I went to a Love and Rockets concert in 1986 at Seattle's Moore Theater. A band called Soundgarden opened for them. This was before Ben Sheppard replaced the slightly goofy Hiro Yamamoto on bass. The spirituality that burst from Kim Thayl and the sincere eclipse that was Chris Cornell's voice defined rock n roll for a 16 year old. They scorched the stage.
Then onto stage floated Daniel Ash, David J, and Kevin Hoskins. Minus Peter Murphy this is Bauhaus. There are few groups of individuals that have so many great songs in so many different formations: DoubleDare, In The Flat Field, She's in Parties, Bella Lugosi's Dead, Christian Says, Lions, Go, No New Tale to Tell, Kundalini Express, Life in Laralay, All in My Mind, So Alive, Deep Ocean, Vast Sea, I'll be Your Chauffeur... on and on into the night. Bauhaus, Love and Rockets, Tones on Tail (with Glenn Campling on slide bass), Peter Murphy solo, David J solo: the songwriting present in all these formations is more than what constitutes the root of the gothic genre. They didn't have to scream or curse to convey primal fear. They were gentlemen. The real roots of Peter Murphy and Daniel Ash's dark style actually comes less from Bowie dark glam and T-Rex art school power, and more from coffee houses in Istanbul under whispers of asalm-u-aleykum. Bram Stoker. Heroin laced fangs. 100 Years of Solitude. Love and Rockets took the Goth that was Bauhaus, planted it in a garden, and it grew into Zen.
The first time I heard Bauhaus was on a cassette tape that Scott Miller gave me on which was written: Bauhaus 1979-1983. Scott, Steve Bearg, and I had been hanging out all night at John Fugich's house out on the KP. John was the guitarist for our band Stationary Voices (with Steve Fisher, Kelly Kono, and John Barnett). I was dating John's goth sister Janel of whom pierced one of my ears. This was 1984. Van Halen had just come out with their album of the same name with the single Jump. Half of my friends still listened to Van Halen, Motley Crue and Iron Maiden. The other half listened to Bauhaus, The Cure, and Ministry. This is goth. I found myself liking the goth music better than Van Halen and the Crue. This was not the Van Halen I from 1978. Something had changed in Van Halen's lyrics and tone like they were bragging about something that was fluffy at best. My friend and neighbor John X. had first introduced me to David Bowie and the Violent Femmes a couple years before. It was such a weighty decision to change from KISW (rock) to KYYX (new wave). In hindsight, I so wish I had changed to KYYX much sooner. I feel like I missed so much. The lyrics of the bands they played like Bauhaus and the Cure were more cutting, self critical, cynical, questioning, like John Keats or W.B. Yeats (and Wilde, but he was with The Smiths and will be in a future review...). This type of music did something to a room. This was when I would sneak into Pacific Breeze, an 18 and up club in downtown Tacoma walking through the smoke of clove cigarettes in my Fluevog shoes and safety pinned pant legs. The material of these songs was Nosferatu in black and white film, A spy in a taxi cab, The Hunger with David Bowie and Catherine Deneuve. Gothic music was less of a questioning about sexuality and more of pushing the limit of whatever identity you were. This is Lord Byron flying under a cape sneering. This is Peter Murphy with mascara and Clockwork Orange eyelashes.
All this has to be understood to begin to understand what Love and Rockets are. The weight of Peter Murphy (one person) was equal to the weight of Love and Rockets (three people). But without the wonderfully oppressive Murphy onstage between Ash and J, Love and Rockets meshed into an arguably better fabric. The album they were touring in 1986 was Earth, Sun, Moon. This was No New Tale to Telland Mirror People. They also played all the songs from Express which was a more rocking album (with the slightly out of place Temptations cover: Ball of Confusion). As life went on, goth became: Skinny Puppy, Joy Division, The Jesus and Mary Chain, Nine Inch Nails, Depeche Mode, and Siouxsie and the Banshees (actually the Cure came from Siouxsie). Goth bands did something with Fear. They made friends with it. They could walk down a dark hallway with Dracula and it was okay because they all had matching Crucifix ear-rings. Gag me with a spoon. Now we have the wonderful Marylin Manson and Rob Zombie. This type of fear is actually more comforting than the real fear that is portrayed in albums from the previous decade like The Wall by Pink Floyd. Much of the music, phrases, and visions from previous Floyd LPs with Sid Barrett came through in Bauhaus and Love and Rockets, but more like horror candy. Not like the real horrors of World War I, shell-shock, racism, and losing love. This is hip horror. Like David Lynch.
For the last two years I've been lucky enough to see David J. (bass player for Bauhaus/Love & Rockets, and singer-songwriter/guitarist for David J solo LPs) for a living room concert at the home of Matthew Counts (Hawthorne Stereo) in Seattle (David J pictured below). What a treat. This guy is a gentleman. He played lots of his solo material as well as songs he wrote for both Love & Rockets and Bauhaus. He even played a song by Miley Cyrus that pretty much sums up my whole experience from the first Bauhaus cassette tape I heard to the Love & Rockets show where Soundgarden opened to every vinyl LP of all of these artists that I have enjoyed over the years: [I Came In Like A] Wrecking Ball... -GHA