One of the most iconic labels ever to live beyond its means, Factory Records put its indelible, charcoal-souled stamp on postpunk with Joy Division, New Order, Crispy Ambulance, A Certain Ratio, and others throughout the â80s. Beyond that identifiable sound, though, Factory harbored outliers like Durutti Column, Section 25, Crawling Chaos, and the Royal Family and the Poor and championed outfits like James before they became unbearable.
Led by the legendary Manchester media mogul Tony Wilson (see the movie 24 Hour Party People for an entertainingly embellished portrayal of the man and his accomplishments), Factory eventually branched out into the baggy, dance-rock shenanigans of Happy Mondays and Northside and indulged every New Order offshoot, such as Revenge, Electronic, and the Other Two. In addition, the company released music by many other less-celebrated artists that most of the world just didnât have the time or inclination to explore (sorry, Kevin Hewick and Kalima). The only person I know whoâs possibly heard the entire catalog is ex-Stranger tech guru Brian Geoghaganâand even he might have balked at Shark Vegas.
Factory had several towering highs, its share of dull middles, and a smattering of embarrassing lows. But when it was on, it was on in fiery, boldfaced, italicized CAPS.
Choosing a Factory top-10-song list is not an easy task, but it must be done, so Iâm doing it. It's a given you're going to find fault with this survey, so explain why Iâm way off base in the comments and post your own top 10, if you find yourself with too much time on your hands.
A Certain Ratio- âFlightâ (FAC-22, 1980)
A Certain Ratio made the most frigid funk in the world. Youâd think a genre that thrives on heat would wither in this Manchester groupâs ice-cold hands, but no. ACRâs early records took the percussive, chicken-scratch guitar and taut yet rubbery groove of the Godfather of Soul's essence to the freezer and still made you sweat like a malaria patient. âFlight,â though, is on some other higher level of sonic science. Its funk is subliminal and ethereal, its melody ghostly. The track appears to be dispersing as it goes along, shedding layers of skin, vaporizing before your astonished ears. (Iâd bet a hundred pounds that Burial loves this magnum opus.) Simon Toppingâs deep, glum vocals make Ian Curtisâ sound like Curtis Mayfieldâs as he intones, âWe need flight to feel the light.â In the utterly chilling coda, someone plays a mean ectoplasm solo. âFlightâ is Factoryâs pinnacle.
Crispy Ambulance- âThe Presenceâ (FAC BN-4, 1981)
13 minutes of sinuous tension building, this is Crispy Ambulanceâs crowning achievement. Accused of being Joy Division copyists, CA definitely took inspiration from Factoryâs flagship band, but âThe Presenceâ was like JD in dub, with spectral-flare guitar glints and a bass line that lithely looped like a blunted combination of Peter Hook and Jah Wobble. No matter how low you feel, this epic classic will console the hell out of you.
Joy Division- âThe Eternalâ (FAC-25, 1980)
No song better captures the sorrow and the pity of Joy Division than âThe Eternal.â (How has the RZA not sampled its opening moments?) Itâs a majestic yet forlorn procession to the vanishing point. Ian Curtis poetically expresses a resignation that cuts to the core, his tender, stoic voice calmly enunciating lines like:
Cry like a child, though these years make me older,
With children my time is so wastefully spent,
A burden to keep, though their inner communion,
Accept like a curse an unlucky deal.
This is how you create a woebegone tune that makes you proud to hang your head forever.
New Order- âEverythingâs Gone Greenâ (FAC-30, 1982)
What an elegant juggernaut this is. âEverythingâs Gone Greenâ perfectly distills New Orderâs rock and dance elements into one efficiently chugging poignancy machine. It contains my favorite Bernard Sumner vocal performance (including that lone amazing âWOO!â near the end) and the main gilded, glistening guitar riff that periodically slashes through it never fails to fire up all of my synapses. You can have the overplayed âBlue Mondayâ; Iâll take âEverythingâs Gone Greenâ any day.
Joy Division- âDead Soulsâ (FAC-40, 1981)
The agonizing sound of a mind churning in its own rancid torment, âDead Soulsâ is a highlight of the posthumous Still compilation. You can sense singer Ian Curtis struggling to break on through to the other side with every fiber of his doomed being. After a deceptively strolling intro, the music gets down to serious business, throbbing and receding with absolute sympathy, power, and grace. This song meant a helluva lot to me when I was 19; it still moves me to tears now. If you can listen to âDead Soulsâ without your eyes watering and your throat lumping, you may be Dick Cheney.
A Certain Ratio- âDo the Du (Casse)â (FACUS-4, 1981)
No song with the words âshrivelâ in it has ever funked harder than âDo the Du (Casse)ââplus, âI flay your flesh with my thoughtsâ is a stunningly great line, in any context. This track exists on the same 12-inch as ACRâs potent cover of Banbarraâs âShack Up.â Both tracks will scorch your dance floor within seconds.
New Order- âIn A Lonely Placeâ (FAC-33, 1981)
The perfect song with which to transition from Joy Division into New Order, âIn a Lonely Placeâ serves as a tremblingly beautiful tribute to the late Ian Curtis, even if it wasn't intended to. The B-side to the near-universally loved âCeremony,â it achieves the rare feat of toggling between intimacy and grandiosity with utmost grace. Whenever itâs playing, I imagine statues crying to it.
ESG- âYouâre No Goodâ (FAC-34, 1981)
ESG are a supreme party band, but âYouâre No Goodâ is one of their most down-hearted tracksâand, paradoxically, one of their finest. This is funk that tumbles down the stairs in slow motion, but the chorus of âyouâre no good!â puts a damn smile on your hips [sic]. As a tune about loving the wrong person, itâs maddeningly simple, but the sublimely laggard groove and coyly yearning vocal performances win the
Happy Mondays- âWrote For Luckâ (FAC-212, 1988)
Welcome to the peak of baggy, a loose, funky fusion of candy-glazed dance music and blissed-out rock that flourished in the UK in the late â80s and early '90s. The Mondays finessed out one of those riffsâa yobbish take on African highlife musicâthat you want to go on till you forget all of your responsibilities. And if anyone can make you slack on your obligations, itâs Happy Mondays frontman Shaun Ryder.
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark- Electricity (FAC-6, 1979)
An ideal offspring of Kraftwerkâs âRadioactivity,â âElectricityâ represents synth pop at its most sprightly and environmentally responsible. Instantly hummable and indomitably cheerful yet with a grave undercurrent, this song set the bar sky high for all synthesizer wranglers hoping to dwell in the charts. Few have matched it in the ensuing 35 years.
Crawling Chaos- âSex Machineâ (FAC-17, 1980)
One of Factoryâs greatest WTF? moments. Think of what the opposite of James Brownâs âGet Up (I Feel Like Being A) Sex Machineâ would sound like and thatâs pretty much what you get with Crawling Chaosâ song of the (almost) same title. The singer sounds like heâs on the verge of a nervous breakdown as he recounts all of the anatomical anomalies he possesses, as outlined in the verse below:
Iâve got pricks on my toes and one on my nose
And some on my back that nobody knows
And the one I got first still grows and grows
Iâve got a set of clits hanging in my ear
I went to the doc to get a smear
He told me I had gonorrhoea
The musicâs an odd fusion of fidgety, minimal synth and guitar-rock heroics. There sure is a lot of sturm und drang about wangs here. A one-off for the ages.