*Hidden Bonus Track (continued)
There was a brief moment of awkwardness as they entered the Lass O’ Gowrie, with neither party knowing what the other looked like, so Stuart was relieved when a guy sitting on his own, in a far corner, took the plunge and waved at them. He had looked like the most likely, lawyerly candidate.
After they had exchanged polite pleasantries, Stephen started with a reminiscence, “Tony and I used to sit out on the terrace, at the back, but I thought it might be a bit cold today. It sits over the River Medlock, and Tony always claimed he felt better when he could smell Manchester.”
“I know you’ll be keen to get going,” Stephen continued, “but let me sort some refreshments first.” His intimation, on their earlier call, of a ‘Challenge 69’ cash crisis had clearly been exaggerated for effect. In practice there were no monetary or dietary restrictions, though Stuart had pie and chips anyway!
“Called to the bar once again,” Stephen sighed, using what sounded like an oft-practised legal pun, as he left them briefly to place a food order and fetch the drinks.
“Lunch on Tony Wilson eh,” Stuart laughed, as they waited for Stephen to return, “I guess you could call that Factory fodder.”
Anne however was far too distracted to acknowledge his joke, her attention focused instead on the A4 sized leather document wallet that Stephen had left on his chair. “That’s all he’s brought with him,” she observed, “the prize must be in there. Whatever else it is, it can’t be that big.”
Realising the truth of her words, and therefore the proximity of their long-considered prize, Stuart had a sudden illogical impulse to grab the wallet and do a runner, but coming back to his senses simply replied, “you’re right. I’ve been hoping it’s an unreleased Factory record but, if so, then it’s definitely a single not an album.”
“Here’s your drinks,” Stephen announced as he returned to the table, “the food will be about twenty minutes. Should be enough time to conclude our business.”
Two sets of eyes were closely tracking Stephen’s document pouch as he placed it back on the floor, propped against his chair. Apparently the big announcement wasn’t quite imminent yet. “Did you get anywhere with that font business Stuart?” Stephen asked, failing miserably to make it sound like a casual enquiry rather than a pre-determined cross-examination.
Stuart had been anticipating the question though, and launched straight into his own prepared response, “yeah, I think I’ve sorted it. The lettering used for the first eleven ‘Challenges’ was a bit like Trajan Pro, but the exact font was a unique Factory one, developed for Joy Division’s ‘Closer’ album. Then, for the second half, it switched to Helvetica; the typeface Peter Saville chose for ‘Unknown Pleasures’.”
“Is he always such a know-it-all?” Stephen smiled, addressing his enquiry to Anne.
“Oh, tell me about it!” she shrugged.
“That’s not the whole story though, is it?” Stephen continued, turning back to Stuart, visibly savouring the theatre of this whole exchange. As briefs went, you could easily see how this one would have made a good demonstrative fit with Wilson.
“So, the last one I can’t be as certain of,” Stuart conceded, “I don’t believe it’s a mocked-up stencilled font you could find anywhere online, but I do have a theory.”
“I thought you might,” Stephen responded, “so come on then, enlighten Anne and I.”
Massively relieved that the lawyer’s tone now sounded jokey, rather than trial-like, Stuart went for it, “with the others being used in reverse chronological order, I guessed the final font must come from before ‘Unknown Pleasures’, so earlier than FACT10. None of them seemed to fit, but then it struck me. The Wilson ego must have superseded sequencing, he wasn’t prepared to let Saville take all the glory. I think the last font used is borrowed from the first Durutti Column album, with its infamous sandpaper sleeve. Tony designed everything himself and then got Joy Division to glue it all together manually. Didn’t they have to spray paint FACT14 on to every copy?”
“Got it in one,” Stephen exclaimed delightedly, “God how Tony loved that cover. ‘I don’t understand why I pay Peter all that bloody money Stephen,’ he used to complain, ‘when I can do a much better job myself’.”
“Was all that a final ‘Challenge’ then?” Stuart dared to ask, now he felt comfortable he had passed the test.
