Thoughts of Joy Division invariably conjure up iconic images of a serious, raincoat-wrapped post-punk troupe pictured against a back-drop of the urban decay of 1970’s Manchester or Stockport. But in 2024, three key figures in the Joy Division drama can be located amongst the sun dappled headstones of the Southern Cemetery.
They are there and their plot details are available online. However, I was unable to see any plot markers indicating where exactly you are in the cemetery at any given point. The sections are arranged both alphabetically and by religious denomination (i.e. C of E, Roman Catholic, Non-Conformist, Jewish, Islamic etc). The best I could do is try to navigate with reference to one or more of the chapels standing at the cardinal compass points in the grounds. The only remaining problem then was my total lack of any semblance of a sense of direction. Nevertheless, cemeteries rarely get the upper hand on me and so Mo and I were up to the challenge of finding our cemetery residents, plot markers be damned.
The first headstone found on our shopping list of three, or rather stumbled across, was that of Tony, latterly Anthony Wilson. ‘Mr Manchester’ himself. Tony Wilson entered the world of journalism and broadcasting after graduating in English from Jesus College in Cambridge. As a presenter on ‘So It Goes’, a Granada TV, entertainments and arts magazine show, he did much to promote the new music that was breaking through in the mid 1970’s. Despite all outward appearances, over the collar hair, wide collared shirts and flared jeans, Wilson was tired of the musical status quo, and probably Status Quo too for that matter.
In the Summer of 1976 he bore witness to Sex Pistols at Manchester’s Lesser Free Trade Hall, an event that he described as "nothing short of an epiphany". Whilst several fellow gig goers were subsequently compelled to form their own punk bands, Wilson went one step further and put the Pistols on television (the band appeared on the last episode of series one of ‘So It Goes’). It was the band’s first appearance on UK TV and for many teenagers in the North West, the 3 minutes 33 seconds of ‘Anarchhy In The UK’ studio footage was every bit as explosive as the Bill Grundy interview was to their counterparts in London. It is I have to say an electrifying performance even today; I can only try to imagine how it must have been perceived in 1976 against a backdrop of so much turgid AOR!
Tony Wilson had found his calling. As co-founder of Factory Records, he managed label acts, A Certain Ratio and Durutti Column. However, he is best known for his association with Joy Division and New Order. Famously, or perhaps that should be infamously, he founded the Haçienda, A project largely bank rolled by the record sales of Joy Division and later New Order. Whilst the contribution of the Haçienda to the cultural life and legacy of Manchester and the North West of England was off the scale, its contribution to the coffers of the owners and shareholders was less than impressive, (see Peter Hook’s book: The Haçienda – How Not To Run A Club for the inside story). Tony Wilson was also on the scene when Manchester enjoyed a second wave of UK musical domination with the rise of ‘Madchester’ and the Happy Mondays.
Wilson’s own words, ‘some people make money and some make history’ are very true indeed.
Anthony H Wilson, died of a heart attack whilst undergoing cancer treatment in Manchester on 10th August 2007. When the news broke the Union Flag flying from Manchester Town Hall was lowered to half mast, a clear indication of the affection the City of Manchester held for this often rather arrogant, but always entertaining impresario. He was Manchester through and through.
His headstone, designed by in-house Factory artist, Peter Saville, bears the inscription:
‘Anthony H Wilson
Broadcaster
Cultural Catalyst
1950-2007’
Next on the list of headstone to track down was that belonging to Rob Gretton, the long-serving manager of both Joy Division and New Order. Gretton’s obituary in The Independent stated that he was to the two Manchester bands what Brian Epstein was to The Beatles.
Rob Gretton was an early supporter of the flourishing Manchester punk scene which saw him managing fellow Wythenshawe punks, Slaughter & The Dogs. As resident DJ at Rafters he witnessed Joy Division, then under the name of Warsaw for the first time. By April 1978 they had adopted the name Joy Division and returned to Rafters to participate in the label sponsored Stiff Test/Chiswick Challenge, a battle of the bands competition. The Judges weren’t swayed, but Tony Wilson, the man off the telly, was impressed.
Gretton took on the management of Joy Division and badgered his new acquaintance to get Joy Division some exposure on Granada TV, which Wilson duly did.
As a co-founder of Factory Records, Rob Gretton was keen to see Joy Division release their debut album on the label, rather than on a major. 1979’s ‘Unknown Pleasures’ was released on Factory and secured the label’s cultural legacy that remains solid to this day.
Upon the suicide of Ian Curtis on the eve of Joy Division’s first American tour, Gretton as manager did much to steady the ship, such that after a period of reflection, the three surviving members formed New Order, who went on to become one of the country’s most enduring and successful bands of the ‘80’s and ‘90s.
Rob Gretton died of a heart attack on 15th May 1999 at the age of 46.
The last grave that Gunta, Mo and I tasked ourselves to find belonged to the man responsible for making Joy Division sound unique amongst a multitude of sombre, post-punk bands, one Martin Hannett.
A musician himself, Hannett first turned his hand to record production in late 1976 when as Martin Zero he sat behind the console desk to produce the independent Spiral Scratch EP (New Hormones), the first salvo from Manchester’s Buzzcocks. After Buzzcocks he continued to produce for other Manchester/Salford acts such as Jilted John and John Cooper Clarke as well as many of the bands on the Factory Records label in which he was a partner. But it is the work with Joy Division for which he is best remembered.
His understanding and mastery of studio gadgetry and techniques, such as mixing live drum sounds with synthesizers, resulted in a uniquely distinctive sound that still make Joy Division stand head and shoulders above many of their contemporaries. By all accounts, he wasn’t an easy man to work with. He knew what sounds he wanted to achieve, whether the band understood or agreed. In fact he was not one for canvassing the opinion of the band either. He once stated of Joy Division, ‘They were a gift to a producer, because they didn't have a clue. They didn't argue.’ In fact, according to drummer Stephen Morris, Hannett employed several rouses by which to discourage opposing opinions from the band, including maintaining the control booth at an ice cold temperature to keep band members and their gripes away.
In later years Hannett went on to work on the commercial success that was ‘Bummed’ by Happy Mondays as a freelance producer, having left the Factory fold.
Increasing drug and alcohol abuse ultimately led to heart failure and Martin died on 18th April 1991 at the age of 42.
His headstone is very unassuming but carries a very big inscription, it reads:
‘Record Producer And Creator Of The Manchester Sound’
Not that these three titans of the Manchester music scene would have conferred prior to their untimely demise, but it was reassuring to see that each of the headstones were in black!
Thus ended our Joy Division themed gravestone expedition…. or so I thought.
At the end of our stay in Didsbury, having said our goodbyes to Mo and John we headed south. The night before, just as we were turning in for the night, I casually mentioned the fact that Macclesfield was just fourteen miles away… and since it was in the right, southbound, direction, could we perhaps call in to just one more cemetery. You see, I had my eye on the big guy, Ian Curtis. Gunta obliged and very soon we were motoring through some very verdant Cheshire countryside en route to Macclesfield Cemetery, located about a mile outside of the town. Entering the grounds before 9am on an Autumnal Sunday morning was beautiful. Ground mist was still visible in patches in the shallows of the cemetery. Getting our bearings we found the location where Ian’s ashes were interred with relative ease, which was surprising given the scale of the memorial. I said that Martin Hannett’s headstone was unassuming… however, it looks like the tomb of Lenin in comparison with the marker for Ian Curtis. The plot is tended and the only indication of a musical past was a handful of weathered plectrums.
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