“Do you want to watch Control?” inquired my host in Birmingham, Alabama. We stood in his spacious living room examining his enormous collection of DVDs.

“What is Control?” I queried.

Control is a movie about the rise and fall of Joy Division frontman Ian Curtis,” my host replied. “This film, released in 2007, stars Academy Award Nominee Samantha Morton.”

I grimaced.

“What’s the problem?” my host replied.

“I’m sorry,” I ventured. “The prospect of a Joy Division movie forces me to admit that I do not like Joy Division.”

“What?” my host replied.

“I know no other way to say it,” I explained. “Unlike many of my peers—-peers whose musical opinions I respect and some of whom contributed to the resurgence of electronic-inspired punk music at the beginning of this decade—-I am not interested in the rise and fall of Joy Division because I do not like Joy Division.”

“What about ‘Love Will Tear Us Apart?’” my host challenged.

“Is that the song where the gentleman singer mumbles his way through a forgettable verse then, in an overly dramatic fashion, insists that ‘Love Will Tear Us Apart?’” I inquired.

“Yes,” my host replied.

“Hmmm.” I considered the many times I had heard “Love Will Tear Us Apart” in someone’s automobile or dormitory room, and the many times someone had tried to convince me that “Love Will Tear Us Apart” was sheer genius, and the many times my mind had drifted as I tried to focus on “Love Will Tear Us Apart.” “That song’s OK,” I conceded, unconvincingly.

“I can’t believe you don’t like ‘Love Will Tear Us Apart!’” my host exclaimed.

“Well…” After some consideration, I struck upon a way out of the faux pas into which I had stumbled. “I do like that Joy Division song ‘Blue Monday,’” I offered. “I have often heard that song’s thumping bass drum and clever keyboard programming blasting undulating crowds at European nightclubs, and find the composition agreeable.

“’Blue Monday,’” my host asserted, “is not a Joy Division song, but a New Order song. New Order rose from the ashes of Joy Division after Ian Curtis’s suicide.”

“Oh,” I murmured. “Ian Curtis killed himself?”

“Yes,” my host replied.

“Ah!” I exclaimed. “Now we know Ian Curtis’s fate and, mercifully, do not have to watch Control.”