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| Photo by Mick Burgess |
Andrew Eldritch has always been a problem.
As leader of The Sisters of Mercy since 1980, he’s managed to do everything completely wrong. His official output has been, shall we say, less prolific than Scott Walker’s. He’s far from press-accessible these days (a shame, really, considering his deadpan arrogance, sharp intellect, and snarky wit have always been rather endearing), and his band’s official website presumably hasn’t received a visual upgrade since the days of dial-up. (Really. Just look at the damn thing.) Sit his ass on a chair and have him do podcast interviews all day? Not a chance. Encourage him to engage on social media to promote his endeavors? Please. By music industry standards, the man is … difficult. But honestly, we should be used to that by now.
Just consider his body of work. After largely defining the sound and aesthetic of gothic rock in the ’80s — a distinction he’d doggedly deny, of course — he entered the ’90s with Vision Thing, a grandiose and often stunning take on Sunset Strip hard rock that felt more like a jam between Kraftwerk and Zodiac Mindwarp than a stroll through the Nephilim’s fields.
Songs like “Detonation Boulevard,” “When You Don’t See Me,” and the title track superbly captured the then-current trend of U.K. underground types growing out their hair and donning leathers in a bid for stateside success. (Take a listen to The Cult’s Sonic Temple or Steve Jones’ Fire and Gasoline. I ain’t wrong.) Ever seen the Sisters’ press photos at the time? They even looked like the bloody Cult! But was that anything close to what anyone expected from the “Lucretia My Reflection” guy? All these bewildering choices from the man who brought us Floodland should’ve spelled career suicide. Why didn’t they? Because Vision Thing was goddamn beautiful.
Yes, the album was more Harley-Davidson than Djarum Black, but it was still a Sisters of Mercy record. For every “If You Don’t See Me,” there was a “Ribbons.” For every “25 whores in the room next door,” there was an “I can love my fellow man, but I’ll be damned if I’ll love yours.”
And “Something Fast”? Leonard Cohen-quality balladry.
Even at their Hard Rock peak, the Sisters were never Poison. The band may have looked like they crawled out of the Rainbow at the time, but Vision Thing — like everything associated with the Sisters of Mercy name — thrived by prioritizing brains over bravado. (Despite the album’s conventional leanings, Eldritch was still Eldritchy enough to deliver a lyric about Marx and Engels — as well as a few skillfully veiled jabs at George H.W. Bush — on a product released by a major label in 1990. Impressive.)
Despite its Yankee-stroking studio sheen, Vision Thing was still very sophisticated and very British — and, ultimately, too much of both to truly capture the heart of the typical American record buyer upon its release. (The same fate befell the extraordinary Shriekback, who once had the audacity to sing “parthenogenesis” in the chorus of an attempted hit single — a masterstroke in completely going over a general audience’s head. Sometimes, you can be too smart for your own good.)
Oddly enough, glorious hindsight shows that Eldritch was onto something with Vision Thing that could’ve been massive in the States and beyond — the perfect look, the perfect vibe, and the perfect sound to usher in (and capitalize from) the Alternative music wave that was about to sweep the world. The stage was set to make the next Sisters of Mercy LP the one — which, naturally, means that Eldritch hasn’t issued a full-length recording since. Just 11 months before Nevermind, Vision Thing’s arrival marked the Sisters’ supposed swan song as an album-producing entity.
Aside from a couple of new recordings featured on the 1993 compilation A Slight Case of Overbombing, nary a note by the Sisters has been officially released in over 30 years. On paper, that’s a fairly crap way to cultivate a meaningful presence in the music world, but Eldritch’s apparent disdain for the record business hasn’t stopped him from maintaining and even expanding the band’s international following. Instead of using traditional channels, he’s showcased years of post-Vision Thing material exclusively in live performances, relying on fan recordings and word of mouth as his main distribution methods. The contrarian move has been a success, as The Sisters of Mercy still prompt considerable fanfare whenever they hit the road.
Yes, Eldritch has done it all wrong, but that’s precisely what makes him and his art so captivating. Sure, he headlines 5,000-seaters instead of stadiums, but every note he delivers is steeped in integrity — and his crowd turns up because they know the real thing when they hear it. As he man himself once put it, “We might not mean as much to as many people, but we mean more to the people that we reach […] Ultimately, if I have to choose between reaching more people or reaching a few people deeper, I will choose to reach a few people deeper every time.”
The Sisters of Mercy’s recent performance at Boston’s MGM Music Hall was a celebration of this truth. Heavy on smoke machines but light on between-song banter, the band’s current lineup — Eldritch, long-serving guitarist Ben Christo (a gentleman of the highest possible order, by the way), relatively new guitarist Kai, and Sisters mainstay Chris Catalyst (who had the all-important job of keeping the band’s “drummer,” Doktor Avalanche, plugged in and pumping) — went through their set Ramones-style, blasting through 19 songs in under 90 minutes. While classic tracks like “Dominion/Mother Russia,” “More,” a particularly menacing rendition of “Ribbons,” and the predictable encore of “Lucretia My Refection”/“This Corrosion” elicited the expected crowd roars, unreleased numbers like “Summer” and the exceptional “Don’t Drive on Ice” were received with equal enthusiasm. For my money (or, in this case, my guest pass), the band’s blistering takes on 1982’s “Alice” and the Vision Thing deep cut “I Was Wrong” were enough to make this the best live show I’ve seen in years. I’ll even forgive them for not touching anything off 1985’s First and Last and Always.
Eldritch has been in the game a long time, and it shows. At 65, his trademark baritone has become a gravelly growl that now echoes from a bald head that once sported flowing black locks. Who cares? If anything, his time-worn vocal grit only deepens the sinister edge of the group’s notoriously dark (I daren’t say “gothic” again) repertoire. And, really, who better to deliver it than someone who resembles Nosferatu?
The Sisters have seen a slew of stellar musicians pass through their ranks over the years, with talents like Wayne Hussey, Patricia Morrison, Tony James, and Craig Adams setting a high sonic and aesthetic bar along the way. Rising to the challenge with admirable aplomb, Christo and Kai have become essential to the band’s sound, handling much of the Boston set’s heaviest lifting through strong backing vocals and flawless musicianship worthy of their own spotlight. (Extra credit to Kai for his amazing vocal accompaniment on "Temple of Love.") This fact wasn’t lost on Eldritch, who frequently urged the crowd to pay attention to the guitarists by pointing to them like a proud Dr. Frankenstein showing off his creations.
“Genius” is tossed around far too liberally these days, but no word better describes Andrew Eldritch’s creative merits. A survivor of an industry known to destroy lesser men, he remains an intriguing square peg in a round, orthodox world.
Thank goodness for that.