“Not in itself,” Stephen replied, “but you’re right to ask. Tony did want me to make the winner sweat over things first, but he only left one specific final qualification clause. I’ve still got my original copy of it here,” with which, in true ‘Blue Peter’ style, Stephen handed over a, “one I prepared earlier,” sheet to Stuart and Anne.
“I have always trusted your judgement Stephen,” it read, “so if I have got this badly wrong, and you decide our winner is some wanker, who won’t value my prize, then you must withdraw the offer. Let them sue us if they like. As you know, better than most, it wouldn’t be the first time!” The handwritten note was signed Anthony H Wilson.
“And he only used Anthony H when he was being deadly serious,” Stephen laughed.
“And …?” Stuart raised his eyes quizzically.
“I imagine you’ll be as pleased as I am to hear,” Stephen responded, “in my humble judgement, that I have found no grounds to invoke any escape clause. I am satisfied that Tony would have been happy. So, finally, congratulations!”
With which Stephen took an obviously ‘single-sized’ item from his document wallet, concealed in a simple brown paper bag, and handed his ‘evidence’ over to Stuart with a dramatic courtroom flourish.
The record’s front cover had a simple, stark design, featuring a mishmash of diversely designed, interlocking question marks (thirty of them, it later transpired), while the reverse had a more homespun birthday cake image (with a matching count of candles).
Stuart carefully removed the single from its sleeve, revealing the iconic Factory logo on its label, allowing him and Anne to read the following text:
FAC69A/45rpm
Durutti Division
“Challenge”
Produced by Martin Hannett
Designed by Peter Saville
And on the reverse:
FAC69B/45rpm
Durutti Division
“Happy Birthday”
Produced by Martin Hannett
Designed by Peter Saville
Stuart was stunned into silence. He wasn’t sure he fully grasped yet exactly what he was holding in his hands, but he could already guess enough to realise its huge cultural and historic import.
“Now this is the bit I’ve been dreading,” Stephen smiled, “Tony always said I had Picasso’s ear for music! But I’ll try to do it the best justice I can,” before clearing his throat theatrically and starting again with what ended up sounding like another well-rehearsed, lengthy oration.
“FAC69 was a secret recording made by Vini Reilly and Joy Division, hence the one-off band name. There was only one copy ever pressed, the one that you’re holding, which they gave Tony as a present for his thirtieth birthday, on 20th February 1980.”
“The A Side, ‘Challenge’, is an original song. The music is written by Vini, with words by Ian Curtis. Vini played guitar (which even I know sounds like a Bowie song!), with Joy Division providing the rest of the instrumentation, and Ian sang the lead vocal. Martin Hannett produced it, and your old pal Peter Saville designed the sleeve.”
“The B Side, ‘Happy Birthday’, as you might guess, is a variation on the traditional song, but not like any version you’ll have heard before. Vini takes over on vocals this time, but the music is the most full-throttle, amped up, Joy Division sound they could achieve. They went to town to make it as doomy as possible, and gave Hannett free reign to turn his industrial production dial up to eleven. Tony said he could never, afterwards, hear the original in the same innocent light.”
“Tony loved everything about this single, and claimed ‘Challenge’ (which, incidentally, I’ve never heard) was his favourite ever Factory song. He was fiercely protective of it though, hence no mention in the catalogue, and swore everybody involved to secrecy. When he eventually told me, he claimed I was only the tenth person to know of its existence, which, if true, makes you two numbers eleven and twelve.”
“It’s in pristine condition (so don’t go dropping it Stuart!) Tony reckoned he had only ever played it twenty-eight times. He put it away after the first listen and only got it back out, for one more spin, each birthday. For the last twelve years or so it’s just sat in storage, until now. What do you think?”
