The Haçienda Read Online Free Page A

band, Section 25.
    Earlier that afternoon Tony told Rob, ‘Buy some cans of beer and we’ll sell them to everybody for 50p each.’
    And so during the sets Rob stood behind the bar, hoping to earn some cash on this scheme. Of course, nobody had exact change in their pockets and he didn’t think to set up a till. In the end he muttered, ‘Fuck it, let’s just give it away.’ Which is exactly what he did.
    We often used to go the Ranch, which was owned by Foo Foo Lammar – Frank, to his friends. A nice guy, he was a female impersonator, a forerunner to Lily Savage, and with the Ranch and Metz he was one of the club owners who paved the way for the Gay Village. Every Thursday night was punk night: members of the Buzzcocks, Slaughter and the Dogs,the Drones,Manicured Noise and everybody else who played punk music in Manchester congregated there. You did have to be careful, though: right-wing Teddy Boys from God knows where would sometimes come down and lie in wait for us. Pub-and-clubland was still a dangerous place to be, wherever your allegiances lay.
    Joy Division used to play at the Ranch, too. On one such occasion we’d already tried our luck at a talent night at the Stocks in Walkden near where I lived in Little Hulton. It was one of those nights where acts who wanted to be signed up performed in front of ‘judges’ (the bloke who ran the agency and his mate), who then decided whether or not they had potential. Before we went on Ian got a treat when he accidentally walked into the dressing room where the singer before us was getting changed and he saw her tits. He was made up about that.
    The guy who introduced us, a proper old-school compere, said, ‘How do you want to be introduced, lads?’
    We said, ‘Um . . .’ and looked at one another.
    He said, ‘Well, what are you like?’
    We said,‘Uh ...’
    With no articulate answer from us he introduced us with the immortal words:‘If you like Deep Purple you’ll love these lads.’
    We trudged on and did two songs. The power kept cutting offbecause we were tripping the limiter. A coach-load of old ladies from Farnworth all had their hands over their ears.We absolutely bombed. Needless to say we weren’t seen as ‘having potential’ and weren’t signed by the agency. We were so wound up by the whole thing. Once we’d we thrown our gear in the back of my old Jag Ian said, ‘Come on. The Ranch is open. Let’s go and play there.’
    So we did. They let us set up and play and we went down a storm. Those were the days.
    Despite the Electric Circus closing in October 1977, by 1978 the Punk scene had really grown and there were gigs all the time. The only thing that stopped us going out every night was cash: one or two shows a week was our limit. When we could afford to go out, though, we were spoilt for choice:Rafters,the Ranch,the Factory nights at the Russell. There were gigs all over the city. One venue, called the Squat, had been taken over by hippies and all the punks used to go there; any passing group could set up and play. It was great for a time, a really good scene, but by the following year it had splintered with both the Ranch and Rafters closing to punk.
    Out of ambition and necessity we expanded our territory. Joy Division pretty quickly became quite successful, so we performed not only around Britain but also in Europe. We felt so happy to be liked for what we did as musicians, we played anywhere that asked us; then, as the money came in and bigger concert promoters hired us to play,we earned enough to quit our day jobs.Everything seemed to be moving forward in the best possible way:Rob was running our careers,Martin Hannett was producing our records, Pete Saville designed the covers (convinced in his own mind that people bought our stuff because they loved his art rather than the music),Factory released it all,and we felt like we were really on our way.
    By early 1980 plans were afoot for us to tour the United States. By now we’d released one