"Oh Manchester, So much to answer for"
-Steven Patrick Morrissey
The journey begins on an Aer Lingus jet bound for Dublin. From there, it's a short hop to Manchester, home to so many of my favorite bands. I'm gearing up by watching -- for the I-don't-know-how-many'th- time "24 Hour Party People", the love letter to Anthony Wilson, Factory Records, Joy Division, the Happy Mondays and the city of Manchester itself.
Actually, the journey began in a suburban Pennsylvania bedroom some thirty years prior, with a stack of cassette tapes by the likes of The Smiths, New Order and later the Stone Roses and The Fall. Without knowing it, I've had a love affair with Manchester since I discovered the city's music. My expectations for my first visit were high, as were my fears it could never live up to the hype.
I didn't sleep on that flight to Dublin -- I don't sleep well on planes. And as I shuffled across the tarmac and up the stairs for the second leg of the trip, my anticipation only grew. I helped it along with a tailor-made soundtrack: Sitting on the plane before takeoff I played "Suffer Little Children" by the Smiths; when the engines fired up for takeoff it was "Crystal" by New Order.
The flight across the Irish Sea was a bumpy one, but as England came into view, I went for the obvious song: The Fall's "Hit the North". The green fields of Northwest England were accompanied by PJ Harvey's "Last Living Rose" and "England" (No, she's not from Manchester.) And as the skyline of Manchester against the backdrop of the Pennines unfolded below me, it was time to get serious: "The Reverend Black Grape" by Black Grape, the band I would be seeing the following night. But let's not get ahead of ourselves... I had only just arrived.
Part 2
"And on the Sixth Day, God created Manchester"
The sign greets you as you take your first steps out of Manchester Piccadilly station. It's clear this town thinks rather highly of itself. That Mancunian swagger likely contributed to the city being such a fertile breeding ground for rock and roll bands. After two plane rides, a train ride (for which I initially bought the wrong ticket) and no sleep, I had to dig deep for the energy to see for myself. My brother -- who arrived from the states two days prior -- met me and we were off. And for Neville and me -- in the musical equivalent of Disneyland -- our first thought was records.
We were staying near the Northern Quarter, a hip, artsy part of town that retains some grit and edge. One of our first stops was Vinyl Exchange, and things got weird really fast. As we pawed through used Fall records, we found a couple of things that caught our eyes. When we went to the counter, the guy told us - sotto voce - that most of the used Fall stuff actually came from Mark E Smith's personal collection. Smith died earlier this year, and his sister has been clearing out his house. The bloke behind the counter said that when she needs extra money, she sells them some of his old vinyl. Neville bought as much as he could, and I came away with a 45 of "C.R.E.E.P." and a great story to tell.
In the aftermath of that experience, I wondered whether the guy at the record shop was putting us on. Could those records really have once belonged to Mark E Smith? The record shop guy seemed earnest, and he wasn't crowing about the MES connection, so we took him at his word. And he wasn't the only person that day that would leave us slack jawed.
A few minutes later -- in the vintage shopping emporium Afflecks -- we met a shop owner who used to work the door in the early days of the Hacienda. She confirmed that the nightclub -- which later put Manchester on the map -- was largely empty back then. It was beginning to feel like everyone we met had a connection to the music we were there to celebrate.
Part 3
"This is Manchester. We do things differently here"
-Tony Wilson
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| Mural of Tony Wilson in the Northern Quarter |
Most cities honor their political leaders, maybe their titans of industry. Manchester does all of that, but it holds a special reverence for its creative thinkers. There is a mural of Tony Wilson, founder of Factory Records, on an electric substation in the Northern Quarter. A series of murals on the corner of Tib Street and Short Street commemorate Wilson and his Factory Records partners, as well as Mark E Smith. The words "I wanna be adored" hang from a building in the city centre. I have a lot of respect for a city that holds its musical heroes - my musical heroes - in such high esteem.
Affleck's -- the vintage emporium -- even had a Tony Wilson Wall. And it was painted to look like the Hacienda. Hashtag #WilsonWall.
We left the Northern Quarter and walked to the Central Library, in the heart of the city. In the library's music wing (yes, the library has a music wing, with instruments you can play. IN THE LIBRARY!) they were holding an exhibition called "There Is A Light That Never Goes Out: A Photographic Celebration of Manchester's Rock-music History." It features intimate photos of Joy Division, The Smiths, The Fall, The Stone Roses and Happy Mondays, among others. The library also hosts an excellent collection of books about music, with a special emphasis -- of course -- on the music of Manchester.
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| Three bookcases at the Central Library filled with books about Manchester music. |
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| The Manchester Free Trade Hall |
Not far from the library is the Free Trade Hall. In 1976, in front of a few dozen people, the Sex Pistols played their first show in Manchester. It was a small gig -- in an upstairs room -- but it would redefine music as we know it today. That's because among those forty or so people in the crowd were future members of the Fall, The Smiths, Durutti Column and Joy Division. The Pistols pointed the way; the youth of Manchester did the rest. As for the Free Trade Hall, it's now a fancy hotel.
