DISGRACELAND - New Order: Blood on the Dance Floor, E in the Bloodstream, and Inventing the 1980s

Episode Date: July 18, 2023

New Order proved that a rock band could make dance music and actually become cooler in the process. The musical hybrid they created helped define the sound of the 1980s. It also defined the growing subculture in their hometown of Manchester, England, specifically at the Haçienda, the nightclub they owned. But beyond a fine time, the club scene brought gang violence, a notorious crime family, cocaine, ecstasy, a mental breakdown, and an arrest at the height of New Order’s fame.For the full list of contributors, visit disgracelandpod.com To learn more about listener data and our privacy practices visit: https://www.audacyinc.com/privacy-policy Learn more about your ad choices. Visit https://podcastchoices.com/adchoicesSee omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

This is exactly right. Double Elvis. When a group of women discover they've all dated the same prolific con artist, they take matters into their own hands. I vowed. I will be his last target. He is not going to get away with this. He's going to get what he deserves. We always say that trust your girlfriends. Listen to the girlfriends.

Trust me, babe. On the Iheart radio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get your podcasts. This season on Dear Chelsea with me, Chelsea Handler, we have some fantastic guests like Amelia Clark. When like young people come up to me and they want to be an actor or whatever. My first thing is always, can you think of anything else that you can do? Rather be disappointed in. Do that.

David O'Yellowo. I love this podcast, whether it's therapy or relationships or religion or sex or addiction or you just go straight for the guts. Dennis Leary, Gaten Matarazzo from Stranger Things, Tana Monsu, Camilla Morone, Carrie Kenny Silver, and more. Listen to these episodes of Dear Chelsea on the IHeart Radio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get your podcasts. Your husband is not who you think he is. Your body is not what you thought it was.

Your identity is formed by a secret history. I'm Danny Shapiro, and these are just a few of the stunning stories I'll be exploring on the fourth. He kind of shoved me out of the way and said, move. And he went out the front door and he jumped in a car and drove off. And that was the last time I saw him. Listen to season 14 of Family Secrets, starting May 7th on the IHeart Radio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get your podcasts. Disgraceland is a production of Double Elvis.

The stories about New Order are insane. They hired a notorious crime family to police their Manchester Nightclub when it became over. overrun with gang violence. Their manager did so much cocaine that he suffered a mental breakdown and fought eight police officers when they fitted him for a straitjacket. Their bass player struggled with his own drug habit that led to an undercover police sting and an arrest at the height of the band's fame. They proved that a rock band could make dance music and actually become cooler in the process. And the musical hybrid that they created not only defined part of what the 1980s sounded like, it remains great music. Some of the best music of all time. Unlike that music

I played for you at the top of the show, that wasn't great music. That was a preset loop for my melaton called Bathtub Grits, MK1. I played you that loop because I can't afford the rights to upside down by Diana Ross. And why would I play you that specific slice of round and round cheese, could I afford it? Because that was the number one song in America on September 20th, 1980, and that was the day that the Manchester band, formerly known as Joy Division, played their first show in the United States, just months after the sudden death of their former lead singer. On this episode, notorious crime families, mental breakdowns, police stings, round and round cheese, and new order. I'm Jake Brennan.

And this is disgrace land. Paco could get them some coke. Paco hooked up all the rock stars when they came to the island. Like Ronnie Wood. Fucking animal Ronnie Wood was. He did an entire gram in one line. Just one hit to the body and you're off your tits all night. So what would it be?

Paco waited for an answer. He couldn't say he was a fan of New Order's music, having heard it. But he was starting to like these four-man Cunians all the same, because they're about to make him a few extra bucks. Peter Hook, aka Hookie, the band's bass player, quickly shook his head full of shoulder-length hair in response. Nah, they didn't want Coke. They wanted the new drug they'd heard about. The one that was readily available here in Abiza.

