6th November 2023
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Standing at the back of the Liverpool Olympia, Peter Hook & The Light played on a blurred and dreamy stage underneath a beating blue light, hazy with smoke. Normally I would find standing with such distance from the stage too distracting to become immersed; the lack of visual and audible clearness creating a separation from the music. Whether or not you watched The Light afar from the balcony or held white-knuckled on the front rails, the beating bass Hook played held you hostage from thinking about anything else.
Having run late to the venue, I was happy to stand at the back with a pint and alchemise to this shift from regular reality and catch my breath. That is, until the pounding of the tom toms espoused like magic into the air, and the iconic bassline of disorder pulled everyone closer to the stage like the magnet it is. As it is to many people, Unknown Pleasures is an album that is dear to me, new dawn fades being the first Joy Division song I heard when it was introduced to me by my older sister, who upon playing it to me, announced it was one of the greatest songs of all time.
As I made my way down the left side of the crowd, spellbound and emotional by the chanting of “feeling” as disorder began to close, I was struck by someone in the centre, enamoured by the music of Joy Division, tall and lanky, dancing like Ian Curtis. Seeing this Gen Z surrounded by various generations also mimicking the bizarre and wild staggers of the late Curtis, blurred any generational lines of age and musical taste, a rare insight into intergenerational relatability.
Going solo to a gig bears its advantages. Personally, I enjoy sharing the hypnosis you feel with likeminded individuals also entranced by what the performers have pulled together, collectively in awe at the artists’ ability to create something so touching seemingly out of thin air. I made my way to the Curtis-like dancers, front and centre to the stage, an area that is not for everyone; its lack of space is almost guaranteed, and there is a good chance you might be stuck behind someone over six feet tall. While most people had eyes glued to the stage, the tall and lanky dancer I joined was pushed aside by an older gentleman who cut through the spell of the music with loud declarations that his view was obstructed.
Being at the front is not for everyone. In a crowded venue you have to surrender your ego and understand that where you stand is temporary: it is your prerogative to move forward or alternatively move away if you feel trapped within the crowd. While The Light as performers were as mesmerising as I hoped they would be, a band can only make up so much of the entire experience, the rest lying within the audiences’ respect for the music and each other.
Distractions are fickle and quickly melt away: The Lights ended the set with the bitter-sweet Love will tear us apart, reinforcing that tug of unity between whoever was there to experience it. I left for home elated from the music, people I talked to, and set list I scrambled to get.
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