AT least, I think it was The Sisters Of Mercy up there.
Somewhere in that vast bank of dry ice, lit from within by the kind of light show more commonly seen at Pink Floyd gigs than under a railway arch in Leeds, is the occasional glimpse of a shadowy form.
But then, for all we know, the enigmatic Andrew Eldritch could just have sent one of his minions to press Play on the CD machine, while watching in cruel amusement from the secret subterranean headquarters one likes to imagine Andrew Eldritch must live in.
At the very least, his trademark shades must really be some form of night vision apparatus to make sure the silly bugger can actually find the stage in all that mist. (Logically enough, the current Sisters outing is called the Smoke And Mirrors Tour).
But anyway. Free of seven years of legal wrangling with their record label, and back on their home turf, The Blank Canvas is a perfect venue for the Sisters, a cavernous brick vault in the bowels of Granary Wharf, and the faithful have dragged their faded black T-shirts and leather jackets out of the wardrobe to answer the call.
Support band Oceansize do an impressive job.
Despite the indifferent Gothic hoardes awaiting their heroes’ arrival, they bash out guitar epics that tend toward Radiohead and Mogwai territory, and do their level best to fill the void – though handicapped by one guitarist being inaudible. A band well worth investigating on their current UK tour.
Soon though, the fog descends, the big lights come up, and the silhouetted forms of the hardcore faithful are hoisted onto shoulders at the front of the crowd, where their shape-throwing becomes a major part of the Sisters’ visual experience. In fact, this review is dedicated to the unsung heroes - the poor sods whose shoulders they were sitting on.
Infamous drum machine Doktor Avalanche starts up and the Sisters open with Temple Of Love, the bombastic keyboards and platinum-plated guitar sound compressed into a bassy rumble around the even bassier rumble of Eldritch’s voice. The marvellously grandiose Dominion/Mother Russia makes a mid-set appearance, (by which time you can almost make out Eldritch and his two guitarists) as do First Last And Always and Vision Thing, while the lack of This Corrosion and a big dose of new and slower material shows an unwillingness to settle back into being a nostalgic greatest hits outfit – which is fine for the faithful, if not for the casual acquaintance.
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It’s about time the good Doktor learned a few more tricks beside the Sisters’ trademark metronomic thud, and all that enigmatic “the audience are the stars” business of hiding behind the smoke and mirrors is all very well, but no substitute for actually seeing a band in action.
But the Sisters of Mercy do manage to find a balance between being a spectacular live nostalgia trip, and being a reminder that they were a forward-looking band, who are certainly in need of some critical re-evaluation. After all, they had at least as much in common with fellow influential post-punk drum-machine enthusiasts Depeche Mode and Joy Division as with the mouldy old bats-in-the-belfry Goth bands they’re usually glibly dismissed alongside.
So do they have anything new to say in 2003, or are they just a trip down memory lane for sad old (and young) Goths from Leeds? Over to you, Mr Eldritch.
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