They wanted ecstasy. Paco was true to his word. He knew a guy. And then, New Order, were the drug came as advertised. It made music sound sublime, made late nights blur into early mornings. It made you fall hard for Balliarek B. that anything goes ethos of DJ culture that throbbed from every sound system on the island. When a DJ made a smooth transition from a hard-hitting acid house jam into Queens, another one bites the dust,

it felt like it was meant to be, especially when you were on E. Everything old was new again. Everything's gone green. No wonder they called it ecstasy. You wanted to hug everyone, even strangers. Even the people who were supposed to be your closest friends, but it gradually become the people you couldn't hardly fucking stand to be around. In 1988, eight years after they had risen from the ashes of Joy Division, redefined themselves and invented the sound of a new decade. The members of New Order hated each other. Well, their drummer Stephen Morris and their keyboard player Jillian Gilbert were a couple,

so they got along just fine. But specifically, Hooky hated Barney. The feeling was mutual. Barney was Bernard Sumner. the band's guitar player and lead singer. Barney was a synth man, more sequencers, more drum machines, less of Hookie's trademark melodic bass. Hookie took great offense on what he saw as Barney's attempt to slowly stage a mutiny in the name of art.

This drama, of course, both personal and musical, was what made New Order incredible. It's there in erratifying songs like Blue Monday, True Face, Thieves Like Us, and The Perfect Kiss. Yin and Yang, Hookie's bass, which he ran through a chorus pedal, and played high up on the neck so high that people still mistake it for a six-string guitar, remains the perfect musical foil to Barney's synthesizers. New Order proved that a rock band could be a dance band

and not lose any of its cool. When it came to losing one's actual cool, however, routine drug use was a great equalizer. Copious amounts of ecstasy made Hooky and Barney forget about their differences. It also made them forget about what they were in Abiza to do in the first place. Make a new album.

Three months later, in tens of thousands of pounds down the drain, they returned to their hometown of Manchester, England, with only one song called Fine Time to a show for it. Tony Wilson, co-founder of New Order's label Factory Records, saw the glass as half full. He later said that the band's time at Abiza was the most important working holiday they ever took, because they brought the island's energy

and Technicolor Musical Pallet back to it. industrial Britain. Balliarek Beat became the template for the hacienda, the local club the band co-owned with factory records and Tony Wilson. At the hacienda, Manchester became Madchester, Dungarees, baggy shirts, bandanas, the Ande present yellow smiley face. The hacienda was where the likes of the Smiths, the stone roses, and oasis collided with acid house music and rave culture.

But a rejuvenated nightclub wasn't the only thing Abiza was good for. The band's fifth studio album, Technique, which they finished at Peter Gabriel's real-world studios, put their Mediterranean experience on wax. Released in January of 1989, Technique was New Order's first album to reach number one on the UK charts. In the U.S. had peaked at number 32, their highest position to date. And with great success came great excess. When New Order toured to promote the record, they no longer traveled in cars and vans. They traveled in limos and planes.

Every night ended with a rave, and people danced on tables, fucked in bathroom stalls, cocaine and paranoia made the rounds until you couldn't see street. Just like back in Ibiza, everything felt so goddamn good you could close your eyes

and forget about all the problems. You could actually believe that it was good to be in a new order. And for a moment, maybe it was. Dominic Nune and knew at least one of the other guys standing across from him at the pub

at a shotgun. Some punk from Moss side or Cheatham Hill, maybe Salford. Little Twat thought he owned the place. He thought he owned any place he walked into, like the hacienda. Club that Noonan had been hired to protect. And protect it, he did, even when he was somewhere else. Noonan could hear the dog barking outside this little pub. It belonged to one of these pricks that stood before him.

They wouldn't stop bringing their gang violence to New Orders Club. It was Noonan's job to make them stop. He got an idea. He walked outside. The door swung shut behind him. The dog's incessant barking was suddenly silenced, and there was a high-pitched squeal, and then, nothing. Moments later, Noonan walked back inside. He held a machete in one hand. In his other hand, the dog's severed head. He dropped the bloody head on the pool table.

Noonan looked the guy with the shotgun in the eye. Stay the fuck away from the hacienda, he said. For the next time, it would be a human head on this table. By 1991, things had changed. The scene at the hacienda had gotten out of control. A bigger profile meant bigger problems. Bouncers and patrons were routinely stabbed. Shots were fired in the club's foyer. A DJ was held at gunpoint and told to surrender his records. The cops did fuck all.

