chosen, which can be an occupational hazard when the set list changes every night.
And sometimes, their reliance on gremlin-ridden, pioneering technology defeated them. One memorable night at the Dee Why Hotel was so ceiling-dripping humid that the machines pretty much refused to come out of the dressing room, leaving the band to make their excuses.
When they got it right, New Order were sublime, a genuinely exciting and innovative blend of trad rock and dance-floor electronics, one of those pop experiences that made you feel you were in the right place at the right time.
Fifteen years on, everything and nothing has changed. It's a perverse pleasure to report that New Order have not morphed into the edgeless tribute act most reunion bands seem to become. Slick professionalism continues to hover just out of their reach, if it's on their agenda at all.
What's important is that New Order 2002 still look and feel like a band rather than an accountancy project.
On a stage dominated by a lightshow pointing at the audience rather than the musicians, brilliantly propulsive drummer Steve Morris went quietly about his business at the back, singer/guitarist Bernard Sumner jigged and yelped excitedly and bass player Peter Hook was as comically exaggerated as ever - his bass slung unfeasibly low, he looks part Quasimodo and part someone who has lost a contact lens and is hoping to spot it before the song finishes.
They still haven't worked out how to structure a list so that the show won't go flat in places.
They're still fighting the equipment - Sumner had problems with the stage sound and was occasionally to be found singing, rather hopefully, in keys known only to himself. And they still have a tendency towards raggedness. The four tracks from the excellent new album, Get Ready, were more blustery than necessary.
But to balance this, they have charm, personality and an unflagging commitment to the songs, a seam they mined as far back as 1979, digging out four Joy Division tunes.
They made more than good fists of Transmission and
Love Will Tear Us Apart, and turned Isolation into dance-floor pop.
Only Atmosphere lacked its recorded majesty, sped up and strangely neutered.
Bizarre Love Triangle was as messy as True Faith was disciplined. Ceremony bristled with power and Your Silent Face was all elegant restraint (the melodica is such a rockin' instrument). Rock the Shack swung its hips and Blue Monday finally got the rather polite full house on its feet.
Thanks to: Adam Read
