New Order, Heaton Park, review: the rapt middle-aged audience were the stars of this Madchester rave
“Radio – LIVE TRANSMISSION!” roared a huge crowd, heaving with giddy delight as the band onstage charged through Joy Division’s guitar clashing anthem Transmission. A song that in 1978 sounded like a brutal burst of anxious energy took on tones of celebratory escapism as it boomed out of giant speakers in Heaton Park, while pillars of light beamed into a cloudy Manchester night sky. “Isn’t it great to be alive again!” said frontman Bernard Sumner, with a satisfied smile.
New Order rose from the ashes of post-punk champions Joy Division following the suicide of frontman Ian Curtis in 1980. With guitarist Sumner taking over vocals, the revived group surprised everyone by becoming the electro-rock godfathers of Manchester’s original rave scene, proprietors of the city’s first superclub, The Ha?ienda. On Friday night, the local heroes played the biggest concert of their long career.
Using the infrastructure of the weekend’s Parklife festival, New Order performed in front of 35,000 fans. On Saturday and Sunday, the park would be the territory of young ravers, dancing to such contemporary rap, grime and DJ talent as Dave, Skepta, Megan Thee Stallion, Disclosure and Jamie XX. But on Friday it was the turn of their mums and dads, as a middle-aged audience fished out old bucket hats and faded smiley T-shirts to revive their reputations as Manchester’s original 24-hour party people.
Carving out personal dance space among the packed throng, shouting out keyboard parts and singing along at the barest hint of a recognisable melody, the crowd were really the stars of the occasion. The band, as usual, looked as if they didn’t quite know what to do with themselves. New Order are past masters at employing lasers, strobes and digital animation screens to distract from the anti-charisma of a band who resemble the staff of a mid-table comprehensive doing a turn at their students’ end of year disco.
In his white Nasa T-shirt and robust spectacles, drummer Stephen Morris could pass for an energetic science teacher. His wife, keyboard player Gillian Gilbert, frowned into a laptop all night, as if disappointed with the quality of the homework she was marking. When not picking out mathematical figures on his guitar, Mr Sumner, the headmaster, strolled about with one hand on his hip, the other holding his radio mic. “It’s been a horrible year and a half,” he told his eager students. “Let’s make up for it.”
Original bassist Peter Hook left in bad spirits in 2007 and has become He Who Cannot Be Named. Ghostly images of Ian Curtis sometimes appeared on-screen, but the grizzled features of the man who gave Joy Division and New Order their gnarly bass drive have been wiped from history. There are two replacement members, but clearly no one gave supply staff Tom Chapman and Phil Cunningham the memo on maintaining decorum on public occasions, and they swanned about as if actually having a good time.
And I’m sorry New Order fans but we have to talk about Bernard Sumner’s singing. On record, his weedy vocals embody a kind of fragile English everyman quality set against the frenetic rhythmic drive and pulsing synthetic tones of New Order in full flight. But his frailty can be cruelly exposed live. He was so out of tune on Vanishing Point, he may as well have been singing a different song altogether.
Fortunately, this is a group who come into their own during long instrumental passages, when rock and techno elements mesh into mesmeric grooves. Their 1983 hit Blue Monday is the bestselling British 12” single of all time, and that is their power base. This set was effectively a greatest hits club remix, hitting audiences with familiar hooks then driving on into extended dance floor codas. By the time the quintet returned for Joy Division encores, the throng looked thoroughly happy and exhausted. Their delight at being freed from lockdown manifested in transforming Love Will Tear Us Apart from a heartbreak dirge to a lusty singalong. Covid may have dented the city’s party spirit but on a blue Friday in Madchester, the old order was firmly re-established.
