Unknown Pleasures: Inside Joy Division

by Peter Hook

“We’ve had reports that your van has been seen in the red-light districts of Bradford, Huddersfield, Leeds, Moss Side . . .” He looked at me. “Want to tell me why that is, son?” For a moment my mind went blank. All I could think was: Yorkshire Ripper. This was during the time they were searching for him. He preyed on prostitutes in Leeds, Bradford, Manchester . . . “Oh, hang on a minute,” I said, “I’m in a group. I play bass in a group. Where you’re saying, they’re gigs we’ve played.” They looked at each other, all doubtful-like. “What’s your group called?” “Joy Division.” “Never heard of them.” Probably Level 42 fans. “Really,” I insisted. “I play bass and all the gigs that we play are in the red-light districts.” “Why’s that, then?” “Well, we’re sort of a punk group and they’re the kind of places punk groups play.” “Can you prove that, then?” he said. “What, that we’re a punk group?” “No, that your group has played in those places.” “Oh, yeah, yeah, of course,” I said. “Our manager’s got all the dates written down. And proving it’s no problem. We’ve had punters—I mean, audience—watching, you know. And we’ve been reviewed and stuff.” They seemed satisfied. “Well, in that case, we won’t ask you to come to the station or anything, but you must bear in mind that you’re appearing in all these areas where there have been Ripper killings, so you can consider yourself under investigation.” I was