I recently listened to Unknown Pleasures again. I'd forgotten what a hauntingly beautiful album it is. It really takes you to this phantasmagoric & grey Manchester; not to all its post-industrial hopelessness, but rather the human heat and vulnerability of the post-punk scene.
When I turned 20 a friend recommended that I give Joy Division a listen. I had seen T-shirts with the album cover in it, but I'd never listened to anything by them (admittedly because I thought people who wore said T-shirts were quite annoying). My friend took away all of this apprehension of mine when she told me a bit of Ian Curtis's story and recommended I read a chapter in "Ghosts of My Life" by Mark Fisher talking about the band.
The first time I listened to Disorder I wept, jumped, danced, cried. The music came as if from a distant radio, the sound mystifying and electric, sending shocks through the body, making the heart pump blood in beat. I didn't live what Ian Curtis lived. Argentina is astronomically different from the UK, the 21st century very different from the 20th. But, nonetheless, I think in these times of generalized feelings of impending doom, we're all searching for a guide to come and take us by the hand.
As I always say, at times where the hopelessness gets heavy, there's nothing quite as heart-wrenchingly freeing as dancing to Joy Division.