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Music. Reviews. Reminiscences.

Not Goth? Genre Labels and The Sisters of Mercy

Of all genres of rock music, goth is the most difficult to define. Now fully cemented in popular culture with acolytes sporting black clothes, blacker nail polish, and the blackest of lipstick, the movement was not so well defined in the late seventies and early eighties when the term began to be applied (by critics mostly) in the wake of punk.

Coined by rock critic Critic John Stickney long ago in 1967 when describing a Doors show, goth was seemingly first applied to bands most associated with an atmospheric, gloomy, even angular sound late in the nineteen seventies; see, for example, Nick Kent’s “Banshees make the Breakthrough” in his 1978 review of Siouxsie and The Banshees in NME. Indeed, it is Siouxsie and the Banshees, The Cure, Bauhaus, and Joy Division (though the latter never went in for the trappings of goth,  but were labeled as such by their producer, Martin Hannet as in 1979)  that are thought of as the pillars of early goth music.

And then there is The Sisters of Mercy. More specifically, its frontman, Andrew Eldritch, who has famously resisted the goth label — even outright rejected it.

THE BAND
The Sisters of Mercy logo
The Sisters of Mercy logo (from Wikimedia Commons)

Formed in Leeds in 1980, The Sisters of Mercy are known for Eldritch’s melancholic baritone, driving bass lines, sharp guitar riffs, and beats supplied by Doktor Avalanche — a drum machine that has been, for the most part, the only constant member of the band other than Eldritch. At first, only singles and EPs were released from the band. Notable among them is the 12″ single for “Alice,” a lament for a girl addicted to pills. It is on this release that a cover of The Stooges’ “1969” — a staple of the band’s set from the very beginning — appears.

In “1969” is found not only one of the band’s key strengths, but also a possible clue as to the motivations of its members to consciously NOT be goth: that is, a desire to honor a wide range of musical styles with their own distinct sound. Eldritch’s deep, reverb-heavy vocals. The synthetic beats of Docktor Avalanche. Guitars that are mesmerizingly fuzzy. The Sisters of Mercy’s cover of The Stooges’ anthem of dillusion and disaffected youth sounds more like a garage band on amphetamines than it does a gothic rock dirge.

Curiously, The Sisters of Mercy turned out many a colorful cover: Dolly Parton’s “Jolene,” The Rolling Stones’ “Gimme Shelter,” and Hot Chocolate’s “Emma” among them. That these songs are all dark in tone contribute to an understandable goth label, but they are each faithful insofar as Eldrith’s voice allows — and are possibly even  a bit tongue-in-cheek, with the band realizing the unique juxtaposition of music like theirs covering such a wide-range of genres (proto-punk, country, classic rock, even soul).

REJECTING THE LABEL

In an interview in a magazine called Under the Rock — dedicated to all things Sisters of Mercy” — Andrew Eldritch once famously said “I’m not interested in what goths think,” adding that it was journalist David Dorrel from NME who was “a prime originator of the ”Sisters are goth and therefore crap’ smear.” Eldritch went to humourously say “I’m constantly confronted by representatives of popular culture who are far more goth than we, yet I have only to wear black socks to be stigmatised as the demon overlord.”

Still, it’s hard to deny that by the time of their first official album, “First and Last and Always” (1985), songs like “No Time to Cry,” and “Nine While Nine” are hard to describe in any other way than atmospheric and gloomy. “Marian (Version)” alone finds the singer driven along by a quasi-siren song to a watery grave. Yet the apocalyptic “Black Planet” was accompanied by a video that showed the band crusing California on a sunny day in, of all things, the Mokeemobile! If this was goth, its video, at least, eschewed the darker aspects of the band’s image.

Floodland (1987) would find Eldritch developing a more epic sound, full of booming eighties production (e.g., “Dominion / Mother Russia”) and a semblance of pop sensibiltiy on tracks like “This Corrosion” and “Lucretia, My Reflection.”

By the time of the band’s  third album, “Vision Thing” (1990), an all-out hard rock assault is apparent in songs like the titular track, “Detonation Boulevard,” and “More.”

Andrew Eldritch performing with the Sisters of Mercy at Wacken Open Air, 2019 (photo by Sven Mandel [taken from Wikimedia Commons])
Still together (insofar as Eldritch assembles musicians to go out on tour every few years), the Sisters of Mercy have never released a fourth album. Problems with their record company famously turned Eldritch against the industry. Instead, he has focused over the years since on performing live.

After all is said and done with Sisters of Mercy, it is curious to note that practically no early influential post-punks bands particularly like the goth label (see this great reddit post). But why? The simplest answer is that it is reductive, lumping bands with a wide-range of styles into one camp (that is, appropriately enough, often campy). Goth carries a stigma of being a one-trick-pony of sorts: with tired themes and funereal beats. The wide berth given to most other genres is just not open to bands labeled goth.

