Peter Hook - The Hacienda: How Not to Run a Club

Yes, it's the Peter Hook: bassist with New Order and Joy Division (and Revenge, and Monaco, and Freebass...). Anyone who's ever read his blog will discover two things reading this book: one, that his wit and style make for a compelling long-form read; and two, that he's clearly had a good sub-editor go through to ensure things like "spelling" and "punctuation" have been sorted out.

And it's a good thing too, since The Hacienda does a very good job of puncturing some of the myths thrown up by 24 Hour Party People and its ilk. The late, great Tony Wilson may well have been one of the true visionaries of UK (and specifically Manchester) music in the 80s, creating Factory Records and thereby introducing the likes of Joy Division, New Order and the Happy Mondays to the world. As one of the people behind legendary Manchester nightclub the Hacienda he was credited with inventing the modern "superclub", giving birth to the rise of the superstar DJ and overseeing the explosions of Acid House and Madchester in the late 80s. But, fuck, he really couldn't run a nightclub; nor, as it turns out, could New Order manager Rob Gretton, which was a problem since together they ran the Hacienda. Even less qualified was Hooky, who was only dragged into helping run the club since it was funded by New Order's money, and when the debts started piling up he was forced to take an interest or lose everything. Not that such concerns got in the way of a good time, of course...

Hooky's story is wildly entertaining, as befits the man telling it, and since he's one of the last people standing from that era (Gretton had a heart attack in 1999; Wilson succumbed to liver cancer in 2007) he's in a unique position to give insights while running little risk of being contradicted. And it's a rollicking journey that takes in key events while never losing sight of the personal stories of the people who made the club what it was. That means his genuine sorrow at the end of the club in the wake of Manchester's mid-90s clubland gang wars and irretrievable debt comes through, as does his sheer joy for the music. And also his sheer joy for - let's not be coy - ecstasy.

What's also noteworthy, if understandable given the sour note that New Order ended on last year, is how little his bandmates and former friends feature. Bernard Sumner gets a couple of lines (and is the butt of one particularly snide joke), while Steven Morris and Gillian Gilbert barely rate a mention, which is a shame given how tightly their lives (and finances) intertwined with the events of the period. For those with an interest in the period, or obsessive New Order fans wondering why the band aren't living in gold-plated hover-mansions these days, this is a fascinating read. Take note, would-be club owners: this book ought to make you reconsider that teaching degree your parents have been bugging you about doing. 

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