Part 4
Twenty-Four Hour Party People
Manchester is a compact, walkable city. So the fact that we hadn't yet visited the site of the Hacienda was easily remedied by a ten-minute walk to the south. The Hacienda was formerly a yacht showroom, a cavernous place that failed to draw crowds in its early years. But by the late 1980s, the Hacienda was the world's most famous nightclub, home to rave and acid music, the Madchester scene and the birthplace of DJ culture. By the 1990s, drugs and gangs took over and the club was shut down. It's since been demolished and an apartment block stands in its place. If you haven't already done so, please watch the movie.
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| Above and below left: The Hacienda Apartments, where the Hacienda nightclub once stood. |
Just across Whitworth Street from the Hacienda is Tony Wilson Place, yet another example of this city paying homage to its creative class. And on Tony Wilson Place is HOME, an arts and events space featuring a cinema, two restaurants and a shop. After browsing the shop and admiring greeting cards featuring caricatures of Shaun Ryder and Mark E Smith, we sat down for pizza. When the bill came, we started talking to the waiter about Tony Wilson. Once again, things got weird. The waiter, a lovely guy named Paul, told us he was in a band in the 1980s that had three EPs on Factory Records. His band, the Jazz Defektors, wasn't one we'd heard of, but he said he was friends with more famous Manchester musicians including A Certain Ratio and New Order. He even said had he known ahead of time we were coming, he could have gotten us autographed merchandised or -- gasp -- arranged a night out with New Order's Peter Hook or Stephen Morris. Once again, our jaws dropped. This was becoming a pattern. We exchanged contact information and hope to make it happen one day.
We finished the night with a trip to the pedestrian bridge over the Princess Road, made famous by Kevin Cummins' iconic photographs of Joy Division.
We took our own photos on the bridge. It was night and there was no snow and we didn't have the right lens and my leg is bent for no good reason.
Part 5
"I couldn't figure out whether he was from Salford or uhh Manchester."
-Mark E Smith
My second full day in Manchester began with a long walk to Salford, the traditionally working-class sister city across the River Irwell. I had the Fall's "Cheetham Hill" in my head as we crossed the river, but we weren't there for the Fall. We were there to find the Salford Lads Club, on Coronation Street, made famous by the Smiths on the inside photo of their 1986 album The Queen is Dead.
The Lads Club is an unassuming brick building at the end of a stretch of row houses, and -- as it was Friday -- it was closed. So we hung around for a bit until two other musical tourists showed up and helped us recreate the Smiths image. Here I am playing the role of Johnny Marr to Neville's Morrissey (and I'm conveniently wearing a Johnny Marr T-shirt.)
On the walk to Salford, we stopped by Fopp, a two-story shop selling books, CDs, DVDs and other fun stuff. They were having a sale on music books -- two for £10 -- so I got a book on Factory records and another on the Stone Roses. Score.
Part 6
"Oh Come All Ye Faithful
Joyful and Triumphant
Come Gather Round
As I blow my own trumpet"
-Shaun William Ryder
By 4pm it was dark and we were on a train to Liverpool. We were heading to the birthplace of the Beatles to see Shaun Ryder's Black Grape, the band he formed with Kermit of Ruthless Rap Assassins after the dissolution of Happy Mondays. We were taking the 40-minute train ride to Liverpool to see a proper Manchester band. Go figure.
Before we went to the O2 Academy, we tooled around Mathew Street, home of the Cavern Club (or a reasonable facsimile thereof) and countless Beatles cover bands. It felt like visiting a wax museum, and we didn't stay long.
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| Liverpool's Mathew Street, a Beatles theme park. |
We did, however, find this plaque marking the site of Eric's, the nightclub where another Liverpool band -- Echo and the Bunnymen -- got their start:
And we found a shop called Resurrection that was selling pretty much every Stone Roses T-Shirt imaginable. As Nev put it, some people get matching tattoos on vacation... we got matching Stone Roses shirts.
We headed to the O2 Academy, but between a driving rain and an opening act that sounded like Limp Bizkit, I was feeling pretty dour. But out came Kermit and Shaun, and a wave of energy swept through the intimate venue. We had parked ourselves in the front, mere feet from Manchester royalty, with an unimpeded view of Ryder's every gesture, every utterance, and every wrinkle. The man has not aged well. Never mind, he sounded great.
And at the end of the show, I had a true rock and roll moment as the lead guitarist soloed right in front of me. I took a selfie that another fan later called "cheeky". Thanks to Sharon for the video!
After the show, I even got the guitar pick -- thrown into the crowd and scooped up by a bloke next to me who, upon hearing I had come from New York, gave it to me. What a nice gesture -- one of many random acts of kindness we witnessed in Northwest England. Well done, mates.