New Order had no choice but to employ the services of the Nunes, an infamous Manchester crime firm. For those in America listening, Crime Firm is the same as Crime Family, Family, or Gang, Crime Firm. That's why I'm using Crime Firm, okay? So save your angry letters. Gang conflict wasn't the only issue though. The Hacienda was hemorrhaging money, had been for years, too many free drinks.

That's what happens when 24-hour party people are given a business to run. Every time New Order had a financial windfall, their earnings were funneled directly into the club to keep it alive. And when rave culture hit, the very culture that New Order helped usher in, they found they could no longer give the booze away, and no one wanted to get drunk. They just wanted water, free water, so they could stay hydrated while rolling on E. ecstasy. The hacienda was in serious trouble. And that meant the factory records, which effectively underwrote the club, was also in serious trouble. The four members of New Order were facing financial ruin. There were guarantors on the loans for both the hacienda and factory, which meant that if the

club or the label went belly up, they were personally responsible, then they stood to lose everything. And there was only one way to save it all. New Order had to make a new record. A hit record, a record that even bigger than technique. Only then could they generate the kind of cash flow needed to keep things running. It wasn't going to be easy. Barney was fucking off with Johnny Mara Marcy's former foil and the Smiths on a side project called Electronic,

which suited Hooky just fine because now that all the Abiza Ecstasy had properly worn off, he was back to hating Barney's guts like it was his job. Hookie knew they'd have to bury the hatchet one more time and figure out how to get along long enough to make something great. How the hell were they going to do that?

Easy. Drugs. Lots and lots of drugs. I'm Kate Winkler Dawson, host of The Wicked Words podcast. Each week I sit down with the true crime writers behind some of the most compelling true crime stories and discuss their years spent investigating and why it still matters. He sees his father coming out of the woods with his hands over his face, and he knows something happened. His father just grabs him and says she's gone. She's gone. These are the cases that leave survivors, families, and the journalists who cover them changed forever. Working in national television, it'll push you to your limits, and you'll end up doing things you never thought you'd do.

You know, you look back at it and you're like, I can't believe that really happened. Join me and step inside the investigation. New episodes drop every Monday on the Exactly Right Network. Listen to Wicked Words on the IHeart Radio app, Apple Podcast, or wherever you get your podcasts. Your husband is not who you think he is. Your body is not what you thought it was. Your identity is formed by a secret history.

I'm Danny Shapiro, and these are just a few of the stunning stories I'll be exploring on the 14th season of family secrets. And just then, we felt the plain turn in the air, so much so that the bags that were under people's seats just kind of flew into the aisle. Each week, we dive head first into the complex power of secrecy,

how it shapes our identities and relationships, and how it ultimately can reveal to us our truest selves. My daughter, she's pretending she doesn't know, but is trying to cook and feed me and keep me alive because I wasn't eating anything, and me pretending like everything was fine. He kind of shoved me out of the way and said, move, and he went out the front door,

and he jumped in a car and drove off, and that was the last time I saw him. Listen to season 14 of Family Secrets, starting May 7th, on the IHeart Radio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get your podcasts. This season on Dear Chelsea, with me, Chelsea Handler, we have some fantastic guests like Amelia Clark. When, like, young people come up to me and they want to be an act or whatever,

my first thing is always, can you think of anything else that you can do? Rather be disappointed in. Do that. Dennis Leary. I wake up, and I'm hitting him in the head with a water bomb. And Bruce Jenner is on the first. aisle in a karate stance like he's about to attack me, like, making karate noises.

And his entire, the Kardashian family over there, everybody's going, and the air marshal is trying to grab my arms and screaming. I immediately know that I've been asleep walking. David O'Yello. I love this podcast, whether it's therapy or relationships or religion or sex or addiction or you just go straight for the guts. Guy Branham. So anyway, Nicole Kidman broke up with Keith.

Thurban. Being half of a country couple was always a hat she was going to wear, not like a life she was going to lead. Oh, interesting. I like that. Did you practice that on your way over? Gaten Matarazzo from Stranger Things. Santa Monsu. Camilla Morone, Carrie Kenny Silver, and more. Listen to these episodes of Dear Chelsea on the IHeart Radio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get your podcasts. In 1985, somewhere in England. Rob Breton, New Order's manager, squirmed uncomfortably in the passenger seat of the Audi 200 Turbo Quatro. He had a problem. The fucking cocaine was gone.

