A Passion of Covers
A Bauhaus Tribute (Cleopatra)
by Nik Rainey
I know I’m just asking to have my rock-crit epaulets torn off for the following contention, but I really like Bauhaus. Sure, they caught a lot of verbal shrapnel from the ever-tolerant British music press during their ’79-’83 life span for their deathly serious demeanor, art-school theatrics and evocative (read: Ridiculously pretentious) lyrics. Yes, they took the sex out of glam, the indignation out of punk, and the air out of their cheeks. And indeed, no band before them wore the stigma of “poseur” with as much pride. But if you set aside the (dangerous) notion that rock music is supposed to be rooted in the genuine, and absolve them for inspiring hordes of wanked-out Ho(a)rsemen of the Eyeliner Apocalypse, Bauhaus’ brand of cheap fatalistic thrills holds up just fine thirteen years after their dissolution once you accept them for what they are. Unlike their necrocking contemporaries, the Birthday Party (can’t seem to get away from referencing them, can we?), Bauhaus was less a Dionysian trip to Hell in one of Big Daddy Roth’s infernal-combustion vehicles than a smooth-but-noisy ride in a refurbished hearse to see a cool B-horror flick. Their influence is so pervasive, and The Passion of Covers such an obvious title (better that than, say, Terror Combos Kill Bauhaus), I’m surprised that it’s taken so long for like-minded gloom-mongers to pay homage to the Godfathers of Goth with a tribute album, but it’s here, thirteen (hmmm…) exquisite corpses re-animated by a like number of decadent descendants.
The Electric Hellfire Club, denizens of that enclave of darkness known as Kenosha, Wisconsin, get the plum assignment of taking on their first and most famous song, “Bela Lugosi’s Dead” (a prize so coveted that Ex-Voto can’t avoid throwing in its legendary intro at the end of its “Slice of Life” cover). EHC, like most of the bands here, plays it reverently close to the source (with an added coat of unintended irony since EHC’s Reverend Dr. Luv has recently gone the way of the song’s subject). The Shroud (“The Passion of Lovers”), Faith and the Muse (“Hollow Hills”), and This Ascension (“In The Flat Field”) append female vocals to their otherwise-straight remakes, the latter most bracingly. “The Three Shadows (part II),” as assayed by Fahrenheit 451 with Eva O, actually improves on the somewhat torpid original by adding a swishing rhythm and removing its last two lines (probably to avoid embarrassing Peter Murphy by revealing that he mispronounced “Oedipus” the first time around).
Seattle’s Kill Switch…Klick runs the still-exciting “Dark Entries” through the ’90s industrial megaphone. Black Atmosphere does a fun take on “Muscle in Plastic” (as loose ‘n’ funky as Bauhaus ever got) by playing up its spastic beat and retaining Murphy’s wittily strangulated diction. Two Witches (“King Volcano”) is the most portentous of the lot, tying with Ex-Voto for the basso ridiculoso vocal prize (odd how the two songs with the most Murphy-esque burbles are the ones he didn’t originally sing), but give ’em a break, they’re Finnish. Ikon (“She’s In Parties”) and Blade Fetish (“All We Ever Wanted Was Everything”) do decent but unrevelatory covers, though the glassy chimes that conclude BF’s song are nice. Wreckage takes “Lagartija Nick” for a spin around L.A. and gives him a nasty sunburn. And Eleven Shadows performs the best reconstructive surgery of the disc, grafting a hip-hoppy drum loop and low, growling bass to “Terror Couple Kill Colonel.” Like most tribute recs, The Passion of Covers is not exactly necessary, but then again, neither is Goth. Bauhaus’ songs are still things of chalky beauty, though, and those of us who’ve rented The Hunger over a hundred times and wished to be vampires mostly for the cheekbones will find much fodder for candlelit nights of necromantic nostalgia. And who can resist an album with a 3-D Nosferatu cover?