Stuart didn’t have the words to express what he thought. Even in his wildest imaginings he hadn’t anticipated such a unique artefact. One lone copy of a long-lost Joy Division recording (with added Durutti Column), with words and vocals by Ian Curtis. Surely what he held in his grasp, having carefully deposited the single back into its sleeve, had to be the Crown Jewels of alternative music collectibles. Luckily, at that moment, lunch arrived, providing a necessary end to Stuart’s pregnant pause.
“Do I need to sign anything?” Stuart asked, having at least partially recovered, though he suspected he knew the answer.
“No,” Stephen laughed, “this is a Factory contract remember, possibly the last one ever. According to Wilson’s law, a handshake is good enough.”
“I’ve got a question though,” Anne chipped in, “one that’s been bugging me. Why did Tony go to such lengths? What on earth possessed him to come up with such an elaborate, drawn out competition?”
“I’ve often wondered that myself,” Stephen replied, clearly back on happier territory talking about his old friend. “He never told me directly, but I’ve always put it down to two things. Firstly, he was an intellectual. I nearly said a closet intellectual, but Tony never did anything in hiding. I think though, knowing his days were numbered, he wanted to leave one more thing behind to show the world how clever he was. And secondly, he had always been a frustrated quiz master. Did you know he once hosted a show, for Channel Five, called Topranko?”
“I’ve never heard of it,” Anne replied, with Stuart nodding in agreement.
“You’re not alone,” Stephen chuckled, “it was like an early version of ‘Pointless’ but never went anywhere. Cancelled after one series. You can’t imagine how much that pissed Tony off. Plus, he was always bitter about missing out to Gordon Burns over presenting the Krypton Factor. When he was quoted, later, saying ‘I’ve been a minor celebrity since I was 23’, it was those experiences that rankled most. Despite all of the music stuff, his TV career never made Tony as famous as he felt he should have been.”
“So, I’m sorry Anne, that was a bit of a long-winded answer,” Stephen summarised, “but if you pull those strands together then I believe Tony just wanted to prove he could pull off one final, ultimate quiz challenge of his own, and I think he did.”
“I’m sure you want to get away,” Stephen added as they finished their food, “to get home and play the single. There’s just one last offer from me though, well from Tony really. You’ve got my number and e-mail address, if you need any legal advice, or guidance, on what to do with your prize next, after all it’s probably pretty valuable, certainly newsworthy, then just give me a shout. It’s all part of the service.”
He said this with a certain sadness, perhaps perceiving the final curtain being drawn on his last ever Factory obligation, marking the end of a missed era.
“Thanks for everything,” Stuart said, “we’ve got a lot to think about. I might just take you up on that offer.”
“Oh, I almost forgot,” Stephen said as they were getting up to leave (a tactic of his Stuart was by now getting used to, and beginning to wonder how it used to go down with his juries), “there’s another note, from Tony, I was supposed to give you,” and he passed it over, “it might be something else to factor into your decision.”
“Dear winner, please look after your bounty.
It was my most prized possession. Achingly beautiful and blisteringly poignant.
Its fate now lies in your hands, but I would ask you to consider, after so long, if it is time now for the world to hear it?”
Tony
###
The drive home from Manchester had never seemed longer, each mile lengthened by Stuart’s growing frustration that the unique record that Anne held protectively on her lap was unplayable as in-car entertainment. Even the selection of Factory CDs he had carefully curated for their journey stayed in their cases. It didn’t need articulating that these would now be entirely unsatisfactory substitutes.
Anne filled the time as constructively as she could by calling Joe, Ed, and Charlie to convey their news. Stephen had given them some friendly advice about keeping things tight, (“no phoning the NME,”) until they had made a decision on ‘Challenge’s fate, suggesting they only tell people they absolutely needed to, and whom they could implicitly trust. But Stuart and Anne had agreed their fellow team members safely qualified under both of these criteria.
Anne made her calls on speakerphone so Stuart could hear their reactions first-hand:
“Sounds amazing,” Charlie enthused (which, Stuart thought, it almost certainly would, if they could only bloody listen to it!), “when can you send it to me?” Anne relayed Stuart’s promise to convert the single to an mp3 and email it to him later.