That was the thing with Rob and Coke. One bump was too much and two bumps were never enough. But he had a solution. It was Coke on the tour bus. Just a few kilometers up the road. Rob looked over at Hooky sitting in the driver's seat and told him the floor. They were going to catch that. that bus. Fuck they were. The bus was long gone by now. It was a fool's errand. And that was the

other thing about Rob and Coke. You just couldn't fucking reason with him anymore. Huckie sank his foot into the gas pedal, shifted up in gear, and felt the Audi roared a life. The English motorway stretched ahead. Hookie buried the needle with resentment. He didn't really want to chase a bus full of drugs because at this point in his life, Hookie had little interest in those drugs. But at the same time, he didn't want to wait and find out what was going to happen if Rob's nose went unpowdered for much longer. Another car came up quickly on the right side. It gained on them. A jaguar. Not just any jaguar driven by any bloke. A cop. Shit. The last fucking thing they needed. The jags sped ahead slightly and then angled in front of the Audi. Its tiles squealed across the

motorway. Hooky slammed on the brakes. He brought the Audi to a stop on the side of the road. Then he braced himself for what would happen next. The cop did the whole, do you know how fast you were going thing and Hooky did the whole I'm very sorry officer, won't happen again thing, but then the cop let Hooky go with a warning. Strange. Even stranger after the cop sped off. Rob wouldn't stop staring at Hooky. The fuck was the matter with him. He told him I had dope, Rob said finally. Hooky couldn't believe his ears. He told who Rob had what? Rob pointed a shaking finger at Hooky. I was reading your lips, Rob said. He told that coper I had dope. That was the moment. Hookie realized that Rob absolutely had a problem, and it wasn't the bus full of Coke that they'd never

catch up to. Throughout 1985, Hooky and the other members of New Order watched as their manager descended into full-blown drug addiction and full-blown paranoia. Heavy drug use wasn't part of New Order's regular routine in 1985. They drank, they did speed, they party like the rock stars they were quickly becoming, but Coke was their manager's back. Rob's habit was costing 3500 pounds a week money that would have gone straight back into the Hacienda's till if it wasn't busy going up his nose. It brought back bad memories of Martin Hannett, New Order's original producer, entitled Twat Martin Hannett. When the band went to make their debut studio album Movement in 1981, Martin refused to get to work until they found him a gram of blow. But he never pulled that shit when Ian was around.

Ian, of course, was Ian Curtis, singer for New Order's former group, Joy Division. dynamic frontman, doom and melancholy in his voice, a perfect match to the coldly detached sound of their instruments. Martin made Stephen Morris record each part of his drum sets separately, bass drum, then snare, then hi-hat, take after take, until eventually the human performance was completely drained and they were left with the sound of a machine. Joy Division's new sound paved the way for a whole new genre

that would become known as post-pump, before it eventually splintered off into a new wave, Rothrock and more. But before all that, on the eve of Joy Division's first American tour in 1980, Ian Curtis hanged himself with a clothesline in his kitchen. The memory of their late singer hung over the band like a lead blanket. They could barely crawl out from under on that first tour of America where they were still billed as Joy Division or Ex-Joy Division or even used to be Joy Division. But they weren't Joy Division anymore. The name New Order reflected that. A creative choice to start over. the name was also deliberately provocative, with its inescapable Nazi connotations, just like how

Joy Division was inspired by the name of a brothel in Hitler's concentration camps. Stephen, for one, defended their choice of names, explaining that they always sympathized with the victims, not the villains. But both Hookie and Barney admitted to more than a passing obsession with the idea of fascism. Hookie acknowledged the, quote, certain physical sensation you get from flirting with something like that. That's a quote. Barney, on the other hand, was fascinated with how beautiful art and design could emerge from a culture of hate. The cover art from New Order singles and albums created by Factory Records graphic artist Peter Seville were inspired by the Italian futurist movement, which had its own relationship with fascism,

and which, like Barney's vision for the band, rejected the past and embraced the future. It was all part of an ambiguous aesthetic. The band members weren't identified on record sleeves, and they refused to be photographed. They gained a reputation for avoiding interviews. they oppose the cult of personality. But at the end of the day, New Order were a band. Don't fool yourself that bands are democratic. A dictator always emerges.

