Bit of a no-brainer*, really, and all the more surprising that the whole essence of goth has yet to be invoked this fortnight. In truth, infected (geddit!*) by the new series of The Walking Dead, I was hoping to find something more in keeping with that, but the Cranberries seem to have the monopoly, so, sourcing my inspiration from the BBC, I re-watched some of the shows, delighting in the way that the victorians could ultimately have been responsible for Siouxsie and the Banshees. Puts a different spin on new wave, I guess, if the pedants will forgive my play on genres. Anyhow, this lot were included, with a near classic of the Goth genre, lugubrious vocals, foreboding in the bassline and a thoroughly aposite narrative, lauding the screens best Dracula, Mr Lugosi. Best, you say? Better than Christopher Lee, better than Bowie? No contest!!
At the time, 80s, I guess, I thought that goth all a bit of a joke, all the bleak blackness of hair, nails and lips, accentuated by the shocking white visages, all taken so, literally, deadly seriously by it's proponents, who hang on, like the undead, forever chilled, but not in that sense. (Before I go on to say how much the style has grown on me, like horns and a tail, in the intervening years, I can't resist but link into James Mollisons excellent photos of the tribes in music fandom, The Disciples. Here's the audience for the Cure, loving especially the 2 on the far right.
Anyway, I have, and can often be found crooning along in the car with Andrew Eldritch, possibly not his real name, or the Fields of the Nephilim. (In fact, is it not the joy of their noms de gloom that is half the pleasure?)
Do you want some further stuff about vampires? I don't know if this lot could in anyway be construed as goths, but, hellfire and damnation, the song is, even if the singer is technically singing at the wrong speed for the genre. Good, innit? Concrete Blonde.
Buy Bauhaus (and it's a different mix: the Tombraider mix, totally appropriately!)
Buy the Blonde
Buy the book