“You’re one lucky bastard,” Ed observed, unable to resist adding, “having friends as helpful as you’ve got.”
Joe meanwhile, predictably, got straight down to basics, “that’s great, how much is it worth?”
Stuart’s actions, once they had eventually made it home, combined a strange mix of haste and caution. He knew he needed to get FAC69 onto their record deck as quickly as possible, yet at the same time felt obliged to handle it like a new-born child. It was, after all, he felt, still somebody else’s baby.
They had listened to the single all the way through twice, both sides in turn, before either of them ventured an opinion. The rapt attention and reverence being paid to one small record, as it revolved on a turntable, unavoidably taking Stuart right back again, more than forty years, to that old, dusty school Art Room.
There was once more, he mused, “a brand new rose in town.”
“So, what do you think?” asked Anne, after the second set of plays, “has it been worth all the heartache?”
“Well, ‘Happy Birthday’s definitely odd. In a good way,” Stuart observed, “but ‘Challenge’ I will need to listen to again, on the first couple of hearings though, majestic is the word that springs to mind.”
“It does sound great,” Anne agreed, “a bit spooky though. Even more than normal Joy Division. I guess that’s because it feels like it’s arrived from somewhere beyond the grave.”
She was right. The record’s weird provenance undoubtedly added to its aura. It had more accurately however, Stuart reflected, arrived from beyond several graves! Anne now drifted off, deliberately, he thought, to allow him the space for a third solitary listen. One which, he accepted, was likely to result in him starting to articulate, mentally at least, a deeper, more Morley-like review this time around.
Saving the best until last, Stuart started with the B Side, ‘Happy Birthday’. Vini’s soft, ghostly vocals, singing those familiar words, sat discordantly within the song’s riotous melange of noise. The music was dominated by Hooky’s thunderous bass, Morris’s staccato drums, and Hannett throwing the mother of all kitchen sinks at everything. In the end, Stuart realised, the best way he could think of to describe this was as a wholly Birthday Party-esque ‘Happy Birthday’.
On to the main attraction though. ‘Challenge’ was always, from the moment Stephen had falteringly described it, going to prove a totally unique Factorial hybrid. One part industrial-grade Durutti Column, combined with an odd pastoral dose of Joy Division, sounded a weird mix (both figuratively and in practice), but Stuart felt it was a strange brew that worked, and, as he had hinted to Anne, majestically so.
On top of which the spookiest, most resurrectional element of all, left you taken aback by a new, yet old, set of words written and sung by Ian Curtis.
The song’s three verses were strangely upbeat. Maybe conscious he was writing to celebrate Wilson’s thirtieth Birthday, Ian had never sounded more positive, with each verse seeming to draw upon a different set of life’s values (as deemed important to Tony). The first extolled the virtues of love and relationships, the second moved on to friendship and loyalty, while the third, most incongruously of all, covered culture (with Yeats, Kafka, and Herzog all getting name checks) and even sport, with a, “red devils,” reference dropped in to acknowledge Ian and Tony’s shared support.
This was, nonetheless, still Ian Curtis we were talking about! And as ‘Challenge’ developed it almost seemed like the sense of optimism required for the verses, had, in the end, proven too much for him. Any build of positivity ended up crashing down, like some unattainable dream, each time the song reached its simple, thrice repeated chorus, “but it’s still a challenge, to stand the heat, to keep life flowing, miss defeat.”
As Vini Reilly once astutely put it in ‘Missing Boy’, his own tribute song to Curtis,“the end is always the same.” And so it was here, heartbreakingly so. But oh, what a voice!
Tony Wilson had always been so much more than a record label boss; an enthusiast, a fan, a loyal friend (we now knew), but above all else he had been a communicator par excellence. So however long and hard Stuart might try, he knew he would struggle to come up with any more apt description for ‘Challenge’ than the one already provided by its original owner, “achingly beautiful and blisteringly poignant!”
