In his 2016 autobiography Substance: Inside New Order, Peter Hook writes: “I’ve often said that the magic of New Order was all that push-and-pull between the rock and electronic sides of the music, the yin and yang of Barney [Sumner] and me.” Power, Corruption & Lies, New Order’s second studio album released in May 1983, confirms this comment and features an even more electronic sound. With its famous cover art that depicts a reworking by graphic designer Peter Saville of 19th century French painter Henri Fantin-Latour’s Un panier de roses (A basket of roses), the record alternates between innovative electro-pop (5-6-8) and synthetic cold wave (Your Silent Face), but also more classic post-punk (Age of Consent). What’s more, Sumner’s vocals are his own and the influence of Ian Curtis is a distant memory. With Power, Corruption & Lies, New Order fused the influences of Kraftwerk and Giorgio Moroder to give birth to their own unstoppable compositions, cornerstones for the British electronic pop of that era. © Marc Zisman/Qobuz

The maelstrom of hype surrounding self-modeled Hollywood pop star Lana Del Rey's 2012 breakthrough album, Born to Die, found critics, listeners, and pop culture aficionados divided about her detached, hyper-stylized approach to every aspect of her music and public persona. What managed to get overlooked by many was that Born to Die made such a polarizing impression because it actually offered something that didn't sound like anything else. Del Rey's sultry, overstated orchestral pop recast her as some sort of vaguely imagined chanteuse for a generation raised on Adderall and the Internet, with heavy doses of Twin Peaks atmosphere adding a creepy sheen to intentionally vapid (and undeniably catchy) radio hits. Follow-up album Ultraviolence shifts gears considerably, building a thick, slow-moving atmosphere with its languid songs and opulent arrangements. Gone are the big beats and glossy production that resulted in tracks like "Summertime Sadness." Instead, Ultraviolence begins with the protracted, rolling melancholia of "Cruel World," nearly seven minutes of what feels like a sad, reverb-drenched daydream. The song sets the stage for the rest of the album, which simmers with a haunted, yearning feeling but never boils over. Even the most pop-friendly moments here are steeped in patient, jazz-inflected moodiness, as with the sad-eyed longing of "Shades of Cool" or the unexpected tempo changes that connect the slinky verses of single "West Coast" to their syrupy, swaying choruses. Production from the Black Keys' Dan Auerbach might have something to do with the metered restraint that permeates the album, with songs like "Sad Girl" carrying some of the slow-burning touches of greasy blues-rock Auerbach is known for. A few puzzling moments break up the continuity of the album. The somewhat hooky elements of "Brooklyn Baby" can't quite rise above its disjointed song structure and cringeable lyrics that could be taken either as mockery of the hipster lifestyle or self-parody. "Money Power Glory" steps briefly out of the overall dreamscape of the album, sounding like a tossed-off outtake from the Born to Die sessions. Despite these mild missteps, Ultraviolence thrives for the most part in its density, meant clearly to be absorbed as an entire experience, with even its weaker pieces contributing to a mood that's consumptive, sexy, and as eerie as big-budget pop music gets. Del Rey's loudest detractors criticized her music as a hollow, cliché-ridden product designed by the music industry and lacking the type of substance that makes real pop stars pop. Ultraviolence asserts that as a songwriter, she has complete control of her craft, deciding on songs far less flashy or immediate but still uniquely captivating. As these songs shift her sound into more mature and nuanced places, it becomes clear that every deadpan affectation, lispy lyric, and overblown allusion to desperate living has been a knowing move in the creation of the strange, beguiling character -- and sonic experience -- we know as Lana Del Rey.© Fred Thomas /TiVo

In his 2016 autobiography Substance: Inside New Order, Peter Hook writes: “I’ve often said that the magic of New Order was all that push-and-pull between the rock and electronic sides of the music, the yin and yang of Barney [Sumner] and me.” Power, Corruption & Lies, New Order’s second studio album released in May 1983, confirms this comment and features an even more electronic sound. With its famous cover art that depicts a reworking by graphic designer Peter Saville of 19th century French painter Henri Fantin-Latour’s Un panier de roses (A basket of roses), the record alternates between innovative electro-pop (5-6-8) and synthetic cold wave (Your Silent Face), but also more classic post-punk (Age of Consent). What’s more, Sumner’s vocals are his own and the influence of Ian Curtis is a distant memory. With Power, Corruption & Lies, New Order fused the influences of Kraftwerk and Giorgio Moroder to give birth to their own unstoppable compositions, cornerstones for the British electronic pop of that era. © Marc Zisman/Qobuz

In 1978, Joy Division made their first TV appearance in the former Manchester Granada studios on Tony Wilson’s show, So It Goes. In the summer of 2017, New Order (aka Joy Division Mark II) returned to the scene of the crime for 5 concerts, with ∑(No,12k,Lg,17Mif) New Order + Liam Gillick: So It Goes… being their 13th July performance. Despite not being particularly renowned for their on-stage performances, they still continue to regularly release live albums. After BBC Radio 1 Live in Concert in 1992, Live at the London Troxy in 2011, Live at Bestival 2012 in 2013 and NOMC15 in 2017, Bernard Sumner’s band conceived this show with artist Liam Gillick, who is normally better suited to the Tate Modern than to concert halls. Some tracks have even been reworked with the help of composer Joe Duddell and a 12-strong synthesizer ensemble.But one thing that fans will be particularly pleased by is the set list. Songs now seldom performed by the Mancunian group (such as Times Change from Republic, Vanishing Point from Technique, Ultraviolence from Power, Corruption and Lies and Plastic from Music Complete) as well as four Joy Division tracks (In a Lonely Place, Decades, Heart & Soul and Disorder, songs which haven’t been played live in 30 years!) make for a very special record. Without resting on their laurels, the quintet consisting of the original line-up (Bernard Sumner, Stephen Morris and Gillian Gilbert) along with later additions (Phil Cunningham and Tom Chapman) perform completely reworked versions of their hits from the last century, proving that they most certainly still have things left to say. © Max Dembo/Qobuz

