History can be bloody annoying sometimes, can’t it? I mean, whenever you come across references to bands like Siouxsie & The Banshees, The Cure and BAUHAUS they inevitably get lumped in under the ‘G’ word, don’t they?
I’m talking GOTH of course, and no, I’ve no intention of trying to pretend that the likes of Robert Smith, Siouxsie and Daniel Ash’s popularity was hurt when they all began ordering mascara, kohl and patchouli oil by the truckload. But hang on a minute: didn’t all these actually fascinating individuals all have a sound of their own and something to say anyway? I mean, why should we let incredible albums such as “The Scream” and “Three Imaginary Boys” conveniently get lumped in with the dreadful, bandwagon-jumping antics of wankers like Fields of The Nephilim and The Mission?
OK, I grant you I’m on a hiding to nothing if I’m to try and extend this analogy to Northampton’s none-blacker Bauhaus. Yes, Messrs. Murphy, Ash, J and Haskins (especially the first two) were never exactly averse to the requisite ton of make-up, wrote the best song ever about Dracula, bats and all things Goth(ic) in the supernaturally brilliant “Bela Lugosi’s Dead” and made terms like merely ‘pretentious’ seem utterly redundant.
But for all the ammo Bauhaus freely handed their potential detractors (and in my circle of friends alone they were queuing down the street), they had one thing very much on their side: they were actually a fucking fantastic band; amazing visually and – as much of this DVD goes to prove – a truly visceral and exhilarating live outfit.
“Shadow Of Light” and “Archive” were originally released as separate VHS entities shortly after Bauhaus’ original split in the mid 1980s. They have long been out of print and at last Beggars Banquet have decided that their appearance on DVD as one value-for-money package is long overdue. Hurrah!
You could of course argue that Bauhaus play their trump card straight off with the immortal creepfest of “Bela Lugosi’s Dead” (from that legendary London Old Vic gig from ’82) featuring Peter Murphy pulling his cloak of Bible black into batlike wings around his head. It’s as OTT and utterly captivating as ever and the band revel in the song’s graveyard shift avant-reggae like they’re still playing it for the first time, not four long years after it was first rehearsed.
Yet it’s a testament to Bauhaus that much of the live footage (which makes up about 75% of the DVD) stands the test of time equally admirably. Early songs like “In The Flat Field”, “Dark Entries” and a still-terrifying “Stigmata Martyr” are snarling, carnal and vicious, built around Haskins’ ritual pounding, J’s lithe bass playing and Ash making his guitar sound like a dying rhino more often than a regular six-string musical instrument.
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Elsewhere, for all the de rigeur ‘Goth’ signposts, Bauhaus remind us they were every bits as much in touch with the angular, dance-related developments that were so prevalent in post-punk times. “Dancing” finds Ash swapping guitar for squeaky sax and the band getting down a la James Chance or the Gang Of Four; “Kick In The Eye” is driven by the mother of all funky basslines from J and their cover of John Cale’s “Rose Garden Funeral Of Sores” remains as groovy as it does deranged, with Murphy wrapping himself ecstatically in the Old Vic’s curtains at one stage.
Naturally, Bauhaus’s obsession with all things Glam and/ or the dramatic ensures their forays into the promotional video proved equally successful. However preposterous a pansticked-up Murphy might look flinging himself around in what looks like a disused power station during their cover of Bolan’s “Telegram Sam” it still makes for tremendous entertainment, as does the chilly, Nosferatu-style clip accompanying “Mask” and the cinematic, noir-ish script presenting the great dub-pop of “She’s In Parties.” Hell, even when their inherent theatricality gets a rigorous airbrushing for the relative big budget excess of “Spirit” they still survive and thrive.
So with hindsight, continuing to dismiss Northampton’s finest as third-rate Bowie/ Bolan clones or simply mere ‘Godfathers’ of Goth (along with Cave, Siouxsie and Smith – yawn!) is doing them a grave (ahem) disservice. “Shadow Of Light” and “Archive” together make up a dynamite visual record of a band who were an original of the species. We should remember that while said species was later mutated and crossbred beyond credibility, the blame can hardly be laid at Bauhaus’ door.
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