And that person in New Order was Barney, because he was the one who stepped into Ian's shoes first. He wasn't a singer like Ian. His voice was fragile and soft, where Ian's was more assertive and confident. But the more he did it, the more comfortable he became. And the more comfortable he became, the more he felt empowered to steer New Order away from their past.

On tour New York City in the early 80s, he heard and saw the future. Post-Disco, Latin freestyle, Roland 808s, Shep Pettibone's master mixes on Kiss FM. When Gillian Gilbert joined, she played keyboards, as did the other members of the group with increasing frequency. Because guitar, bass, and drums, those were instruments of the past. Synthesizers, triggers, pulses, sequencers, drum machines, they were the next movement. At least Barney thought they were. To Hooky, all these new devices were just a royal. pain in the ass. So much time wasted on programming machines. Jillian worked for hours making a

color-coded chart of how the sequencer was programmed for their single Blue Monday, and why? Because if the machine shot the bed, they had a blueprint to reprogram it. At all his years as a professional musician, Hooky had never felt less like one. Why couldn't they all just play? You know, like a proper band. Couldn't even be a proper band at Soundcheck. Soundcheck was now devoted to troubleshooting drum machines and sequencers and finicky samplers and used floppy disks. The setup alone was labor-intensive. And if your name wasn't Bernard Summer, it most definitely wasn't a labor of love.

Still, as frustrating his new order was becoming for hooky, he couldn't deny that their song, Blue Monday, was a massive success. Not just for the band, but for factory records. DJs couldn't get enough of the seven-and-a-half-minute version of the 12-inch single. It's still often called the biggest selling 12-inch record of all time. How did it feel? Pretty fucking good, man. His bass sounded pretty fucking awesome on it, too.

In that same year, 1983, New Order released power, corruption, and lies. Their second full-length album and first masterpiece. Low Life and Brotherhood followed in 1985 and 1986, but Brotherhood reflected the division that had developed was in the band. One side of the record was a little more dance-oriented, and the other side was a little more rock and roll. New Order's love for the music had once brought them together back in 1980, and when they lost one of their own and longed for purpose, longed for direction.

and the strength to carry on. But that was then, and this was now. Love couldn't fix this. Love created a divide, and love would tear them apart. We'll be right back after this world, word, word. I'm Kate Winkler Dawson, a host of the Wicked Words podcast. Each week I sit down with the true crime writers behind some of the most compelling true crime stories and discuss their years spent investigating and why it still matters.

He sees his father coming out of the woods with his hands over his face, and he knows something happened. His father just grabs him and says she's gone. She's gone. These are the cases that leave survivors, families, and the journalists who cover them changed forever. Working in national television, it'll push you to your limits, and you'll end up doing things you never thought you'd do.

You know, you look back at it and you're like, I can't believe that really happened. Join me and step inside the investigation. New episodes drop every Monday on the Exactly Right Network. Listen to Wicked Words on the IHeart Radio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get your podcasts. Your husband is not who you think he is. Your body is not what you thought it was. Your identity is formed by a secret history.

I'm Danny Shapiro. And these are just a few of the stunning stories I'll be exploring on the 14th season of family secrets. Just then, we felt the plain turn in the air, so much so that the bags that were under people's seats just kind of flew into the aisle. Each week, we dive headfirst into the complex power of secrecy, how it shapes our identities and relationships, and how it ultimately can reveal to us our truest selves. My daughter, she's pretending she doesn't know, but is trying to cook and feed me and keep me alive because I wasn't eating anything, and me pretending like everything was fine. He kind of shoved me out of the way and said, move.

And he went out of the front door and he jumped in a car and drove off. And that was the last time I saw him. Listen to season 14 of Family Secrets, starting May 7th on the IHeart Radio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get your podcasts. This season on Dear Chelsea, with me, Chelsea Handler, we have some fantastic guests like Amelia Clark. When, like, young people come up to me and they want to be an actor or whatever. And my first thing is always, can you think of anything else? that you can do rather be disappointed in. Do that.

