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In the 1960s, a new darkness entered music via the (un)holy trinity. In sunny California in 1965, four disillusioned America-dream dropouts formed The Doors. Their vocalist, Jim Morrison, had a dark, erotic air to him and frequently got in trouble with alcohol and the law. As true goth rock heroes, the legacy of The Doors would heavily inform the culture that followed. Meanwhile, The Velvet Underground and The Stooges were equally integral to the goth template. The Velvet’s created a musical hybrid of droning and guitar pop. The Stooges, profoundly affected punk and goth through their minimalistic primitivism and dark nihilism. Frontman Iggy Pop engaged in shocking acts of violence on stage, with both the audience and himself. This chapter traces the the (un)holy trinity’s journey through sex, drugs, death and psychodrama, revealing how these three bands became the pinnacles of gothic rock and roll.
No sooner had punk arrived than it had morphed into post-punk. This chapter follows the progress of this subgenre, whose tenebrous sound was exemplified by bands such as Joy Division – described by one writer as ‘gothic dance music’ – and Wire, as well as the often overlooked The Stranglers. Sex Pistols’ Jon Lydon also played a major role through his new band Public Image Limited, whose dub-influenced grooves were just one example of how ambitious musicians were accelerating away from punk’s Year Zero.
In the 1960s, The Beatles put the UK at the forefront of pop culture. This chapter discusses a churlish darkness that lurked behind band culture, where new drugs and rebelliousness encouraged a number of bands to ‘paint things black’. This includes The Rolling Stones, whose 1966 single ‘Paint It, Black’ became a proto-goth classic. Embroiled in rivalry, death and drugs, The Stones became archetypal gothic icons. Both The Stones and the Beatles would inspire the UK and US rock scenes, spawning many weird and wonderful bands. The chapter goes on to explore the gothic influence seen during the music scene in the 1960s and 1970s, from whimsical R&B to head-banging rock and roll.
The medium of opera allowed composers to explore darker feelings and tap into the beauty of the Gothic. The Gregorian chant, originating in Jewish and Byzantine traditions, contains this sort of mysterious beauty. Considered a classical ‘proto-goth’, Hungarian composer Franz Liszt updated this form of composition to include his signature themes of death, divinity and hell. This chapter discusses other forms of dark beauty that appear in creative mediums, including classical music and architecture. As centuries passed, the morbid fascination continued, though some forms, such as folk balladry of sex and death, fell victim to the passage of time.
Formed in New York in 1976, The Cramps were a key part of the city’s proto-punk scene, developing their own brand of primal rock’n’roll. The duo of Lux Interiors and Poison Ivy fronted the band, but it was guitarist Bryan Gregory who was the biggest style influence; his cool, slightly cadaverous appearance become a touchstone for goth. The Cramps were the inspiration for a slew of psychobilly bands, including The Meteors, King Kurt and Demented Are Go! But they retained a mysterious and exotic style that made them stand out. When the quixotic band toured Europe their impact was profound - from the bone jewellery to the graveyard chic, they were a major sartorial influence on the emerging goth scene.
Bradford-based Southern Death Cult were a short-lived but unforgettable feature of the UK rock scene in the early 1980s. Their combination of Native American philosophy and dark, euphoric post-punk was powered by tribal beats, spectral guitar and driving bass lines. They were natural successors to the underground throne vacated by Adam Ant, but no sooner had they made their presence felt than frontman Ian Astbury dissolved the group. From the ashes rose a new band, The Cult, which ultimately ditched its predecessor’s goth style for a more mainstream take on rock’n’roll.
Named from a race of biblical angel-human hybrids, Fields of the Nephilim are generally seen as goth outriders, their closest relatives being post-rock bands like Godspeed! You Black Emperor. They formed in the London overspill towns of Hitchin and Stevenage after the first wave of goth in 1984, but would transcend their roots to become one of the biggest bands in the loose catch-all of goth music. Their sound and style is dark, heavy and esoteric, thanks in part to singer Carl McCoy, who reacted to his religious upbringing by delving into Aleister Crowley and horror cinema. Still active today, Fields of the Nephilim remain intangible and mysterious, the ultimate cult band.
