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VH1 REVIEW OF GET READY
New Order
Get Ready
Reprise
Following the death of vocalist Ian Curtis in 1980, the surviving three members of promising Manchester post-punk quartet Joy Division — guitarist Bernard Sumner, drummer Stephen Morris and bassist Peter Hook — added keyboardist Gillian Gilbert and decided to soldier on as New Order. In the process, these dour Northerners turned into a rather unlikely creation: the world's bleakest disco act. They also made some of the most influential, enduring music of the decade. 1983's "Blue Monday" became a classic, and before hanging up their dancing shoes in the mid-'90s, New Order transformed what was packing nightclubs — from electro to acid — into urban class anthems such as '86's "Bizarre Love Triangle" and '88's "Fine Time." Now, with Moby's techno populism and Radiohead's homespun experiments carrying on in their spirit, the godfathers of glum have returned to cash in.
So it comes as a surprise when, after fooling the listener with a keyboard tease, "Crystal" (RealAudio excerpt) explodes from the speakers like Johnny Thunders jamming with the MC5. Subtle it isn't. Morris' drums rumble across the mix and Bernard Sumner's mild-mannered voice has to shout to be heard above his own battlement of guitars. Indeed, with Gilbert sitting this comeback out, the only trace of New Order's signature sound is Peter Hook's bricklaying bass.
As if to show they're not too old to rock out, the 40-something New Order come out here sounding like they've been blissfully jamming in a garage for too long. Sumner's naive poetry is at its most direct on this album, but whereas his musings were once the free associations of a post-rave comedown ("I'll find myself as I go home," he put it on 1982's "Temptation"), now he wants to forget the SUV in the driveway and his hangover. "I don't want to be like other people are," he grumps on the slow-burning "Turn My Way" (RealAudio excerpt). "Don't want to own a key/ Don't want to wash my car."
Despite the bravado, New Order hedge their bets (or bolster their nerve) with famous friends. "Turn My Way"'s disillusionment is compounded by the unlikely appearance of Billy Corgan on vocals, and, recalling the sullen youth on the cover of Get Ready, Primal Scream's ageless Bobby Gillespie plays Dorian Gray on the romping "Rock the Shack," reminding the wheezing Sumner that he needs "to stop and take a rest" amid the Stooges-like roar.
Ultimately, the four-on-the-floor rhythm and riffing quickly become repetitive, blunting Get Ready's impact. Only "Primitive Notion," whose chainsaw guitars alternate with trance-like bleeps, hints at the New Order that might have been. The rest of the album sticks to the "Crystal" blueprint, until all the raging against the dying of the light starts sounding routine. But if the closing track, "Run Wild" (RealAudio excerpt), is the last thing New Order ever do, it's a perfect kiss-off. The band, finally, comes unplugged, surrounding Sumner's vulnerable coo with acoustic strumming and swelling strings. "If Jesus comes to take your hand/ I won't let go," he sings. As for himself, "I'm going to live 'til I die/ I'm going to live to get high." As they say, whatever works.
C. Bottomley
Get Ready
Reprise
Following the death of vocalist Ian Curtis in 1980, the surviving three members of promising Manchester post-punk quartet Joy Division — guitarist Bernard Sumner, drummer Stephen Morris and bassist Peter Hook — added keyboardist Gillian Gilbert and decided to soldier on as New Order. In the process, these dour Northerners turned into a rather unlikely creation: the world's bleakest disco act. They also made some of the most influential, enduring music of the decade. 1983's "Blue Monday" became a classic, and before hanging up their dancing shoes in the mid-'90s, New Order transformed what was packing nightclubs — from electro to acid — into urban class anthems such as '86's "Bizarre Love Triangle" and '88's "Fine Time." Now, with Moby's techno populism and Radiohead's homespun experiments carrying on in their spirit, the godfathers of glum have returned to cash in.
So it comes as a surprise when, after fooling the listener with a keyboard tease, "Crystal" (RealAudio excerpt) explodes from the speakers like Johnny Thunders jamming with the MC5. Subtle it isn't. Morris' drums rumble across the mix and Bernard Sumner's mild-mannered voice has to shout to be heard above his own battlement of guitars. Indeed, with Gilbert sitting this comeback out, the only trace of New Order's signature sound is Peter Hook's bricklaying bass.
As if to show they're not too old to rock out, the 40-something New Order come out here sounding like they've been blissfully jamming in a garage for too long. Sumner's naive poetry is at its most direct on this album, but whereas his musings were once the free associations of a post-rave comedown ("I'll find myself as I go home," he put it on 1982's "Temptation"), now he wants to forget the SUV in the driveway and his hangover. "I don't want to be like other people are," he grumps on the slow-burning "Turn My Way" (RealAudio excerpt). "Don't want to own a key/ Don't want to wash my car."
Despite the bravado, New Order hedge their bets (or bolster their nerve) with famous friends. "Turn My Way"'s disillusionment is compounded by the unlikely appearance of Billy Corgan on vocals, and, recalling the sullen youth on the cover of Get Ready, Primal Scream's ageless Bobby Gillespie plays Dorian Gray on the romping "Rock the Shack," reminding the wheezing Sumner that he needs "to stop and take a rest" amid the Stooges-like roar.
Ultimately, the four-on-the-floor rhythm and riffing quickly become repetitive, blunting Get Ready's impact. Only "Primitive Notion," whose chainsaw guitars alternate with trance-like bleeps, hints at the New Order that might have been. The rest of the album sticks to the "Crystal" blueprint, until all the raging against the dying of the light starts sounding routine. But if the closing track, "Run Wild" (RealAudio excerpt), is the last thing New Order ever do, it's a perfect kiss-off. The band, finally, comes unplugged, surrounding Sumner's vulnerable coo with acoustic strumming and swelling strings. "If Jesus comes to take your hand/ I won't let go," he sings. As for himself, "I'm going to live 'til I die/ I'm going to live to get high." As they say, whatever works.
C. Bottomley