Dennis Leary. I wake up and I'm hitting him in the head with a water bomb. And Bruce Jenner is on the aisle in a karate stance. Like he's about to attack me. Like making karate noises. And the entire the Kardashian family over there, everybody's going, and the air marshal is trying to grab my arms and screaming. And I immediately know that I've been sleepwalking.

David O'Yellow-O. I love this podcast, whether it's therapy or relationships or religion or sex or addiction or you just go straight for the guts. Guy Branham. So anyway, Nicole Kimman broke up with Keith Urban. Being half of a country couple was always a hat she was going to wear, not like a life she was going to lead. Oh, interesting. I like that. Did you practice that on your way over?

Gait and Matarazzo from Stranger Things. Tena, monjeu. Camilla Moron. Kenny Silver and more. Listen to these episodes of Dear Chelsea on the Iheart Radio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get your podcasts. By the end of 1986, Americans had finally caught on to New Order, and they had some unexpected advocates to thank for that. Music legend Quincy Jones, best known for his work with legends like Frank Sinatra and Michael Jackson, signed the band to a licensing deal. His label, Quest, was now distributing New Order's albums in the U.S. Meanwhile, John Hughes and Jonathan Demi included new order tracks on the soundtracks to their

movies Pretty and Pink and something wild. The band was suddenly a hot UK import, which meant the temptation was harder than ever to resist. For Hooky, there was temptation and there was frustration. It's hard to say where one ended and the other began. He was tired of arguing. Tired of wrestling was since. He worried that this would be the last time his wife would believe all the lies he told her whenever he returned home from abroad.

Of course he didn't sleep with other women. He only had eyes for her. What bullshit. He knew that deep down she knew, and yet she let him carry on the charade anyway. Whether it was temptation or frustration, on this night in December of 1986, almost 10 years into the life as a professional musician

and now in his early 30s, Hooky did a line of blow that would change his life forever. Then not in a good way. Hooky saw firsthand while cocaine, could do to a man, drove Rob Bretton to a full psychotic break. Rob attempted to fight off eight cops when they fitted him with a straitjacket. He was committed for a short period of time, after which he returned, and of course

New Order welcomed him back into the fold, though he was never the same, but hooky wasn't Rob, or so he thought. It was late. The after party, and the Tampa nightclub was electric. The line went up his nose quickly, and then everything was on fast forward, like he had pressed that double-arrow button on a VHS remote and the tracking on the screen went all fluttery and hirky-chirky. Images scattered by. Some girl flirted with him. He flirted back. She disappeared, probably playing hard to get. Some kid took her place and said, hey man, that's my sister. Leave her alone.

Leave her alone. Yeah, yeah, yeah. Hooky gave the boys of live service and told him the fuck off. The girl came back and Hooky worked his Manchester charm again. Once more she left and the kid was back and he was screaming now. I told you to leave my fucking sister alone. I swear to God. And Hooky got a little nervous this time. And maybe this American kid was going to nut him if Huckie got fresh. But when the girl turned up again, Hooky told her that they should go there separate ways. He didn't want any trouble from her brother. She furrowed her brow. What brother? Brother? Brother? She didn't have a brother. Hooky saw it red. Miserable lying twat. Cockblocking B-hawked. Huckie found the kid in the crowd and made a B-line. And the coke sizzled on the back of his

throat like an egg on the hood of a car in late summer. He grabbed the kid by his shirt collar, hit him without warning, and the kid crumpled to the floor. Hookie lifted his leg and stuck his boot in the kid's throat, and the kid struggled on his back, his face going red and then blew his arms lashing wildly. When the club's bouncers finally pulled Hookie away and the kid grasped for air, the kid was thrown out. Peter Hook was in fucking new order, the ones hosting this after party. Hooky didn't need cocaine to tell him that he could do no wrong, but it didn't hurt. What did hurt was overindulging. Two years later, it was 1988, and Huckie, like Rob before him, was officially an addict. In a hotel room in Brazil last night of the tour, someone passed him a plate

loaded with coke. Hooky hoovered it up. His brain went into overdrive. He rambled. All he could hear was the sound of his own voice. The sun came up, and he found some more powder in the pocket of a jacket and snorted it. Someone was unconscious in a bathtub, half naked girl. He was a girl. girls walked by. Hookie was still fucking blabbering. Jesus Christ, he needed a few hours of shut eye. It was back on a plane tomorrow, back to England, back to reality. His muscles spasmed, his head pounded, his mind raced, but his brain couldn't communicate with his limbs. And later that morning, he needed a wheelchair to get on the airplane. All he could think about was how shitty he felt. He didn't want to think about everything else, like what Barney had recently told the band.

