I just finished reading Torn Apart. I am sort of fascinated by Ian Curtis and his band Joy Division. I've seen movies, read books, listened to their music, watched the videos.
I have always seen Curtis and the band as sort of weird, spiky, icy, a little "doomy." But good. Very unique. And quite influential on a whole bunch of other bands.
And I do think there was a huge cloud of mystique that bloomed up as a result of Curtis' suicide at 23. Curtis was a self-described "weak and emotive" sort. Young, confused, and in pain.
Everything happened so fast to that young, intelligent and super-sensitive lad. He was an epileptic, and his illness seemed to grow worse as Joy Division started their ascent as a band. Plus, Curtis really was torn apart by love.
On the one hand, I am totally repelled by the "cult of death," and I am amazed that the "will to live" which is so strong in us, can be extinguished by the will to die. I am much more attracted and inspired by those who endure, those who survive, those who overcome the horrors of life and carry on.
And there are so many people who have suffered much worse than young Curtis ever did. So there is the mystery of why someone would choose to step out. But then again no one can measure the pain of illness, the overwhelming guilt, the deep consuming depression that seemingly ground him down.
I always look to art, to our creative pursuits as somehow transcendent. I guess I am left with the mystery of why someone who could create such great, powerful work, couldn't find the way forward by riding that creative vibe. You would think/hope that the work, the music, the lyrics, embodied and carried forth by that haunting baritone voice could bring some kind of peace, some kind of escape hatch for young Mr. Curtis.
It's sad that it wasn't enough to keep Curtis moving forward. You are left with unrealized potential. And a couple really good records.