Part 7
"Don't walk away in silence, don't walk away"
-Ian Curtis
Saturday was our last day together in Manchester, so naturally we rented a car and headed off for the Southern Cemetery. Who doesn't? We were there to see the graves of two important Mancunians: the aforementioned Anthony Wilson and record producer Martin Hannett, who contributed mightily to the sound of Joy Division and a host of other Factory bands. Hannett's grave was easy enough to find, despite its lower profile.
Wilson's grave took awhile because it wasn't where we thought it would be. It was in a very prominent position in the center of the cemetery. I wanted to see myself in the tombstone.
Wilson's tombstone was designed by Peter Saville, the graphic artist behind most of the iconic Factory Record covers (including the New Order catalog). On it, Wilson is described as a broadcaster and cultural catalyst. As we paid our respects, we played Durutti Column's haunting and disjointed "In Memory of Anthony".
Here's the Durutti Column song "In Memory of Anthony" in its entirety:
Then it was onward to Macclesfield, where Joy Division's Ian Curtis was born, lived much of his life, and ultimately committed suicide. The rowhouse where he died is on a bleak stretch of Barton Street, but notice the green foothills of the Pennines off in the distance.
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| Ian Curtis's home in Macclesfield, left foreground |
At the town cemetery, we struggled to find Curtis's gravestone. That's because it had been stolen. All that remains is a low-slung stone marked with his name and the words Love Will Tear Us Apart.
Behind it, fans have created a makeshift shrine of flowers, notes and photos.
It only seemed fitting to end our visit to Curtis's grave listening to Joy Division's "Atmosphere".
Part 8
"I think I did the right thing by slipping away, yeah
And the ache that's making me ache has gone for the day."
-Shaun William Ryder
The gloom of the cemetery tour didn't weigh us down for long. We wanted a taste of the countryside, so we left Macclesfield on a road that climbed into the Peak District, with sweeping views of fields of sheep. We were headed for Buxton, the highest market town in England with no musical connection, or so we thought.
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| Buxton, about an hour outside of Manchester near the Peak District |
Buxton is nestled among the hills, with a lively shopping district. We had a look around, bought some trinkets and took a chance on a road leading out of town. It took us right past Vinyl Coda, a small record store and cafe with terrific stock. The shopowner -- a slight man named Neil McDonald -- was playing Grant Lee Buffalo, which seemed odd to hear in England. We struck up a conversation and he told us HIS band once opened for Grant Lee Buffalo in Sheffield. He had been the guitarist in Puressence, a 1990s outfit that was produced by Mani of Stone Roses had three LPs on Island Records. He had left the band and now Buxton was home. I felt good purchasing a copy of "Blue Monday" in its floppy disk packaging, as well as a Happy Mondays "Lazyitis" single with Scottish singer Karl Denver. If you're not familiar, this live video for "Lazyitis" pretty much sums it up -- a young Shaun Ryder, an aging Karl Denver and the inimitable Bez, dancing and shaking his maracas.
Yes, Lennon and McCartney got songwriting credit for the snippet that's based on "Ticket to Ride".
By the way, I snapped this picture of Bez's maracas mounted on the wall at another Manchester record shop, the Northern Quarter's Vinyl Revival.
Back in Manchester that night, I walked aimlessly through crowds of holiday revelers in the city's extensive Christmas Markets. Among the items for sale: Happy Mondays and Stone Roses onesies.
And in a town that takes its music seriously, even the Christmas market buskers had talent.
Part 10
"Some of the crowd are on the pitch
They think it's all over and it is now"
-Kenneth Wolstenholme, BBC
Later used by New Order in "World in Motion"
I made a detour off the music path to visit the National Football Museum. It was Derby Day in Manchester -- City v. United -- so it felt like the right thing to do. And thanks to a great project called Bands FC, music followed me there, too.
Bands FC combines band logos with the logos of football (soccer) teams. My favorites were Stone Roses FC and The Fall FC.
Upstairs in the museum, I found an automated puppet, inviting me to "have a laugh with the jolly goalie." So I did.
Part 11
"There is a light that never goes out"
-The Smiths
My last full day in Manchester was Sunday, Remembrance Day, on the 100th anniversary of the end of World War I. To say Britons took the occasion seriously is an understatement: Virtually everyone, young and old, were wearing poppy pins to commemorate the anniversary. The bells of Manchester Cathedral rang out to mark the armistice for what felt like an interminably long time. Here's just a bit of it:
Even the pub where I watched the Manchester Derby between City and United fell silent as "For the Fallen" was read over the TV screens. That really touched me, as it would never happen in the States.
And that was the biggest takeaway from this trip. Set aside the bands, the music, the swagger -- people were genuinely kind to us and to each other. The people we met were easy to talk to, they went out of their way to help us, and yes -- it seemed everyone of a certain age had a connection to Factory or the Hacienda or to the music that we had come so far to celebrate. Manchester is a proud city, and rightly so: Proud of its history, its heritage, and most importantly its music. I know one day I'll get back, but for now, I'm better off knowing that such a place exists in this world.
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