Joy Division stood at the intersection of austerity and ecstasy. Restraint to the point of severity is a core component of the band’s sound, look, and legend: four dour, unsmiling young men from Manchester in nondescript clothing, creating spare paeans to alienation and oppression, all under the watchful eye and glacial hand of producer Martin Hannett. Their album covers are colorless, and the accompanying music feels black and white and gray all over.

Yet at the same time, Ian Curtis was one of the most nakedly emotive singers of his time. Throughout Joy Division’s concise discography, his warped crooner’s voice feels alternately choked with rage, despair, and, on rare occasions, even joy. Many of his songs end with him chanting the same lyric over and over—“So lose some sleep and say you tried!” “God in His wisdom took you by the hand, God in His wisdom helped you understand!” “Dance, dance, dance to the radio!”—as if desperate to make himself heard.

The 19 live recordings collected on Eternal (Live) begin in March 1979 and end just days before Curtis’ suicide in May 1980. Calling a 14-month span in a short-lived band’s run eternal would seem like overkill in most cases. But if the continued, pervasive influence of Joy Division on musicians of all kinds isn’t literally everlasting, that’s only because we haven’t gotten that far yet. The music that Curtis, Peter Hook, Stephen Morris, and Bernard Sumner created casts a dark and enduring shadow.

I’m back at Pitchfork for the first time in five years with my first real music writing in that long, too — a Best New Reissue review at Joy Division’s massive, astonishing live box set Eternal.