After a forty year drought, the past eighteen months had
already seen the publication of two excellent books on the mid-80’s heyday of
The Sisters of Mercy, Wayne Hussey’s entertaining autobiography Salad Daze
and Trevor Ristow’s potted history Waiting For Another War, but this
week’s long-awaited publication of Mark Andrews’ definitive biography of the
band’s early years, Paint My Name In Black And Gold finally explains the
fascinating genesis and enduring legacy of a Northern British provincial band
whose influence is still felt four decades later.
Funded through a subscriber publishing site, Unbound,
Andrews’ magnum opus took a while to reach its financial target when first
mooted, and the global pandemic delayed matters further, but the appetites
whetted by Andrews’ superlative articles about the band’s early years for The
Quietus will be fully sated by the finished product, published in a
pleasingly weighty hardback edition fully worthy of the subject matter within.
Whereas Ristow’s book lifted the lid primarily on the
pivotal Autumn 1983 North American tour that saw the band spectacularly broaden
its reach and horizons yet lose second guitarist Ben Gunn in the process,
Andrews’ book focuses on an equally little-known period of the band’s history,
its formation in the politically-charged post-punk scene in Leeds in the late
1970’s, for which only Eldritch’s own “official version” on the band’s archaic
website was known. Andrews’ skilful way
with words and carefully chosen prose lends the same gravitas to the biography
as Eldritch’s own utterances in contemporary interviews, making him the ideal
biographer for a band for whom their fans’ never-ending and reverent
fascination will only be heightened by this skilful demystification of the
groups’ early days, which had been shrouded in a mystery as thick as the dry ice
which enveloped the band’s mesmeric live performances.
Whereas the US-domiciled Ristow painstakingly reconstructed
the band’s history by pulling together facts gleaned from a lifetime of study
of previously-published interviews in oft-obscure fanzines and magazines,
Andrews ventured forth from his Belgian base to interview the key players on
the Leeds scene, from promoters and producers to members of contemporary bands,
including, crucially, members of The Sisters of Mercy themselves. Andrew
Eldritch did not participate directly in the book, but Andrews was able to use
material gathered when he spoke with the enigmatic singer for one of the
Quietus interviews, again adding to the authenticity of the text.
Interviews with fellow founder member Gary Marx from his
brief solo career in the early 2000’s had revealed him to be a wry and pithy
raconteur, with an excellent memory for detail, a self-deprecating wit and a
ready ability to prick the pomposity which often surrounds the band, all whilst cogently
analysing the reasons for the band’s successes and failures. It therefore comes
as no surprise that quotes from Marx illuminate all sections of the band’s
story, and his willingness to pin most of the credit on Eldritch, despite the
acrimonious nature of his own departure from the band (and being let down by
Eldritch on multiple occasions subsequently) reveal him to still be the modest
and thoroughly decent man that those who followed the band in those early days
recall.
Andrews’ real trump card however is having persuaded bassist
Craig Adams to open up on his reminiscences, no small achievement given that
even in the 1980’s Adams was famously taciturn and at best monosyllabic in
interview situations. But here he also proves to be an entertaining
storyteller, willing to share anecdotes particularly about the least glamorous
aspects of life in the band, always delivered with the frankness for which he is
well-known but with a surprisingly subtle and humorous touch.
Quotes from new interviews with the key members of the
band’s wider entourage – Eldritch’s girlfriend and F-Club DJ Claire Shearsby, former
roadies Danny Mass (who went on to become the vocalist with Salvation) and Jez
Webb, legendary Leeds promoter John F Keenan, FALAA producer Dave Allen and Bridlington recording studio owner Ken
Giles, to name but a few – significantly enhance the book, adding colour and depth to
a band understandably mostly viewed in monochrome.
Every page teems with fascinating new facts and details of
life in contemporary Leeds and the idiosyncrasies in particular of the key
protagonist (and enduring gothic icon) Andrew Eldritch. Andrews skilfully traces
his development from jeans-wearing nerdy metal fan Andy Taylor to the almost
cartoonish “godfather of goth” Andrew Eldritch persona. Eldritch’s gimlet eye
for detail, punishing work ethic and all-embracing passions drove him
inexorably towards an alternative superstardom that clearly came as little
surprise to those who knew him, as most of his fellow travellers recognised his genius, however
infuriating they found him to work with.
The most parochial portraits on offer here – a photo of Eldritch
(presumably his most regular customer) with a local tobacconist, or tales of
the band’s amicable relationship with the elderly couple next door to their
infamous headquarters at 7 Village Place for example – paint an endearing
picture of the non-descript daily lives of the amphetamine-addicted young men
who created one of the greatest and most legendary rock’n’roll bands of the
late twentieth century, and of their symbiotic relationship with the city that
spawned them.
Incredibly for someone who never visited Leeds during the
band’s age d’or, Andrews recreates the city’s multiple inter-connected facets
utterly convincingly, allowing the reader to enter the world they inhabited and
making their seemingly unique musical choices appear almost inevitable. Paint
My Name In Black And Gold is not only a scholarly and in-depth examination
of the history of the band, but also a stunningly accurate portrayal of the
synergical relationships, both within and outwith the band, that forged its unique image, ethos and music.
It is also a frank and expurgated analysis of one of the alternative music
scene’s great innovators, a figure mysteriously shunned by most journalists who
lived in fear of his self-created reputation. Andrews manages to get beneath the
shades and to strip away Eldritch’s carefully constructed artifice, yet as the
smoke and mirrors are removed, the character who emerges is still intensely
likeable and strangely enigmatic.
This astonishing and utterly essential biography stands as a
tribute to all those who participated in it, whether band members and their
entourage, veteran industry movers and shakers, Andrews himself of course (and
his publishing team), and those many subscribers without whose faith and
devotion to all things TSOM this project would never have happened. This
belated tome may be the first serious attempt to chronicle the rise of Leeds’
finest, but it was certainly worth the wait.
Paint My Name In Black and Gold is now available via independent
book retailers and online sellers, and is published by Unbound
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