This album was a difficult listen back in 1980 and the passage of time hasn’t made it much easier. Knowing how desperately ill lead singer Ian Curtis was during the recording and then hearing lines like “Gotta find some therapy … gotta find my destiny, before it gets too late” hits home in a way that very few songs do. Perhaps he could have been helped, but there are too many ‘what ifs’ to answer.
The sound of this album defined the 80s for me, being the antithesis of plastic pop for yuppies. Without this album we wouldn’t have had so much of the music that exploded from the Manchester scene throughout that decade and beyond. As with Bowie’s Blackstar, this deserves to be listened to properly and not shuffled or playlisted.
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