###
In the end it didn’t take Stuart too long to resolve the potentially knotty problem of how best to handle the future of his strange quizzical inheritance. Taking guidance from Wilson, and deeming this a moment to stay true to his Einsteinian commitment to try to be, “a man of value,” he soon concluded there was only one way forward.
A week later, with Anne’s full support, Stuart phoned Stephen to outline his five-point plan, and to secure his help, as Tony’s executor, in bringing it all to fruition:
Tony had been right. Stuart couldn’t now keep ‘Challenge’ to himself. It was indeed time for the world to hear it. Factory’s master tapes, wherever they had been squirreled away, needed to be dug out and dusted off,
Neither was it supportable for him to own the recording, and he needed Stephen’s legal input to transfer the rights back where they properly belonged. He proposed splitting ‘Challenge’s future ownership, to benefit from future sales revenue and royalties, into three equal shares. One third should sit with Oliver and Isobel Wilson (as the heirs of its rightful owner), with the remainder to be shared equally by the song’s writers, Vini Reilly, and Natalie Curtis (on behalf of her father),
Oliver, who Stuart understood was now a music promoter and ethical entrepreneur, should be appointed as chair of this ‘Challenge’ consortium; to help decide where, when, and under what formats, the record should be released to the world. After which, Stuart simply specified two final, personal requirements,
One: He should retain perpetual ownership of the original ‘Challenge’ single, the copy (with no likeness!) they had won fair and square through Tony’s quiz, and,
Two: Part of the initial song launch, whether this made commercial sense or not (a stipulation he trusted Tony would look down on favourably!), must be a limited edition, one hundred (individually numbered) pressing, 7” vinyl single. Whether it needed to be done under license or not, this must also be released on a Factory label (preferably Saville designed), as FAC69; with Stuart to receive, in full and final payment, copies number 1 and 2.
“That all sounds magnificent,” Stephen responded positively, “I’m sure Tony will be smiling down on us. I’ve known Oli all his life, he’s a chip off the old block. He will do a great job. Leave everything with me Stuart, I’ll get the wheels in motion. I suspect this one may need a written contract though!” They agreed to stay in touch.
It proved a weight off Stuart’s mind. He knew he could now avoid most of the messy logistics, and inevitable media circus, that would be involved in finally unveiling ‘Challenge’ to the world, while still able to sit back and revel in all the drama he had set in train as it unfolded.
This left just three tasks to be completed at Stuart’s end.
Firstly, he would need to purchase a double 7” single display case, off Amazon, to allow him to mount ‘Challenge’ and its Saville sleeve alongside each other and add them, in pride of place, to the existing gallery on the wall of his music room. He had already decided that the single should only afterwards be taken down once each year, on the 20th February, to be listened to in celebration of Tony’s birthday.
Secondly, there was one remaining problem to resolve. His earlier proviso, regarding the two numbered, vinyl editions from the ‘Challenge’ single launch, had been included to reward Ed and Charlie for all their invaluable help and support. But he had then agonised for ages over the difficulty of distributing these fairly. How on earth could he ever decide which of them should be given number one? It was an impossible question, like being asked to name your least favourite child!
Eventually though Stuart had come up with a solution he thought was not only fair and proportionate, but entirely appropriate. In line with the approach he had threatened to take on an earlier ‘Challenge’, to allow everything come down to a game of chance, he would get them both to agree to toss a coin for it. With an insistence that he should be the official tosser.
“Sounds about right to me,” he imagined Ed commenting.
And finally, although he wasn’t entirely sure how to go about this, Stuart would need to get his new, “most prized possession,” logged on Discogs. A previously unknown, unique Factory record, the legendary, elusive FAC69, featuring Ian Curtis on vocals, with only one pressing ever made, whose single previous owner just happened to be Tony ‘Bloody’ Wilson.
He would like to see them put a value on that!
(‘Challenge 69’ is not quite done with yet! Please ‘tune in’ at the same time tomorrow for one final, brief ‘Outro’ postscript section.)