14 September 2008

My Socks Make Better Music Than Joy Division

I think I first heard of Joy Division from my buddy Craig, in sixth grade. Craig ended up becoming addicted to angel dust. But he also lives in Florida, so his life turned out alright. Just one of many cases in point which I will present to you in the coming paragraphs.

Joy Division has the kind of brand name rivalled only by the Disneys or Wal-Marts of the world. If Disney or Wal-Mart killed themselves following the masturbatory critical reception of an album that makes me want to claw my balls off. Joy Division's consistently listed as one of the most influential groups of the 20th Century, particularly because of their popularization of that whole post-punk business. And I'll give them credit for that. After all, where would we all be without Bloc Party? Or Interpol?

I'll tell you where. We'd be in exactly the same place, doing exactly what we're doing. Which, much like snorting angel dust in Florida, isn't such a horrible thing (hurricane season aside).

What is such a horrible thing is that, to this day, people continue to listen to this band simply because, one day, Ian Curtis hanged himself in the kitchen. (First of all, how the fuck do you hang yourself in the kitchen? Give that a spin in that little brain of yours.)

Ok, so the mythos is pretty sweet. Dude apparently had a failing marriage and epileptic seizures. Before he did the whole hanging thing, he watched Warner Herzog's Stroszek and listened to that Iggy Pop album The Idiot. (Ed. Note: Iggy Pop somehow managed to suck worse than Joy Division, so this makes a little sense.) Anyway, this all makes for an interesting biopic, and you'd probably make a buttload of cash from it. Gus Van Sant should fucking get on this thing already, so he can make some more fucking bones from enormous public tragedies. (Ed. note: Fuck you, Gus Van Sant.)

One problem: Joy Division sounds like pooping, if you made dance music out of pooping. Ian Curtis cannot carry a tune, and every musician in that band owes their fucking career (New Order and otherwise) to a rope. Just look at what they went on to do: New Wave.

But what really, really tears at me, is the fucking stupidity that surrounds the cult of Joy Division fans about their musical talent. These are dudes who first touched a guitar five minutes before recording. And you can really, really tell. If you got a thousand monkeys in a room with a bunch of guitars and some drums, they would sound like Joy Division in about five minutes. Before that, they'd probably sound like Wire.

When you people listen to Joy Division, the music doesn't fucking matter. All that matters is that the dude is dark, and he killed himself. And that's retarded. He didn't kill himself because he was making interesting music. He killed himself because he was depressed and no longer enjoyed life. Which blows, yes, but it doesn't make you an artist. It makes you chemically imbalanced. Listening to Joy Division is like watching Eraserhead because Jack Nance died in a knife fight outside of a donut shop. It just doesn't make any fucking sense.

Mythos made marketing. Read the comments on this video for a parade of idiocy.


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