Face Up: New Order’s Low-Life Turns 40

When we talk about an artist’s imperial phase, what’s the bare minimum for carrying on a winning streak?

Probably Fulfillingness’ First Finale, I’d say. In no way is Stevie Wonder’s 1974 album up to the level of what surrounds: Talking Book, Innervisions, Songs in the Key of Life. And in no way does it drag them down; it’s merely a strong link in the chain that supplies the occasional banger like “Boogie On Reggae Woman” or “You Haven’t Done Nothin’,” a pillar of a major career period that continues holding up the structure without raising the bar. It not only holds the line, it even gets mistaken for a peak itself; Finale nabbed Wonder a second straight Album of the Year Grammy. 

I’d argue for Kendrick Lamar’s top-to-bottom solid DAMN. in this category, too, though it has stronger fandom going for it, particularly from the claque that prefers no-bullshit Kendrick to his therapy sessions, and complicated by an unprecedented Pulitzer Prize that even his therapy sessions didn’t win. Damn has probably a stronger identity in his catalog for keeping him grounded between major curveballs. The leisurely Fulfillingness’ First Finale doesn’t much advance Stevie’s prowess, it just adds a trophy to the shelf. It’s a healthy analogue for New Order’s Low-Life.

Not to stretch this analogy too far but New Order’s imperial phase mastered a remarkably consistent and euphoric trade in a very short amount of time. The two Joy Division LPs and New Order’s debut album Movement were strong, emotionally powered post-punk of intense rhythmic propulsion that set the stage for excellence. But the transformation into something downright pleasurable was still a surprise, especially when the title Power, Corruption and Lies didn’t really come across like the breakthrough that would transcend their darkness. Suddenly they were the beating heart of synthpop.

By the time of 1986’s downright blissful Brotherhood, their disco-in-denial was as strong as any ‘80s pop outfit, and even stronger if you limit that field to album artists. The following year’s iconic Substance remains one of the greatest singles compilations by anyone ever, even recognized in canons among those who normally disavow greatest hits albums. And in the middle of these unimpeachable triumphs is 1985’s transitional Low-Life, which is quite literally half as great as the others.

Let’s get the middle out of the way first. “This Time of Night,” “Sunrise,” “Sooner Than You Think,” and the instrumental Ian Curtis tribute “Elegia” are not classic songs. But they’re familiar-sounding and shaped like New Order’s best music; it’s very easy to mistake them as such if you’re multitasking. I’d call them New Order’s most goth music, with the synths carrying the heft of church organs, they sound ideal for cathedral listening. Like Stevie’s 1974 album, they’re a little stingy on the funk and could stand to shift the mood harder. But a mood they unquestionably make. It’s good music, not excellent. But this stretch fits like a glove between the excellent music around it. They’re sandwiched by four tracks that do live up to New Order’s legend.

VIDEO: New Order “Sunrise” (Live at the Hacienda) 

That’s “The Perfect Kiss” and “Sub-Culture” for starters, mood-sustaining singles on par with most anything on Power, Corruption and Lies. And even better are the album’s true bookends, “Love Vigilantes” and “Face Up,” which are on par with anything New Order’s ever done, you name it: “Age of Consent,” “Bizarre Love Triangle.” “Love Vigilantes” is a holy opener, just a touch less supersonic than “Age of Consent,” its indelible melody augmented by religious-sounding melodica and a country(!) topline that still deserves to be exploited further into twang.

And the closer “Face Up” is a jubilant fakeout like nothing before it; this disco is no longer in denial. It’s all high-powered joy and giddy upbeats on the one, synths pulsing without a hint of the dour. Even though the other thing that earmarks Low-Life is Bernard Sumner’s rebellion against pitch for some enchantingly tone-deaf singing, he cannot stop winning on this song, even in his flat affect: “We were young and we were pure / Life was just an open door.” This is not the song of someone who believes love (or dance music) will tear him apart. And the climax is his grandest, silliest couplet ever: “Your hair was long, your eyes was blue / Guess what I’m gonna do to you.” The tune is a surprise hug from behind, an expression of devotion that only an off-key college-radio legend could exclaim. It’s the real perfect kiss.

You’d be forgiven if like me, “Love Vigilantes” and “Face Up” are what stick in the memory from the least of New Order’s great albums. They’re worth keeping sacred, and the, er, low points don’t mar a smooth landing from Lies to Brotherhood. Like the second half of R.E.M.’s Lifes Rich Pageant, sometimes greatness does in fact mean spinning your wheels, running your engine, just letting your signature sound keep producing until it’s all gone. Nothing lasts forever, certainly not New Order, though they’re worth seeing even without the estranged Peter Hook — “Love Will Tear Us Apart” these days sounds as anthemic as “Face Up.”

Well, Stevie Wonder might.

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Dan Weiss

Dan Weiss is a freelance writer living in New Jersey.

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