Dead Souls – On the Trail of Joy Division (Southern Cemetery Manchester)

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 15^th 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.

I will not expand on Ian’s history as it is so well known. I will just say how poignant it was to see the resting places of these four men, all pivotal to success and legacy of Joy Division and the wider music scene of Manchester. It is all remarkable that they all died way too soon.

A Morning In Manchester’s Southern Cemetery

 

Located three miles to the south of Manchester City Centre, the magnificent Southern Cemetery is the largest municipal cemetery in the United Kingdom and the second largest in all of Europe. Over the last four years in which time our daughter was a student at the Manchester School of Art we have driven past the cemetery en route to the centre. On those occasions I could only wonder at the place as the mass of aged headstones seemed keep pace with the car for an eternity. It was, from the first time I saw it, high on my list of desirable cemetery visits.

Mo  completed her Fine Arts degree this summer (with an MA commencing this September). Time had come to leave the hustle, bustle and buzz of central Manchester and move out to more affordable accommodation in Burnage (Gallagher territory). Thus on the occasion of our most recent visit to the city Gunta and I opted to stay in nearby Didsbury rather than in Princess Street in the centre which has been our usual area to stay.

Friday morning saw weather that would be perfect in any corner of the country, let alone Manchester, the sun shining in a cloudless sky in that unique late summer/early autumn way. The kind of weather that sets a cemetery off like no other. Now, our daughter’s boyfriend, John, has a personal connection with the cemetery (as do half the residents of Manchester to be honest given its scale). His Mother and paternal Grandparents lie in the grounds and so we purchased a plant in one of the several florists whose trade is supported by Southern Cemetery. 

It sounds like a very strange thing to say about a cemetery, but I felt that there was something about this place that celebrated life. Unlike many large cemeteries in towns and cities where the development of the area can understood by looking at the age of the graves in a given area, in Southern Cemetery there is much more of a feeling that modern headstones are in close proximity with the older ones. As such there are not large swathes of the site that are untended and unvisited. As mentioned, it was a Friday morning and I would describe the place as busy, very peaceful but well, yes, busy. As we passed the North Chapel, a funeral service was in progress. Elsewhere, would be mourners were frantically trying to establish the whereabouts of other funerals taking place that morning, having in all likelihood underestimated the enormity of the site. We saw families in good spirits carrying balloons en route to the grave of a young relative. Really, in this place of death and remembrance there was evidence of life abundant. In this spirit, recognising that bereavement affects both young and old, within the grounds are post boxes  for letters to heaven and letters to the angels for children to post. There are also children’s trails through the cemetery and even traces of humour if you know where to look!

All of these things to my mind are perfectly designed to make the cemetery, if not a joyful place, far less of a place of doom, gloom and unconquerable sadness.

Another thing that struck me about Southern Cemetery was its modesty. Manchester’s first millionaire, business man and philanthropist, John Rylands has the biggest memorial in the cemetery. Indeed it is quite large, but in comparison with some of the memorials that grace the garden cemeteries of London it is not so showy at all. Legendary Manchester United manager, Sir Matt Busby, lies a bounce of a football away from John’s family’s plot. As can be seen from the photo, his headstone includes his family only and makes no reference to football at all. Contrast this with memorials in Germany, where the grave’s occupant’s worldly achievements are commonly spelled out like a curriculum vitae in stone for any passer to see!

Another notable resident is the painter L.S. Lowery. Such an understated memorial. He is commemorated on a side panel of his parents' grave with just mention of his name and dates. The only clue to his illustrious past and fame is a small collection of worn and weathered paint brushes left by admirers of the man and his work.

It doesn't take much for me to recommend a visit to most cemeteries, but this one is truely exceptional. Walk its paths and who knows you may even see Morrissey. The Smiths' track, 'Cemetery Gates' is widely believed to be based upon times he spent within the grounds.