and New Order were at the height of their burgeoning worldwide success, about to reach heights they never thought possible, and Barney wanted to take a break, pursue other creative endeavors, work with other people. Hookie dealt with it by getting super fucked up, so fucked up that he thought he could never feel worse if he tried. He was wrong. August, 1991.

Hookie met Stephen and Gillian at their farm in Macclesfield to begin writing new orders next record. Their future was writing on it. Their club, the hacienda, was overrun with gangsters and was in serious financial trouble. Ditto for their label factory records. Their asses were on the line.

But something was missing. Someone was missing. Barney didn't show up. At least not at first. Too busy with Johnny Marr. It seemed selfish to the rest of the band to leave them hanging in their time of need. But the other three carried on.

They wrote, And the songs took shape. They sounded fucking incredible. Even more incredible was how the three band members felt. It hadn't felt this way in years. A true closeness, an unbreakable bond. And not having Barney, their de facto leader there to fuck it all up, that felt best of all.

Barney had instructed them to work on new material, and he'd come at the end to add his vocals. Brilliant. So that's just what they did. But when Barney finally did show up, he didn't just add his vocals. He rewrote bridges. He rewrote choruses.

He rewrote entire songs. In his book, Substance, Inside New Order, Hookie claims that Barney endeavored to write him, Stephen, and Jillian off the album and effectively make a Bernard Sumner's solo record. Hookie got lucky when their producer later had him double back and had his bass guitar in a lot of the places where Barney had taken it out. Still, little mercies such as those didn't relieve the tension that continued to build up within the band.

The highs were incredibly high. Like in 1990, when the band was tapped to record, forward world in motion, a song for the England national football team's FIFA World Cup campaign. They made something that was universally meaningful, and it became their only number one song on the UK singles chart. But a song can't stay number one forever. The lows were waiting there when things settled down. You were made to feel like your opinion was no longer valued, like your input was no longer required like you were disposable. To make things worse, in late In 1992, before the band could finish their new album, Factory Records went bankrupt.

Factory could have been saved, it turned out, if their competitor London Records had actually bought them, as was the plan. But when it was discovered, the factory didn't actually have contracts with its artists, and that the artists owned their own work. London just waited for the inevitable. Factory quickly succumbed to its financial burdens, and London swept in to claim new order for their own. Brilliant. Quote Tony Wilson. Capital, without bankruptcy is like Christianity without hell. Republic, the band's sixth studio album, the one that had put Barney at even greater odds with the rest of the group,

was released on London Records in the spring of 1993. It was the commercial success the band hoped it would be, helping to relieve some of their looming fiscal hardships. It was their second consecutive album to top the UK charts, and in the U.S., it reached number 11 on the Billboard 200, led largely by its lead-off track and single, regret, which stormed the charts on both sides of the Atlantic. With the success came at a cost.

Only one member of New Order loved the album when he listened to it, and the other three only heard frustration, disappointment, and heartbreak. Stephen Morris later ranked it as his least favorite New Order album, simply because it brought back awful memories of an awful time. Hooky once again partied in order to block those awful memories out. He got high and danced to the Acid House soundtrack at the Hossi. He hung out with drug dealers, and they became close, so close that when one of them asked Hooky to be a guarantor on the purchase of a phone for them, he gladly supplied his home address

and credit card number, but not close enough for Hooky to know that the dealers were big-time, like a million pounds of dope per deal big time, like the subject of an extensive undercover police day big-time, and before Hooky knew it, the party would come crash into a halt in more ways than one. In hindsight, it was a horrible idea, but at the time, it made perfect sense. Hookie arrived at the courthouse simply to offer his support. His drug buddies were on the hook for moving a shit ton of dope.