The maelstrom of hype surrounding self-modeled Hollywood pop star Lana Del Rey's 2012 breakthrough album, Born to Die, found critics, listeners, and pop culture aficionados divided about her detached, hyper-stylized approach to every aspect of her music and public persona. What managed to get overlooked by many was that Born to Die made such a polarizing impression because it actually offered something that didn't sound like anything else. Del Rey's sultry, overstated orchestral pop recast her as some sort of vaguely imagined chanteuse for a generation raised on Adderall and the Internet, with heavy doses of Twin Peaks atmosphere adding a creepy sheen to intentionally vapid (and undeniably catchy) radio hits. Follow-up album Ultraviolence shifts gears considerably, building a thick, slow-moving atmosphere with its languid songs and opulent arrangements. Gone are the big beats and glossy production that resulted in tracks like "Summertime Sadness." Instead, Ultraviolence begins with the protracted, rolling melancholia of "Cruel World," nearly seven minutes of what feels like a sad, reverb-drenched daydream. The song sets the stage for the rest of the album, which simmers with a haunted, yearning feeling but never boils over. Even the most pop-friendly moments here are steeped in patient, jazz-inflected moodiness, as with the sad-eyed longing of "Shades of Cool" or the unexpected tempo changes that connect the slinky verses of single "West Coast" to their syrupy, swaying choruses. Production from the Black Keys' Dan Auerbach might have something to do with the metered restraint that permeates the album, with songs like "Sad Girl" carrying some of the slow-burning touches of greasy blues-rock Auerbach is known for. A few puzzling moments break up the continuity of the album. The somewhat hooky elements of "Brooklyn Baby" can't quite rise above its disjointed song structure and cringeable lyrics that could be taken either as mockery of the hipster lifestyle or self-parody. "Money Power Glory" steps briefly out of the overall dreamscape of the album, sounding like a tossed-off outtake from the Born to Die sessions. Despite these mild missteps, Ultraviolence thrives for the most part in its density, meant clearly to be absorbed as an entire experience, with even its weaker pieces contributing to a mood that's consumptive, sexy, and as eerie as big-budget pop music gets. Del Rey's loudest detractors criticized her music as a hollow, cliché-ridden product designed by the music industry and lacking the type of substance that makes real pop stars pop. Ultraviolence asserts that as a songwriter, she has complete control of her craft, deciding on songs far less flashy or immediate but still uniquely captivating. As these songs shift her sound into more mature and nuanced places, it becomes clear that every deadpan affectation, lispy lyric, and overblown allusion to desperate living has been a knowing move in the creation of the strange, beguiling character -- and sonic experience -- we know as Lana Del Rey.© Fred Thomas /TiVo

For fifteen years now New Order has had to make do without a bassist, and without their co-founder Peter Hook, who stormed out in 2006. The new line-up, led by Bernard Sumner with Stephen Morris, Gillian Gilbert, Phil Cunningham and Tom Chapman, is clearly doing no worse, as we can tell from this new live record (their fifth in ten years) made in November 2018 in London's Alexandra Palace. The concert opens with Wagner, before raining down blow after blow on Singularity, which is one of four tracks on the setlist to be taken from the 2015 album Music Complete (the first album they made without Peter Hook). And while the record didn't win around the critics, this track makes masterful use of the old Joy Division DNA. The ghost of Ian Curtis looms over this 140-minute performance, with searing mementoes in the form of Atmosphere, Decades and Love Will Tear Us Apart which closes the set. Along the way, we get all the hits: from Blue Monday to Bizarre Love Triangle and The Perfect Kiss, all in a venue brought to the boil by an ecstatic, nostalgic audience. It's enough to cheer up even the bluest Monday. © Smaël Bouaici/Qobuz

In his 2016 autobiography Substance: Inside New Order, Peter Hook writes: “I’ve often said that the magic of New Order was all that push-and-pull between the rock and electronic sides of the music, the yin and yang of Barney [Sumner] and me.” Power, Corruption & Lies, New Order’s second studio album released in May 1983, confirms this comment and features an even more electronic sound. With its famous cover art that depicts a reworking by graphic designer Peter Saville of 19th century French painter Henri Fantin-Latour’s Un panier de roses (A basket of roses), the record alternates between innovative electro-pop (5-6-8) and synthetic cold wave (Your Silent Face), but also more classic post-punk (Age of Consent). What’s more, Sumner’s vocals are his own and the influence of Ian Curtis is a distant memory. With Power, Corruption & Lies, New Order fused the influences of Kraftwerk and Giorgio Moroder to give birth to their own unstoppable compositions, cornerstones for the British electronic pop of that era. © Marc Zisman/Qobuz

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