The 1970s post-hippie era witnessed a broadcast performance from David Bowie that mesmerised the teenage nation with its scandalous homo-eroticism. Meanwhile, Marc Bolan, the first glam rock star, was Bowie’s friendly rival. Both rock stars leaned into androgyny. At the end of a sparkling career, Bolan died in a car crash. The influence of Bolan can be seen in Bowie and glam rock today. Ziggy Stardust was one outcome of Bowie’s creativity, an androgynous persona that later caused a series of identity crises. Bowie’s infamous career is detailed in this chapter, including his relationships with fellow rock stars Iggy Pop and Lou Reed. Glam Rock in the 1970s was the blueprint for a post-punk future.
This brief introductory note reflects on what ‘goth’ is and what it means. Observing that ‘the art of darkness’ has been with us for centuries, it sketches out the plan of the book, which begins in the post-punk era then reaches back further to explore the pre-history of goth, from the Fall of Rome through ghost stories, folk tales, Gothic architecture and much more.
In the 1940s, once the uncertainty and darkness of war had faded, popular culture exploded. Sex, style and hedonism were the main focus of the younger generation, with symbols like Elvis Presley epitomising the American Dream. This chapter explores goth in the immediate postwar period, taking in pop-culture favourite Vampira, The Addams Family and Plan 9 From Outer Space. It also charts the rise of rock’n’roll. Seen as ‘the devil’s music’, this was reflected in the musicians who participated. Jerry Lee Lewis, Little Richard, and Johnny Cash all battled personal demons of their own.
This chapter presents a whistle-stop tour of post-punk in northern Europe, taking in Germany, France, the Netherlands and more. The bands include Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft, Xmal Deutschland, Die Krupps, Liaisons Dangereuses, Nina Hagen, Rammstein, Clan Of Xymox and The Young Gods.
In her surviving letters Jane Austen mentions music occasionally, not always with enthusiasm. However, we know that she played the piano and sang, practising regularly. In her novels there are subtleties and ambiguities in the way she uses music and musicianship to illuminate the characters, sharpening in various ways the differences between them, and adding extra facets to her portraits of young women – and indeed young men – in the crucial time of their lives just before marriage. Until quite recently we have had only the opinions of relations who were still young when Austen died to tell us how accomplished a musician she was, but there is now a rich source of evidence for her capacity and her taste in the surviving music books from her family circle, now digitised on Internet Archive. In this book we meet Jane Austen the musician: the musical literate who wove music into the fabric of her novels, who made musical jokes in her letters, and who spent much of her precious leisure time carefully copying music into her own manuscript books for herself to play and sing.
This introductory chapter contains four sections. Firstly, the somewhat contradictory evidence for Austen’s attitude to music is discussed and ways of reconciling these contradictions are suggested. Secondly, the place of music in Austen’s personal and literary worlds is explored, and some ways of interpreting the uses of music in social settings are proposed. Thirdly, given the importance of theatre in Austen’s musical world and the ubiquity of Shakespeare as a cultural reference both then and now, Austen’s knowledge of and attitude to Shakespeare as a dramatist in general, as well as musical settings of his texts, is examined in the context of contemporary theatrical and musical conventions. The final section of this chapter sets out the parameters and limits of this book and its arrangement into eight chapters plus additional material.
Songs about sailors were popular during the late Georgian period in Britain. Some were directed towards men in the Navy or potential recruits, but they were also part of the musical repertoire of the middle-class drawing room and many of them appear in the Austen family music books. A common theme is the importance of family life. With large numbers of men needed to serve in the military in this time of war and colonial expansion, it was essential for the home front that their families remained cohesive, and ballads were sometimes written with the express purpose of promoting fidelity and patience on the part of both men and women. This chapter examines the varieties of family and conjugal relations presented in the verbal and musical rhetoric of a selection of these songs.
Many of the song lyrics in Jane Austen’s personal music collection are couched in the sentimental poetic diction prevalent in the eighteenth century, with highly conventional pastoral settings and imagery. Particularly striking is a long ballad in seven parts titled ‘Colin and Lucy’, which is a 1783 setting by Tommaso Giordani of a 1725 poem by Thomas Tickell (1685–1740) describing the betrayal, death and revenge of a wronged woman. The printed music of this ballad is in a book inscribed by Jane Austen, and it seems likely that she was familiar with it and probably sang and played it herself. Several incidents included in the song are echoed and perhaps deliberately parodied in Austen’s novel Sense and sensibility (1811), although the rhetoric and imagery are strikingly different. The novel’s language, though often dramatic, is matter-of-fact and literal. This chapter discusses the ballad’s musical and lyrical rhetoric and how Austen alters and undercuts its poetic imagery in her treatment of similarly dramatic (though not fatal) events in the novel.