You just don't let your friends hang out to dry in a time of need. So he attended their sentencing and witnessed as they all caught serious time in a Manchester prison. Strange ways, here we come. Outside on the courthouse steps, Hooky suddenly got that sinking feeling that he was headed for a similar fee. Three cops talked amongst themselves and motioned in his direction. Hooky felt the hairs on his neck go up, and then the cops began to move. First, the determined stride, and then they got faster,

and they were headed straight for him, and then he remembered. Fuck, it was the phone, that fucking phone! Drug dealers being drug dealers, they didn't tend to open bank accounts or credit cards, but they did have phones. and Hooky, in his fucked up state, thought it was a good idea to purchase a mobile device for his drug-dealing friends with not only his famous name, but with also his money. He underwrote the drug trade just as transparently as he underwrote the music business in Manchester's nightlife. Cocaine, it's a hell of a drug. And the cops caught up to Hockey outside the courtroom and placed him under arrest for conspiracy to supply controlled drugs.

They brought Hockey to an interrogation room inside the courthouse, and he was swore. wedding. Not because of the charges before him, but because he was carrying. Three grams of cocaine and a handful of speed stuffed inside his wallet. When the cops weren't looking, hooky massaged his ass against the chair and slowly worked his wallet out. He grabbed it discreetly with his hand and from behind his back felt around inside until he located the baggies. He moved slow. No sudden movements. The table had a large base, thank fucking God. So again, when the cops weren't looking, he lifted the table up slightly with his knee and tossed the baggies safely underneath. No harm, no foul.

Thankfully, No Harm No Fowel was essentially the police department's assessment of the situation after Hooky was released on bail. They actually decided not to search his home when they showed up. It was too fucking big. Hooky was no drugs are. They told him to stay out of trouble. It was like that time on the motorway all those years ago when he was chasing a Coke-filled tour bus at illegal speeds and was let off of the warning.

It was good to be Peter Hook. But it was no longer so good to be a member of New Order. The divide was getting wider. On August 29, 1993, while touring behind the Republic album, New Order played the final gig featuring their original lineup at the Redding Festival. It wasn't planned, but the band took some time off after that. But when they finally did reconvene at the end of the century, Jillian Gilbert decided not to continue on.

Hooky, for one, was shocked that he and Barney were actually getting along for once. Even if that didn't last for long. And maybe it was an attempt to reclaim the things they'd lost, like Ian Curtis or the collaborative high watermark of their mid-1980s work, or the Hacienda Club, which finally followed in the factory's footsteps when it shut down in 1997, after a final year in which Hockey himself paid 7,000 pounds a month to keep it open. For a band that defined the future, being tethered to the past did them no favors. But the future that lay ahead from New Order in the 21st century wasn't the future of old, who was riddled with less groundbreaking music and more conflict,

more acrimonious splits, and even lawsuits. That divide between rock and roll and dance music, it's now a permanent one, with Bernard Sumner carrying on the New Order name while Peter Hook fronts his own band, The Light, which performs many of New Order's classic songs. Barney and Hooky, forever torn apart. Such a disgrace. I'm Jake Brennan. And this is Disgraceland.

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Listen to the girlfriends. Trust me, babe. On the Iheart radio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get your podcast. This season on Dear Chelsea with me, Chelsea Handler, we have some fantastic guests like Amelia clerk. When like young people come up to me and they want to be an actor or whatever. My first thing is always, can you think of anything else that you can do? Rather be disappointed in. Do that. David O'Yelloo. I love this podcast, whether it's therapy or relationships or religion or sex or addiction or

you just go straight for the guts. Dennis Leary, Gaten Moderato from Stranger Things. Tena Monsu. Camilla Morone. Carrie Kenny Silver and more. Listen to these episodes of Dear Chelsea on the IHeart Radio app, Apple Podcasts,

or wherever you get your podcasts. Your husband is not who you think he is. Your body is not what you thought it was. Your identity is formed by a secret history. I'm Danny Shapiro. And these are just a few of the stunning stories I'll be exploring on the 14th season of Family Secrets. He kind of shoved me out of the way and said,

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