THE INHERITORS

As for modern goth, the music has splintered further with its labels of death rock, cold wave, dark wave, even ethereal wave.

Bands like Cold Cave, Drab Majesty, and Dark seem to embrace the association of their music with all things sad and scary, morbid and taboo.

In that regard, artists like Andrew Eldritch and his Sisters of Mercy need not even be concerned with labels. The world has moved on. Other artists have picked up the all-black flag (not to be confused with the eighties American Hardcore band) and run with it into the cemetery as the sun sets and the leaves fall.

In the end, it’s all rock and roll, and that’s the landscape where The Sisters of Mercy should ideally find their place. The Cure’s relatively recent induction into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame has legitimized music (that is fairly or not) labeled goth, and The Sisters of Mercy may one day be judged not by the doom and gloom of their music, but the unique sound that made them stand out from the crowd.

A Shot at The Gun Club

Jeffrey Lee Pierce by Yves Lorson, circa 1985

About a week after musician Jeffrey Lee Pierce’s death in the Spring of 1996, Britain’s Independent published an obituary that called him “one of those musicians who never quite fulfil (sic) their potential yet follow their destiny to its inescapable conclusion.” Grim words for a man who — despite fusing punk rock with psychobilly, roots music, country, and a whole lot of the blues — eschewed much of the angst and anger that was common among his peers. His band, The Gun Club, invariably raises questions of the “who are they?” variety in some circles. But they were pioneers nonetheless, cited as an influence by the likes of The Pixies and Jack White.

“Why are these songs not taught in schools?” asked Jack White in an article in Mojo Magazine [as quoted by The Guardian]). Pointing to tracks like “Sex Beat,” and “She’s Like Heroin to Me,” White would go on to say that “the songwriting of Kid Congo Powers and Jeffrey Lee Pierce has the freshest white take on the blues of its time.” (Listen to “For the Love of Ivy,” another song cited by White, and you can hear how much the band influenced him).

Experiencing many lineup changes (nearly 25 people!) over the years (with Kid Congo Powers leaving to play with both The Cramps, and Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds for a time), The Gun Club released seven albums in the nineteen eighties and early nineties. Arguably, the band’s first two were its best: Fire of Love (1981) and Miami (1982). The former features a raucous cover of Robert Johson’s “Preaching the Blues.” The latter, released on Blondie guitarist Chris Stein’s Animal Records, found Debbie Harry* singing backup vocals.

Like their debut album, Miami is steeped in the blues, but comes off a little bit darker than its predecessor. Perhaps not as much gloom as the burgeoning goth crowd wanted, but still too strange to appeal to fans of more traditional blues.

That odd mixture might explain why stardom eluded Pierce. The music was difficult to pin down. Live, it could come across as discordant and jarring, as on a 1983 performance of “Sex Beat” at the Hacienda in Manchester, UK. And in the studio, the results were often mixed (no pun intended). Sometimes too polished. Other times, thin and tinny.

Patricia Morrison
Patricia Morrison

Of course, Pierce himself may have been to blame for The Gun Club never getting much notoriety. At least according to bassist Patricia Morrison (later of Sisters of Mercy fame), who joined The Gun Club soon after the release of Miami. In a recent interview with Stomp and Stammer, she attributed their relative anonymity to the same thing that made the band work: Pierce himself. “Jeffrey was quite difficult,” said Morrisson. “He was his own worst enemy. That band should have been huge. I sat there and watched as we were offered record deals and he would turn them down, to take less. It was just his personality, but that’s what also made him Jeffrey.”

The Gun Club never found wider appear other Los Angeles bands of the time — like X and, especially, The Cramps — did. No coverage on MTv (anyone remember 120 Minutes?). Very little college radio play (at least in the Philadelphia area, where I grew up).  Although they now appeal to fans like me that sought them out years later due to others’ recommendations, they just never attracted a broad audience, then or now.

Their Fire of Love album is included in 1001 Albums You Must Hear Vefore You Die, but they never charted.

Pierce died young, suffering a brain hemorrhage in 1996.

He was 37.

*Pierce was the President of the West Coast chapter of the Blondie fanclub. Harry would go on to record a duet with Nick Cave on “In The Fire” — part of The Jeffrey Lee Pierce Sessions Project, a tribute to Pierce that has produced a handful of albums.

“Mother of Earth,” was chosen as the song to embed in this article because Debbie Harry performed it with Blondie at the second-to-last CBGB show in 2006. I make that remark for no other reason than I find it hard to believe I’m a Blondie fan and never knew of their connection to The Gun Club.

Finally, the photo used in the header of this post shows The Gun Club, circa 1984, with band lineup, left to right: Terry Graham (drums), Jeffrey Lee Pierce (vocals, guitar), Kid Congo Powers (guitar) and Patricia Morrison (bass).