Today, another strange obsession of mine, well, alright I don’t think it’s strange, but I’m sure some people would. Early Goth. Need I say more? That single sentence should say it all. Gauge your reaction to that, it’ll likely be rather informative, you’re either going to love or hate this, I wouldn’t have it any other way.
It’s become a running theme of sorts; my strange obsessions that is. Well insomuch as one can call three posts a running theme. Truth be told I’d actually hope this’ll convert one or two people out there, stranded on the bleak wasteland that is the interwebz. I’m going to cover three early bands and an album each, as a launch-pad of sorts. I at least hope that’s how this will work. This should also show (I hope) that Goth is a bit of a meaningless tag, each of these bands are rather diverse and divisive, at least that’s how it should work. They should, in theory evoke some strong reactions, like I’ve said, love or hate. All of these bands came out of a rather bleak time, a time coloured by gaudy pop and brainless film. As a result, anything that didn’t sound like it came straight out of candy land was tagged as Goth. I’m going to start off with something may actually be a bit familiar to my (limited) audience.
Ah, yes The Virgin Prunes, they caused quite a stir about Dublin back in the day. Not that I know from experience. I’m sure we’re all familiar with that cliché of Goth music... flamboyant fucks dancing about and singing about flamboyant as fuck vampires or the grave or some other miserable shit, all the while making quite a scene of themselves. Well, this band will be about as close to that you’re going to get today. They were flamboyant, but rather gritty and seedy at the very same time. To put it as Goth...ey as possible, they’re like a pretty corpse, looks nice at first, but as you get close you can’t help but notice how off it looks, not to mention the smell...
...If I Die, I Die is not only their best album, but the very best introduction to the band. Much as I’d said, it’s flamboyant, but underneath it all is something, odd, something wrong. It’s likely the band’s most complete statement if I can even call it that. Right from the start things are gloomy. The first track is an instrumental that absolutely sets the scene/tone. It takes a moment to really get the gears grinding, much like the title, there’s an air of inevitable doom that surrounds the album. Not akin to the nonsense that typifies Doom Metal, rather a real, palpable sense of doom. That’s not to say there’s not fun to be had. As soon as we hit the fifth track with Pagan Lovesong we see true colours of the music. There’s fun to be had, about the half of the album are filled with jumpy tunes with a nice deep sound. But again, underneath it all there’s a sense of, grime. The album closes much as it opens, there’s a nice dichotomy between those pop-ish tracks and the slower tracks, it’s about 50-50, it leaves the listener hanging by the time the album closes. There are no answers, just like the album title it’s a nice logical statement, it doesn’t really answer much though, it’s an axiom, that’s the best way to put it.
Up next, a personal favourite of mind, Red Lorry Yellow Lorry, much as their name implies, they’re not exactly what you’d expect. One of the many bands who just happened to be tagged as Goth. Are they dark? Yes. There’s a lot of existential fun to be had when listening to them. You’ll hear nothing of vampires and they like, they simply present life as it is, shouldn’t that be enough? They present they ugly side of life.
Paint Your Wagon is perhaps their most relentless album. At about twenty seven minutes, it’s short, but it leaves quite a burn. I wouldn’t say it’s their best album, but it’s still a powerful one. At twenty seven minutes there’s little left to the imagination. Their music is almost an assault on the senses, best listened to at full volume. It also contains some of their more recognisable tunes, Walking on Your Hands, Jipp and Shout at the Sky to name but a few. Red Lorry Yellow Lorry aren’t conventional listening, you’ll find minimalistic lyrics and quick spirited music, they always leave you feeling a bit angry, but I’d take that as a compliment. There’s so much crap drifting around the airwaves, it’s always nice to hear something that leaves you feeling something. Paint Your Wagon is the perfect introduction, it’s short and sweet and it’ll leave you wanting more.
Alien Sex Fiend are a product of their time, a beautiful, beautiful product of their time. They still make wonderful music, it’s a blessing they exist. Back in the day, it could have been said that Devo were Devo and that there was no other, they were almost a genre unto themselves. Sadly I don’t really think that’s true anymore, now, Alien Sex Fiend on the other hand...
Acid Bath seems to be their most consistently beloved album, it certainly seems to be true that it’s their absolutely accessible album. No whether it’s their best or not, I’m not so sure of that. But like the other two I’ve recommended it’s the best starting point. The first time I listened to the album was... special, I felt a little sick inside and I mean that in the best possible way. It’s nauseating at first. The music is rather loose, as are the lyrics. Sure there are things being said, there seems to be a point to it all, but it’ll take more than one listen to decipher it all. Gloomy is a good word for it all, there’s a pervasive atmosphere, a pervasive weird atmosphere, the closest thing to Gothic I’ve heard on a Goth album. There’s also an undeniable groove to it all. Tracks like Breakdown and Cry and She’s a Killer are just inherently danceable (such a shame I am a man-bot with no concept of dance or rhythm). Acid Bath is some beautiful paradox of an album, you’ll feel sick, like you’ve disturbed some awful smelly monster, yet you’ll come back time and time again for a listen.
Well, hopefully this has been serviceable. Hopefully this’ll have piqued an interest. It’s an interesting genre, Goth. You just have to glean through the crap, but that’s the same for everything.
Also go fuck yourself, you smell and nobody loves you.
 | |
| Spaceboy |
